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Augustine:  The  Thinker 

George  W.  Osmun 


CINCINNATI:    JENNINGS  AND  GRAHAM 
NEW   YORK:    EATON    AND     MAINS 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
Jennings  &  Graham 


TO 
Jig  ^jtttor  nnb  jliitJte 


PREFACE 

No  ATTEMPT  is  made  in  this  volume  to  glorify 
Augustine.  The  single  aim  is  to  present  him  as  he 
was — to  preserve  him  from  his  adulators.  To  omit 
the  halo,  is  to  be  more  just  to  him,  and  to  be  true  to 
ourselves. 

Augustine  lived  in  an  age  which,  though  de- 
cadent, was  tense  with  interest.  Old  institutions 
and  religions  were  passing  away.  New  races  and 
a  new  religion  were  pressing  forward  for  recogni- 
tion and  regnancy.  Not  least  striking  of  the  figures 
that  move  to  and  fro  upon  this  kaleidoscopic  pano- 
rama is  that  of  the  busy  Bishop  of  Hippo.  His 
own  personal  struggles  and  his  contentions  in  be- 
half of  the  Faith  are  bound  up  with  the  great 
movements  of  his  age.  In  several  important  senses 
he  was  a  child  of  that  age.  But  he  nevertheless 
dominates  it.  And  it  is  to  his  genius,  largely,  that 
Christianity  owes  its  triumphant  entry  into  the  era 
which  followed. 


6  Preface. 

In  fairness,  therefore,  both  to  Augustine  and 
his  age,  I  have  tried  to  show  how  he  and  the  forces 
of  his  time  interacted  upon  one  another. 

In  the  performance  of  my  task  I  have  been  un- 
der obHgation  to  a  great  mass  of  literature  bearing 
upon  Augustine.  Of  this  I  would  acknowledge 
especially  Joseph  McCabe's  brilliant  ''Saint  Augus- 
tine and  His  Age"  (though  I  have  found  myself  in 
constant  dissent  from  his  implications),  and  to 
Neander's  discriminating  and  scholarly  "History  of 
the  Christian  Church."  For  unusual  privileges  and 
great  courtesy  I  would  also  express  my  gratitude 
to  the  Rev.  Sanuiel  Ayres,  B.  D.,  librarian  of  the 
Drew  Seminary. 

Westuampton,  L.  L,  April  17,  1906. 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Pagb 

I.  Getting  a  Start,    -    -    -    -  ii 

II.  Carthage  and  the  Dawn  of  an  Ideal,  21 

III.  Mani", 30 

IV,  The  Imperial  City,           -         -         -  44 
V.    In  the  City  of  Ambrose,     -         -         -  55 

-VI.    Through  Plato  to  Christ,      -        -  67 

VII.    Cassiciacum, 81 

VIII.    Back  to  Africa,       _         .         -         -  93 

IX.    Hippo  Regius, 107 

X.    The  Bishop  at  Work,      -         -         -  121 
XI.    DoNATUs,      -         -         -         -         -         -140 

XII.    The  Two  Cities,      -         -         -         -  161 

XIII.  Labors — ^Literary  and  Theological,    -  183 

XIV.  The  Pelagians,         -         -         -         -  201 
XV.    Augustine  and  the  Final  Struggle,     -  224 

XVI.    The  Stream  of  Augustinianism,        -  242 


FIRST  PERIOD 

From  November  13,  354  A.  D.  to  Easter, 
387  A.  D. 


CHAPTER  I. 
GETTING  A  START. 

Ii^  you  follow  the  southern  coast-line  of  the 
Mediterranean  east  from  the  Pillars  of  Hercules, 
you  come  at  length  to  a  great  promontory  jutting 
into  the  sea  toward  the  Island  of  Sicily.  In  the 
day  of  our  story,  this  promontory  was  dominated 
by  the  presence  of  historic  Carthage.  But  of  deeper 
interest  to  us  is  a  very  much  smaller  town,  Tha- 
gaste,  that  lay  some  twoscore  miles  to  the  south. 
For  here  at  Thagaste,  exactly  five  hundred  years 
after  the  fall  of  the  first  Carthage,  was  born  Aure- 
lius  Augustinus,  familiar  in  history  as  St.  Augus- 
tine, Bishop  of  Hippo. 

Thagaste  stood  on  the  first  of  a  series  of  broadly- 
sloping  terraces,  which,  climbing  up  from  the 
broken  neck  of  Carthaginian  territory,  and  reach- 
ing westward  to  the  far-away  white  summits  of  the 
Atlas,  formed  the  provinces  of  Numidia  and  Mauri- 
tania. Favored  by  a  moderate  climate,  made  fer- 
tile by  abundant  streams,  sheltered  by  the  over- 
towering  mountain  ranges,  sweetened  by  the  breath 
of  the  sea,  it  is  not  surprising  that  these  swelling 
plateaus  abounded  in  wealth,  and  were  covered 
with  hundreds  of  thriving  towns  and  villages. 

II 


12 


Augustine:  The  Thinker. 


By  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century  the  Roman- 
ization  of  North  Africa  had  been  long  since  com- 
plete. Xumidia  was  annexed  to  Rome  under  Julius 
Cc-esar,  while  Claudius,  about  a  century  later,  added 
Mauritania.  Everywhere  the  organization  and 
thrift  of  the  empire  were  manifest.  To  lordly 
Roman  families  had  been  assigned  the  vast  estates, 
whose  waving  fields  of  corn,  tilled  by  native  slaves, 
constituted  the  granar}-  of  the  Mistress  City,  and 
brought  an  unprecedented  prosperity  and  luxury. 
So  there  grew  up  numberless  colonies,  joined  firmly 
by  the  world-famed  imperial  roads.  Some  of  these 
towns  reproduced  the  magnificence  of  Rome  itself 
in  walls  and  gates,  mausoleums,  amphitheaters, 
baths,  basilicas,  and  temples,  and  arches  of  triumph. 
All  this  display  was  made  possible  by  the  iniquitous 
fiscal  policy  of  Rome.  But  the  taxes  became  so  ex- 
cessive as  to  impose  an  intolerable  burden  upon  the 
shoulders  of  the  middle  classes,  and  this  ''Soul  of 
the  Empire"  was  gradually  crushed  till  the  day  of 
the  invading  Vandal,  who  laid  low  the  Roman  rule 
c'lnd  the  Roman  glory.  However,  until  that  day, 
which  was  delayed  until  Augustine  had  finished  his 
labors,  the  mixed  population  of  the  towns  gave 
tlicmsclvcs  up  to  the  glittering  life  which  Augustine 
himself  compared  "to  glass  in  its  fragile  splendor."^ 

The  Christian  Church  had,  indeed,  followed 
close  in  the  wake  of  the  Roman  seizure  of 
North   Africa.      It   was   here   that  the   first  Eatin 

1  Cay  of  God,  IV,  3. 


Getting  a  Start.  13 

version  of  the  Scriptures  originated.  A  century  and 
a  half  before  our  date,  the  first  great  Latin  apologist, 
Tertullian,  had  hurled  his  defense  of  Christianity 
against  the  pagans.  From  him  we  learn  that  even 
so  early  the  triumph  of  the  Church  had  been  far- 
reaching.  "We  leave  you  your  temples  only.  We 
can  count  your  armies.  Our  number  in  a  single 
province  will  be  greater." 

It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  the  Chris- 
tian ardor  of  the  earlier  days  had  grown  measurably 
cooler  in  the  presence  of  the  pomp  and  worldliness 
of  the  times.  There  had  been  numerous  lapses  un- 
der the  keen  persecutions  of  Decius  and  Diocletian. 
But  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  presence  of  material 
prosperity  and  prevailing  corruption  was  much 
more  effective  in  reducing  the  number  of  Chris- 
tians. Even  among  those  who  were  numbered  as 
Christians,  Christianity  was  in  many  cases  hardly  an 
affair  of  passion.  The  master-passion  of  those  days 
was  rather  the  games  and  public  spectacles.  If 
these  chanced  on  the  same  day  with  the  religious 
feasts  or  worship  in  the  Churches,  the  latter  gen- 
erally proved  the  sufferers  by  being  less  popular. 
So  much  was  this  so  that  a  convention  at  Carthage, 
in  401,  appealed  to  the  emperor  to  cause  the  trans- 
fer of  the  public  shovv^s  from  days  distinctly  Chris- 
tian to  other  days  of  the  week.  Augustine  himself 
complains,^  on  a  certain  day  given  to  pagan  festi- 
vals, of  the  slight  attendance  upon  his  preaching,  of 

2  Tractate  VII,  2,  on  the  Gospel  of  St,  John. 


14  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

men,  and  especially  of  women,  "whom,  if  not  fear, 
modesty  at  all  events  ought  to  deter  from  the  pub- 
lic scene." 

Unfortunately  the  North  African  Church  was 
weighted  also  with  a  persistent  schism.  It  will  fall 
to  our  lot  later  to  consider  the  part  Augustine  took 
in  what  is  known  as  the  Donatist  controversy.  For 
now  it  is  enough  to  record  the  fact  that  for  many 
years  already  Donatism  had  been  waging  a  relent- 
less war  on  the  Catholic  Church.  The  emperor, 
Constantine,  had  found  it  impossible  to  stay  the 
ravages  of  the  schism  by  imperial  edict,  and  now 
the  entire  Church  of  Africa  was  rent  asunder  by  the 
obstinate  disputes  of  the  rival  parties.  In  most  of 
the  towns  was  presented  the  unedifying  spectacle  of 
basilicas  and  bishops  opposed  to  one  another,  heated 
public  debates,  services  interrupted  by  fierce  on- 
slaughts, and  even  bloodshed  and  family  strife — all 
in  the  name  of  religion. 

The  town  of  Thagaste  doubtless  reflected  most 
of  these  ecclesiastical  and  political  conditions  at 
the  time  of  Augustine's  birth,  November  13,  354. 
His  mother  was  a  Christian.  Without  attempting 
to  glorify  Monica,  as  many  have  done,  we  may  ac- 
cept Augustine's  own  estimate  of  her  "devout  con- 
versation toward  God"  and  "her  holy  tenderness 
and  attentivencss"  to  her  son.^  It  can  hardly  be 
doubted  that  Augustine  owed  a  vast  debt  to  his 
godly  mother   for  her  prayers  and  unconquerable 

*  Confc&MODk,  IX,  33. 


Gi:tting  a  Start.  15 

love,  as  he  received  from  her  also  that  reUgious 
yearning,  which  did  not  forsake  him  even  in  his 
Vv^orst  years.  So  much  can  not  be  spoken  for  the 
father.  Patricius  was  an  unlovely,  poor  freeman, 
with  crude  tastes  and  of  a  shallow,  harsh  disposition. 
A  man  requiring  constant  propitiation  to  prevent 
passionate  outbursts  of  anger,  with  no  principles  to 
deter  him  from  shameless  disregard  of  his  marriage 
vows,  he  w^ould  in  our  day  be  catalogued  as  a  heart- 
less brute.  But  even  him  Monica  gained  over  to  a 
Christian  confession  before  his  death.  To  them,  in 
addition  to  Aurelius,  were  born  a  son,  Navigius, 
and  a  daughter,  both  of  whom  were  Christians. 

At  his  birth,  Augustine  tells  us,  he  was  sprinkled 
with  salt  and  signed  with  the  cross,  signifying  his 
admission  as  a  candidate  for  baptism.  As  to  the 
various  attitudes  of  his  infancy,  the  presumed  sins 
of  little  indignations  and  pale  jealousies  and  bitter 
looks,  of  which  we  read  in  the  Confessions,  it  is 
hardly  proper  to  speak,  since  Augustine  himself 
makes  considerate  avowal  of  his  having  received 
these  details  from  another  or  "guessed  them  from 
other  infants." 

"After  that  I  was  put  to  school  to  get  learning. 
And  if  slow  to  learn  I  was  flogged."^  The  millen- 
nial period  for  boys,  of  abandoning  corporeal  in- 
flictions, had  not  yet  arrived,  and  Augustine  seems 
to  have  had  no  exemption  from  a  due  share  of 
"stripes."    "One  and  one  are  two"  was  a  "hateful 


4  Confessions,  I,  14. 


i6  Augustine:  The;  Thinke:r. 

song"  to  him,  ball-playing  and  shows  offered  more 
attractions  than  obedience  to  his  teachers,  while  he 
chafed  under  the  inconsistency  of  his  elders,  calling 
their  idleness  "business"  and  his  games  "trifling." 

With  all  his  early  detestation  of  learning,  Au- 
gustine soon  showed  himself  to  be  a  youth  of  rare 
memory  and  capacity.  Reading,  writing,  and  arith- 
metic gave  way  at  length  to  the  higher  training 
under  the  "grammarian."  With  the  increased  dig- 
nity attaching  to  this  salaried  teacher,  whose  school- 
room was  separated  from  the  vestibule  by  an  im- 
pressive curtain,  and  with  far  less  prosaic  studies 
to  awaken  his  imagination,  Augustine  became  a 
more  devoted  student.  To  what  keen-fancied  boy, 
reared  within  a  day's  journey  of  mighty  Carthage, 
would  not  tales,  in  his  native  tongue,  of  the  sack  of 
Troy  and  the  coming  of  /Eneas,  have  abiding  in- 
terest? The  mythologies  of  Rome,  too,  and  the 
wondrous  deeds  of  the  men  of  the  empire,  were 
surely  to  Augustine  the  lad  more  than  the  "pleas- 
ant spectacle  of  vanity"  which  they  became  to 
Augustine  the  mature  ecclesiastic. 

Toward  the  study  of  Greek,  however,  Augustine 
showed  a  positive  aversion,  probably  because  he 
was  "compelled  to  learn"  it.  "The  difficulty  of 
learning  a  Greek  language  mingled  with  gall  all  the 
sweetness  of  those  fabulous  Grecian  stories."^  It  is 
for  this  that  Augustine  preferred  in  later  years  the 
Latin  version  of  Platonist  writings,"  and  felt  him- 

a  Confessions,  I,  23.  6  Confessions,  VIII,  13. 


Ge^tting  a  Start.  17 

self  too  little  acquainted  with  the  Greek  tongue  to 
read  and  understand  therein  discussions  upon  ab- 
stract themes.^  But  he  seems,  with  advancing 
years,  to  have  mastered  his  Greek  sufficiently  for 
appreciation  of  the  Greek  texts  of  Scripture.^ 

By  the  time  Augustine  was  fourteen,  he  had 
fitted  himself  for  studies  still  more  advanced.  Be- 
cause of  his  uncommon  ability,  his  parents  deter- 
mined he  should  receive  advantages  superior  to 
those  at  Thagaste.  Accordingly  he  was  sent  to 
Madaura  for  training  in  rhetoric.  Already  he  had 
developed  a  fond  hospitality  to  the  follies  of  the 
merry  world  about  him.  And  though  he  was  "soft- 
ened by  friendship"  and  "shunned  sorrow,  mean- 
ness, and  ignorance,"  he  was  not  a  stranger  to  lying, 
pilfering,  deceit,  and  pride.  During  a  sudden  ill- 
ness— probably  nothing  more  serious  than  always 
happens  to  boys  who  are  "enslaved  by  gluttony" 
and  steal  from  their  "parents'  table  and  cellar"^ — 
he  wished  vigorously  for  Christian  baptism.  This 
his  pious  mother  was  on  the  point  of  providing  for, 
when  he  quickly  recovered.  Hence  the  rite  was 
deferred,  for  in  those  days  it  was  often  customary 
to  put  off  baptism  till  the  close  of  life,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Emperor  Constantine.  Thus  it  could 
be  said,  in  accord  with  a  wooden  notion  of  this 
sacred  sacrament:  "Let  him  alone,  let  him  act  as 
he  likes,  for  he  is  not  yet  baptized."^^ 


7  On  the  Trinity,  III,  i.  8  Cf.  On  Christian  Doctrine,  II,  11-15. 

9  Confessions,  I,  30.  10  Confessions,  i,  18. 

2 


i8  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

At  IMadaura,  twenty  miles  farther  south  in  the 
Province  of  Numidia,  the  prevalent  Roman  in- 
fluences and  pagan  practices  were  not  calculated  to 
advance  Augustine  in  piety  or  to  put  a  check  upon 
his  restless  nature.  The  powers  at  Rome  were  just 
then  more  tolerant  of  the  heathen  cults,  as  was 
partly  evident  from  the  statues  of  the  gods,  reared 
everywhere  in  the  town,  and  especially  from  the 
majestic  image  of  jMars  in  the  Forum.  But  these 
were  only  the  bolder  marks  of  the  pagan  atmos- 
phere which  pervaded  the  place.  The  majority  of 
the  populace  were  not  in  sympathy  with  the  re- 
ligion of  his  mother.  And  though  he  was  still  a 
catechumen,  and  perhaps  quartered  with  Christian 
relatives,  the  magic  enchantments  of  heathenism 
must  have  woven  themselves  about  his  eager  mind. 
By  a  boy,  who  had  already  found  the  easy  path  of 
vice,  there  was  little  to  be  desired  in  the  worship 
of  the  crude  Christian  chapel,  as  compared  with  the 
elaborate  ritual  of  the  temples.  In  later  years, 
Augustine  addressed  the  ''men  of  Madaura"  as  "his 
fathers,"  but  he  could  never  tear  from  his  mind  the 
impressions  made  there  by  his  witnessing  the  sacri- 
legious Bacchanalia. 

His  study  of  rhetoric  hardly  contributed  to  any 
lingering  loyalty  he  may  have  had  for  the  truth. 
The  pursuit  of  the  fine  art  of  declamation,  with 
minute  attention  to  "inferences,  definitions,  and 
divisions,"'^  was  meant  primarily  to  produce  mere 

11  On  Christian  Doctrine,  II,  55.     Cf.  IV,  1-5. 


Ge:tting  a  Start.  19 

cleverness  in  oratory.  Learning  was  becoming 
more  and  more  a  thing  of  conventions.  Depth  and 
philosophic  outlook  were  sacrificed  to  polish  and 
sophistry.  To  be  sure  Augustine  was  intended  for 
the  bar,  and  to  be  a  successful  pleader  in  his  day 
one  must  be  ingeniously  plausible.  Hence  the  for- 
mal mastery  of  rhetorical  devices  was  indispensable. 
Still  one  may  be  pardoned  for  wishing,  after  a  pro- 
longed exploration  of  many  of  Augustine's  laby- 
rinthine diffusions,  that  he  had  become  possessed  of 
the  art  of  curtailment  as  well  as  that  of  elabora- 
tion. Certainly  Augustine  was  not  deepened  by 
contact  with  the  superficial  studies  and  pagan  mas- 
ters of  Madaura. 

At  any  rate,  this  period  of  unrestrained  famil- 
iarity with  the  ways  of  the  world  and  of  shallow 
learning,  fitted  Augustine  for  a  perilous  suscepti- 
bility to  what  awaited  him  during  the  year  to  follow 
at  Thagaste.  The  ambition  of  Patricius  for  his 
son,  led  him  to  go  beyond  his  means,  in  order  to 
send  Augustine  away  for  a  further  residence  at 
Carthage.  But  a  year  was  needed  for  full  arrange- 
ments, and  this  time  Augustine  spent  in  frivolity 
and  idleness.  He  became  involved  in  the  wanton 
comradery  of  reckless  fellows  of  the  town,  among 
v/hom  he  was  "ashamed  to  be  less  shameless."  The 
admonitions  of  his  fearful  mother  he  regarded  only 
as  "womanish  counsels,"  which  he  would  blush  to 
obey. 

Patricius  was  just  winning  the  praise  of  his  fel- 


20  Augustixk:  The:  Thinker. 

low-townsmen  for  the  laudable  sacrifices  in  behalf 
.  )f  his  son,  when  his  death  seemed  to  bring  Augus- 
tine's career  to  a  sudden  stop.  The  ''Confessions" 
make  onlv  a  passing  notice  of  the  demise  of  his 
father,  so  that  there  was  doubtless  no  great  friend- 
ship between  them.  Fortunately,  at  this  crisis,  a 
wealthy  decurion  Romanianus,  whose  generosity 
Augustine  never  forgot,  received  the  promising  lad 
into  his  house  and  provided  funds  for  his  advance 
along  the  highway  of  knowledge.  Thus  was  Augus- 
tine's face  turned  towards  Carthage  and  the  long 
struggle  for  truth. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CARTHAGE,  AND   THE   DAWN   OF  AN 
IDEAL. 

The:  situation  of  ancient  Carthage  was  too 
strategic  for  it  to  remain  long  unoccupied  after  its 
ruthless  destruction  by  Africanus  in  146  B.  C. 
Many  years  had  not  passed  before  colonies  set  out 
from  Rome  to  re-people  and  resurrect  the  City  of 
Hannibal.  These  beginnings,  under  Gains  Gracchus 
and  Julius  Caesar,  came  to  higher  completion  when 
Augustus,  a  century  after  its  ruin,  made  Carthage 
the  proconsular  seat  of  Africa.  With  this  outward 
restoration  of  the  former  Punic  glory,  New  Car- 
thage became  a  center  of  Roman  corruption  and 
reckless  living.  Upon  the  abruptly  rising  citadel- 
hill  called  Byrsa,  was  reared  in  honor  of  the 
"deified  man,"  ^sculapius,  a  new  temple,  ap- 
proached by  a  wide  terrace  of  sixty  stairs.  On  the 
same  summit,  overlooking  the  two  busy  harbors, 
stood  a  beautiful  palace  of  Rome's  representative, 
at  one  time  the  historian  Sallust.  Once  more  the 
reservoirs  on  the  south  and  west,  and  the  huge 
aqueduct  from  the  distant  hills,  poured  their  waters 
into  the  city  below;  outgoing  ships  bore  their  bur- 
dens of  corn  to  Rome  and  the  East,  and  returning, 
21 


22 


Augustine:  The  Thinker. 


stuffed  Carthage  with  wealth  and  luxury;  in  the 
broad  Forum  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  a  transformed 
senate-house  was  alive  with  demagogues,  and  the 
Temple  of  Apollo  with  its  worshipers;  life  in  Car- 
thago Nova  became  an  alluring  passion  with  the 
Roman  aristocracy,  and  their  sumptuous  houses  re- 
sounded with  revelry  and  debauch. 

It  is  doubtless  true  that  Roman  Carthage  was 
religious.  But  religion  included  the  worst  abom- 
inations of  paganism.  The  hideous  cult  of  Sat- 
urn had  been  suppressed  by  a  severe  visitation  upon 
its  votaries.  But  a  temple  to  the  god  had  been 
built  with  great  magnificence  upon  the  ruins  of 
the  former  temple  to  the  same  deity.  For  heathen- 
ism persisted  in  Carthage  longer  than  in  Rome. 
The  Carthaginians  still  worshiped  images  of  the 
old  Tyrian  Hercules.  Once,  when  a  magistrate 
ventured  to  order  the  head  of  Hercules  to  be  gilded, 
Augustine  tells  us  the  Christian  part  of  the  popu- 
lace were  excited  with  such  furious  zeal,  that  special 
measures  had  to  be  taken  by  the  bishops  to  pre- 
vent violence.  Worst  of  all,  if  there  could  be  a 
deeper  depth,  was  the  worship  connected  with  the 
gigantic  temple  of  the  goddess  Coelestis,^  with  its 
two-mile  inclosure.  This  temple,  which,  previous 
to  its  destruction,  was  looked  upon  as  one  of  the 
architectural  triumphs  of  the  age,  was  restored  by 
Augustus,  and  its  shameless  practices  continued  in 
Carthage  long  after  Rome  had  ceased  to  counte- 

1  Greek  Aphrodite,  Laiiii  Venus,  Syrian  Astarte. 


Th^  Dawn  o^  an  IdejaIv.  23 

nance  them.  Through  the  streets  of  the  city  wan- 
dered the  strange  creatures  who  passed  as  priests 
of  this  Hcentious  cult.  Augustine  himself  gives  a 
gruesome  picture  of  the  ceremonies  which  were  a 
daily  occurrence  before  the  shrine  of  this  vulgar 
"virgin  goddess."  From  all  sides  a  vast  crowd  have 
gathered  and  stand  closely  packed  together  as  they 
worship,  "with  prayer  and  with  obscene  rites." 
There  are  met  immodest  stage  girls,  women  of  base 
intent,  foul-mouthed  men,  profligates,  and  harlots, 
who  glory  in  the  sight,  that  greets  their  eyes,  of 
nameless  vices,  enacted  by  lewd  prayers,  with  a 
pretense  of  reverence.^ 

If  Carthage  was  religious,  it  was  even  more 
persistently  bent  on  pleasure.  Following  the  fashion 
set  by  Rome,  with  her  Circus  Maximus,  the  Car- 
thaginians became  as  intense  devotees  of  the  Cir- 
censian  pastimes  as  they  were  of  the  temples.  Au- 
gustine seems  not  to  have  shared  in  this  fondness  for 
the  circus,  nor  for  the  ruder  debauch  of  the  gladia- 
torial combats.  Before  many  years  he  counted  it  a 
joy  to  have  rescued  a  young  friend  from  their  fas- 
cination. But  he  became  familiar  with  them,  and 
in  later  days  acknowledged  how  slight  were  the  at- 
tractions of  Christian  worship  and  preaching  when 
the  exhibitions  were  in  progress. 

It  was  the  theater  which  especially  attracted 
Augustine.  What  appealed  tp  him  there  was  the 
vivid   representation  of    such  human   follies   and 


8  City  of  God,  II,  26. 


24 


Augustine;:  The:  Thinker. 


weaknesses  as  were  beginning  to  get  a  firm  grip 
upon  his  own  life.^  It  was  not  surprising  that  the 
early  Church  adopted  such  stern  measures  against 
the  stage-plays,  and  excluded  from  baptism  those 
who  attended  them.  Whatever  may  have  been  the 
quality  of  the  stage  in  the  earlier  history  of  the  em- 
pire, it  is  certain  that  it  had  touched  its  lowest 
depths  by  the  time  Augustine  went  as  a  student  to 
Carthage.  Not  only  were  actors  cut  off  from  all 
civic  honors,  and  actresses  looked  upon  as  infamous 
— the  drama  itself  had  become  mere  dribble  and 
obscenity.  Legerdemain,  crude  pantomime,  and 
coarse  jesting  supplied  surfeit  to  the  sordid  appe- 
tites of  the  populace.  Mr.  McCabe  finds  Augus- 
tine's conduct  in  youth  ''unusually  regular,"  and 
hardly  takes  the  "Confessions"  seriously.  He  cites 
the  testimony  of  Vincentius,  a  Rogatian  bishop,  to 
the  eflFcct  that  when  they  were  acquaintances  in 
Carthage,  Augustine  was  "a  quiet  and  respectable 
youth," — but  he  neglects  Augustine's  reply  that 
"not  every  one  who  is  indulgent  is  a  friend"  and 
"you  know  me  now  to  be  more  desirous  of  rest,  and 
earnest  in  seeking  it,  than  when  you  knew  me  in  my 
earlier  years  in  Carthage."  At  any  rate,  Augustine's 
patronage  of  these  degrading  "exhibitions  of  stupid 
buffoonery"  is  evidence  enough  of  a  lamentable 
morbidness  and  grossness  of  taste. 

Any  lingering  indisposition  to  admit  this  ought 
to  be  overborne  by  certain  other  considerations.     In 

*  Confessions,  III,  3. 


The  Dawn  oi^  an  Ide:ai,.  25 

addition  to  the  morally  tainted  atmosphere  he  was 
breathing  in  the  temples,  the  games,  and  the  theat- 
ricals, Augustine  was  occupying  only  a  shallow  re- 
lation to  the  Church.  Though  he  continued  to  at- 
tend Christian  services,  he  had  no  other  than  a  con- 
ventional motive  for  doing  so.  He  was  a  cate- 
chumen still,  and  Christianity  was  the  confession 
of  his  mother ;  therefore,  he  went  into  the  basilicas 
with  other  catechumens.  But  his  meditations  there 
were  anything  but  devout — indeed,  were  wandering 
constantly  to  forbidden  objects  of  sinful  desire.* 
It  may  be  he  found  little  encouragement  in  the 
Church.  The  influence  of  Cyprian  still  hung  as  a 
kind  of  halo  over  the  city.  But  it  was  not  an  age 
remarkable  for  piety.  Accessions  in  large  numbers 
were  not  wanting.  But  conversions  which  signified, 
as  Neander  puts  it,  "an  exchange  of  open,  undis- 
guised paganism,  for  a  nominal  Christianity  cover- 
ing a  pagan  way  of  thinking,"  far  exceeded  in  num- 
ber the  conversions  which  reached  and  transformed 
the  inner  disposition.  Augustine  complains  that  the 
Church  is  full  of  the  former  kind,  and  "seldom  is 
Jesus  sought  for  Jesus'  sake."^  Immorality,  drunk- 
enness, and  rioting  were  common  among  members 
of  the  Church.  And  in  these  respects  the  young 
student  must  have  found  slight  distinction  between 
Christian  and  pagan.  But  it  doubtless  caused  him 
little  concern. 

The  fact  is,  his  studies  at  this  time  were  not 


4  Confessions,  III,  5.  6  On  the  Gospel  of  John,  Tractate,  20,  10. 


26  Augustine::  Thd  Thinker. 

leading  in  the  direction  of  lofty  thought.  At  the 
university  he  made  rapid  advance.  But  he  admits 
that  craftiness  was  the  mark  of  attainment.  The  lack 
of  moral  earnestness  apparent  in  the  living  of  the 
men  of  his  day  showed  itself  also  in  their  culture. 
Rhetorical  flourish  and  embellished  phrase  were 
made  a  deceptive  garb  for  such  scraps  of  Greek 
philosophy  as  could  be  combined  into  an  artificial 
"system,"  which  in  reality  was  only  a  ''literary  med- 
ley." Grammar  and  rhetoric  were  the  chief  depart- 
ments of  study,  and  we  must  not,  of  course,  under- 
estimate the  great  proficiency  which  was  attained  by 
such  men  as  Augustine  in  dialectics  and  the  princi- 
ples of  eloquent  discourse,  nor  the  vast  amount  of 
information  which  they  had  ready  at  their  command. 
In  addition  to  rhetoric,  logic,  music,  arithmetic,  and 
geometry  constituted  the  daily  round  of  Augus- 
tine's intellectual  pursuit.  Besides  this,  as  a  task 
outside  the  regular  curriculum,  he  mastered 
Aristotle's  ''ten  categories."  On  the  other  hand, 
any  one  at  all  acquamted  with  the  works  of  Augus- 
tine must  have  noticed  the  hollowness  of  a  great  deal 
of  his  reasoning.  Under  conditions,  in  which  casu- 
istry and  declamation  were  made  easy  substitutes 
for  profound  thinking,  one  can  hardly  expect  to  find 
a  youth  progressing  fast  in  the  art  of  high  living. 

Conditions  were  hardly  improved  for  Augustine 
by  his  associates.  To  put  it  mildly,  they  were  bent 
on  mischief  rather  than  learning.  They  were  un- 
der no  restraint  of  discipline,  would  burst  in  upon 


The:  Dawn  oi^  an  Idejai,.  27 

a  master  with  wild  gesticulations  and  impudent  in- 
dignities, and  upon  the  street  greeted  strangers 
with  jeers  and  unpardonable  insolence.^  It  is  true 
Augustine  reprobated  the  worst  of  their  crude  rev- 
elry. Nevertheless  he  rather  shamefacedly  admits 
he  "was  delighted  with  their  friendship  at  times." 
During  this  period  also  Augustine  formed  the 
illicit  alliance  which  embittered  his  entire  after  life. 
Nothing  can  be  gained  by  attempting  to  smooth 
over  this  transaction.  As  has  been  shown  repeat- 
edly, he  felt  the  Christian  standard  of  living  which 
his  mother  exemplified.  It  was  this  standard,  and 
not  the  weak  substitutes  for  it  which,  in  the  world 
around  him,  glared  defiance  to  known  moral  de- 
mands, that  made  Augustine  conscious  also  of  liv- 
ing below  his  own  ideal.  His  sin  looks  no  less  ugly 
because  of  its  setting  in  an  age  which  was  tolerant 
of  profligacy.  As  to  the  character  and  social  rank 
of  Augustine's  mistress,  there  can  be  little  profit 
in  making  inquiry,  especially  as  the  "Confessions" 
reveal  so  little.  To  her,  at  least,  it  is  creditable 
that  for  fourteen  years  they  lived  in  mutual  fidelity 
— a  fact  remarkable  in  a  day  of  disgusting  moral 
laxity — and  that  upon  her  release  she  seems  to  have 
entered  upon  a  life  of  purity.  Augustine,  accord- 
ing to  the  highest  ethical  principles,  should  have 
married  her  instead  of  casting  her  ofif  only  to  take 
up  with  another.  But  the  "Confessions"  must  be  ac- 
cepted at  their  face-value.    In  them,  the  sorrowing 

6  Confessions,  III,  6,  and  V,  14. 


28  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

bishop  laid  bare  to  mankind  the  pitiful  truth,  and 
mankind  must  judge  in  mercy.  With  all  that  may 
be  searched  out  to  disintensify  the  blackness  of  the 
youth's  sad  plight,  it  was  too  black,  a  thing  to  re- 
gret, both  for  what  it  was,  and  for  what  it  uncov- 
ered of  inward  foulness.  But  no  regret  for  it  could 
be  keener  than  Augustine's  own. 

We  are  therefore  compelled  to  believe  that 
Augustine's  experience  was  as  bad  as  he  makes  it 
out.  The  conflict  had  begun  in  him  of  the  young 
man  whose  vision  has  far  outrun  his  grasp.  But 
he  had  not  forsaken  all  his  best.  For  one  thing  a 
proud  ambition  stirred  in  his  breast.  He  had  made 
some  attainment,  and  was  conscious  of  superiority 
over  his  fellows.  An  eagerness  for  knowledge  took 
hold  of  him.  Possibilities  of  honorable  distinction 
beckoned  him  on  to  the  heights.  Perhaps  already 
he  was  casting  about  for  a  safe  path  out  of  the 
moral  wilderness  into  which  he  was  plunged.  It 
was  in  a  mood  like  this  that  he  happened  upon  a 
treatise  of  Cicero,  the  "Hortensius,"  now  unfortu- 
nately lost.  The  importance  of  this  book  at  such  a 
crisis  can  be  estimated  from  its  effect  upon  the 
young  rhetorician.  In  face  of  its  exhortation  to 
philosophy,  erudition  and  decorations  of  style  be- 
came of  minor  importance.  ''Worthless  suddenly 
became  every  vain  ambition  to  me;  and,  with  an 
incredible  warmth  of  heart,  I  yearned  for  an  im- 
mortality of  wisdom,  and  began  now  to  arise  that 
I  might  return  unto  Thee."     Whatever  had  been 


The:  Dawn  o?  an  Ide^ai,.  29 

his  dream  of  wealth,  rank,  and  worldly  happiness, 
this  work  set  his  dream  at  rest.  Here,  then,  was  a 
new  and  splendid  inspiration.  It  had  in  it  no  re- 
formatory power.  But  it  enlisted  Augustine  in  the 
long  quest  of  wisdom.  God  had  hung  in  the  skies 
an  ideal. 


CHAPTER  III. 
MANI. 

When  Augustine  declares^  that  the  ardor  newly 
awakened  by  the  "Hortensius"  did  not  take  com- 
plete hold  of  him,  because  he  failed  to  find  in  the 
book  the  name  of  Christ,  he  is  not  to  be  taken  too  lit- 
crally.2  What  he  doubtless  means  is,  that  from  a 
Christian  point  of  view  there  was  no  moral  settle- 
ment for  him  except  in  Christ.  The  man  who  opens 
his  ''Confessions"  with  the  familiar  words:  "Thou 
hast  formed  us  for  Thyself,  and  our  hearts  are  rest- 
less till  they  find  rest  in  Thee,"  is  the  man  who  has 
experienced  the  absoluteness  of  the  Christian  faith. 
No  message  of  a  pagan  philosopher,  however  high- 
minded,  could  speak  a  final  word  to  him. 

r.ut  the  "Hortensius"  did  give  a  directive  word, 
and  Augustine  followed  it.  In  this  way  he  fell  to 
reading  the  Scriptures.  If  it  is  true  that  he  read 
the  earliest  Latin  translation,  which  had  been  used 
in  Africa  from  the  days  of  Tertullian,  we  can  un- 
derstand somewhat  the  repulsion  he  felt  at  its  rude, 
even  l)arbarous  style,  "unworthy  to  be  compared 
with  the  dignity  of  Tully."^     To  a  proud  young 

1  Confessions,  III,  8.  2  Cf.,  c.  p.,  McCabe,  St.  Augustine  and  His 

Age,  p.  54.  3  Confessions,  III,  9. 

30 


Mani.  31 

student  with  whom  ornate  phraseology  was  a  first 
requisite  of  culture,  the  inartistic  African  version 
was  ugly,  indeed,  even  repulsive.  And  there  was  a 
second  reason.  All  athirst  as  he  was  for  wisdom, 
he  could  hardly  be  expected  to  endure  the  intoler- 
ance of  an  apostle  who  threw  to  the  winds  the  ''wis- 
dom" of  the  Greeks,  and  preached  a  doctrine  of 
''foolishness."  Presumably  there  were  still  other 
burdens  connected  with  his  acceptance  of  the  Old 
Testament,  for  even  among  Christians  of  the  West 
there  was  a  widely  sown  distaste  for  that  part  of 
the  Scriptures.  In  this  condition  of  mind,  Augus- 
tine was  quite  susceptible  to  any  philosophy,  even 
the  shallowest,  which  made  a  show  of  religion,  and 
was  prepared  to  answer  his  questions.  Because  it 
seemed  to  fit  into  this  dire  situation,  he  turned  now 
to  the  system  known  as  Manichseism. 

According  to  the  Arabic  tradition,  Mani,  the 
founder  of  the  system,  was  a  Persian  of  high  birth, 
who,  in  answer  to  angelic  visitations,  separated 
himself  from  the  Parsism  of  his  father  about  238 
A.  D.  Claiming  to  be  the  Paraclete  promised  by 
Jesus,  and  deriving  his  teachings  from  the  Magi 
and  the  Christians,  he  journeyed  in  many  lands  for 
forty  years,  scattering  his  doctrines  in  India,  China, 
and  Turkestan.  Eventually  he  returned  to  Persia, 
gained  favor  in  the  court,  but  at  length  was  cruci- 
fied by  order  of  King  Bahraim  I  (about  276),  and 
his  skin,  stuffed  with  straw,  was  hung  at  the  city 
gate.     Meanwhile   his  twelve  apostles  had  spread 


32  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

Westward  and  had  won  many  disciples.  Accord- 
ing to  one  account  a  special  envoy  was  sent  to 
Africa  by  Alani  himself.  There,  in  spite  of  the 
rigorous  edicts  of  Diocletian,  Valentinian  and  Theo- 
dosius,  the  sect  made  continued  progress  down  to 
Augustine's  time. 

But  what  was  there  in  Alani  which  fascinated 
Augustine  and  held  him  more  or  less  closely  cap- 
tive for  nine  years?  The  religion  of  Mani  in  the 
West  took  far  more  account  of  historical  Chris- 
tianity than  did  Mani  himself.  It  grounded  itself 
upon  a  conception  of  Deity  which  was  meant  to 
solve  the  world-old  problems  of  the  existence  of  evil. 
There  were  two  eternal  beings — one,  the  King  of 
the  Paradise  of  Light ;  the  other,  Darkness.  These 
two  kingdoms  border  upon  one  another,  but  during 
the  uncounted  ages  before  creation  exist  in  separa- 
tion. Now  begins  the  enactment  of  a  vast  tragedy. 
Korth  from  the  Kingdom  of  Darkness  proceeds 
Satan  bent  upon  destruction ;  he  is  met  by  the  armed 
Knight  of  Light  who  suflfers  defeat.  Whereupon 
Satan  snatches  away  and  imprisons  elements  of  the 
Spiritual  Kingdom.  Out  of  the  commingling  of 
elements  is  born  the  world.  Here  the  unceasing 
contest  is  prolonged,  the  sun  meantime  receiving 
whatever  liberated  light  has  been  mingled  with 
"hot  devils,"  and  the  moon,  that  mingled  with 
"cold  devils,"  while  man  is  a  child  of  demons 
in  whom  are  concentrated  and  locked  up  the 
captive  elements  of  light.      But  a   fatal  entangle- 


Mani.  33 

ment  of  these,  with  sensuaHty  and  covetous- 
ness,  makes  for  man  a  dual  soul,  one  of  good,  and 
one  of  evil.  Life  becomes  what  we  actually  see  it 
to  be  in  the  world — a  struggle  between  the  prin- 
ciples of  good  and  evil. 

But  what  hope  did  Mani  give  that  men  might 
eventually  escape  from  the  Kingdom  of  Darkness 
and  find  refuge  in  the  Kingdom  of  Light?  It  is 
here  more  especially  that  the  Manichseans  of  the 
West  departed  widely  from  the  teaching  of  Mani. 
To  him  Jesus  was  merely  a  Jewish  abomination. 
Although  Augustine  says  that  he  styled  himself 
"Manichseus,  an  Apostle  of  Jesus  Christ,"  it  is  cer- 
tain that  he  regarded  Christ  not  as  real,  but  as  a 
spiritual  fancy.  As  for  salvation,  there  was  none 
possible  except  through  ceremonial  observances  and 
a  life  severely  ascetic.  But  as  Manichseism  came 
into  contact  with  Christianity,  it  took  to  itself  much 
of  the  outward  aspect  of  the  latter.  A  pretended  ac- 
ceptance of  the  New  Testament,  a  certain  loyalty 
to  Christ,  a  pronounced  emphasis  on  the  doctrine  of 
Redemption,  a  call  for  earnest  self-denial — such 
notes  in  their  appeal  to  Western  Christians  made  it 
possible  for  the  Manichaeans  to  gain  many  prose- 
lytes. But  Manichaeism  was  far  from  being,  as  it 
is  often  represented,^  ''practically  a  Christian 
heresy."  Its  resemblance  to  Christianity,  so  far  as 
can  be  seen,  was  purely  superficial.  In  one  respect, 
it  openly  antagonized  Christianity — it  utterly  cast 


4  Cf.  Rainy,  The  Ancient  Catholic  Church,  p.  267. 

3 


34  Augustink:  Thl:  Thinke:r. 

off  the  Old  Testament.  Perhaps  this  was  one  of 
the  chief  features  which  commended  the  system  of 
Mani  to  seekers  Hke  Augustine.  As  already  noticed, 
the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  were  passing  through 
the  fires,  much  as  in  our  day.  And  Christian 
teachers,  like  Augustine  later,  and  like  many 
"trembling  evangelicals,"  as  Professor  Rendel  Har- 
ris has  called  them,  of  a  still  later  era,  were  doing 
little  to  meet  the  attacks  made  upon  the  morality  and 
religious  teaching  of  the  Old  Testament.  Instead 
of  arginnent  and  manly  courage  they  presented 
forced  allegorical  interpretations  which  only  made 
the  difficulties  bigger.^ 

Another  element  in  Manichceism,  which  proved 
attractive,  was  its  system  of  morals.  Among  its 
elect,  there  was  expected  thorough  separation  from 
everything  sordid  and  sensual — animal  food,  wine, 
and  "worldly"  interests.  In  addition,  chastity,  rig- 
orous fastings,  systematic  prayer,  and  sacred  ablu- 
tions were  enjoined.  A  lower  order  of  discipleship 
was  recognized,  the  miditores,  but  much  greater 
laxity  was  permitted  them.  Augustine  never  ad- 
vanced beyond  the  position  of  a  "hearer,"  and  upon 
his  complete  release  did  not  hesitate  to  bring  heavy 
charges  against  the  elect.  Whether  these  asper- 
sions were  well  founded  or  not  is  not  clear.  Some 
ManiclKcans  evidently  practiced  and  could  be  de- 
tected by  a  certain  gauntness  and  pallor  of  counte- 
nance.    It  is  even  said  that  "Manichaean"  became  a 


5  Cf.  KingsUy's  truthful  representation  in  Hypatia,  Chap.  XXI. 


Mani.  35 

b3^-word  for  any  one  who  "did  not  appreciate  the 
felicity  of  good  living."^  But  it  is  evident  that  the 
morality  of  the  Manichseans  was  heathen  rather 
than  Christian,  and  that  the  profession  was  rarely 
borne  out  in  practice.  The  extreme  doctrinaire 
Manichseans  of  Augustine's  day  formed  themselves 
into  a  distinct  sect  at  Rome,  under  the  leadership 
of  a  wealthy  zealot,  Constantius  by  name.  But 
most  of  them  found  the  discipline  too  harsh,  and, 
following  the  example  of  Faustus,  forsook  the  habit 
of  sleeping  on  mats  (whence  they  were  known  as 
Mattarians),  and  slunk  quietly  away  to  their 
feathers  and  goatskin  coverlets.  So  we  find  Augus- 
tine making  a  fling  at  the  arrogance  of  Faustus, 
the  keenest  and  most  unscrupulous  enemy  of  Chris- 
tianity in  his  age."^  Nevertheless,  it  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  see  how  enticing  such  pretensions,  especially 
when  made  with  earnestness,  would  be  in  an  age  in 
which  pagan  ascetic  notions  had  already  crept  into 
the  Church. 

There  is,  however,  reason  for  believing  that  the 
fundamental  explanation  of  the  rapid  spread  of 
Manichseism  is,  as  Professor  Harnack  has  shown,® 
that  it  was  the  most  artistic  and  richest  philosophic 
attempt  to  disentangle  the  knotty  problems  of  the 
origin  and  meaning  of  evil.  It  brought  down  to  a 
tangible  plain  the  mysteries  of  moral  darkness  and 


6  Cf.  Jerome,  De  Custod.  Virg.,  Ep.  i8 :   "  Quam  vidcrint  pallentem 

atque  tristem,  Miseram,  Monacham,  et  Manichseam  vocant." 

7  Reply  to  Faustus,  The  Manichaean,  v.  7. 

8  Article,  Manichaeism,  Encyclopaedia  Britannica. 


36  Augustine:  The:  Thinker. 

light.  By  its  fantastic  parables  of  the  struggles  of 
the  human  soul  it  caught  and  held  the  attention  of 
many  disturbed  minds.  Then — a  factor  which 
probably  drew  Augustine  into  its  fold — it  held  forth 
the  possibility  of  a  gradual  unfolding  of  a  secret 
wisdom,  and  the  final  disappearance  of  all  barriers 
to  the  truth. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  motive  that  led 
Augustine  to  cast  his  lot  with  the  Manichseans,  or 
the  fervor  of  his  first  devotion  to  the  new  sect,  it 
can  hardly  be  thought  that  his  eyes  remained  long 
unopened,  or  that  his  attachment  was  ever  very  real. 
It  is  far  more  probable  that,  for  the  next  decade, 
he  was  casting  about  helplessly  in  a  restless  con- 
fusion of  unstable  ideas,  trying  to  persuade  him- 
self that  the  light  had  dawned  upon  him,  but  una- 
ble to  escape  the  insistent  voice  of  his  own  con- 
science. True  it  is  that  he  displayed  surprising 
gullibility  in  crediting  such  absurd  vagaries  as  that 
a  fig-tree  wept  when  plucked,  and  its  fruit,  eaten 
by  a  Manichaean  "saint,"  forthwith  exhaled  par- 
ticles of  God  and  of  angels.'^  Doubtless,  also,  Augus- 
tine proved  a  successful  proselyter  and  induced 
many  of  his  friends  to  join  the  Manichseans.  Little 
wonder  that  the  pious  Monica  was  shocked  beyond 
measure  by  the  change  which  had  come  over  her 
son,  or  that,  grieved  by  such  blasphemies  as  his  de- 
rision of  sacred  things,  she  refused  him  shelter  in 
her  house.     For  in  his  twentieth  vcar  Aus^ustine 


a  Of.  Confessions,  III,  i8;  and  Against  Faustus,  XXXI,  5. 


Mani.  37 

had  completed  his  course  at  Carthage  and  had  re- 
turned to  the  home  of  his  boyhood.  His  mother 
speedily  found  solace  for  her  sorrow.  First  by  a 
dream,  in  which  Augustine  appeared  with  her  on 
a  symbolic  wooden  rule,  she  became  convinced  he 
would  some  day  embrace  her  faith.  This  new  hope 
was  strengthened  by  the  famous  conference  with 
a  certain  ecclesiastic,  who,  though  he  saw  how  in- 
tractable and  proud-spirited  the  young  Augustine 
was,  could  not  answer  the  argument  of  her  impor- 
tunate tears.  ''Go  thy  way,"  he  said,  "and  God 
bless  thee,  for  it  is  not  possible  that  the  son  of  these 
tears  should  perish."  This  she  accepted  as  a  voice 
from  heaven. 

At  Thagaste,  Augustine  set  up  a  school  for  in- 
struction in  rhetoric  or  grammar,  possibly  both. 
In  this  occupation,  "amid  much  smoke,"  he  sent 
forth  "some  flashes  of  fidelity."^^  By  smoke  he 
probably  means  his  confessed  passionate  self-indul- 
gence, his  continued  fondness  for  public  spectacles, 
and  his  wallowing  in  Manichaean  mire.  But  there 
were  also  "flashes  of  fidelity."  With  great  dili- 
gence he  devoted  himself  to  his  studies.  In  these 
he  was  to  find  his  surest  way  out  of  the  delusions 
into  which  he  had  fallen.  A  mind  which  reveled  in 
the  rugged  matter-of-fact  philosophy  of  Aristotle 
could  not  long  remain  unconscious  of  the  ludicrous 
nature  of  the  Manichaean  error.  But  it  is  a  char- 
acteristic of  Aus^ustine's  mental  unsettlement  dur- 


10  Confessions,  IV,  2. 


38  Augustine::  The:  Thinker. 

ing  this  time,  that,  along  with  his  philosophical  re- 
searches, he  mingled  enough  zeal  for  the  weird 
Manich?ean  speculations  to  make  him  earnest  in 
his  efforts  to  secure  converts.^^ 

Thus,  teaching,  studying,  prosel}1;ing,  he  con- 
tinued a  year  or  so  in  his  native  town  Thagaste. 
Among  his  pupils  were  the  two  sons  of  his  wealthy 
patron,  Romanianus,  and  Alypius,  who  belonged 
to  an  honorable  family  and  was  marked  out  for  a 
distinguished  career.  Of  still  another  friend,  Au- 
gustine speaks  in  terms  which  reveal  an  uncommon 
affection.  This  youth  had  shared  with  him  the 
frolics  and  studies  of  the  earlier  years  in  Thagaste, 
and  had  turned  Manichsean  under  Augustine's 
leadership.  The  two  now  became  inseparable,  *'Nor 
could  my  soul  exist  without  him."  But  ere  a  year 
had  passed  of  this  renewed  friendship — "sweet  to 
me  above  all  the  sweetness  of  my  life" — a  fever 
laid  the  young  man  low.  None  but  Augustine's 
own  words,  written  years  afterwards,  can  properly 
convey  his  feelings :  "At  this  sorrow  my  heart  was 
utterly  darkened,  and  whatever  I  looked  upon  was 
death.  My  native  country  was  a  torture  to  me,  and 
my  father's  house  a  wondrous  unhappiness;  and 
whatsoever  I  had  participated  in  with  him,  wanting 
him,  turned  into  a  frightful  torture.  Mine  eyes 
sought  him  everywhere,  but  he  was  not  granted 
them ;  and  I  hated  all  places  because  he  was  not  in 
them ;  nor  could  they  now  say  to  me,  ^Behold,  he 

11  On  Two  Souls,  Against  the  Manichecs,  IX. 


Mani.  39 

is  coming,'  as  they  did  when  he  was  aUve  and  ab- 
sent. I  became  a  great  puzzle  to  myself,  and  asked 
my  soul  why  she  was  so  sad,  and  why  she  so 
exceedingly  disquieted  me;  but  she  knew  not  what 
to  answer  me.  So  I  fretted,  sighed,  wept,  tor- 
mented myself,  and  took  neither  rest  nor  advice." 
It  is  in  such  human  passages  as  this  that  one  finds 
what  was  Augustine's  nature  at  bottom — the  abode 
of  warm  affections  and  quick  sympathies.  If  the 
sterner  features  of  the  grim  fighter  are  more  notice- 
able in  the  later  years,  it  is  not  because  human  ten- 
derness was  crushed  out  (for  one  discovers  gleams 
of  it  in  many  of  the  letters  to  the  last),  but  because 
the  busy  bishop  of  Hippo  became  so  entirely  ab- 
sorbed in  the  contests  which  were  fought  out  over 
his  deepest  convictions. 

Although  in  addressing  himself  to  Roman- 
ianus/^  Augustine  seems  to  indicate  a  lower  mo- 
tive— namely,  to  find  a  higher  position — we  may 
credit  his  statement  that  his  real  reason,  for  now 
turning  his  face  toward  Carthage  again,  was  a  de- 
sire to  gtt  away  from  the  scenes  of  his  shattered 
friendship.  Hither  some  of  his  pupils  repaired 
with  him  to  enter  his  school  of  rhetoric.  A  tal- 
ented lad,  Nebridius  by  name,  and  another  called 
Eulogius,  were  added  to  the  number.  Alypius  also 
went  to  Carthage,  but  did  not  at  first  attend  the 
school  owing  to  an  ill-feeling  which  had  arisen  be- 
tween his  father  and  Augustine.    Though  a  youth 

12  Against  the  Academics. 


40  Augustine:  The:  Thinke:r. 

of  singular  virtue,  Alypius  soon  fell  into  the  en- 
tangling habits  of  the  gayer  set  of  Carthage,  espe- 
cially of  those  who  followed  the  Circensian  games. 
Augustine  knew  his  promise  and  longed  to  rescue 
him.  But  no  way  appeared  until  one  day  the  lad 
chanced  to  saunter  mto  the  lecture-room,  contrary 
to  his  father's  command,  and  the  rhetoric-master, 
wishing  to  make  plain  a  matter  in  hand,  resorted 
to  a  figure  drawn  from  the  circus,  seizing  the  op- 
portunity thus  presented  to  expose  the  madness  of 
those  who  frequented  the  games.  Though  unin- 
tentionally, this  reference  proved  a  God-send  to 
Alypius,  who  from  that  day  abandoned  the  pastimes 
and  became  a  regular  pupil. ^^ 

One  of  the  pastimes  of  Carthage  was  the  fine  art 
of  divination.  In  after  years  Augustine  describes 
the  votaries  of  astrologers  as  "deluded  and  imposed 
upon  by  the  false  angels."  But  he  himself  appears 
to  have  been  a  willing  votary  during  his  stay  in 
Carthage,  and  indeed  for  several  years  after.  We 
may  give  him  credit  for  frowning  upon  the  more 
brutal  practices  of  the  soothsayers.  There  is  an 
interesting  account  of  one  of  these.  Augustine  was 
quite  ambitious  for  success  in  the  oratorical  con- 
tests of  the  theaters.  Upon  one  such  occasion,  he 
was  approached  by  a  magician  who  offered  to  slay 
certain  creatures  as  sacrifices  and  to  deliver  to 
Augustine  the  coveted  victory.  But  the  answer 
came  back  sharply:    "If  the  garland  were  of  im- 

13  Cf.  Confessions,  VI,  ii  and  12. 


Mani.  41 

perishable  gold,  I  would  not  suffer  a  fly  to  be  de- 
stroyed to  secure  it  for  me."  But  the  arts  of  the 
mathematicians  which  he  came  to  look  upon 
as  a  ''baleful  fellowship  between  rnan  and  devils," 
he  now  estimated  of  high  value.  In  this  he  was  not 
alone.  Not  only  among  the  pagans,  but  even  in  the 
Church,  were  multitudes  who  staked  everything 
upon  the  fictions  of  horoscope-casters.^'^  What  at- 
tracted Augustine  was  the  large  number  of  cases  in 
which  the  truth  was  apparently  foretold.  The  de- 
risions of  his  young  friend  Nebridius  did  not  suffice 
to  dislodge  him  from  his  belief.  An  able  physician, 
w^ho  was  proconsul,  Vindicianus,  also  undertook  to 
dissuade  him.  But  it  was  not  until  years  after 
when  Augustine  was  farther  advanced  in  scientific 
study,  and  saw  many  pronounced  failures  to  fore- 
cast the  future,  that  he  yielded  and  became  as  firm 
an  opponent  of  all  sorcery  as  he  had  been  a  sympa- 
thizer. 

Doubtless  Augustine's  interest  in  divination  was 
a  part  of  his  profounder  study  of  astronomy. 
Through  the  latter  he  now  came  to  perceive  the  un- 
scientific character  of  the  Manichsean  teaching.  He 
determined  to  probe  into  their  books,  and  soon  dis- 
covered many  glaring  discrepancies  between  their 
astronomic  notions  and  the  calculations  of  secular 
philosophers.  A  sect  which  taught  that  the  waxing 
and  waning  of  the  moon  was  caused  by  receiving 
souls  from  matter  as  it  were  into  a  ship  and  trans- 


14  Confessions,  VI,  8. 


42  Augustine:  The  Tpiinkkr. 

ferring-  them  "into  the  sun  as  into  another  ship/'^^ 
and  which  maintained  that  the  sun's  light  shone 
through  a  triangular  aperture  in  the  heavens/^  was 
bound  to  lose  cast  with  a  young  astrologer  who 
was  beginning  to  learn  the  truth.  Matters  came  to 
a  head  with  the  visit  to  Carthage,  in  383,  of  Faustus, 
Manichsean  Bishop  of  Mileve.  Augustine  was  then 
in  his  twenty-ninth  year.  He  had  eagerly  desired 
a  conversation  with  this  Faustus,  on  account  of  his 
high  reputation  for  learning,  and  his  heralded  abil- 
ity to  clear  up  all  difficulties.  He  was  found  to  be 
a  man  of  deference  and  volubility.  But  his  suave 
manners  and  fluent  speech  did  not  deceive  the 
skilled  rhetorician.  Augustine  quickly  unmasked 
his  lack  of  erudition.  He  wanted  real  answers 
to  real  problems,  and  he  was  not  long  in  see- 
ing that  the  far-famed  Faustus  was  not  the 
man  to  lighten  him  of  his  burdens.  The  one  thing 
which  elevated  the  Manichsean  bishop  in  Augus- 
tine's eyes  was  his  sincerity  and  modesty — he  ac- 
knowledged his  ignorance  and  refused  to  argue  be- 
yond his  depths.  Accordingly  he  set  himself  to  cer- 
tain Hterary  pursuits  with  the  rhetoric  master,  with 
a  hope  that  they  both  might  find  more  ground  for 
their  faith.  But  this  arrangement  was  soon  broken 
up.  Faustus,  we  shall  meet  again,  and  shall  find 
liim  something  more  than  a  clever  talker — one  of 
the  most  acute  and  witty  debaters  Augustine  ever 
had  to  face. 


1^  Cf.  Ep.  55,  6.  IC  Reply  to  Fausti^s,  XX,  6. 


Mani.  43 

For  Augustine  the  next  step  seemed  to  be  in 
the  direction  of  Rome.  For  one  thing  his  friends 
had  been  holding  out  alluring  inducements — there 
was  greater  opportunity  for  honor  in  "the  Eternal 
City,"  and  other  temporal  advantages  of  no  mean 
character.  These  Augustine  confesses  were  con- 
siderations with  him.  But  he  was  already  enjoying 
a  comfortable  living,  and  he  had  given  up  the  pur- 
suit of  wealth.  The  thing  which  influenced  him 
most  was  the  prospect  of  greater  quiet.  At  Car- 
thage he  was  compelled  to  submit  to  the  boisterous 
misbehavior  of  the  students  until  it  became  an  in- 
tolerable burden  to  the  flesh.  Without  making  an 
open  break  with  the  Manichees,  therefore,  he  de- 
termined to  take  his  leave  of  Africa.  After  nine 
years  the  veil  was  lifting.  He  was  not  free.  Be- 
yond, there  appeared — nothing.  But  he  resolved 
to  fight  his  way  through,  trusting  meanwhile  to  the 
eclectic  philosophy  of  Cicero. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  IMPERIAL  CITY. 

Monica  was  much  disturbed  by  her  son's  deter- 
mination to  sail  for  Italy.  She  pleaded  with  him  to 
remain,  and  when  that  was  found  to  be  of  no  avail, 
begged  to  accompany  him.  Augustine's  response 
was  not  to  his  credit.  Pretending  that  a  delay  was 
necessary  for  a  favorable  wind,  he  persuaded  his 
mother  to  spend  the  night  in  a  near-by  chapel  built 
in  memory  of  Cyprian.  That  night  his  ship  spread 
sail  for  Ostia.  It  is  not  evident  what  was  Augus- 
tine's motive  for  this  cowardly  departure,  but  his 
later  condemnation  of  the  act^  makes  it  certain  that 
the  motive  was  worthless. 

Augustine's  sojourn  in  Rome  was  not  a  long 
one.  Moreover  his  opportunities  for  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  the  great  city  were  curtailed  by  a 
serious  fever,  and  by  his  devotion  to  his  studies  and 
teaching.  It  is  not  very  surprising,  therefore,  that 
he  is  comparatively  silent  as  to  the  impressions 
made  upon  him  by  the  life  about  him.  But  we  can 
be  in  little  doubt  as  to  what  those  impressions  were. 
In  the  unsparing  scorn  and  intense  disgust  with 
which  he  describes  the  folly  and  degradation  of  the 

1  Confcssiuiis,  V,  15. 

44 


The:  Impe:riai,  City.  45 

imperial  city  through  most  of  her  history,  we  can 
discern  the  things  which  took  hold  of  him  most 
during  the  six  months  or  so  that  he  lived  there. 

The  "glory"  of  Rome  had  not  yet  departed  nor 
the  gold  become  dim.  There  was  the  same  restless, 
pleasure-seeking,  unthinking  life  as  in  the  golden 
days  of  Augustus.  The  crowds  still  surged  from 
marble-colonnaded  forum  and  "Sacred  Way,"  to 
Jupiter's  temple  or  the  baths,  or  the  vast  circus.  In 
capitol,  mansion  of  the  rich,  coliseum,  temple,  wine- 
shop, no  outlay  was  too  great  which  would  minister 
to  a  morbid  desire  for  sensuous  delight.  Gluttony 
of  the  most  repulsive  type;  disgusting  display  by 
both  patrician  devotee  of  Cybele  and  the  no  less 
luxuriously  adorned  follower  of  Christ ;  gladiatorial 
shows ;  shiftlessness  and  unrestraint  among  the 
young  men  (a  "quarter  of  a  million  of  stout  frames 
rotting  in  idleness")  ;  stupid  debauch  among  the 
elders ;  bedizenment  and  moral  darkness  among  the 
matrons — these  mingled  with  the  rush  of  gilded 
chariots,  the  splendor  of  the  shops,  the  flash  of  gold 
and  silks,  the  drunken  revel,  the  frenzied  dance,  the 
hideous  religious  festivals,  to  give  Rome  her 
"glory" — and  to  make  a  fatter  feast  for  the  Vandal 
Vulture. 

It  is  taking  only  a  shallow  view  of  all  this  to 
say  that  the  fall  of  Rome  is  traceable  to  other  causes 
than  her  vice.  One  finds  no  difficulty  in  massing 
together  many  economic  and  political  reasons  why 
the  fall  of  the  empire  was  hastened.    It  is  true  that 


46  Augustine::  The  Thinker. 

incessant  war,  the  splitting  of  East  from  West,  the 
costly  use  of  foreign  military  service,  the  growth 
of  slavery  and  the  degradation  of  the  masses,  the 
failure  of  the  old  reHgions,  the  poisonous,  ruinous 
greed  of  emperors  and  senators,  were  responsible 
for  an  inner  decay  which  made  the  outward  over- 
throw a  child's  romp  for  the  disciplined  Ger- 
manic tribes.  But  what  was  at  the  root  of  all  this 
demoralization?  What  save  moral  failure  and  an 
insidious  corruption  which  ate  out  both  physical 
vigor,  and  judgment,  and  patriotic  concern?  There 
was  no  forlorn  policy,  no  shifting,  uncertain, 
coward  spirit  of  the  empire  under  Gratian,  Valen- 
tinian  and  Honorius,  which  did  not  grow  naturally 
out  of  the  soil  in  which  they  were  fostered.  Volup- 
tuousness and  vanity  gave  birth  to  national  effemi- 
nacy, and  this  to  indifference.  Immersed  in  her 
monstrous  vices,  Rome  actually  ignored  the  crowd- 
nig  barbarians.  She  established  the  bounds  of 
Roman  dominion  at  the  Rhine  and  Danube,  and 
before  she  was  aware,  was  on  the  defensive — and 
helpless. 

Still,  Rome  was  far  from  being  irreligious. 
When  Augustine  came  to  the  city,  nominally  if  not 
enthusiastically  a  Manichaean,  he  fell  in  easily  with 
that  sect.  From  the  famous  description  given  by 
Jerome,  in  the  very  year  Augustine  was  in  Rome,  it 
has  been  conjectured  that  the  Manichsean  women  at 
least  were  true  to  their  ascetic  ideal.  But  this  does 
not  tally  well  with  statements  made  by  Augustine, 


Th^  Imp^riai,  City.  47 

who,  though  he  found  refuge  with  a  follower  of 
Mani  during  his  idleness,  has  no  good  word  to  speak 
either  of  their  "driveling,"  "raving"  philosophy,  or 
of  their  "senseless  and  seducing  continency."^  In 
addition  there  was  at  Rome  a  wide-spread  interest 
in  the  cults  of  the  East,  including  a  formidable  fol- 
lowing of  the  Persian  Mithra,  who  was  the  supreme 
god  of  the  Emperor  Julian.  Of  intensely  deeper 
interest  was  the  struggle  which  Paganism  was  mak- 
ing to  maintain  its  hold  upon  the  popular  mind.  It 
is  evident  that  the  old  worship  was  by  no  means 
dead.  From  scores  of  statues  and  images,  the  gods 
and  goddesses  still  kept  up  their  reign,  while  the 
father  of  them  all,  from  the  proud  Capitoline,  en- 
throned himself  in  gold  and  marble.  Though  we 
are  assured  that  "a  cloud  of  little  gods,  like  so  many 
flies,"^  had  long  since  deserted  the  altars  of  the 
city,  there  remained  enough  to  satisfy  the  hearts  of 
the  most  devout.  These  remaining  divinities  were 
at  least  determined  there  should  be  no  failure  in  the 
corn  crop.  Seia  was  set  to  watch  over  its  upspring- 
ing,  Segetia,  over  its  maturing,  Tutilina,  over  its 
storage.  And  this  was  not  enough:  Proserpina 
must  see  that  the  corn  germinated  properly;  while 
Nodotus,  Volutina,  Potelana,  Hostilina,  Flora,  Lac- 
turnus,  Matuta,  Runcina,  and  others  unrecounted 
("for,"  says  Augustine,  "I  am  sick  of  all  this,"*) 
were  intrusted  with  various  important  duties.   Even 


2  Confessions,  VI,  12.  3  City  of  God,  II,  22. 

4  City  of  God,  IV,  8. 


48  Augustine:  The:  Thinke^r. 

then  there  was  necessity  for  deities  in  sickening 
numbers  to  be  present  at  every  movement  of  a  man 
from  the  hour  of  his  birth.  Most  unseemly  of  all 
were  the  coarse  immoralities  connected  with  the 
worship  of  these  divinities.  The  nameless  rites  of 
Liber,  described  by  Varro,  happily  had  disappeared. 
But  Berecynthia  and  her  shameful  ceremonies  still 
fouled  the  city.  Augustine  makes  horrified  refer- 
ence to  what  he  himself  witnessed.  Rome  was 
religious  enough,  but  for  the  most  part  her  re- 
ligion was  like  her  life — it  had  no  moral  bottom. 

Christianity,  however,  had  come  to  hold  the  bal- 
ance of  power.  Beginning  with  Constantine,  pagan 
practices  were  out  of  favor  with  nearly  all  the  em- 
perors. Constantine  in  346,  353,  and  356,  had  di- 
rected drastic  measures  against  sacrifices  and  the 
worship  of  heathen  images,  had  ordered  all  the 
temples  closed,  besides  demolishing  and  plundering 
some  of  them,  and  had  carried  on  relentless  war  in 
behalf  of  the  final  extirpation  of  paganism.  A 
policy  quite  the  reverse  was  pursued  by  Julian  dur- 
ing his  brief  reign  of  twenty  months,  ending  in 
June,  363.  By  adroit  jugglery,  by  double-dealing, 
by  cunning  use  of  power,  by  surrounding  himself 
with  an  atmosphere  of  intellectual  and  moral  cul- 
ture, Julian  succeeded  in  reviving  the  worship  of 
the  sanctuaries,  and  in  gaining  many  proselytes  to 
paganism.  The  character  of  this  dangerous  foe  of 
Christianity  shows  itself  conspicuously  in  his  be- 
havior toward  Athanasius,  Bishop  of  Alexandria, 


The:  Impe^riai,  City.  49 

in  banishing  whom  he  professed  publicly:  "It  was 
a  dangerous  thing  for  so  cunning  and  restless  a  man 
to  be  at  the  head  of  the  people."  But,  in  another  let- 
ter to  the  Egyptian  prefect,  he  laid  bare  the  real 
reason — this  Athanasius  was  bringing  despite  upon 
all  the  gods,  and,  godless  wretch  that  he  was,  had 
dared  to  baptize  noble  Grecian  women  in  the  reign 
of  Julian !  At  any  rate,  the  heathen  party  had  won 
a  passing  victory.  Had  the  life  of  the  emperor  not 
been  brought  to  a  sudden  close,  during  a  campaign 
in  Persia,  doubtless  Christianity  would  have  suf- 
fered still  more  at  his  hands.  As  it  was,  the  hopes 
of  the  gods  were  dashed  to  the  ground,  for  Jovian 
and  Valentinian,  though  tolerant  of  all  creeds,  were 
zealous  Christians. 

It  was  in  the  reign  of  Gratian  (375-384)  that 
paganism  received  a  check  which  marked  the  be- 
ginning of  its  final  collapse.  Gratian  considered  the 
acceptance  of  the  pontifical  robe  a  manifest  incon- 
sistency in  a  Christian.  He  went  ever  farther  in  ar- 
dent support  of  his  faith.  Two  years  before  Augus- 
tine came  to  Rome  (382)  he  turned  into  his  treasury 
the  estates  of  the  temples.  He  sadly  abridged  the 
rights  of  priests  and  Vestals.  Most  intolerant  of  all 
in  the  eyes  of  the  suffering  pagan,  he  bore  away  the 
statue  consecrated  to  Victory.  Before  this  shrine  the 
old  pagan  senators  were  wont  to  take  their  oaths  of 
allegiance,  to  scatter  incense,  and  to  make  fitting 
oblation  to  the  goddess  who  was  thought  to  have 
guided  the  empire  through  many  perils.  It  was  the 
4 


50  AuGUSTixi::  Thi^  Thinker. 

one  symbol  in  all  the  city  that  Roman  senators  might 
still  worship  as  did  their  fathers  before  them.  But 
Gratian's  suppression  of  Victory  was  not  to  pass 
without  a  protest.^  The  pagan  appeal  to  the  em- 
peror was  voiced  by  one  of  the  finer-fibered  men  of 
his  time,  Quintus  Aurelius  Symmachus,  who,  along 
with  his  participation  in  the  more  daring  extrava- 
gances of  the  day — for  he  is  credited  with  spending 
over  four  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  producing  a 
single  public  spectacle — was  deeply  devoted  to  his 
religion,  and  is  otherwise  w^orthy  of  respect.  But 
Gratian  had  no  ear  for  the  remonstrants.  His 
policy  was  largely  dictated  by  the  Christian  party, 
who  at  this  juncture  put  a  counter-petition  in  the 
hands  of  Ambrose,  the  Bishop  of  Milan,  where  the 
father  of  Gratian  had  set  up  his  court.  The  Roman 
Bishop  Damasus  added  whatever  further  weight 
was  needed,  and  there  was  no  alternative  for  the 
youthful  emperor.  His  indolent  reign  was  cut  short 
by  his  murder,  at  the  hands  of  his  own  cavalry,  the 
very  next  year,  383.  The  second  Valentinian  was 
only  thirteen  years  of  age  when  he  succeeded  his 
brother,  and  the  pagan  party  saw  an  immediate 
opportunity.  Several  members  of  the  privy  council 
of  the  emperor  were  pagans.  With  him  the  polit- 
ical situation  would  doubtless  count  for  more  than 
the  religious.     Accordingly,  in  the  year  of  Augus- 


5  Augustine  says  distinctly  that  a  few  years  later  "almost  all  the 
nobility  of  Rome  were  wedded  to  sacrilegious  rites."  (Confessions,  VIII,  3.) 
But  Ambrose  and  his  followers  maintained  that  the  Christian  element 
formed  the  major  part  of  the  senate. 


Th^  Impe:riai,  City.  51 

tine's  residence  at  Rome,  the  Prefect  Symmachiis 
again  voiced  a  popular  desire  for  the  restoration  of 
the  statue  of  Victory.  The  privy  council  wav- 
ered, and  Synimachus  all  but  prevailed.  Prob- 
ably he  would  have  done  so  had  not  Ambrose 
once  more  interfered.  His  letter  to  Valentinian, 
representing  as  it  did  the  unyielding  position  of  the 
Church,  and  tearing  in  shreds  the  casuistries  of  Sym- 
machus,  proved  unanswerable.  "If  some  nominal 
Christians  advise  3^ou  to  such  a  course,"  he  warns 
the  boy-ruler,  "do  not  be  deceived  by  mere  names. 
We  bishops  could  not  tolerate  this.  You  might 
come  to  the  church,  but  you  would  find  your  ap- 
proach forbidden."  The  doughty  Symmachus  made 
two  more  efforts  in  the  same  direction,  and  was 
once  rewarded  for  his  persistency  by  banishment. 
But  he  was  opposing  an  ever-increasing  force.  The 
old  religion  was  crumbling  into  a  hopeless  ruin, 
while  a  new  wonder  was  growing  up  by  its  side,  a 
mountain  that  should  fill  the  earth. 

It  is  not  to  be  thought,  however,  that  the  Chris- 
tianity which  Augustine  found  at  Rome  was  above 
reproach.  His  own  reasons  for  not  being  attracted 
to  the  Church  were,  first,  that  he  kept  up  an  external 
attachment  to  the  Manichaeans  as  a  kind  of  tem- 
porary expedient.  But  the  fact  is,  there  was  much 
that  was  hollow  in  the  pretensions  of  the  Church.  It 
had  all  but  given  itself  over  to  the  entire  reckless, 
self-indulgent  spirit  of  the  age.  True,  many  as- 
pects of  Roman  life  have  a  brighter  hue  under  the 


52  Augustine::  Th^  Thinkkr. 

glow  of  Christian  sentiment.  Woman  was  begin- 
ning to  enter  upon  a  new  inheritance  of  freedom, 
and  divorce  was  under  improved  legal  restrictions. 
Slavery  was  still  prevalent,  and  the  slave-trade 
flourished;  "cheap  as  a  Sardinian"  became  a 
proverb.  But  much  of  the  cruelty  practiced  upon 
the  slaves  had  ceased,  while  on  certain  festivals, 
great  liberties  were  allowed  them.  New  moral  de- 
mands were  staring  men  everywhere  in  the  face,  as 
a  result  of  the  insistent  presence  in  society  of  Chris- 
tian ideals.  Cultured  pagans  like  Symmachus,  Prae- 
textatus,  and  the  rhetorician  Libanius  found  them- 
selves shamed  up  to  new  heights  of  living.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Church  was  beginning  to  taste  some 
of  the  inevitable  fruits  of  its  alliance  with  the  State. 
And  the  fruits  were  bitter.  When  Constantine  ac- 
cepted the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  Christianity  be- 
came the  rule  of  the  empire,  it  seemed  like  a  price- 
less advantage  compared  with  the  stern  rigor  of 
recent  persecutions.  Cessation  of  the  old  conflict, 
in  behalf  of  Christ,  through  the  disarming  of  foes, 
the  approval  of  society,  the  widening  of  doors  of 
service  by  imperial  favor,  revenues,  immunities — 
this  was  surely  a  most  captivating  prospect.  So 
were  fostered  secularity,  greed,  pride,  hypocrisy, 
and  many  another  evil.  Membership  in  the  Church 
became  easy.  Worldly  corruption  stalked  into  the 
holy  of  holies,  and  maintained  its  place  under  cover 
of  the  organization.  When  the  pagans  complained 
that  enormous  vice  was  supported  beneath  the  show 


The:  Impe:riai,  City. 


53 


of  Christianity,  and  that  the  spread  of  Christianity 
was  due  largely  to  the  favor  of  princes,  Church 
apologists  at  least  could  not  deny  the  facts.®  Even 
among  the  clergy,  moral  laxity,  worldly-minded- 
ness,  and  ignorance  were  shamefully  common.  In 
a  keenly  sarcastic  letter  to  the  nun  Eustochium, 
Jerome  exposed,  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  Church, 
many  of  the  more  brazen  faults  of  the  Roman 
priesthood.  Other  letters  of  his  constitute  sad  fea- 
tures of  the  picture.'^ 

There  is  more  than  passing  interest  in  this  pres- 
ence of  Jerome  in  the  Roman  capital.  Under  the 
guidance  of  the  grammarian  Donatus  he  had  re- 
ceived his  early  education  there.  Later  he  sought  a 
desert  seclusion  in  Syria,  and,  becoming  a  presbyter 
in  Antioch,  made  his  way  to  Rome  in  382.,  on  a 
visit  to  Damasus.  At  once  Jerome  sought  to  pro- 
mote his  monastic  principles  among  people,  most 
of  whom  were  caught  in  the  swirl  of  gayety  about 
them.  He  preached  his  ascetic  ideals  to  maidens 
and  matrons  of  the  first  families  of  Rome.  By  his 
ardor  and  own  rigid  morality  he  induced  many  to 
abandon  their  homes  and  business,  and  in  some  in- 
stances to  withdraw  to  the  solitudes  of  Palestine. 
In  all  this,  though  he  incurred  displeasure  on  every 
side,  he  had  the  powerful  support  of  his  friend,  the 
Bishop  Damasus.  But  it  so  chanced  that,  in  that 
eventful   year   384,   Damasus   died,   and   was   suc- 


6  Cf.  e.  g.,  Augustine,  Sermon  XV,  and  Ep.  136. 

7  Cf.  Eps.  52,  24,  14s,  and  125. 


54  Augustine;:  The  Thinke:r. 

ceeded  by  Sirlclus,  a  man  who  regarded  Jerome's 
earnest  effort  to  win  Rome  back  to  truth  and  right- 
eousness as  too  radical.  Accordingly,  the  learned 
monk  shook  from  his  feet  the  dust  of  the  wicked 
Babylon. 

It  was  at  precisely  the  same  time  that  the 
rhetoric-master,  Augustine,  for  far  different  rea- 
sons, was  also  preparing  to  leave  the  great  capital. 
As  his  instructions  had  been  carried  on  at  his  own 
home,  he  had  not  shared  in  the  munificent  provision 
made  for  professors  of  rhetoric  in  his  day.  Hence 
he  was  in  no  financial  position  to  endure  the  burden 
imposed  by  some  of  his  tricky  pupils.  These  young 
men  were  better  behaved  than  those  in  Carthage, 
but  they  had  one  very  serious  defect.  When  pay- 
day came  round  they  conspired  to  discredit  their 
debt  and  to  leave  their  master  for  another.^  Most 
opportune,  therefore,  appeared  a  call  from  Alilan 
for  a  public  teacher  of  rhetoric.  Before  the  prefect 
Symmachus,  Augustine  was  found  worthy  of  the 
appointment,  which  he  received  at  once.  He  turned 
his  back  upon  ''Manichsean  vanities,"  and  at  the 
public  expense,  made  his  journey  along  the  Flam- 
inian  way  to  the  city  of  Ambrose.  Thus  this  pol- 
ished Symmachus,  in  the  very  hour  when  he  was 
contriving  for  the  restoration  of  an  expiring  wor- 
ship, was  unwittingly  contributing  a  new  element 
of  strength  to  the  cause  of  his  opponents. 


8  Confessions,  V,  22. 


CHAPTER  V. 
IN  THE  CITY  OF  AMBROSE. 

Augustine;  was  not  to  be  alone  in  his  new  labors 
as  professor  at  the  University  of  Milan.  A  little 
circle  of  friends  quickly  closed  around  him,  to 
share  the  trials  of  what  was  to  prove  one  of  the 
most  burdensome,  as  well  as  momentous,  periods 
of  his  life.  Grave  business  matters  had  brought  his 
steadfast  benefactor  Romanianus  to  the  city,  and  the 
latter's  two  sons,  Frigetius  and  Licentius,  were 
placed  under  Augustine's  tutelage.  The  talented 
Nebridius,  leaving  behind  his  fine  paternal  estate 
and  his  mother,  made  his  way  from  Carthage  that 
he  might  be  near  his  former  instructor.  As  was  to 
be  expected,  Alypius  found  excuse  to  be  in  Milan 
also.  The  character  of  this  future  bishop  excites 
admiration  as  well  as  interest.^  One  can  not  fail 
of  conviction  that  in  spite  of  his  lapses,  the  young 
man  Augustine  was  possessed  of  a  sincere  purpose, 
and  unusual  genius,  in  order  to  win  to  his  side  such 
a  serious  thinker  as  Nebridius,  and  a  youth  of  such 
integrity  as  Alypius. 

Of  still  greater  significance  was  the  reappear- 
ance, upon  the  scene,  of  Monica.     Not  a  day  had 


1  Confessions,  VI,  i6. 

55 


56  AuGusTiNK:  The  Thinker. 

passed  that  tears  and  prayers  had  not  given  witness 
to  the  depth  of  her  yearning  and  love.  At  length, 
alone,  she  dared  the  perils  of  the  journey  by  sea, 
and  displayed  such  unflinching  courage  that  even 
the  sailors  found  comfort  in  her  assurance  of  safety. 
Great  v^as  her  joy  at  finding  her  son  released  from 
alliance  with  the  sect  she  dreaded  and  detested. 
Her  counsels  to  him,  blinded  as  they  were  by  a 
pardonable  wealth  of  affection,  were  not  always  the 
wisest.  But  her  arrival  in  Milan  was  nevertheless 
opportune. 

Milan  was  at  this  time,  both  in  size  and  impor- 
tance, the  second  city  of  Italy.  Without  the  monu- 
mental majesty  of  Rome,  it  still  presented  all  the 
outward  marks  of  a  gay  capital.  For  there  was 
the  court  and  seat  of  empire  of  the  youthful  Valen- 
tinian,  and  to  say  that  is  to  have  the  imagination 
crowded  with  pictures  of  soldiers,  courtiers,  palaces, 
public-squares  and  market-places  alive  with  busi- 
ness, or  thronged  with  listless  idlers.  Augustine's 
post  was  one  of  considerable  honor  and  remunera- 
tion, and  secured  him  entrance  into  the  most  cul- 
tured circles  of  Milan.  He  even  intimates  that 
social  obligations  to  his  more  influential  friends  re- 
quired much  of  his  time.^  One  of  his  duties,  evi- 
dently an  irksome  one  with  him,  consisted  in  his 
preparation  and  delivery  of  a  flattering  discourse 
before  the  emperor.  He  was  only  one  of  the  count- 
less multitudes  who  confessed  a  reverence  for  their 


2  Confessions,  VI, 


In  th^  City  of  Ambrose:.  57 

ruler  whether  they  felt  it  or  not;  for  the  absolute- 
ness of  the  emperor's  power  left  no  room  for  any- 
thmg  like  freedom  of  speech.^ 

One  of  the  painful  things  connected  with  Augus- 
tine's residence  at  Milan,  was  his  attempt,  or  his 
mother's,  to  settle  the  question  of  his  marriage. 
Seemingly  there  were  two  serious  hindrances.  First 
of  all,  could  a  man,  bent  on  the  highest  attainment 
of  wisdom  and  a  life  of  honor,  be  burdened  with 
conjugal  cares?  He  concluded  that  "many  men  who 
are  worthy  of  imitation  have  applied  themselves  to 
wisdom  in  the  marriage  state."  The  second  hind- 
rance was  much  more  serious.  It  was  a  question  of 
plain  ethics,  and  the  pity  of  it  is  that  neither  Augus- 
tine nor  Monica  treated  it  with  any  deep  concern. 
With  the  unnamed  woman  he  had  been  living  in 
closest  intimacy  during  fourteen  years,  and  they  had 
had  one  son  born  to  them.  Now  that  it  was  clearly 
manifest  that  a  regular  marriage  would  cause  no 
interruption  of  his  studies,  he  must  look  about  for 
a  wife.  In  this  search  he  was  ably  supported  by 
his  mother.  The  mistress  of  so  many  years  was  out 
of  the  question;  evidently  she  was  of  much  lower 
birth,  and  it  would  have  been  "a  miracle  of  self- 
sacrifice  in  the  Roman  world  to  have  married  her." 
But  Monica  had  recourse  to  special  revelations ; 
might  they  not  be  effective  in  bringing  to  light  the 
proper  maiden  ?  "We  daily  begged  Thee  that  Thou 
wouldest  by  a  vision  disclose  unto  us  something  con- 

3  Cf.  Bryce,  The  Holy  Roman  Empire,  p.  21  f.,  for  a  discussion  of  the 
prerogatives  of  the  emperors  during  the  last  three  centuries  of  the  empire. 


58  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

cerning  my  future  marriage;  but  Thou  wouldest 
not."^  It  is  wonderful  that  Augustine  never  dis- 
covered any  inconsistency  in  the  mere  possibihty 
of  God's  answering  such  prayers.  But,  dreams  or 
no  dreams,  the  suit  must  be  pressed.  At  length  a 
comfortably  dowered  girl  of  tender  years  was 
found,  and  as  she  "wanted  two  years  of  the  mar- 
riageable age,  she  was  waited  for."  All  this  was 
purely — or  impurely — commercial.  To  complete 
the  transaction,  Augustine's  former  companion  was 
directed  back  to  Africa,  whither  she  went  "vowing 
never  to  know  another  man" — for  which  resolution 
one  feels  like  commending  her  sound  judgment. 
Had  her  lover  displayed  equal  sense,  we  should  be 
in  a  better  position  to  sympathize  with  him  when  he 
bemoans  his  "racked,  wounded,  bleeding  heart." 
Instead,  he  plunged  headlong  into  a  deeper  mire  of 
sensuality,  not  having  the  patience  to  wait  for  his 
nuptial-day.  It  may  afford  relief  to  some  minds 
that  society  in  that  age  had  no  frown  for  that  sort 
of  business — "did  not  reckon  such  connections  inde- 
cent or  profligate" — but  to  us  it  only  increases  the 
amazement  that  Christianity  should  be  able  to  take 
a  man,  in  the  condition  in  which  Augustine  now 
found  himself,  and  so  thoroughly  renovate  him  as  to 
make  him  hate  what  he  deemed  a  delightful  neces- 
sity. 

There  were  still  other  plans  under  consideration 
by  Augustine  and  his  set.     They  found  it  a  vexa- 

4  Confessions,  VI,  23. 


In  the;  City  of  Ambrose.  59 

tious  thing  to  continue  living  as  they  had  been. 
So  they  hit  upon  a  kind  of  communistic  scheme.^ 
Romanianus  was  foremost  in  making  the  propo- 
sition and  in  supporting  it  by  his  great  wealth. 
Two  officers,  charged  with  the  household  cares, 
were  to  have  annual  appointment,  and  the  others  to 
be  left  free  from  responsibility.  A  stumbling-block 
in  the  way  of  all  this  speedily  made  its  appearance. 
As  in  the  "Pantisocracy"  of  Southey  and  Coleridge, 
the  woman  question  showed  its  head.  But  in  this 
case  she  was  the  stumbling-block.  Doubtless  the 
primary  object  of  the  community  had  been  to  se- 
cure greater  comfort  to  the  members.  But  there 
seems  to  have  been  some  notion  of  philosophic 
study.  At  any  rate,  shortly  thereafter,  Augustine 
was  discussing  with  his  closest  friends  the  nature  of 
good  and  evil,  when  the  well-known  contention  of 
Epicurus  about  a  happy  life  came  up.  Whereupon 
Augustine  declared  a  life  of  pleasure  might  be  de- 
fensible, were  it  not  for  the  life  hereafter.  "For 
the  fear  of  death  and  future  judgment,  amid  all  my 
fluctuations  of  opinion,  never  left  my  breast."^ 

These  last  words  reveal  one  phase  of  Augus- 
tine's inner  life,  consideration  of  which  purposely 
has  been  deferred  till  this  time.  He  was  not  happy. 
He  had  set  out  to  nnd  wisdom,  and  at  thirty,  still 
pursuing  more  vulgar  objects — wealth,  worldly 
honor,  and  preferment — he  confesses  failure.  On 
the  Milanese  streets  he  passes  a  poor  beggar,  "jok- 


6  Confessions,  VI,  24.  6  Confessions,  VI,  26. 


6o  Augustine::  The;  Thinker. 

ing  and  joyous"  with  the*  fleeting  pleasures  a  few 
small  coins  have  bought  him.  This  mendicant  is 
happier  than  he.  With  all  the  felicities  of  the  pres- 
ence and  love  of  dear  friends,  and  in  full  indul- 
gence of  carnal  appetites,  he  knows  he  has  not  yet 
come  to  inward  peace.  Alanichasism  he  has  dis- 
carded as  a  tattered,  worthless  garment;  there  are 
some  philosophers  that  give  him  deeper  satisfaction. 
He  has  turned  to  the  Christian  Scriptures,  but  has 
been  repelled  by  their  narrow  literalism.  Even  the 
boasted  systems  of  the  Academicians  provide  him 
no  firm  footing. 

Deeper  than  all  this,  of  course,  was  Augustine's 
moral  malady.  He  had  been  living  far  below  his 
own  ideal,  and,  as  he  looked  hither  and  thither  for 
a  way  out  of  the  tangle,  his  soul  was  filled  with 
despair  and  dread.  But  first  of  all  must  come  an 
intellectual  deliverance.  Plainly  there  were  two 
requisites.  For  one  thing  his  conception  of  God 
must  be  clarified,  and  he  must  be  impressed  with 
the  profound  reality  of  a  spiritual  realm;  other- 
wise there  was  no  hope  of  his  emerging  from  the 
gross  realism  of  the  Manichees.  The  other  need 
was  for  an  authority  so  masterful,  as  to  give  him 
an  abiding  certainty  about  the  worth  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  as  to  oversweep  his  soul  with  th^ 
grandeur  of  the  Christian  Church.  Of  these  two 
needs,  the  second  was  the  first  to  be  met.  Augus- 
tine has  made  it  very  clear  what  he  was  seeking. 
In  his  book  ''On  the  Profit  of  Believing,"  written 


In  the  City  oi^  Ambrose.  6i 

only  a  few  years  after  the  early  experiences  at 
Milan,  and  again  in  the  "Confessions,"  he  sets  forth 
his  mental  struggles.  Amidst  all  his  wavering  skep- 
ticism and  distracting  activities — scholars  and  men- 
tal drill,  social  demands  and  recreation — he  could 
not  forsake  the  quest  of  truth.^  But  the 
moment  he  launched  upon  the  sea  of  conflicting 
thoughts,  all  was  bewilderment.  Where  should  he 
find  certainty  ?  For  he  was  convinced  that,  so  sure 
as  there  was  a  God,  **He  hath  appointed  some  au- 
thority, whereon,  resting  as  on  a  sure  step,  we  may 
be  lifted  up  to  Him."*  He  says  truly^  that,  at  this 
critical  moment,  if  there  had  been  some  one  to 
teach  him,  he  would  have  been  found  "most  fer- 
vently disposed  and  very  apt  to  learn."  "For  such 
a  man  whose  will  was  weak  and  whose  passions 
were  powerful,  whose  strength  lay  chiefly  in  the 
life  of  the  emotions,  who  had  no  canon  for  the 
recognition  of  truth,  whose  intellectual  stability 
had  been  shaken  by  so  many  changes  of  opinion, 
there  was  but  one  resort  at  last — to  fall  back  upon 
some  external  authority,  if  any  such  existed,  pow- 
erful enough  to  subdue  the  intellect,  to  open  up  a 
channel  for  the  emotions,  and  to  hold  the  will  to  a 
definite  purpose."^^ 

As  presenting  more  than  a  hint  of  the  subtle, 
providential  adjustments  of  life,  there  is  absorbing 


7  Confessions,  VI,  i8  and  19.  8  On  the  Profit  of  Believing,  34. 

9  Ibid.  20. 

10  Professor  A.  V.  G.  Allen,  The  Continuity  of  Christian  Thought, 
p.  146. 


62  Augustine;:  The;  Thinker. 

interest  in  the  particular  appearance,  at  this  crisis, 
of  the  great  Bishop  Ambrose.  Indeed,  there  is 
something  significant  in  the  way  he  began  to  loom 
so  large  upon  Augustine's  horizon  that  ]\Iilan  and 
Ambrose  became  almost  identical — "to  Milan  I 
come  unto  Ambrose  the  bishop."  "To  him  was  I 
unknowingly  led  by  Thee,  that  by  him  I  might 
knowingly  be  led  to  Thee."^^  With  ecclesiastical 
dignity,  but  withal  a  fatherly  w^armth,  the  re- 
nowned bishop  began  his  conquest  of  the  polished 
young  professor  by  winning  him  first  to  himself 
and  to  a  new  respect  for  the  Church.  All  the  world 
knew  how  Ambrose  had  risen,  out  of  noble  parent- 
age, to  become  consular  of  practically  all  Upper 
Italy,  and  of  his  response  to  the  call  of  the  Church 
in  a  trying  situation.  All  the  refinements  of  his 
Roman  birth  and  education,  all  the  discrimination 
and  alertness  of  a  courageous  governor  whom  every 
one  respected  and  trusted,  these  he  had  brought 
with  him  to  adorn  the  office  which  he  began  at 
once  to  fill  with  great  wisdom,  energy,  and  inde- 
pendence. Pre-eminently  Ambrose  was  a  pro- 
nounced  Churchman.  The  man  who  later  (390) 
was  to  accomplish  the  humiliation  of  an  emperor,^* 
had  it  in  his  power  to  awe  questioning  minds  into 
submission,  and  to  make  them  conscious,  amidst  the 
failures  of  the  old  institutions,  of  the  supremacy 
of  the  forces  of  the  Church.     One  finds  no  diffi- 


11  Confessions,  V,  23. 

12  Theodosius.     See  Neander's  Account,  II,  180  f. 


In  the:  City  oi^  Ambrose;.  63 

culty  in  imagining  how  this  massive  episcopal 
statesmanship  would  captivate  a  shrinking  religious 
nature  like  Monica's.  His  words  were  out  of 
heaven  to  her.  When,  one  day,  she  went  to  the 
Church  purposing  to  pay  some  respect  to  the  mem- 
ory of  the  martyrs  and  was  halted  by  the  porter  who 
informed  her  that  Ambrose  had  forbidden  the  cere- 
mony, she  submitted  without  the  least  hesltation.^^ 
Augustine  was  already  deeply  under  the  spell 
of  the  bishop  of  Milan  when  Monica  came  to  the 
city,  and  it  was  a  source  of  joy  to  her.  The  per- 
sonality and  eloquent  preaching  and  the  atmos- 
phere of  Ambrose  were  Irresistible.  Augustine 
felt  his  prejudices  against  the  Church  melting  away. 
There  were  other  elements  to  aid  this  process.  One 
v/as  the  splendor  of  the  service  of  the  Church  at 
Milan.  It  was  Ambrose  who  introduced  musical 
features  previously  unknown  In  the  worship  of 
Italy,  and  himself  composed  hymns  to  be  sung  by 
the  great  congregations.  Then  In  connection  with 
this  introduction  of  music  occurred  another  event 
which  must  have  had  powerful  weight  with  Augus- 
tine at  this  time.  The  predecessor  of  Ambrose  was 
the  Arlan  bishop,  Auxentius.  Consequently  there 
was  great  excitement  over  the  choice  of  Ambrose, 
a  stout  upholder  of  the  NIcene  faith.  Valentlnian  I 
had  approved,  but  his  mother,  Justina,  stubbornly 
put  her  Arian  priests  in  the  field,  demanding  both 


13  Confessions,  VI,  2;   cf.  City  of  God,  VII,  27;  also  Ep,  36,  32,  for 
further  evidence  of  the  influence  of  Ambrose  on  Monica. 


64  Augustine::  The:  Thinkkr. 

the  Portlan  basilica  without  the  walls,  and  the  new 
basilica,  within.  She  supported  her  demands  with 
an  array  of  Gothic  soldiery,  and  a  threat  of  banish- 
ment. Then  the  loyalty  of  the  people  asserted 
itself.  Surrounding  the  church  and  house  of  Am- 
brose, they  kept  guard,  Monica  among  them,  day 
and  night.  Thus  without  any  physical  force,  Am- 
brose remained  unyielding,  and  proved  "how  a 
great  community,  pervaded  by  an  intense  enthu- 
siasm, can  paralyze  an  administrative  authority 
destitute  of  the  elements  of  moral  force."^*  Shortly 
after  this,  Ambrose  clinched  his  claim  to  full  super- 
vision of  the  Churches,  and  finally  repressed  what 
Augustine  calls  *'the  feminine  but  royal  fury,"  by 
an  opportune  discovery,  and  transference  to  the 
basilica  of  the  bodies  of  two  martyrs,  Gervasius 
and  Protasius.  By  means  of  these  relics,  a  case  of 
blindness  and  several  cases  of  demon-possession 
are  said  by  both  Augustine^^  and  Ambrose  to  have 
been  cured.  Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  "credi- 
bility" of  these  miracles,  it  is  certain  they  were  im- 
portant to  Augustine,  as  impressing  him  with  the 
supernatural  power  of  Christianity.  Thus  the  popu- 
larity and  power  of  Ambrose,  the  enrapturing  won- 
der of  choirs  singing  in  aiitiphon,  the  reverent  pos- 
ture of  the  crowds  of  worshipers,  and  the  sight  of 
what  were  at  least  regarded  as  miracles,  charmed 
the  imagination  of  Augustine,  and  led  him  to  enroll 


14  Principal  Robert  Rainy,  The  Ancient  Catholic  Church,  p.  435  f. 

15  Confessions,  XI,  iC ;  City  of  God,  XXII,  8;  Sermon,  286,  Sec.  4. 


In  th^  City  oi^  Ambrose:.  65 

as  a  probationer  in  the  Catholic  Church,  while  he 
waited  for  further  light. 

It  was  from  Ambrose  also  that  he  was  to  receive 
the  first  glimmerings  of  that  light.  Professor  Har- 
nack  has  pointed  out  that  the  most  important  in- 
fluence of  the  East  upon  Ambrose  lay  in  his  recep- 
tion of  the  allegorical  method  of  exegesis/®  and 
further,  declares  that  Manichaeism  would  hardly 
have  been  overcome  in  the  West  unless  it  had  been 
confronted  with  the  ''Biblical  alchemy"  of  the 
Greeks.  One  readily  can  see  a  special  meaning  in 
these  words  as  applied  to  the  problem  which  was 
perplexing  Augustine.  It  was  because  he  had  come 
in  contact  with  only  a  meager,  ''pedantically  lit- 
eral," and  formless  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures, 
that  the  Manichaean  charges  against  the  Old  Tes- 
tament hitherto  had  seemed  incapable  of  disproof. 
Ambrose  brought  relief  into  this  entire  situation. 
Not  only  did  he  "answer  objections."  He  "drew 
aside  the  mystic  veil,"  so  that  Augustine  saw  the 
possibility  of  deliverance  from  bondage  to  the  let- 
ter. For,  with  all  that  was  fantastic  and  overdrawn 
in  the  allegorical  method,  it  had  the  merit  of  flood- 
ing the  Scriptures  with  a  new  spirit,  and  this  it  was 
which  drew  Augustine  to  them  at  once. 

But  here,  for  the  time  being,  the  influence  of 
Ambrose  was  at  an  end.  He  had  made  the  Scrip- 
tures a  new  and  attractive  book  for  Augustine,  and 
had  crowded  upon  him  the  splendors  of  the  visible 

16  History  of  Dogma,  V,  p.  32. 

5 


66  Augustine::  The  Thinker. 

Cliurch.  For  the  rest  he  was  too  busy.  Again  and 
again  the  eager  disciple  sought  a  personal  inter- 
view with  the  bishop.  But  always  there  was  a 
crowd  of  hangers-on — some  scrupulous  Christian 
desiring  advice  in  a  matter  of  conscience,  some  un- 
fortunate begging  his  intercession,  others  seeking 
settlement  of  a  suit,  a  throng  dependent  upon  his 
charity.  And  when  they  had  all  gone,  and  the  ex- 
hausted head  of  the  Church  sat  in  his  open  court, 
snatching  a  few  rare  moments  for  mental  refresh- 
ment out  of  some  favorite  book,  the  young  men 
hardly  dared  venture  beyond  the  door  and  a  few 
hasty,  reverential  glances.^^  ''Nothing  is  more 
touching,"  says  the  faithful  Poujoulat,^^  "than  this 
sight  of  the  young  Augustine,  the  future  doctor  of 
the  Church,  still  a  prey  of  doubts,  entering  the  court 
of  St.  Ambrose,  with  discreet  step  and  closed  lips, 
throwing  respectful  looks  upon  the  great  bishop 
absorbed  in  some  heavy  reading,  and  soon  after  de- 
parting in  silence,  vv'ithout  having  had  the  courage 
to  disturb  the  quiet  of  the  ecclesiastic."  Accord- 
ingly, the  surgings  of  spirit,  the  wonders  and 
anxieties  of  mind,  continued  to  possess  Augustine. 
Whether  Ambrose,  at  leisure,  could  have  cleared 
the  way  to  peace  we  can  not  tell.  At  all  events, 
there  was  more  truth  to  be  had,  and  from  another 
quarter. 

17  A  trustworthy  portrait  of  a  busy  bishop  in  a  large  city  may  be 
found  in  Kingslcy's  Hypatia,  where  the  ordinary  routine  of  Cyril  of  Alex- 
andria  U  let  forth.  18  Histoire  de  St.  Augustin,  I,  p.  72. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THROUGH  PLATO  TO  CHRIST. 

As  alre;ady  indicated,  one  of  the  deepest  needs 
of  Augustine,  during  the  period  of  mental  disturb- 
ance, was  a  spirituahzed  conception  of  Hfe  and  the 
world.  However  loosely  the  Manichaean  view  of 
things  held  him,  its  materialistic  ideas  of  God  and 
evil  kept  him  in  check.  Until  he  found  emancipa- 
tion from  these  there  could  be  no  progress.  It  may 
be  true  that  his  skepticism  was  not  radical.  But  he 
was  beginning  to  lose  hope,  and  he  dreaded  the  out- 
come. The  night  of  uncertainty  to  him  meant  pro- 
found misery  and  spiritual  death.  Professor  Dods 
has  pointed  out  a  similarity  betvv^een  his  experience 
in  this  respect  and  that  of  John  Henry  Newman.^ 
But  there  was  this  difference — Newman  professed 
never  to  have  sinned  against  the  light,  while  Augus- 
tine was  conscious  of  deliberate  moral  failure,  and 
his  "crushing  anxiety"  grew  out  of  this  feeling  as 
much  as  out  of  his  doubts.  To  use  his  own  con- 
fession, he  was  afraid  of  death. 

But  he  could  not  utterly  despair,  because  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  yield  his  belief  in  God.  His 
grave  concern  now  was  to  get  beyond  what  the 


1  Lecture  on  St.  Augustine  delivered  in  Glasgow,  Dec.  4,  i88i. 
67 


68  Augustine:  The:  Thinke:r. 

preaching  of  Ambrose  and  his  own  reading  of 
Scripture  convinced  him  were  wholly  false  and 
vulgar  conceptions  of  Deity.  He  longed  to  be  as 
sure  of  spiritual  things  as  he  was  "that  seven  and 
three  are  ten."  But  he  found  it  impossible  to  hold 
fast  to  the  elusive  idea  of  an  unseen  realm.  He 
could  not  free  his  mind  from  "the  flux  of  phe- 
nomena, the  mysterious  and  harassing  play  of  the 
transient."  God  could  be  thought  of  only  as  stand- 
ing somewhere  in  space.  Back  to  his  mind,  again 
and  again,  swept  the  crude  and  even  disgusting  no- 
tions which  for  so  many  years  he  had  harbored 
there — God  changeable  and  corruptible,  God  torn 
asunder,  enduring  loathsome  pollution  from  mix- 
ture with  matter,  suiiering  like  the  trees  and  beasts 
and  then  gaining  a  painful  freedom  by  their  cor- 
ruption, God  the  object  of  the  successful  onslaughts 
of  evil.  This  last  especially  perplexed  him.  Plainly 
it  made  God  a  weakling — or  a  monster.  For,  if  the 
vast  wrong  of  the  world  was  not  here  because  of 
a  divine  debility,  how  else  was  one  to  account  for 
it  except  as  existing  by  divine  direction?  But  did 
not  Ambrose  preach  that  it  was  man's  will  which 
was  radically  wrong  P^  Yes,  but  the  problem  was 
still  a  tangle — it  always  was  for  Augustine.  Never- 
theless he  had  rather  remain  in  the  dark  than  doubt 
the  ultimate  goodness  of  God,     So  he  continued  to 


2  This,  of  course,  is  only  conjecture — i.  e.,  so  far  as  it  applies  to 
Augustine  at  this  period.  Still  it  seems  to  me  well  founded.  Cf.  many 
statements  by  Augustine  himself,  like  Confessions,  VII,  5;  Fisher,  History 
of  Christian  Doctrine,  p.  187;  Harnack,  History  of  Dogma,  p.  48  f. 


Through  Pi,ato  to  Christ.  69 

read  the   Sacred   Writings  and  to  hang  upon  the 
sermons  of  Ambrose. 

Augustine  contracted  a  friendship  at  Milan  with 
Manlius  Theodorus,  who  became  consul  in  399. 
Theodorus  was  an  ardent  student  of  New  Platon- 
ism,  a  philosophy,  with  leanings  toward  religion, 
which  had  reached  its  influences  out  from  its  Alex- 
andrian cradle  into  various  parts  of  the  empire. 
Augustine  soon  fell  to  examining  the  teachings  of 
the  new  school.  With  rather  paltry  gratitude  he 
refers  to  "one  inflated  with  most  monstrous  pride," ' 
giving  him  "certain  books  of  the  Platonists,  trans- 
lated from  Greek  into  Latin."  There  is  some  doubt 
as  to  the  exact  authorship  of  these  books,  although 
one  would  not  greatly  err  in  picking  out  Plotinus 
as  the  one  most  directly  responsible  for  the  ideas 
they  contained.  Elsewhere  Augustine  hints  at  a 
familiarity  with  Jamblichus  and  Porphyry,  and 
with  his  fellow-countryman  Apuleius,  but  these 
made  little  advance  upon  the  work  of  Plotinus, 
while  to  the  "Enneads"  of  the  latter  it  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  trace  many  of  the  conceptions  which  abound 
in  Augustine.^ 

The  New  Platonism  was  a  last  determined  effort 
of  Hellenism  to  win  the  devotion  of  the  old  world. 
During  this  age,  the  absorbing  question  of  philoso- 
phy was,  whether  there  were  two  substances  and 
distinct  realms  of  being  in  the  world,  or  whether 


3  This  has  been  shown  clearly  by  Professor  A.  H.  Newman  in  his 
scholarly  essay  with  which  he  introduces  the  Anti-Manichaean  Writings  of 
Augustine,  Nicene  and  Post-Nicene  Fathers,  Vol.  IV,  p.  27  ff. 


70  Augustine:  The:  Thinke:r. 

spirit  and  matter  were  essentially  one.  It  was  a 
battle  of  Plato  against  the  Stoics,  of  Theism  against 
Pantheism.  \\'hat  the  New  Platonists  did  was,  first 
to  make  alliance  with  both  Stoic  and  Platonist 
forces  by  offering  a  doctrine  of  evolution  from  the 
supreme  God  to  the  lowest  matter.  Then  (after 
the  manner  of  modern  mediating  theologies),  in 
order  to  make  terms  with  all  parties  and  organize 
all,  including  ''magic  and  marvels  of  legend,"  into 
one,  it  must  provide  a  basis  for  accepted  forms  of 
religion.  In  this  way  there  was  offered  to  men  a 
doctrine  of  God — a  triad  Being  made  up  of  unity, 
reason,  and  soul — and  a  theory  of  existence  cov- 
ering all  forms  of  life.  The  question  of  evil  was 
summarily  dealt  with :  in  reality  there  is  none ;  it  is 
1  athcr  a  lack  of  the  intensely  real  One  who  is  good- 
ness, and  therefore  can  not  have  God  for  its  author. 
There  was  set  forth  also  a  doctrine  of  the  imper- 
sonal "Word,"  the  Logos  of  the  heretical  Gnostics. 
P>ut  concessions  to  Christianity,  before  whose  mili- 
tant spirit  New  Platonism  stood  in  wonder,  were 
distinctly  avoided.  Jesus  was  to  be  regarded  only 
as  an  austere  man  of  large  wisdom ;  the  professions 
of  his  followers  were  vulgar  perversions  of  truth. 
Put  the  goal  of  all  is  the  absorption  of  the  indi- 
vidual into  God.  "All  that  really  is  derives  good- 
ness from  Him ;  and  in  some  wonderful  way  a  con- 
sciousness of  God  IS  obtainable  which  is  victory, 
emancipation,  and  blessedness.  The  progress 
towards  this  goal  and  the  attainment  of  it  give  life 


Through  Pi.ato  to  Christ.  71 

a  consecration  and  bathe  it  in  a  religious   expe- 
rience.""* 

One  readily  sees  how  Christian  minds  like  Syne- 
sius,  Nemesius,  and  Origen  were  stirred  and  deeply 
influenced  by  the  idealism  of  the  new  philosophy, 
and  how  such  restless  spirits  as  Hypatia  and  Julian, 
in  an  age  of  shifting  visions,  could  hazard  life  itself 
upon  the  truth  of  their  doctrine.  Augustine  also 
confesses  that  the  newly-discovered  works  of  Plo- 
tinus  kindled  within  him  an  incredible  ardor.^  They 
lifted  before  his  vision  a  spiritual  world.  There 
he  saw  a  God  who  answered  his  demand  for  an  ut- 
most good,  mirrored  some  features  of  the  Christian 
Trinity,  and  could  by  no  means  be  limited  to  a  nar- 
row, fleshly  prison.  Thus  his  search  for  "incor- 
poreal truth"  was  over.  More  than  that,  he  had 
found  an  answer  for  his  anxious  query,  oft-re- 
peated: "Whence  is  evil?"  For  that  which  is  but 
the  negation  of  reality  need  not  trouble  the  mind  of 
any  one ;  in  fact,  the  remarkable  ease  with  which  he 
dismissed  this  mental  difficulty  is  only  a  shade  less 
wonderful  than  the  readiness  with  which  he  began 
to  see  the  many  advantages  which  evil  had  made 
for  the  world.  Then,  in  reminiscent  mood,  he 
turned,  from  pondering  the  frigid,  ethereal  Logos 
of  the  philosophers,  to  the  Christ  about  whom  they 

4  The  reader  is  directed,  for  a  fuller  treatment,  to  Principal  Rainy's 
luminous  discussion,  from  which  this  last  sentence  is  taken  :  Ancient  Cath- 
olic Church,  Chap.  IX.  Cf.  also  Sheldon,  History  of  Christian  Doctrine, 
p.  166  ff.  In  the  Hypatia  Kingsley  has  done  some  valuable  reconstructing 
of  the  Neoplatonic  philosophy. 

6  Against  the  Academicians,  II,  5, 


72 


Augustink:  The  Thinker. 


were  silent,  the  *'Word  made  flesh"  of  whom  his 
mother  had  taught  him  in  childhood,  the  Savior  of 
men  who  in  shame  and  humiliation  bore  the  curse 
of  the  cross.^  Thus  he  began  to  Christianize  his 
ideals.  In  spite  of  him  he  could  not  lay  hold  on 
the  Incarnation.  Christ  was  still  simply  most  ex- 
cellent of  men.  But  gradually  the  light  was  break- 
ing in  upon  his  forlorn  soul.  He  even  believed  he 
saw  "the  unchangeable  brightness,"  and  beyond  the 
possibility  of  doubt  heard  an  inner  voice  bidding 
him  go  on."^  For  a  brief  season  it  seemed  that  the 
battle  was  won. 

In  truth  the  enemy  had  only  retreated  to  prepare 
for  a  fresh  attack.  As  Neander  has  aptly  said :  the 
Platonic  theories  were  "demolished  by  the  energy 
of  life."  "They  ravished  his  intellectual  vision," 
but  they  could  give  no  victory  over  the  flesh.  From 
the  mountain's  wooded  summit  he  had  beheld  the 
land  of  peace,  but,  alas!  the  way  hither  was  dark 
and  beset  by  the  old  foes.  In  this  predicament  he 
turned  to  Paul.  This  was  the  way  of  it:  Into  the 
Neoplatonic  writings  Augustine  had  been  initiated 
by  the  translations  and  original  works  of  the 
rhetorician  \'ictorinus,  that  "aged  man,  most 
learned  and  highly  skilled  in  the  liberal  sciences, 
who  had  read  and  weighed  so  many  works  of  the 
])hilosophers,  the  instructor  of  so  many  senators, 
who  also,  as  a  monument  of  his  excellent  discharge 
of  his  office,  had  deserved  and  obtained  a  statue  in 


e  Confessions,  VII,  13,  14.  7  Ibid.  VII.  16. 


Through  PivATo  to  Christ.  73 

the  Roman  Forum."^  Harnack  even  considers  it 
was  from  Victorinus  that  Augustine  learned  how  to 
unite  Neoplatonic  speculation  with  Christianity.  At 
all  events,  VictQrinus  had  culled  the  characteristic 
thoughts  of  Paul,  and  we  may  assume  that  this  is 
what  led  Augustine  to  examine  more  carefully  the 
Pauline  epistles. 

At  this  point  the  moralist  halts.  It  is  enough 
for  him  that  the  promised  land  is  already  in  sight. 
He  can  make  nothing  of  the  enigma  of  a  Paul 
showing  the  way.  "Let  the  pilgrim  continue  his 
secular  way,"  he  says,  ^'heeding  nothing  of  paths 
to  heaven  beyond  a  certain  sobriety  of  life."  Why 
should  we  seek  for  Augustine  any  more  ''conver- 
sion" than  he  had  already?  The  answer  is  near  at 
hand.^  The  pressure  towards  progress  was  in  him- 
self. What  he  had  was  of  value,  but  it  could  not 
satisfy  him.  There  was  an  inward  unrest,  a  life- 
and-death  struggle  to  subdue  the  sensual  to  the 
ideal.  It  was  not  the  allurements  of  secular  life 
which  held  him.  These  he  could  give  up ;  the 
thought  of  wealth  and  honor  had  ceased  to  charm. 
But,  frankly  he  bares  the  truth,  "very  tenaciously 
was  I  held  by  the  love  of  women."  With  the  father- 
land in  full  view,  and  the  dogged  insistence  of  cor- 
rupt passions  a  powerful  reality,  the  meaning  of 
the  great  apostle  could  not  be  mistaken — the  war 
between  flesh  and  spirit  was  no  phantasm. 

Fortunatelv   there   were    friends   to   whom   he 


8  Confessions,  VIII,  3. 


74  Augustine::  The  Thinker. 

might  turn.  And  he  could  have  chosen  none  more 
sagacious  than  SimpHcianus,  whom  both  Ambrose 
and  Augustine  delighted  to  address  as  "father." 
The  aged  saint  did  not  rebuke.  Like  his  Master  at 
Sychar,  he  followed  the  lead  which  the  occasion 
presented.  Augustine,  in  making  a  clean  breast  of 
his  wanderings,  mentioned  his  indebtedness  to  Vic- 
torinus.  This  was  a  golden  moment  for  SimpHcia- 
nus, for  it  was  he  who  had  stopped  Victorinus  short 
in  the  midst  of  his  "thundering  eloquence"  in  be- 
half of  heathen  gods,  and  had  led  him  to  a  hum- 
ble confession  of  Christ.  Openly,  to  the  amaze- 
ment of  all  Rome  and  the  joy  of  the  Church,  Vic- 
torinus had  made  declaration  of  his  choice  of  The 
Way.  Consequently,  by  a  law  of  Julian,  he  had 
been  forbidden,  as  a  Christian,  any  longer  to  teach 
rhetoric.  Upon  hearing  this  recital,  the  ardent 
Augustine  "burned  to  imitate  him."^  But  forth- 
with the  conflict  became  more  tense.  "With  the 
baggage  of  the  world  was  I  burdened,  as  when  in 
slumber;  and  the  thoughts  wherein  I  meditated 
upon  Thee  were  like  unto  the  efforts  of  those  de- 
siring to  awake,  who,  still  overpowered  with  a 
heavy  drowsiness,  are  again  steeped  therein."^*^ 
"And  to  Thee  showing  me  on  every  side  that  what 
Thou  saidst  was  true,  I,  convicted  by  the  truth,  had 
nothing  at  all  to  reply,  but  the  drawling  and  drowsy 
words:  'Presently,  lo,  presently.'  " 


ft  This  entire  story  of  Victorinus  is  worth  reading  for  its  dramatic  in- 
terest and  picture  of  a  noble  spirit.     See  the  Confessions,  VIII,  3-9. 
10  Confessions,  VIII,  12. 


Through  Plato  to  Christ.  75 

Alypius  was  sharing  with  Augustine  this  periad 
of  anxious  sorrow.  One  would  be  barren  of  all 
feeling  not  to  be  moved  by  this  picture  of  the  two 
young  men,  under  firm  seizure  of  the  Spirit  of  God, 
seeking  release  almost  daily  in  the  great  Church,^^ 
being  swept  from  their  sensual  pleasures  while  wil- 
fully holding  them  fast.  To  them  there  came  one 
day  an  imperial  officer,  Potitianus,  who  was  one  of 
their  own  country.  As  they  talked,  the  eyes  of  the 
visitor  lighted  upon  a  book,  which  to  his  surprise 
was  no  other  than  the  writings  of  the  Apostle  Paul. 
Potitianus  being  a  baptized  Christian,  it  was  nat- 
ural that  his  conversation  should  turn  to  religious 
themes.  From  speaking  of  Antony,  he  passed  to  a 
description  of  the  Egyptian  monks,  their  wilder- 
ness retirement  and  unselfishness,  while  Augustine 
sat  enraptured.  At  Triers,  on  a  certain  afternoon, 
so  this  Christian  officer  went  on  to  relate,  two  of 
his  comrades  had  been  so  deeply  impressed  by  the 
devotion  of  Antony,  that  they  resolved  to  follow 
his  example.  Their  affianced  brides,  thereupon, 
also  dedicated  themselves  to  God.  While  Potitianus 
was  weaving  the  threads  of  his  tale,  Augustine  was 
burning  with  shame  to  think  how  cowardly  and 
sordid  he  had  been.  Other  weaker  ones  had  done 
in  a  trice  what  he  shrank  from  as  if  it  were  death. 


11  For  this  reason  I  can  not  agree  with  Professor  Allen  that  Augus- 
tine's conversion  was  merely  into  the  Latin  Church.  It  was  something 
more.  We  must  not,  in  the  interests  of  a  theory,  depreciate  the  full  move- 
ment of  Augustine's  course,  step  by  step,  till  he  claimed  Christ  as  his. 
Cf.  Continuity  of  Christian  Thought,  p.  149. 


76  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

He  cast  his  eye  backwards.  There  were  his 
mother's  example  and  prayers,  the  pitiful  meshes 
of  Manichaeism,  the  higher  note  of  the  "Hortensius," 
Ambrose,  Plotinus,  Paul,  these  later  instances  of 
heroic  faith — Victorinus,  Antony,  the  comrades  of 
Potitianus.  Was  he,  the  finished  rhetorician,  the 
prodigal,  to  fall  down  beaten  in  the  dust?  He 
seized  upon  Alypius.  "What  is  wrong  with  us? 
what  is  this?  What  heardest  thou?  The  un- 
learned rise  up  and  take  heaven,  and  we,  with  our 
learning,  and  wanting  heart,  see  where  we  wallow 
in  flesh  and  blood!"  In  his  excitement  he  flung 
himself  into  the  garden.  He  knew  now  that  all 
that  remained  was  to  choose  unflinchingly  the  only 
course  opened  to  him — "to  will  it  resolutely  and 
thoroughly,  not  to  stagger  and  sway  about  this 
way  and  that,  a  changeable  and  half- wounded  will, 
with  one  part  falling  as  another  rose."  No  words 
ever  can  take  the  place  of  Augustine's  own  thrilling 
ones  in  describing  the  momentous  scenes  which 
followed : 

"Thus  was  I  sick  and  tormented,  accusing  my- 
self far  more  severely  than  was  my  wont,  tossing 
and  turning  me  in  my  chain  till  that  was  utterly 
broken,  whereby  I  now  was  but  slightly,  but  still 
was  held.  And  Thou,  O  Lord,  prcssedst  upon  me 
in  my  inward  parts  by  a  severe  mercy,  redoubling 
the  lashes  of  fear  and  shame,  lest  I  should  again 
give  way,  and  that  same  slender  remaining  tie  not 
being  broken  off,  it  should  recover  strength,  and 


Through  Pi.ato  to  Christ.  77 

enchain  me  the  faster.  For  I  said  mentally,  Xo, 
let  it  be  done  now,  let  it  be  done  now.'  And  as  I 
spoke,  I  all  but  came  to  a  resolve.  I  all  but  did  it, 
yet  I  did  it  not.  Yet  fell  I  not  back  to  my  old  con- 
dition, but  took  up  my  position  hard  by,  and  drew 
breath.  And  I  tried  again,  and  wanted  but  very 
little  of  reaching  it,  and  then  all  but  touched  and 
grasped  it ;  and  yet  came  not  at  it,  hesitating  to  die 
unto  death,  and  to  live  unto  life;  and  the  worse, 
whereto  I  had  been  habituated,  prevailed  more  with 
me  than  the  better,  which  I  had  not  tried. 

"The  very  toys  of  toys,  and  vanities  of  vanities, 
my  old  mistresses,  still  enthralled  me;  they  shook 
my  fleshly  garment,  and  whispered  softly,  'Dost 
thou  part  with  us?  And  from  that  moment  shall 
we  no  more  be  with  thee  forever?'  Yet  they  did 
delay  me,  so  that  I  hesitated  to  burst  and  shake  my- 
self free  from  them,  and  to  leap  over  whither  I  was 
called, — an  unruly  habit  saying  to  me,  *Dost  thou 
think  thou  canst  live  without  them  ?'  " 

*'But  now  it  said  this  very  faintly;  for  on  that 
side  towards  which  I  had  set  my  face,  and  whither 
I  trembled  to  go,  did  the  chaste  dignity  of  con- 
tinence appear  unto  me,  cheerful,  but  not  dissolutely 
gay,  honestly  alluring  me  to  come  and  doubt  noth- 
ing, and  extending  her  holy  hands,  full  of  a  multi- 
plicity of  good  examples,  to  receive  and  embrace 
me.  There  were  there  so  many  young  men  and 
maidens,  a  multitude  of  youth  and  every  age,  grave 
widows  and  ancient  virgins,  and  Continence  herself 


78  Augustine::  The  Thinke:r. 

in  all,  not  barren,  but  a  fruitful  mother  of  children 
of  joys,  by  Thee,  O  Lord,  her  husband.  And  she 
smiled  on  me  with  an  encouraging  mockery,  as  if 
to  say,  'Canst  not  thou  do  what  these  youths  and 
maidens  can?  Or  can  one  or  other  do  it  of  them- 
selves, and  not  rather  in  the  Lord  their  God?  The 
Lord  their  God  gave  me  unto  them.  \A^hy  stand- 
est  thou  in  thine  own  strength,  and  so  standest  not? 
Cast  thyself  upon  Him ;  fear  not,  He  will  not  with- 
draw that  thou  shouldest  fall;  cast  thyself  upon 
Him  without  fear,  He  will  receive  thee,  and  heal 
thee.'  And  I  blushed  beyond  measure,  for  I  still 
heard  the  muttering  of  those  toys,  and  hung  in 
suspense. 

"But  when  a  profound  reflection  had,  from  the 
secret  depths  of  my  soul,  drawn  together  and 
heaped  up  all  my  misery  before  the  sight  of  my 
heart,  there  arose  a  mighty  storm,  accompanied  by 
as  mighty  a  shower  of  tears.  Which,  that  I  might 
pour  forth  fully,  with  its  natural  expressions,  I 
stole  away  from  Alypius;  for  it  suggested  itself  to 
me  that  solitude  was  fitter  for  the  business  of  weep- 
ing. I  flung  myself  down,  how,  I  know  not, 
under  a  certain  fig-tree,  giving  free  course  to  my 
tears.  And,  not  indeed  in  these  words,  yet  to  this 
effect,  spake  I  much  unto  Thee, — 'How  long,  Lord? 
Wilt  Thou  be  angry  forever?  O,  remember  not 
against  us  former  iniquities ;'  for  I  felt  that  I  was 
enthralled  by  them.  I  sent  up  these  sorrowful 
cries, — 'How   long,  how   long?     To-morrow,   and 


Through  Pi.ato  to  Christ.  79 

to-morrow  ?    Why  not  now  ?    Why  is  there  not  this 
hour  an  end  to  my  uncleanness  ?' 

'1  was  saying  these  things  and  weeping  in  the 
most  bitter  contrition  of  my  heart,  when,  lo,  I  heard 
the  voice  as  of  a  boy  or  girl,  I  know  not  which, 
coming  from  a  neighboring  house,  chanting,  and 
oft  repeating,  Take  up  and  read ;  take  up  and  read/ 
So,  restraining  the  torrent  of  my  tears,  I 
rose  up,  interpreting  it  no  other  way  than  as  a 
command  to  me  from  heaven  to  open  the  book,  and 
to  read  the  first  chapter  I  should  light  upon.  So 
quickly  I  returned  to  the  place  where  Alypius  was 
sitting;  for  there  had  I  put  down  the  volume  of  the 
apostles,  when  I  rose  thence.  I  grasped,  opened, 
and  in  silence  read  that  paragraph  on  which  my 
eyes  first  fell, — 'Not  in  rioting  and  drunkenness, 
not  in  chambering  and  wantonness,  not  in  strife  and 
envying;  but  put  ye  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
make  not  provision  for  the  flesh  to  fulfill  the  lusts 
thereof.'i2  ^^  further  would  I  read,  nor  did  I 
need;  for  instantly,  as  the  sentence  ended — by  a 
light,  as  it  were,  of  security  infused  into  my  heart 
— all  the  gloom  of  doubt  vanished  away." 

The  far-remote,  unintelligible,  unconcerned 
"Word"  had  been  transformed  before  his  eyes,  by 
his  own  obedience  into  a  regnant  Christ,  who 
now  drew  near,  warm  with  life  and  sympathy. 
"Startled,  shattered,  paralyzed,"  as  he  had  been  by 
the  message  of  the  Apostle,  he  arose  with  a  singular 

12  Rom.  xui,  13,  14. 


8o  Augustine):  The:  Thinker. 

calm  resting  upon  him,  and  like  Andrew  to  Simon 
Peter,  made  known  his  new  joy  to  Alypius. 

''And  he  thus  disclosed  to  me  what  was  wrought 
in  him,  which  I  knew  not.  He  asked  to  look  at 
what  I  had  read.  I  showed  him;  and  he  looked 
even  further  than  I  had  read,  and  I  knew  not  what 
followed.  This  it  was,  verily,  'Him  that  is  weak 
in  the  faith,  receive  ye;'  which  he  applied  to  him- 
self, and  discovered  to  me.  By  this  admonition  was 
he  strengthened ;  and  by  a  good  resolution  and  pur- 
pose, very  much  in  accord  with  his  character 
(wherein,  for  the  better,  he  was  always  far  differ- 
ent from  me),  without  any  restless  delay  he  joined 
me.  Thence  we  go  in  to  my  mother.  We  make  it 
known  to  her, — she  rejoiceth.  We  relate  how  it 
came  to  pass, — she  leapeth  for  joy,  and  triumpheth, 
and  blesseth  Thee,  who  art  able  to  do  exceeding 
abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or  think." 


CHAPTER  VII. 
C  A  S  S  I  C I A  C  U  M . 

It  is  impossible  to  determine  what  were  the  im- 
mediate effects  of  Augustine's  conversion.  One  has 
no  difficulty  in  perceiving,  however,  that  his  refor- 
mation was  more  than  skin-deep.  With  sudden, 
superhuman  resolve,  as  if  by  magic,  he  was  able  to 
throw  off  his  inveterate  delight  in  trifles.  "The 
gnawing  cares  of  seeking  and  getting"  forever  were 
left  behind,  and  in  their  place  there  arose  a  new 
and  all-absorbing  ''brightness,"  ''riches,"  "health," 
the  Lord  his  God.^ 

But  there  was  not  to  be  such  instantaneous  re- 
lease from  the  "talker's  trade."  Deep-seated  as  was 
his  disgust  with  the  deceitful  mockeries  of  his  pro- 
fession, he  conceived  various  reasons  for  quiet  self- 
restraint.  The  vintage  vacation  was  but  a  few  weeks 
distant.  It  might  seem  like  undue  and  rather  pom- 
pous self-protrusion  to  resign  at  once.  Fortunately 
(so  Augustine  considered  it)  there  was,  for  his  ap- 
proaching resignation,  another  excuse,  which  would 
tend  to  allay  the  resentment  of  his  patrons.  Dur- 
ing the  summer  he  had  become  conscious  of  a  pain- 


1  Confessions  IX,  i. 

6  8i 


82  Augustine::  The;  Thinker. 

ful  difficulty  in  breathing.  This  indication  that  his 
lungs  were  weakening  so  greatly  alarmed  him 
that  he  was  already  planning  to  give  up  his  liter- 
ary labors  for  a  rest,  when  his  happy  conversion 
opened  to  him  a  rare  vista  of  leisurely  service  of 
God. 

Accordingly,  Augustine's  withdrawal  from  pub- 
lic duties,  at  the  end  of  the  scholastic  year,  occa- 
sioned no  unusual  comment.  His  friend  Verecun- 
dus  owned  a  country-house  out  of  Milan  a  few 
leagues  at  the  village  of  Casciago,  which  seems  be- 
yond dispute  to  be  the  *'Cassiciacum"  of  the  ''Con- 
fessions." At  the  generous  suggestion  of  Verecun- 
dus,  Augustine  turned  to  this  retreat.  Removed  as 
it  was  from  the  ''fret  of  the  world,"  it  seemed  to 
him  like  a  paradise  of  realized  hopes.  The  little 
town  itself  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  in  a 
fertile,  grassy  country,  as  the  name  suggests.  On 
the  summit  of  a  hill  travelers  still  see  the  ancient 
palace  of  a  former  family  of  nobles,  marking  the 
spot  where  the  house  of  Verecundus  was  located. 
A  stream,  gushing  down  from  Mount  Sirtori, 
trickles  over  the  rocks  of  the  hill,  and  gathering 
into  cascades,  winds  down  into  a  shaded  gorge. 
Like  Saul  of  Tarsus,  finding  the  Son  of  God,  as 
Dr.  Alexander  Whyte  declares,  under  the  Mount 
of  God  in  the  eloquent  silences  of  Arabia,  Augus- 
tine needed  this  autumn  and  winter  of  isolation  in 
order  to  work  over  his  thinking  and  get  adjusted 
to  his  vision.    Besides,  it  gave  to  him  and  his  com- 


Cassiciacum.  83 

panions  an  opportunity  to  put  into  tangible  form 
their  dream  of  a  philosophic  community. 

For  a  picture  of  life  at  Cassiciacum  during 
these  few  months  we  depend  mostly  upon  the  philo- 
sophical treatises  which  Augustine  composed  there. 
It  was  a  period  of  tranquillity,  but  of  earnest 
thought.  Plain  living  and  high  thinking  were  the 
rule.  The  sons  of  Romanianus  were  present  for 
instruction.  Alypius,  who  had  shared  with  Augus- 
tine the  struggles  of  the  last  months  in  Milan,  felt 
himself  under  agreeable  constraint  to  continue  as 
comrade  of  his  master's  solitude.  A  compatriot 
from  Thagaste,  Evodius,  who  had  renounced  the 
service  of  the  empire  upon  becoming  a  Christian, 
also  joined  the  group.  The  others  were  all  rela- 
tives of  Augustine — Navigius  his  brother,  two 
cousins,  Rusticus  and  Lastidianus,  the  boy  Adeoda- 
tus,  and  Monica.  To  the  latter  was  assigned  the 
care  of  the  household,  but  she  found  time  to  take 
some  part  in  the  discussions. 

These  discussions  took  place,  in  fair  weather, 
beneath  the  shade  of  a  tree  in  a  near-by  meadow. 
If  the  disputants  were  driven  indoors  they  had  re- 
course to  the  baths.  These  were  supplied  with 
water  from  a  little  aqueduct,  which,  in  turn,  was 
fed  from  the  stream  called  Canbalionum.  In  the 
bath  of  the  Romans,  as  is  well  known,  were  spa- 
cious rooms  for  recreation  and  quiet.  Here  the 
searchers  for  truth  might  carry  on  their  conversa- 
tions without  interruption.    One  of  Augustine's  ad- 


84  Augustine::  The:  Thinkkr. 

miring  biographers  has  compared  him  to  an  eagle, 
teaching  his  eaglets  to  fly,  putting  his  strength  be- 
neath them,  to  bear  them  up,  or  to  direct  them  in 
their  flight.  There  is  some  truth  in  the  figure.  Li- 
centius,  for  example,  was  a  dreamy  novice.  He 
was  eager  enough  for  flight,  but  the  serious  moral 
and  religious  realm  held  few  allurements  for  him. 
He  felt  the  tinglings  of  an  inflated  poetic  fancy. 
Indeed,  so  far  did  he  swerve  from  the  strenuous 
course  of  the  parent  eagle,  as  to  break  forth  in 
rhythmic  praises  of  the  loves  of  Pyramus  and 
Thisbe.  Augustine  was  gravely  concerned.  But 
he  lived  to  see  even  the  aspiring  Licentius  find  his 
wings  and  "the  steep  ascent  of  heaven."^  The 
others  were  not  so  intractable.  Adeodatus,  a  lad 
of  not  quite  fifteen  years,  showed  unusual  fond- 
ness and  skill  for  the  business  of  empyrean-climb- 
ing. Monica,  with  a  somewhat  more  awestruck 
admiration,  joined  the  rest  in  their  loyalty  to  the 
suggestions  of  Augustine. 

But  Augustine  himself  was  hardly  more  than  a 
learner.  Much  as  we  are  impressed  by  the  vigor 
of  thought  displayed  in  the  discourses,  we  can  not 
but  note  how  gradual  was  their  author's  break  with 
the  old  intellectual  atmosphere.  Cicero,  Plotinus, 
Plato,  Pythagoras,  are  the  master-minds  one  finds 
ruling  the  treatises  composed  at  Cassiciacum.     On 


2  McCabe  has  an  interesting  note  in  which  he  calls  attention  to  Lan- 
ciani's  record  of  the  discovery  of  the  body  of  Licentius  in  St.  Lorenzo  at 
Rome  in  1862.  It  is  evident  that  he  attained  his  ambition  of  senatorial 
rank  and  died  a  Christian.     St.  Augustine  and  His  Age,  p.  182. 


Cassiciacum.  85 

the  other  hand,  the  grandeur  of  the  Christian  sys- 
tem burst  in  upon  these  philosophic  studies  with 
only  a  pale  light.  Ambrose,  upon  being  consulted, 
had  said,  "read  Isaiah ;"  but  the  prophet  had  seemed 
to  Augustine  dull  and  unintelligible.  So  he  gave 
his  attention  to  the  Psalms.  They  continued 
through  life  to  afford  him  consolation  and  guidance. 
To  his  penetrating  allegorical  faculty  every  page  of 
the  Psalms  yielded  some  lineament  in  the  portrait 
of  Christ.  Nor  can  we  doubt  that  Augustine  en- 
tered upon  his  new  religious  experience  with  the 
most  cordial  zeal.  Prayer  and  praise  mingled  with 
sorrow  over  the  hapless  past  and  earnest  aspira- 
tion for  a  humbler,  nobler  future.  But  the  spirit 
of  the  place,  however  Christianized,  was  still  Greek. 
There  can  be  no  clearer  understanding  of  the 
entire  situation  of  this  newest  academy  than  through 
a  study  of  the  literary  results  of  the  conferences  to- 
gether. One  day  Augustine  gave  his  pupils  a  copy 
of  the  "Hortensius"  to  read.  All  were  seated  be- 
neath the  broad-spreading  tree  in  the  meadow.  It 
was  a  rare  autumn  day.  The  ever-present  short- 
hand reporter  stood  near,  waxen  tablets  and  stylus 
in  hand,  ready  to  take  down  for  preservation  all 
that  was  said  or  done.  Following  his  literary  in- 
stinct, Augustine  afterwards  revised  these  notes  in 
longhand,  retaining  the  form  of  the  discussion,  and 
breaking  up  the  heavy  periods  with  notes  on  inci- 
dents of  the  day.  Thus  we  have  the  readable  books, 
"Against  the  Academicians,"  which  are  affection- 


86  Augustine::  The;  Thinke:r. 

ately  dedicated  to  Romanianus,  and  grew  out  of  the 
examination  of  the  book  of  Cicero.  The  point  at 
issue  was  the  academic  contention  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  arrive  at  the  truth,  though  one  may  be 
happy  in  pursuit  of  it.  Licentius  put  in  his  plea  in 
behalf  of  the  Academics ;  for  him  it  was  a  constant 
joy  to  be  opening  the  eyes  upon  new  worlds  of 
truth.  Trigetius  had  mixed  up  in  the  affairs  of  the 
world,  and  he  had  concluded  with  precision  that  if 
one  could  be  happy  without  reaching  the  truth, 
there  was  no  use  making  the  quest.  Augustine 
made  it  his  duty  to  keep  the  debate  in  proper  poise. 
He  proffered  a  definition  of  a  happy  life — a  life  con- 
formed to  the  best  and  most  perfect  in  man,  namely, 
the  reason.  Resting  in  this  Platonic  notion  of  ra- 
tional truth,  he  found  certainty  enough.  As  for  the 
other  method  of  knowledge,  authority,  he  was  sat- 
isfied with  what  he  had  in  Christ.  Thus,  he  de- 
clared, he  could  not  despair  of  finding  wisdom  at 
last,  especially  as  he  was  but  thirty-two,  and  bent 
upon  the  search  with  all  his  soul.  In  his  old  age 
Augustine  looked  back  upon  this  scene  with  some 
misgivings.  He  felt  he  had  given  too  much  credit 
to  the  Greeks.  But  one  can  hardly  fail  to  observe 
that.  Christian  as  he  was,  the  skillful  antagonist  of 
the  Academics  had  been  with  Plato  and  learned 
of  him. 

A  birthday  was  an  affair  of  some  moment  in 
the  empire.  Much  the  same  ado  accompanied  its 
observance  as  in  our  day.      There  were  compli- 


Cassiciacum.  87 

mentary  gifts  and  congratulations  from  friends, 
and  generally  also  a  time  of  feasting.  As  the  Ides 
of  November  was  the  anniversary  of  Augustine's 
birth,  he  promised  his  friends  "a  feast  of  soul." 
But  first  there  must  be  a  modest  banquet — modest, 
since  frugality  is  said  to  have  presided  over  all  the 
repasts  at  Cassiciacum.  They  ''satisfied  hunger 
without  clogging  the  vivacity  of  the  mind."  The 
intellectual  feast  was  made  up  of  a  prolonged  dis- 
cussion of  *'The  Happy  Life."  When  the  question 
of  the  existence  of  evil  came  up,  Augustine  turned 
his  artillery  upon  the  Manichees.  His  mother,  who 
on  the  first  day  had  brought  the  conference  to  an 
abrupt  close  by  an  insistent  mid-day  appeal  for  all 
hands  to  exchange  the  shade  of  the  tree  for  the 
delights  of  the  table,  made  some  forcible  remarks, 
seconded  by  Augustine,  when  the  discussion  was 
resumed  at  the  baths.  Their  conclusion  was  that 
they  alone  are  blessed  who  have  what  they  desire, 
provided  they  desire  the  good.  Little  importance 
can  be  attached  to  this  work  except  as  it  is  an  index 
of  the  bent  of  Augustine's  mind,  and  his  special 
fondness  for  the  problems  of  evil. 

There  is  much  more  lively  interest  in  the  work 
which  followed.  It  was  Augustine's  habit,  after 
evening  prayers,  to  surrender  himself  to  deep  and 
long-continued  meditations.  One  night,  as  he  lay 
philosophizing  thus,  his  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  gurgling  of  the  stream  which  ran  behind  the 
baths  not  far  from  the  house.     As  he  listened  to 


88  Augustine:  The:  Thinker. 

the  soft,  irregular  murmur,  his  mind  sought  the 
cause  of  the  irregularity,  and  from  that  passed  to 
pondering  on  order  and  the  lack  of  order  in  the  uni- 
verse. He  became  confused,  like  many  another,  in 
trying  to  establish  the  truth  of  a  uniform  *'reign  of 
law."  Doubtless  he  was  glad  of  the  companionship 
of  even  the  young  versifier  Licentius,  who  was  busy 
at  this  critical  moment  belaboring  an  unfortunate 
mouse  which  had  so  far  broken  the  order  of  things, 
as  to  venture  into  tlie  room  where  the  master  and 
his  pupils  were  resting.  Licentius  suggested  that 
the  swirl  of  the  stream  was  nothing  new  to  him; 
often  it  had  quickened  his  sensitive  imagination. 
Trigetius  awakened  at  this  point.  It  was  an  oppor- 
tunity glowing  with  dialectic  possibilities,  and  the 
diligent  teacher  could  not  conscientiously  allow  it 
to  pass.  So  he  kept  the  theme  warm  during  the 
remainder  of  the  night.  Even  Licentius  maintained 
a  wakeful  interest,  unmindful  for  the  time  being 
of  the  charms  of  his  Calliope.  The  strenuous  life 
of  the  seminary  was  beginning  to  tell  upon  him.  At 
the  baths  next  morning  the  discussion  was  renewed. 
On  their  way  thither  they  witnessed  another,  more 
ugly,  break  in  nature,  a  spirited  cock-fight.  The 
two  boys,  not  being  able  to  shake  off  entirely  the 
fascinations  of  the  Coliseum,  looked  on  with  evi- 
dent delight,  and  Augustine  hastened  to  prepare 
graphic  details  of  the  scene.  Strangely  enough  the 
sober  bishop  of  Hippo  made  no  alteration  of  these 
in  the  "Retractations."  All  that  day  and  several  that 
followed,  until  Augustine  was  thoroughly  fatigued. 


Cassiciacum.  89 

were  given  to  the  elucidation  of  the  question  of  a 
mysterious,  divine  stream  of  influence  running 
through  all  things.  Such  was  the  origin  of  the  book 
"On  Order,"  a  pretentious  treatise,  with  leanings 
toward  the  Christian  thought  of  Providence,  and 
with  a  Neoplatonic  background. 

In  addition  to  several  letters  (the  first  we  have 
of  Augustine's),  which  throw  welcome  light  upon 
the  happy  life  at  Cassiciacum,  there  remains  one 
work  of  two  books  to  which  some  critical  notice 
must  be  given.  It  is  a  Platonic  dialogue  between 
Augustine  and  Reason,  and  is  given  the  title  "So- 
liloquies." The  two  things  which  attracted  Augus- 
tine were  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and  the  true 
conception  of  God.  The  former  truth  was  con- 
clusive to  him  from  his  observation  of  the  immuta- 
bility of  reason  as  compared  with  the  break-up  of 
the  world.  With  graceful  eloquence  he  makes  his 
leisurely  argument  for  the  things  which  abide,  and 
unfolds  the  conditions  of  ascending  to  the  clear 
vision  of  God.  Halting  logic  there  may  be,  but 
never,  in  the  confusion  of  later  struggles,  did 
Augustine  rise  higher  than  in  this  quiet  meditation 
upon  the  devotional  truths  which  had  now  subdued 
his  passions  and  brought  his  soul  into  harmony  with 
God.^ 

In  the  "Soliloquies,"  Augustine  appears  unde- 
cided as  to  the  direction  of  his  future  life.     But 


3  It  is  in  the  Soliloquies  that  one  finds  the  rudiments  of  the  phil- 
osophic starting-point  of  Descartes :  "  I  think  and  therefore  am." 


90  Augustine::  The  Thinker. 

his  mind  had  turned  back  often  to  ]\Iilan  and  the 
Church.  In  the  spring  of  Z^7,  therefore,  the  house- 
hold of  friends  rehnquished  their  hfe  of  study  and 
returned  to  the  city.  It  was  necessary  for  all  who 
were  to  be  baptized  on  Easter  Sunday  to  declare 
their  purpose  at  the  beginning  of  Lent.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  period  of  training  in  matters  of  Christian 
faith,  and  examination  in  ''the  scrutinies."  Augus- 
tine was  not  exempt  from  this  preparation.  But  he 
employed  his  time  also  in  literary  effort,  producing 
the  treatise  **0n  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul."  It 
was  intended  as  a  complement  to  the  "Soliloquies." 
Ly  Easter  the  candidates  were  thought  to  be  in 
a  sufficiently  humble  frame  of  mind.  Alypius  in- 
deed had  demonstrated  the  depth  of  his  devotion  by 
treading  "the  frozen  soil  of  Italy  with  naked  feet." 
On  the  eve  of  Easter,  April  24th,  Augustine  was 
formally  ushered  into  the  Church  by  the  rite  of 
baptism,  Bishop  Ambrose  administering  the  sacra- 
ment. The  youthful  Adeodatus,  and  Alypius  were 
bai)tized  at  the  same  time.  A  popular,  but  un- 
founded legend  has  it  that,  at  the  close  of  the  serv- 
ice, the  *'Te  Deum  Laudamus"  sprang  into  inspired 
existence  through  the  lips  of  Ambrose  and  Augus- 
tine. The  truth  is  that,  by  the  impressive  singing 
of  the  hynms  and  canticles,  Augustine  was  rapt  into 
a  deeper  devotion  to  the  Church — a  devotion  which 
grew  richer  and  sterner  in  the  years  immediately 
to  follow,  as  he  broke  gradually  away  from  the  life 
of  contemplation  and  gave  himself  to  a  life  of 
service. 


SECOND  PERIOD 

From  Kastkr,  387,  to  August  28,  430 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
BACK  TO  AFRICA. 

That  Augustine's  moral  rescue  was  complete, 
appears  in  the  readiness  with  which  he  turned  his 
back  upon  the  old  life.  Accompanied  by  Alypius, 
Evodius,  his  brother,  mother,  and  son,  he  set  out 
for  Africa.  At  Ostia,  a  busy  watering-place  and 
commercial  center,  being  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber 
and  the  port  of  Rome,  the  little  company  paused 
for  rest  after  the  fatiguing  journey  from  Milan, 
They  were  pleasantly  established  in  a  house  re- 
moved from  the  noise  of  the  town.  A  somewhat 
idealized  painting  by  Ary  Schefifer,^  and  the  familiar 
account  in  the  "Confessions,"  have  made  memora- 
ble Augustine's  last  conversation  with  his  mother.^ 
Monica,  overjoyed,  felt  now  she  might  depart  in 
peace.  Her  one  desire  had  been  satisfied — her  son 
was  a  Catholic  Christian.  Surely  there  was  noth- 
ing else  for  which  to  tarry.  Within  five  days  she 
was  stricken  with  a  fatal  fever. 

It  was  about  four  years  since  Augustine  had  de- 
serted his  mother  at  Carthage.     During  that  time 


1  An  excellent  reprint  may  be  found  as  a  frontispiece  to  Poujoulat's 
Histoire  de  St.  Augustin,  Paris,  1866. 

2  Confessions  IX,  Chap.  X. 

93 


94  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

their  relations  apparently  were  of  the  closest  na- 
ture. IMonica  was  reared  in  a  Christian  home. 
\\'ith  her  sisters  she  was  left  under  the  care  of  a 
maidservant,  who  sought  diligently  to  train  the 
daughters  according  to  strict  rules.  This  disci- 
pline, however,  did  not  suffice  to  save  her  from  sly 
peculations  of  wine  when  sent  to  the  cellar  for  the 
daily  supply  from  the  family  cask.  Augustine  de- 
scribes, with  filial  admiration,  how  his  mother  was 
cured  of  this  habit,  and  how  she  grew  up  to  be  a 
model  of  sobriety,  pious  devotion,  gentleness,  and 
patience.  We  may  not  go  so  far  as  one  branch  of 
the  Church  in  the  veneration  wc  give  to  this  godly 
woman.^  But  no  one  can  estimate  the  debt  which 
Augustine  himself  owed  to  his  praying  mother. 
She  had  a  deal  of  shrewd,  sagacious  wisdom,  and 
a  courageous  spirit.  And  it  is  true  that  the  Church 
has  canonized  many  women  of  inferior  type.  Among 
the  broken  columns  and  forlorn  ruins  of  modern 
Ostia  one  is  directed  to  a  chapel  which,  tradition 
declares,  marks  the  site  of  the  house  where  Augus- 
tine and  Monica  parted.  Although  she  had  been 
careful  to  prepare  a  burial-place  for  herself  be- 
side that  of  her  husband  in  Thagaste,  she  now  saw 
the  hopelessness  of  her  plan.  "Nothing  is  far  to 
God."  she  said  resignedly;  "nor  need  I  fear  lest  He 
should  be  ignorant  at  the  end  of  the  world  of  the 
place  where  He  is  to  raise  me  up."*    Upon  her  death 


8  For  an  example  of  this  extreme  reverential  respect  sec  Poujoulat,  I, 
P-  14a  ff-  *  Confessions,  IX,  27,  28. 


Back  to  Ai^rica.  95 

a  few  days  later,  and  her  simple  burial,  Augustine 
suffered  a  quiet  but  persistent  grief.  Relief  came 
with  sleep  and  the  recollection  of  a  hymn  of  Am- 
brose,— *'Deus  Creator  omnium."  But  fresh  re- 
membrance of  the  tender  love  of  his  dead  mother 
set  free  the  tears,  which  he  begs  us  not  to  deride, 
since  they  were  in  behalf  of  one  who  for  many 
years  wept  bitter  tears  for  him. 

From  Ostia,  xA-ugustine  made  his  way  back  to 
Rome.  It  is  difficult  to  assign  any  other  reason  for 
this  change  of  plan,  except  that  Africa  was  in  a 
turmoil  owing  to  an  expedition  by  the  usurper 
Maximus,  and  Augustine  decided  to  wait  till  the 
campaign  was  over.  Already  he  had  adopted  the 
long  dark  robe  of  the  monks,  with  hood  and 
leathern  girdle.  Doubtless  he  regarded  the  great 
city  in  a  much  different  spirit  from  what 
he  did  when  he  wejit  there  to  become  teacher 
of  rhetoric.  All  the  world  looked  strangely 
new  to  him.  There  was  a  duller  hue  to  the 
glitter  and  grossness  of  the  mistress  city;  not 
because  the  gayety  was  gone,  but  because  it 
had  lost  its  charm.  Jerome  had  taken  his  in- 
be  by  other  than  severely  monastic  methods.  But 
the  enthusiasm  for  Jerome's  ideas  had  not  died  out 
among  his  followers  in  some  of  the  higher  society 
of  Rome,  and  with  these  it  may  be  Augustine  found 
a  refuge.  Not  till  more  than  a  score  of  years  had 
passed  did  he  turn  his  attention  to  the  religion  which 
had  dominated  the  empire  for  centuries.     But  the 


96  AuGUSTiNJS:  The:  Thinker. 

former  worship  was  dying  hard.  The  doughty 
Symmachus  had  not  yet  abandoned  the  contest. 
Many  pagans  were  still  to  be  found  in  important 
civil  offices.  Libanius,  when  a  demolition  of  tem- 
ples was  rampant  among  fanatical  monks  and 
priests,  uttered  a  notable  plea  in  defense  of  the 
temple  cult.  And  the  Emperor  Theodosius,  in  a 
law  of  386,  presupposes  a  tolerant  spirit  towards 
both  temples  and  heathen  priests.  Nevertheless, 
ecclesiastical  insistence  was  beginning  to  tell. 
Everywhere  the  sacrificial  flames  burned  lower.  In 
388,  while  Augustine  was  in  Rome,  the  heathen 
portion  of  the  senate  besought  Theodosius  to  re- 
store certain  revenues  and  rights  to  the  colleges  of 
priests'.  The  emperor  seems  to  have  wavered.  But 
a  sharp  letter  from  Ambrose  brought  him  to  his 
senses,  and  the  request  was  denied. 

Of  all  this  Augustine  has  nothing  to  say.  At 
Rome  he  was  busy  with  literary  labors.  His  one 
concern  seems  to  have  been  to  demolish  the  pre- 
tensions of  his  old  friends,  the  Manichees.  The 
sect,  in  spite  of  inceasingly  rigid  opposition  from 
the  imperial  power,  especially  Valentinian  (in  2i7'^^ 
and  Theodosius  (in  381),  propagated  their  doctrines 
in  secret,  and  with  considerable  success.  They 
gloried  in  persecution.  Under  the  mask  of  an  ap- 
parently unbending  morality,  they  won  respect.  By 
proclaiming  a  mysterious  element  in  their  doctrine 
and  symbols,  they  had  become  the  most  dangerous 
foe  of  the   Christian   faith.     It   is  not  surprising, 


Back  to  Ai^rica.  97 

therefore,  that  Augustine,  in  the  ardor  of  his  new- 
found faith,  should  direct  his  energies  against  "the 
monstrous  tenets  of  the  Manichgeans."  He  took 
up  his  attack  first  in  a  series  of  dialogues  between 
himself  and  Evodius,  under  the  title,  "On  the  Great- 
ness of  the  Soul."  In  this  work  the  arguments  are 
lined  up  in  favor  of  the  spiritual  nature  and  im- 
mortal destiny  of  the  soul,  together  with  a  philo- 
sophical view  of  its  beginnings,  aspirations,  and 
powers.  About  the  same  time  also  he  began  what 
has  been  called  "an  admirable  Pelagian  treatise," 
"On  Free  Will."  In  reality,  it  is  an  attempt  to  re- 
duce the  possible  origins  of  evil  down  to  one,  the 
freedom  of  human  will.  It  ought  to  be  said  that 
Augustine  never  receded  from  this  position.  His 
later  contentions  against  Pelagius  were  of  an  al- 
together different  kind.  His  anti-Manichaean  posi- 
tion, that  moral  evil  is  not  a  creation  of  God,  did 
not  afford  the  Pelagians  a  stable  ground  of  attack 
upon  him,  however  minutely  they  searched  for  one 
in  these  earlier  writings. 

Of  deeper  significance  were  the  more  direct  as- 
saults upon  his  foes,  in  the  works  entitled  "On  the 
Morals  of  the  Church"  and  "On  the  Morals  of  the 
Alanichees."  Though  these  were  not  published  till 
later,  we  are  told  in  the  "Retractations"  (I.  7)  they 
were  written  at  Rome.  The  immediate  occasion  of 
their  writing  was  his  impatience  with  "the  vaunting 
of  the  Manichaeans  about  their>  pretended  and  mis- 
leading abstinence,  in  which,  to  deceive  the  inex- 
7 


98  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

perienced,  they  claim  superiority  over  true  Chris- 
tians, to  whom  they  are  not  to  be  compared."  As 
might  be  supposed,  therefore,  the  two  works  stand 
in  contrast.  He  has  no  trouble  in  tearing  to  shreds 
the  symbols  and  dogmas  of  the  Manichees,  although 
it  may  be  questioned  whether  he  is  equally  happy  in 
his  arraignment  of  their  ''shameless  mysteries," 
their  immoral  practices,  and  especially  their  dis- 
graceful conduct  laid  bare  in  Rome.^  In  the  other 
work,  Augustine  seeks  to  make  clear  the  nature  of 
Christian  virtue.  With  glowing  phrase,  he  pictures 
the  devotion  of  the  multitudes  who,  in  depth  of 
desert,  subsisting  on  coarse  fare,  passing  their  days 
in  contemplation  of  the  Divine  beauty  and  in  relig- 
ious conference,  present  an  unanswerable  challenge 
to  the  hypocrisies  of  the  Manichaeans.  Then  he 
passes  to  the  Cenobite  monks  who  live  in  the  cities. 
One  can  without  difficulty  detect  in  all  this  what 
was  uppermost  in  Augustine's  thought  during  the 
year  in  Rome.  There  was  forming  in  his  mind  a 
monastic  ideal,  which  was  soon  to  take  very  defi- 
nite form. 

The  forces  of  Maximus  in  Africa  proved  no 
match  for  those  of  the  emperor.  Peace  was  soon 
restored,  and  Augustine  W'as  free  to  carry  out  his 
original  design  of  continuing  at  Thagaste  the  sort 
of  life  which  had  been  begun  at  Cassiciacum.     He 


fi  It  is  fruitless  to  go  into  this  controversy  further.  Anybody  who 
reads  Augustine's  disclosures,  e.  g.,  in  the  treatise  under  question,  Chaps. 
XVII I-XX,  can  not  doubt  that,  if  he  exaggerates,  he  also  has  plenty 
of  basis  for  all  his  facts. 


Back  to  Africa.  99 

and  his  friends,  however,  were  detained  for  a  brief 
time  at  Carthage.  They  were  received  by  a  de- 
votedly pious  man,  Innocentius,  "ex-advocate  of 
the  deputy  prefecture."  Still  fresh  in  his  memory 
were  the  miraculous  occurrences  at  Milan.  He 
was,  therefore,  more  than  naturally  responsive  to 
what  he  saw  and  heard  at  Carthage.  Innocentius 
was  being  treated  for  a  dangerous  disease,  for  which 
he  had  already  undergone  an  operation.  After  a 
period  of  anxious  w^aiting  and  intense  pain,  it  was 
discovered  another  operation  was  necessary. 
Augustine  himself  was  present  the  night  before,  as 
were  two  bishops,  Amelius  and  Uzali,  and  all 
prayed  earnestly  for  the  recovery  of  the  unfortu- 
nate man.  Great  was  their  amazement,  next  day, 
at  finding  the  trouble  entirely  at  an  end.  The  in- 
genious McCabe,  with  his  usual  irony,  attempts  to 
involve  Augustine  in  intentional  deceit  at  this  point. 
He  begins,  by  citing  a  work  of  Augustine's  written 
some  two  years  later.  In  this  book,  ''On  True  Re- 
ligion," "there  is  wise  appreciation  of  the  work  of 
reason  in  establishing  the  preliminary  truths  of 
faith,"  seeing  that  miracles  vvere  no  longer  wrought 
in  its  interest.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Augustine's 
purpose  in  the  treatise,  as  elsewhere,  was  to  show 
that  history  was  one  of  the  foundations  of  the  true 
religion,  and  he  concludes  that  such  miracles  as  the 
past,  especially  the  Apostolic  period,  produced,  must 
no  longer  be  expected.  This  must  be  his  meaning  in 
the  "Retractations"  where  he  declares,  commenting 


loo  Augustine:  Thk  Thinker. 

on  this  passage,  that  he  intended  to  say  "the  same 
miracles"  were  not  performed  in  his  day.  It  is 
completely  to  overdraw  one's  bow  to  conclude,  as 
McCabe  docs,  that  "Augustine  smiled  at  his  host's 
miracles  in  388,  and  only  learned  to  appreciate  them 
years  after." 

Another  evidence  that  the  same  author  is  more 
interested  in  making  an  amusing  case  for  himself 
than  in  correctly  representing  Augustine,  is  found 
in  rather  a  ludicrous  result  of  his  own  misrepre- 
sentations. In  attempting  to  put  in  a  bad  light 
most  of  the  hagiographic  "lives"  of  i\ugustine,  he 
says,  with  very  ingenuous  glee,  that  "they  only  re- 
late two  miracles"  (he  might  at  least  have  spared 
his  grammar  the  violence),  "whereas  Augustine 
gives  three  in  the  'City  of  God.'  "  Even  a  casual 
reading  of  the  attestations  of  Augustine  would  dis- 
cover four.  One  of  these,  in  the  light  of  present- 
day  knowledge,  is  exceedingly  refreshing.  A  gouty 
doctor,  about  to  be  baptized,  was  visited  in  dreams 
by  black  woolly-haired  imps  who  inflicted  acute 
pains  by  dancing  on  his  feet,  and  warned  him  not 
to  be  baptized  that  year.  But  he  persisted,  and  in 
baptism  was  rid  not  only  of  gout,  but  also  of  the  lit- 
tle devils.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  eagerness 
with  which  Augustine  received  these  examples  of 
"miraculous  power."  But  it  would  be  blindness  for 
us  to  accept  them  upon  the  very  slight  evidence 
which  is  given.  In  truth,  as  Professor  Fisher 
has     shown,     the     evidence     vanishes     on     close 


Back  to  Africa.  ioi 

scrutiny.  "We  miss  the  sobriety  of  the  Gospel  nar- 
ratives." The  worship  of  relics,  prayer  to  saints 
and  martyrs,  and  other  superstitions  had  fastened 
themselves  on  the  Church,  and  these,  together  with 
a  rather  picturesque  style  of  rhetoric,  account  for 
the  many  alleged  miracles,  while  others  are  trace- 
able to  purely  natural  causes.^ 

We  are  to  think  of  Augustine  as  spending  the 
next  three  years  in  a  monastery,  established  in  the 
former  house  of  his  father  at  Thagaste.  His  no- 
tions of  monasticism  came  from  various  sources. 
Ambrose  and  Jerome  made  their  contributions; 
but  the  Cenobites,  already  referred  to,  were  probably 
the  real  model.  Augustine  did  not  go  to  the  lengths 
which  brought  down  upon  Jerome  the  denuncia- 
tions of  Rome's  mighty.  He  came  to  Thagaste 
bent  upon  purging  the  monastic  idea  of  those 
out-breaking  fanaticisms  and  wild  excesses  which 
he  knew  had  grown  up  in  Africa  from  the  roo+s 
of  Tertullianism.  He  sold  his  other  property 
and  endowed  the  monastery.  His  friends,  Alypius 
and  Evodius,  continued  with  him.  The  problem  of 
women  was  no  longer  a  snare.  Without- exception, 
none  were  permitted  to  lodge  beneath  the  same  roof. 
A  life  of  study  and  prayer  became  "the  rule  of  St. 
Augustine."     Out  of  these  beginnings,  it  must  be 


6  In  his  Grounds  of  Theistic  and  Christian  Belief,  Professor  George 
P.  Fisher  makes  a  searching  and  sane  examination  of  the  entire  question 
of  alleged  miracles  in  the  early  age  of  the  Church,  with  special  reference 
to  Augustine's  long  hst.  He  concludes  that  "  the  evidence  for  most  of  the 
post-apostolic  miracles  which  the  Fathers  advert  to  melt  away  on  examina- 
tion." 


I02  Augustink:  The  Thinker. 

noted,  grew  the  important  Augustinian  order  of 
monks,  at  length  to  produce  a  Luther. 

It  is  hardly  fair  to  say  that  this  first  Augustinian 
brotherhood  was  wholly  unpractical.  To  be  sure 
there  was  a  spirit  of  broadest  democracy  in  the  con- 
ditions of  admission.  A  majority  of  the  monks  had 
been  slaves,  or  tillers  of  the  soil,  or  lowly  artisans ; 
for,  it  was  argued,  had  not  many  noble  men  risen 
from  the  humblest  ranks?'  "This  pious  and  holy 
thought,  accordingly,  causeth  that  even  such  be  ad- 
mitted as  bring  no  proof  of  a  change  of  life  for  the 
better."^  Why?  Because  of  the  impossibility  of 
determining  their  motive.  Accordingly  there  grew 
up  a  class  of  idle,  crafty,  casuistical  fellows,  who, 
under  the  garb  of  monastics,  roamed  about  the  coun- 
try, a  menace  and  a  nuisance.  Being  respected  they 
strolled  here  and  there,  trading  "reliques"  trumped 
up  for  the  purpose,  or  pretending  they  were  on  a 
visit  to  relatives.  Everywhere  they  made  capital 
of  the  outward  impression  of  sanctity.  Augustine 
had  to  confess,  after  a  few  years,  that  their  hypoc- 
risy often  was  exposed  by  detected  frauds  and  sen- 
sual indulgence.^  All  this  grew  partly  out  of 
Augustine's  more  moderate  and  idyllic  view  of  an 
ascetic  life,  and  partly  out  of  laxity  in  discipline. 
Nevertheless,  he  saw  the  dangers  of  idleness  and 
license,  with  men  who  formerly  had  been  burdened 
by  heavy  labors  and  close  restraints.  Accordingly, 
he  was  unwilling  to  discard  entirely  the  obligation 

7  On  the  Work  of  Monks,  chap.  25.  8  Ibid.  chap.  36. 


Back  to  Africa.  103 

to  manual  labor.  Then  there  was,  upon  many  of 
thes€  men  who  had  known  only  the  coarser  side  of 
life,  a  softening  influence,  which  counted  for  much 
in  developing  some  of  the  Church's  most  respected 
leaders.  It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  the  bad 
results  outweighed  the  good,  and  that  the  seed 
planted  in  Augustine's  "Spiritual  Seminary"  was 
destined  to  bear  an  amazingly  unwholesome  fruit- 
age. 

For  a  proper  idea  of  Augustine's  occupations  at 
Thagaste,  we  must  look  to  the  letters.  One  thing 
that  impresses  us  is,  that  the  busy  monk  had  not 
shut  all  light  and  beauty  out  of  his  heart.  Among 
the  most  tender  relations  of  his  life  were  those  with 
Nebridius.  The  passing  reference  in  the  "Con- 
fessions," and  the  letters^  give  us  entrance  into  a 
friendship  of  rare  sympathy  and  sweetness.  Ne- 
bridius was  unable  to  make  his  home  at  the  monas- 
tery, but  returned  to  his  home  near  Carthage,  where 
he  was  seized  with  a  wasting  disease  which  soon 
resulted  in  his  death.  Augustine  kept  him  cheered ; 
his  messages,  the  sick  man  said,  were  to  his  ears 
"like  Christ,  like  Plato,  like  Plotinus."  In  an- 
other letter,  Augustine  becomes  playful.  Dis- 
cussing the  size  of  the  planets,  he  remarks  upon  the 
prodigious  statue  of  Naevius.  "By  the  way,  I  think 
you  have  been  just  too  eager  to  discover  some  man 
to  match  him ;  and  when  you  did  not  succeed,  have 
resolved  to  make  me  stretch  out  my  letter  so  as  to 


9  Confessions,  IX,  5  and  6;  also  Eps.  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  13,  14. 


I04  AuGUSTiNK:  The  Thinker. 

rival  his  dimensions."  He  concludes  by  writing: 
"I  beg  you  be  content  with  what  I  have  written,  al- 
though I  have  already  outdone  Naevius  himself." 
One  must  not  paint  the  portrait  of  Augustine  the 
monk  in  too  somber  hues.^^ 

From  another  part  of  the  correspondence  with 
Nebridius,  it  appears  that  the  people  of  Thagaste 
took  advantage  of  Augustine's  genius  and  set  him 
up  as  a  kind  of  justice.  But  he  had  little  liking  for 
it.  Besides  a  vigorous  correspondence  he  devoted 
liimsclf  to  authorship.  The  Manicha^ans  had  not 
ceased  to  disturb  him.  Their  stubborn  hostility  to 
the  Old  Testament  led  Augustine  at  length  to  ven- 
ture upon  a  defense  of  Genesis,  in  which  he  resorted 
to  the  Ambrosian  method  of  allegorical  explanation 
of  the  stories  of  creation  and  the  fall.  This  was 
only  the  initial  step  of  later  works  on  the  same  sub- 
ject, finally  issuing  in  the  large  commentary  on  "A 
Literal  Rendering  of  Genesis," — a  work  which  in 
our  day  has  no  practical  value,  and  only  an  anti- 
quarian interest.  Another  treatise  was  begun,  but 
not  completed,  ''On  Music."  A  frank  statement 
of  the  value  of  this  work  occurs  in  a  letter  (loi) 
written  several  years  later  to  Bishop  Memor,  who 
wished  a  copy.  Augustine  confesses  that  the  first 
five  books,  on  rhythm,  are  a  sort  of  labyrinthal  maze 
from  which  the  puzzled  bishop  would  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  extricate  himself.  Augustine  also  had  a 
lively  passage  at  arms  with  a  grammarian  of  Ma- 

10  Cf.  also  Ep.  4 :  "  I  am  yet  but  a  boy,  though  perhaps,  as  we  say,  a 
promising  boy,  rather  than  a  good-for-nothing." 


Back  to  Ai^rica.  105 

daura.  This  old  man,  Maximus,  wrote  to  ask  why 
there  was  anything  unfitting  in  the  market-place  of 
his  town  being  occupied  by  statues  of  the  gods,  and 
who  the  Christian  God  actually  was.  It  is  perfid- 
ious to  say,  as  one  of  Augustine's  biographers  has 
done,  that  his  reply  is  ''harsh"  and  a  "bitter,  con- 
temptuous attack  on  the  poor  Olympians."  He 
merely  calls  upon  Maximus  to  treat  seriously,  and 
not  jocularly,  a  serious  subject,  and  takes  the  occa- 
sion to  expose  the  follies  of  heathen  worship.  Of 
the  work  "On  the  True  Religion,"  addressed  to 
Romanianus  with  the  hope  of  winning  him  to  Chris- 
tianity, nothing  further  need  be  remarked,  except 
to  call  attention  to  its  careful,  finished  style.  One 
notable  passage  is  the  comparison  between  Plato's 
philosophy  and  Christianity.  Augustine  believed 
Plato  himself  would  have  supported  Christianity  if 
he  had  ever  had  a  vision  of  its  sublime  magnitude 
and  wide-reaching  results  in  the  world.  Roman- 
ianus was  evidently  convinced,  for  soon  thereafter 
he  embraced  the  Christian  faith. 

When  Augustine  returned  to  his  native  town,  it 
was  with  the  sorrow  of  his  mother's  death  still 
fresh  in  his  breast.  He  was  to  take  his  departure 
with  another  grief  pressing  upon  him.  The  boy 
Adeodatus  had  been  with  him  constantly.  In  the 
studious  atmosphere  of  the  cloister  he  had  devel- 
oped marked  mental  qualities.  His  father  was  even 
alarmed  at  his  precocity.  There  is  left  us  an  ad- 
mirable book,  entitled  "The  Master,"  containing  a 


io6  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

dialogue  between  the  father,  and  his  son,  only  six- 
teen. Augustine  makes  affidavit^^  that  the  argu- 
ments are  all  the  lad's  own.  They  lead  up  to  the 
declaration  of  Christ:  ''One  is  your  Master,"  and 
display  considerable  talent.  But  this  "Gift  of  God," 
as  his  name,  by  strange  inconsistency,  signifies,  was 
too  frail  to  support  so  unusual  a  mind,  and  soon 
died.  It  was  not  long  thereafter  that  the  voices  of 
a  needy  world  called  upon  Augustine,  with  an 
urgency  which  the  quiet  of  his  seclusion  would  not 
allow  him  to  escape. 

11  Confessions,  IX,  14. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HIPPO  REGIUS. 

In  the  Church  of  Augustine's  day,  formahties 
were  not  always  observed  in  the  matter  of  select- 
ing ministers.  The  story  is  well  known  of  how 
Ambrose,  an  officer  in  the  imperial  service,  was 
chosen  bishop  as  the  result  of  a  child's  crying  his 
name  in  the  Church,  though  he  protested  violently 
and  had  first  to  be  baptized.  A  similar  haste  ac- 
companied the  choice  of  Cyprian  as  bishop  of  Car- 
thage. It  was  in  this  way  also  that  Augustine  was 
dragged  out  of  his  retreat  and  thrust  into  the  active 
service  of  the  Church.  In  general,  the  Church  was 
in  a  loosely-organized  condition  throughout  North 
Africa.  Ministers  of  thorough  equipment  were  rare. 
Consequently  Christian  men  of  ability  were  eagerly 
watched.  If  a  congregation  spied  out  a  promising 
person  and  summarily  called  him  to  a  position,  there 
was  a  prevalent  opinion  that  he  was  bound  to  ac- 
cept.^ In  the  monasteries,  especially,  clerical  re- 
cruits were  sought.  There  is  nothing  surprising, 
then,  in  the  discovery  of  the  head  of  the  convent  at 
Thagaste.     Indeed,  so  well  and  favorably  known 


1  It  is  said  that  Synesius,  whom   Kingsley  has  made  familiar,  was 
made  bishop  in  spite  of  his  protest  that  he  was  both  heretical  and  married. 

107 


io8  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

did  he  become,  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to 
move  about  with  the  caution  of  *'the  hunted."  He 
dreaded  lofty  position.- 

But  Augustine  could  not  long  avoid  capture. 
One  day  he  found  himself  urged  by  a  State  official, 
who  had  leanings  towards  the  life  of  a  recluse,  to 
visit  "Royal  Hippo,"  a  city  on  the  coast. 
Whether  this  was  a  ruse  or  not  Augustine  did  not 
consider,  but  set  out  on  his  mission  of  winning  a 
possible  disciple.  The  aged  Valerius  was  at  that 
time  bishop  of  Hippo.  When  Augustine  entered 
the  Basilica  of  Peace — one  finds  it  easy  to  imagine 
it  all  an  adroit  piece  of  stratagem — Valerius  was 
insisting  upon  the  necessity  of  the  people's  securing 
a  new  priest  to  aid  him  in  his  work.  There  was 
instant  recognition  of  Augustine,  and  a  loud  cry  for 
his  ordination.  They  surrounded  him  and  pressed 
him  forward.  In  vain  were  protests  and  tears. 
There  was  no  appeal.  Such  outbreaks  were  not  un- 
common in  the  early  Church.  In  a  letter  to  Jerome, 
Augustine  relates  the  story  of  a  certain  bishop  who 
got  into  trouble  by  quoting  Jonah  iv,  6,  from 
Jerome's  version.  For  generations  the  Church  had 
chanted  this  passage.  When,  then,  "ivy"  was  sub- 
stituted for  "gourd,"  such  a  tumult  arose  that  the 
bishoj)  narrowly  escaped  being  left  without  a  con- 
gregation. 

The  reluctance  with  which  Augustine  submitted 
to  ordination  was  not  due,  as  some  conjectured  from 


8  Sermon  XLIX. 


Hippo  Re:gius.  109 

his  weeping,^  to  the  meagerness  of  his  opportunity 
in  Hippo,  or  to  his  being  made  presbyter  instead  of 
colleague  of  Valerius.  As  we  have  seen,  he  felt  a 
natural  shrinking  from  the  burdens  of  the  priest- 
hood. He  was  thirty-seven  years  of  age,  and  the 
bent  of  his  life  had  been  in  a  different  direction. 
There  seems  to  have  been  no  other  reason  for  his 
hesitation.  Hippo  itself  was  by  no  means  an  ob- 
scure place.  Situated  as  it  was  on  the  seaboard, 
about  two  hundred  miles  from  Carthage  to  the  west, 
it  had  gained  importance  as  a  commercial  outlet 
under  the  Romans.  Some  glory  attached  to  it  also 
as  the  former  residence  of  the  Numidian  kings — 
whence  the  epithet  ''Royal."  There  were  perhaps 
thirty-five  thousand  people  there  in  Augustine's 
time. 

Two  rivers  washed  the  walls  of  Hippo,  the 
Sebus,  and  a  smaller  one  to  which  the  Arabs  give 
the  name  Abou-Gemma.  Various  traces  of  Roman 
civilization  are  still  to  be  found  on  the  banks  of 
these  rivers.  To  the  east  stretched  out  the  paths  of 
the  Great  Sea.  Back  of  the  town  arose  the  "Red 
Hill,"  decked  with  a  fine  array  of  fig,  olive,  and 
chestnut  trees.  On  the  southeast  lay  the  yellow 
plains  reaching  out  along  the  route  to  Carthage,  as 
far  as  the  bold  promontory  of  the  Atlas  range, 
called  now  Beni-Urgin.  In  all,  the  town  was  about 
three  miles  in  circumference.  Within  its  inclosure, 
besides  many  gardens,  were  the  basilica,  baths,  and 

3  See  Ep.  21,  and  Possidius,  C.  4. 


no  Augustine::  Thi:  Thinker. 

a  castle  which  served  both  as  palace  and  fortress 
(being  situated  on  a  commanding  hill  in  the  middle 
of  the  town).  There  was  a  mixed  population,  and 
a  very  discordant  one — disciples  of  Mani,  Arians, 
Jews,  Donatists,  pagans  in  large  numbers,  and  Cath- 
olic Christians.  The  last  named,  doubtless,  were 
made  up  largely  of  handicraftsmen,  fishermen, 
slaves,  and  gardeners.  For  forty  years,  Augustine 
was  to  labor  among  such  people  as  these,  gradually 
building  up  the  Church  from  a  humble  place  to  one 
of  power  in  North  Africa.  Nowadays,  travelers 
often  witness  a  strange  sight  among  the  ruins  a 
mile  from  Bona.  On  Fridays  a  band  of  Moham- 
medans is  likely  to  approach,  burn  a  few  grains  of 
incense,  sacrifice  a  bird,  offer  a  prayer  to  *'the  great 
Christian"  (Roumi  Kebir),  seeking  his  celestial 
favor,  fire  their  guns,  and  depart.  For  even  to-day 
the  Arabs  think  of  Augustine  as  a  mighty  friend  of 
God. 

Augustine  did  not  take  up  his  abode  at  Hippo 
immediately.  Feeling  his  inefficiency,  he  first 
sought  retirement  and  closer  spiritual  preparation. 
Presumably  he  returned  for  a  brief  time  to  Tha- 
gaste.  There  he  made  new  plans  for  the  continu- 
ance of  the  little  community.  His  closest  friends 
did  not  forsake  him,  however.  Near  the  church  at 
IIil)po  was  a  garden,  and  this  was  given  into  his 
charge  for  the  site  of  a  new  monastery.  Alypius 
and  Evodius,  together  with  additional  disciples, 
Possidius   (who    became    the    chief    contemporary 


Hippo  Regius.  hi 

biographer  of  Augustine),  Severus,  and  others, 
joined  their  leader  in  a  Hfe,  as  Possidius  says, 
"according  to  the  rule  laid  down  by  the  holy  apos- 
tles." Up  to  this  time,  there  were  few  facili- 
ties for  that  special  spiritual  culture  necessary  in 
ministers  of  the  Church.  Hence  the  attainments 
of  the  clergy  were  often  quite  inadequate.  The 
aim  of  Augustine  was  to  provide  candidates  for  the 
Church  with  mental  and  religious  discipline.  From 
his  society  went  forth  no  less  than  ten  bishops. 
After  a  while  the  monastery  became  so  popular  that 
others  of  a  similar  type  had  to  be  opened  in  Hippo. 
From  the  success  of  this  one  many  other  bishops 
were  induced  to  found  monasteries  of  the  same  kind, 
and  a  better  trained  clergy  was  the  outcome. 

Augustine's  principal  duty  in  his  new  surround- 
ings was  to  preach.  Bishop  Valerius  was  of  Greek 
extraction,  and  very  feeble.  Hence,  he  failed  to 
meet  the  requirements  of  the  place  in  two  respects, 
— through  his  imperfect  Latin  and  his  weak  body. 
It  was  an  almost  unprecedented  performance  for 
a  humble  priest  to  preach  in  the  presence  of  a 
bishop.  Jerome  informs  us  that  it  looked  very 
much  as  if  the  bishops  envied  the  younger  men,  or 
would  not  deign  to  hear  them.  But  the  custom  did 
not  disturb  Valerius.  Protests  came  in  from  Afri- 
can bishops  on  all  sides.  He  gave  them  no  heed, 
but  rather  thanked  God  for  sending  him  so  gifted 
an  assistant.    It  was  not  long  before  he  had  plenty 


112  Augustine:  The:  Thinker. 

of  imitators,  especially  as  his  procedure  was  com- 
mon in  the  East. 

The  preaching  and  monastic  duties  of  Augustine 
did  not  prevent  his  engaging  in  literary  labors,  and 
withal  in  controversy.  Christianity  was  being  hard 
pressed  in  Hippo.  The  aged  bishop,  with  his  one 
Church,  had  found  it  a  heavy  problem  to  hold  his 
own.  With  Augustine's  coming  we  are  told  "the 
Church  began  to  lift  up  its  head."  This  was  espe- 
cially true  with  regard  to  the  sect  of  Manichseans. 
Unquestionably  they  were  the  keenest  and  closest 
rivals  \^alerius  had.  But  now  they  were  to  meet  a 
worthier  antagonist,  one  who  had  crossed  swords 
with  them  before  and  was  familiar  with  their  tac- 
tics. Some  time  during  the  year  of  his  ordination, 
he  wrote  the  book,  *'On  the  Profit  of  Believing," 
directed  to  a  friend  who  had  become  a  Manichee 
chiefly  through  his  influence.  Apart  from  the  auto- 
biographical interest  of  the  work,  there  is  still  pleas- 
ure in  following  Augustine's  search  for  ultimate 
authority.  Is  it  Scripture?  or  tradition?  or  the 
reason?  or  Christ?  For  answer,  this  advice  is 
given:  ''Follow  the  pathway  of  Catholic  teaching, 
which  hath  flowed  down  from  Christ  Himself 
through  the  apostles,  even  unto  us."  H  you  desire 
true  religion,  and  dare  first  to  believe  you  will  at- 
tain unto  it,  and  then  yield  your  mind  as  a  suppliant, 
you  can  not  be  disappointed.  If  you  seek  a  more 
positive  reason  for  following  Christ,  you  must  fall 
back  upon  "report  strengthened  by  numbers,  agree- 


Hippo  Regius.  113 

ment,  antiquity."  Miracles  and  a  multitude  of  fol- 
lowers are  also  held  out  as  basis  for  belief.  If 
Augustine  had  put  together  these  loosely  connected 
ideas,  he  might  have  reached  a  safe  rule.  But 
Augustine  was  never  a  profound  systematizer.  That 
he  accomplished  the  practical  result  of  recovering 
his  friend  Honoratus  from  error,  was  perhaps 
enough. 

Not  till  the  year  following,  however,  did  Augus- 
tine begin  to  display  those  gifts  and  graces  which 
have  led  an  eminent  writer  to  describe  him  as  "the 
most  marvelous  controversial  phenomenon  which 
the  whole  history  of  the  Church  from  first  to  last 
presents."*  There  lived  in  Hippo  a  bishop  of  the 
Manichees,  called  Fortunatus.  Up  to  this  time  he 
had  held  sway  over  the  simple  Hipponenses  without 
a  rival.  All  sects  saw  in  him  a  dangerous  foe.  But, 
with  the  arrival  of  Augustine,  fresh  hope  arose  in 
the  Christian  camp.  His  distinguished  abilities 
were  relied  upon  to  lay  low  the  Manichaean's  pride. 
Augustine  was  accordingly  appealed  to,  and  agreed 
to  a  public  debate  with  Fortunatus.  But  he,  in 
turn,  showed  less  eagerness  to  display  his  reasons 
for  the  faith  within  him.  He  had  depended  less 
upon  argument  than  upon  rather  loud-sounding  pre- 
tensions. But  the  fight  was  on,  and  Fortunatus, 
being  unable  to  escape,  agreed  upon  a  day  and  place 
for  the  contest. 

Late  in  August  of  the  year  392,  at  the  baths  of 


4  Canon  Mozley,  Ruling  Ideas  in  Early  Ages. 

8 


114  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

Sosius,  a  crowd  of  students,  curious,  and  sectarians 
quickly  gathered  for  the  debate.  Controversies  of 
this  kind  were  quite  the  vogue,  and  were  as  keenly 
relished  by  the  audience  as  are  the  famous  disputes 
on  Glasgow  Green  in  our  own  time.  On  the  first 
day,  it  took  Augustine  very  little  time  to  force  his 
antagonist  to  cover.  Fortunatus  had  no  liking  for 
doctrine;  he  preferred  to  set  up  a  vindication  of 
^lanichaean  morals.  (How  modern!)  In  reply, 
Augustine  certainly  is  less  bitter  in  his  denuncia- 
tions. But  it  is  because  he  would  compel  his  oppo- 
nent to  keep  close  to  their  fundamental  differences. 
The  crowd  were  quick  to  appreciate.  They  saw  that 
Fortunatus  made  short  shift  of  Scripture,  and  was 
guilty  of  pitiable  inconsistencies.  At  length  they 
broke  out  into  jeers  and  the  meeting  ended  in 
clamorous  confusion.  Fortunatus  departed  from 
Hippo  in  shame  to  seek  more  convincing  arguments 
from  his  superiors.  Evidently  he  never  found  what 
he  sought,  for  Hippo  saw  him  no  more.  This  was 
not  the  end  of  Augustine's  campaign  against  the 
Manichaeans.  But  he  had  dealt  them  an  effective 
blow,  and  their  further  retreat  in  the  West  was  due 
in  very  great  measure  to  his  unyielding  assaults. 

With  the  concluding  scenes  of  this  contest  we 
are  ushered  into  the  beginnings  of  another.  From 
his  boyhood,  Augustine  must  have  known  that  the 
Church  in  Africa  was  rent  by  an  internal  strife.  Of 
the  origin  and  course  of  this  schism  we  will  speak 
more  fully  in  a  later  chapter.    The  offending  party, 


Hippo  Regius.  115 

the  Donatists,  claimed  to  be  the  true  Church.  Thou- 
sands had  grown  up  in  that  beHef.  In  some  places 
the  sect  outnumbered  the  Catholic  Christians. 
Augustine,  up  to  the  year  of  his  ordination,  seems 
to  have  been  little  concerned.  In  the  year  392,  how- 
ever, his  eyes  were  opened.  He  chanced  to  be  pass- 
ing through  a  part  of  his  bishop's  see,  when  he 
came  upon  the  labors  of  the  Donatist  Bishop  Maxi- 
min.  This  man,  though  friendly  to  Christianity, 
was  none  the  less  zealous  for  his  sect,  and  had  re- 
baptized  a  Catholic  deacon  upon  receiving  him  into 
the  same  office  as  a  Donatist.  This  to  Augustine 
was  the  central  phase  of  the  Donatist  offense.  In  a 
letter  to  Maximin,  whom,  though  he  refuses  to 
recognize  his  orders,  he  denotes  Dominus  dulcissi- 
mus,  he  expresses  his  confidence  in  his  own  notion 
of  the  Church,  and  in  brotherly  fashion  invites 
Maximin  to  conference.  Not  content  with  this 
initial  step,  he  resorted  to  a  species  of  doggerel 
poetry — "A  Psalm  Against  the  Donatist  Party."  In 
the  manner  of  the  time  this  undignified  utterance 
doubtless  was  to  be  sung  in  the  streets.  But  it  was 
probably  too  long  for  that  purpose,  and  only  the 
catching  refrain,  for  peace  and  honest  judgment, 
would  attract  popular  notice.  The  principal  ar- 
guments which  Augustine  was  to  employ  with  in- 
creasing ardor,  if  not  bitterness,  against  the  Dona- 
tists, are  most  of  them  found  in  this  crude,  un- 
measured production.  It  was  followed  by  a  work 
no  longer  extant,  designed  as  an  answer  to  certain 


ii6  Augustink:  Thi^  Thinke:r. 

apologetics  of  Bishop  Donatiis,  "the  sphinx"  of  the 
sect. 

In  the  year  393,  an  important  council  of  all 
Africa  was  convened  at  Hippo.  To  Augustine  was 
given  the  task  of  preaching  the  sermon.  So  far 
had  he  advanced  in  fame.  He  took  for  his  subject, 
"Faith  and  the  Creed,"  and  such  an  impression  did 
he  make  that  he  was  induced  to  expand  it  into  a 
larger  treatise.  The  holy  Catholic  Church,  he  de- 
clared, had  no  place  for  heretics  who  differed  in 
doctrine,  or  for  schismatics,  like  the  Donatists,  who 
transgressed  in  the  rupture  of  brotherly  love.  Au- 
gustine was  influential  in  this  conference  in  other 
ways.  Probably  it  will  remain  best  known  by  its 
relation  to  the  formation  of  the  New  Testament 
canon,  having  settled  for  the  first  time  upon  the 
twenty-seven  books  to  which  we  are  still  accus- 
tomed. 

Among  the  practices  of  the  Donatists  were  an 
encouragement  of  the  martyr  spirit  and  the  attend- 
ant revelings  at  the  tombs  of  dead  heroes  or  in  the 
churches.  Unfortunately,  the  Catholic  Church  itself 
was  not  free  from  the  abominations  growing  out  of 
these  customs.  Almost  every  province  and  town 
had  its  martyr  who  held  watch  over  its  interests. 
In  some  cases,  indeed.  Christian  martyrs  were  trans- 
formed into  mythical  beings  of  much  the  same  type 
as  the  tutelary  deities  of  the  pagans.  In  order  to 
compromise  with  the  untutored  converts  from 
paganism,  Christian  bishops  often  had  winked  at 


Hippo  Ri:gius.  117 

the  celebrations  held  in  memory  of  the  worthy  dead. 
When  charged  with  deifying  the  saints,  teachers 
like  Augustine  and  Chrysostom  and  Theodoret  had 
to  defend  themselves  by  making  it  appear  that  the 
Church  reverenced  the  martyrs  only  to  recall  their 
virtues.  But  it  is  certain  that  many  abuses  were 
connected  with  this  veneration.  It  will  be  remem- 
bered how  the  simple-hearted  Monica  was  forbidden 
the  privilege  of  "feasting"  in  Milan,  where  the  cus- 
tom was  suppressed.  In  Africa,  many  bishops  gave 
their  authority  to  these  feasts,  or  IcBtitice.  Augus- 
tine had  written  to  Aurelius  in  392  (Ep.  22),  call- 
ing upon  the  Bishop  of  Carthage  in  most  urgent 
terms  to  summon  a  council  for  the  wiping  out  of 
these  semi-heathen  practices.  The  council  of  the 
following  year  accordingly  decreed  that  the  ban- 
quets should  be  discontinued  "as  far  as  possible." 

This  was  too  mild  for  Augustine.  He  consid- 
ered the  continuance  of  the  superstitions  deplorable, 
however  popular.  Rioting  and  drunkenness  were 
every-day  accompaniments  of  the  services  "de- 
signed to  honor  the  memory  of  the  blessed  mar- 
tyrs," and  it  was  disgraceful  that  Africa  should 
tolerate  them  longer.  By  395,  he  was  thoroughly 
aroused.  Somewhat  before  Easter  occurred  the 
annual  festival  of  Leontius,  patron  saint  of  Hippo. 
This  anniversary  was  a  signal  for  unusual  indul- 
gence on  the  part  of  both  Donatist  and  Catholic. 
In  a  letter  to  Alypius  (29),  now  become  bishop 
of  Thagaste,  Augustine  outlines  his  tactics.    A  few 


ii8  Augustine::  The:  Thinker. 

days  before  the  festival,  he  preached  concerning 
"dogs  and  swine," — such  they  were  who  in  riot- 
ous pleasure  abused  ''the  privileges  which  are  the 
pearls  of  the  Church."  Few  were  present.  But 
rumor  of  the  sermon  soon  spread.  Next  day  a  great 
crowd  assembled.  Augustine  spoke  wdth  all  the 
passion  of  a  reformer,  his  hearers  and  himself  being 
melted  to  tears.  Even  then  he  had  not  completely 
carried  the  day;  for,  on  the  morning  of  the  feast, 
there  was  still  a  disposition  with  some  to  devote 
themselves  to  excessive  eating  and  drinking.  With 
resolute  purpose,  he  prepared  one  final  denunciation, 
after  which  he  was  ready  to  ''shake  his  garments 
and  depart."  "But  then  the  Lord  showed  me  that 
He  leaves  us  not  alone."  The  band  of  obstinates 
gathered  in  his  presence,  and  listened  to  some  ear- 
nest advice  in  response  to  their  question:  "Where- 
fore now  prohibit  this  custom  ?"  The  remainder  of 
the  day  was  given  over  to  worship  and  praise.  As 
for  the  Donatist  "brethren,"  no  restraint  was  upon 
them.  The  noise  of  their  Bacchic  revels  poured  in 
upon  the  closing  discourse  of  Augustine  and  he  be- 
sought his  humbled  followers  to  recognize  the 
deeper  worth  of  things  spiritual.  This  was  the  end 
of  the  feasts  to  the  martyrs  in  the  Church  at  Hippo, 
but  the  practice  hung  on  in  other  parts  of  North 
Africa. 

It  was  becoming  dangerous  for  Augustine  to 
venture  far  beyond  the  borders  of  Hippo.  For  one 
thing,   the    Donatists   were   resorting  to  violence. 


Hippo  Regius.  119 

They  would  unhesitatingly  enter  a  church  and  tear 
down  the  altar.^  The  opposition  of  men  like  Augus- 
tine had  made  them  firm  and  fierce.  Catholics  were 
assailed  and  terrorized.  It  was  even  boasted  that 
the  man  would  receive  a  rich  spiritual  reward  who 
would  make  way  with  Augustine.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  presbyter  of  Hippo  was  becoming  widely 
known.  His  people  feared  to  let  him  go  a  great 
distance  from  them,  for  the  obvious  reason  that 
plenty  of  congregations,  needing  a  bishop,  would 
not  scruple  to  lay  under  tribute  his  fine  talents.  In- 
deed, a  deputation  arrived  at  Hippo  with  suspicious 
designs,  only  to  find  the  aged  Valerius  awake  to 
his  peril — Augustine  was  kept  in  hiding  till  their 
departure. 

At  last  Valerius  wrote  to  Carthage  to  secure 
the  co-operation  of  Aurelius  in  elevating  Augustine 
to  the  bishopric.  Ecclesiastics  from  all  directions 
came  together.  There  was  only  one  dissent,  and  that 
was  by  the  bishop  of  Calamus,  who  alleged  that  Au- 
gustine had  been  charged  with  immoral  conduct  by 
the  Donatists.  The  report  was  an  absurd  calumny, 
and  Bishop  Megalius  afterwards  sought  Augustine's 
pardon.  In  fact,  it  was  this  same  Megalius,  who, 
in  the  absence  of  Aurelius,  conferred  upon  Augus- 
tine the  episcopal  ordination,  briefly  before  Christ- 
mas. 

Augustine  regarded  the  new  office  as  a  most 
responsible  burden.^    But  it  gave  him  larger  scope 

6  See  Augustine's  Letter  to  Alypius,  XXIX,  12. 
6  Ep.  31.  4. 


I20  Augustine:  The;  Thinker. 

for  his  tastes,  both  as  ecclesiastic  and  controversial- 
ist His  senior  bishop  died  shortly  after,  leaving 
him  sole  oversight  of  the  "parish."  Accordingly, 
he  removed  from  the  retired  garden  monastery  to 
the  former  house  of  Valerius.  It  is  here  we  next 
shall  find  him. 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  BISHOP  AT  WORK. 

To  be;  a  bishop,  in  the  age  of  Augustine,  was  to 
be  a  successor  of  the  apostles.  The  distinction  be- 
tween him  and  the  presbyter  was  becoming  more 
marked.  Their  primitive  equal  dignity  was  still 
maintained  by  Chrysostom,  the  golden-mouthed,  and 
by  Jerome.  But  the  bishop  was  gradually  entering 
into  a  place  of  patriarchal  power.  He  alone  could 
impart  spiritual  ordination,  and  confirm  such  as  the 
presbyters  had  baptized,  and  grant  absolution.  In 
short,  Augustine  found  himself  raised  to  a  much 
more  representative  position.  But  it  meant  to  him 
additional  turmoil  and  increasing  ministerial  labors. 

Possidius,  who  for  forty  years  lived  in  personal 
intimacy  with  the  bishop  of  Hippo,  has  left  no 
description  of  his  appearance.  What  is  known  can 
be  traced  only  to  an  uncertain  tradition.  We  are 
sure  of  the  plain  frock,  and  the  monkish  hood  drawn 
about  his  shaven  head.  And  perhaps  we  can  ac- 
cept the  long  beard,  *'the  wrinkles  which  deep  medi- 
tation very  early  had  made  in  his  broad  forehead," 
"the  fire  of  genius  tempered  by  an  expression  of 
kindness  which  lit  up  his  eyes,"  ''the  harshness  of 
his  African  figure,"  and  the  thin  features,  with  all 

121 


122  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

which  later  "biographies"  have  made  us  familiar. 
But  there  is  greater  interest  in  taking  account  of 
facts  which  we  know.  Together  wath  Augustine  in 
his  episcopal  residence  were  gathered  such  priests 
and  deacons,  similarly  garbed,  as  w^ere  engaged  in 
the  labors  of  the  parish.  ''All  things  in  common" 
continued  to  be  the  law.  No  one  could  enter  who 
did  not  renounce  all  property  rights.  So  we  find 
one  of  the  priests,  Leporius,  hastening  to  sell  all  his 
goods  and  using  them  for  charity.  But  this  plan 
made  room  for  the  scandals  of  an  occasional  Ana- 
nias. In  sermon  355,  Augustine  relates  the  case  of  a 
priest  named  Barnabas  who  saved  enough  while  in 
the  bishop's  home  to  buy  a  piece  of  land.  Another 
priest,  Januarius  by  name,  confessed  on  kis  death- 
bed of  having  laid  by  a  comfortable  sum  of  money, 
which  he  had  pretended  belonged  to  his  daughter,  a 
minor,  who  lived  in  a  neighboring  nunnery.  When 
it  was  too  late  for  any  other  use,  he  wished  to  leave 
the  money  as  a  legacy  to  the  Church.  Augustine 
very  properly  refused  it. 

Adopting  Jerome's  rule  of  a  golden-mean  for 
monks,  Augustine  is  described  as  being  neither 
overnice  nor  careless  about  his  clothing,  his  bed, 
or  his  boots.  His  admiring  flock  proffered  him 
garments  of  the  costliest  kind,  but  he  refused  to 
wear  them.  He  publicly  declared  he  would  appear 
in  nothing  which  would  be  unbecoming  even  to  his 
humblest  sub-deacon,  and  if  they  persisted  in  mak- 
ing such  gifts,  he  would  sell  them  in  behalf  of  the 


The  Bishop  at  Work.  123 

poor.  He  was  equally  moderate  at  the  table. 
Vegetables  and  herbs  formed  the  bulk  of  the  diet. 
Meat  was  reserved  for  the  sick,  or  for  such 
hospitalities  as  might  be  extended  to  strangers. 
Wine  was  permitted  in  small  quantities.  A  pas- 
sage in  the  "Confessions"  (X.  Ch.  XXXI)  can  be 
interpreted  to  mean  that  Augustine  was  fearful  of 
excesses  in  his  eating  and  drinking.  As  early  as 
1689,  accordingly,  Pierre  Petit  advanced  the  notion 
that  it  was  only  the  great  bishop's  strong  mind 
which  prevented  his  losing  his  balance  under  the  in- 
fluence of  wine.  But  this  is  nothing  more  than  ra- 
tionalistic badinage.  Augustine  had  not  the  robust 
constitution  to  indulge  in  hearty  feasting.  The  old 
lung  trouble  reasserted  itself  in  hemorrhoidal  at- 
tacks; he  was  slight,  thin-blooded,  and  highly  sen- 
sitive ;  and  what  strength  he  had  was  worn  down  by 
endless  toils  and  many  fastings. 

At  Augustine's  table,  moreover,  little  levity  was 
known.  He  preferred  the  seasoning  of  serious  con- 
verse and  spirited  discussion,  to  which  was  added 
the  reading  of  some  religious  work.  The  shadow 
of  no  scandal  was  ever  permitted  to  fall  upon  the 
clerical  group  as  they  ate.  A  reminder  of  this  rule 
was  ever  before  them,  engraved  on  the  table :  "This 
is  not  the  place  for  carping  critics."  With  Jerome, 
he  had  no  quarter,  for  the  man  who  spoke  evil  of 
another  who  was  absent.^  One  day  he  was  enter- 
taining some  neighboring  bishops,  who  in  the  course 


1  See  Jerome's  Letter  to  Nepotianus. 


124  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

of  their  conversation  either  forgot  the  rule  or  ig- 
nored it.  Instantly  Augustine  was  on  his  feet. 
With  great  warmth  he  declared  the  couplet  should 
be  effaced,  or  he  must  leave  the  table.  But  this  was 
but  a  reflection  of  a  broader  sympathy  with  folks 
which  made  him  friend  to  all  oppressed.  Aluch  of 
his  own  simplicity  of  living  was  due  to  a  desire  that 
his  resources  might  be  available  for  all  in  need. 
"The  glory  of  a  bishop,"  it  was  his  custom  to  say, 
"is  his  care  of  the  poor."  All  the  table  ornaments 
and  utensils  were  of  wood  or  terra  cotta,  excepting 
the  silver  spoons.  When  the  Church  treasury  was 
empty,  and  money  was  needed  to  restore  captives 
and  provide  for  the  poor,  Augustine  had  the  sacred 
vessels  of  the  Church  broken  and  melted.  It 
brought  him  reproach,  but  he  appealed  to  similar 
conduct  on  the  part  of  Ambrose,  who  said  he  had 
rather  present  Christ  with  souls  than  with  gold. 

Augustine  had  recourse  to  Ambrose  also  in  the 
matter  of  rules  for  the  priesthood.  Among  these 
was  the  advice  that  ministers  should  not  constitute 
themselves  match-makers,  for  fear  they  might  ex- 
pose themselves  to  the  rage  of  disappointed  hus- 
bands. Augustine  himself  went  much  farther.  His 
priests  must  not  make  alliances  for  themselves.  In- 
deed, so  drastic  was  he  in  respect  to  women,  that  he 
visited  only  orphans  and  widows  in  trouble.  No 
woman  was  permitted  to  dwell  beneath  his  roof, 
not  even  his  own  pious  sister  and  nieces.  McCabe's 
curiosity  is  aroused  as  to  what  Jerome  would  have 


Tut  Bishop  at  Work.  125 

said  of  such  practices.  We  are  not  left  in  doubt. 
In  the  famous  letter  to  Nepotianus,  the  recluse  of 
Bethlehem  makes  it  perfectly  clear  that  he  was  rigid 
in  demanding  uniform  restraints  upon  the  clergy. 
*'Never  or  rarely,"  he  wrote,  "let  the  foot  of  a 
woman  pass  the  door  of  your  humble  dwelling." 
Such  caution  doubtless  was  justified  by  the  evils  of 
the  period.  In  one  of  his  sermons,  Augustine  con- 
fessed he  had  nowhere  found  better  men  than  in 
monasteries, — and  he  had  nowhere  found  worse. 

One  is  able  to  discover  more  trustfulness  than 
discretion  in  Augustine's  management  of  his  busi- 
ness affairs.  He  is  said  never  to  have  carried  a  key 
or  a  ring,  since  he  neither  received  nor  used  gifts 
for  himself.  All  revenues  were  intrusted  to  his 
clergy,  and  at  the  close  of  each  year  he  heard  a  re- 
port of  expenditures,  but,  with  unquestioning  sim- 
plicity, never  had  the  reports  audited.  He  was 
awakened  to  the  danger  of  this  system  by  the  reve- 
lations of  the  fraud  of  Januarius.  Upon  closer  in- 
quiry, he  found  a  deplorable  condition.  A  majority 
of  his  priests  and  deacons,  contrary  to  their  vows, 
had  slaves,  or  houses,  or  property.  Augustine  was 
slow  to  wrath.  He  appointed  a  period  in  which 
these  entanglements  of  the  world  might  be  aban- 
doned. When  the  time  had  elapsed,  he  announced 
to  a  thronging  congregation  that  the  offenders  had 
decided  to  renounce  all  their  possessions.  This  en- 
couraged him  to  renew  the  solemn  rule  of  poverty. 
*Xet  them  appeal  to  a  thousand  councils  against 


126  Augustine:  The;  Thinker. 

my  judgment.  Let  them  go  beyond  the  seas,  if  they 
will,  to  bear  their  complaints  against  me.  What- 
ever they  do,  if  they  remain  not  faithful  to  their 
vows,  by  God's  help  they  shall  not  be  received  in 
this  home,  so  long  as  I  am  bishop."- 

It  would  have  pleased  Augustine  better  if  the 
offerings  of  the  faithful  had  been  enough  for  his 
needs.  But  he  w^as  as  usual  dependent  on  the  often 
unworthy  rich,  a  condition  which  brought  with  it 
many  problems.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  com- 
pelled from  purely  Christian  motives  to  refuse  be- 
quests to  which  the  law  gave  a  clear  title.  Hence 
he  warned  parents  to  make  no  provision  for  the 
Church  which  would  mean  neglect  of  their  children. 
It  seems  that  a  citizen  of  Carthage  had  made  over 
all  his  property  to  the  Church,  having  no  expecta- 
tion of  children.  But  afterwards,  when  children 
appeared,  the  Bishop  Aurelius  gave  back  the  whole : 
"For  according  to  the  civil  law%"  says  Augustine, 
"he  might  have  kept  it,  but  not  according  to  the 
law  of  heaven."-'  Accordingly,  Augustine  was 
sometimes  charged  with  taking  little  pains  to  endow 
the  Church.  A  certain  Bonifacius,  of  the  guild  of 
the  navicularii,  whose  duty  w^as  to  ship  grain  to 
Rome  and  other  parts,  made  the  Church  at  Hippo 
his  beneficiary.  In  case  of  shipwreck,  Bonifacius 
(or  more  likely  the  unfortunate  crew,  who  would 

2  Sermon,  256. 

S  Sermon  356,  5.  This  sermon  and  No.  355  arc  called  "  On  the  Life 
and  Customs  of  tlie  Clergy,"  and  afford  many  a  curious  glimpse  of  the 
habits  of  his  community. 


Th^  Bishop  at  Work.  127 

suffer  torture  for  their  testimony)  must  prove  that 
the  mishap  was  unavoidable,  or  make  up  the  loss  to 
the  State.  Augustine  wisely  refused  to  menace  the 
Church  with  a  judicial  process,  and  even  worse,  by 
accepting  the  bequest.  He  was  even  more  honor- 
able, if  not  so  worldly-wise,  in  rejecting  gifts  for  the 
Church  if  they  in  any  way  injured  the  relations  of 
the  donor.  Possidius  declares  he  saw  many  such 
gifts  declined.  There  is  no  evidence  that  Augus- 
tine ever  had  any  lurking  desires  to  follow 
the  example  of  some  bishops,  and  surround  himself 
with  an  air  of  splendor.  But  his  frugality  did  not 
lift  him  above  suspicion.  A  priest  named  Honoratus 
had  died,  without  will,  in  Thiave.  Formerly  he  had 
been  a  monk  at  Thagaste.  By  civil  law,  this  property 
should  have  gone  to  the  man's  natural  heirs,  but 
the  Church  at  Thiave  put  in  an  urgent  claim  for  the 
entire  amount.  Augustine  and  Alypius  joined  in  re- 
sisting their  demand,  but  agreed  to  give  them  one- 
half,  the  other  half  to  be  added  to  the  resources  of 
the  establishment  at  Thagaste.  One  of  Augustine's 
colleagues,  Samsucius,  was  horrified  at  this  trans- 
action, which  he  considered  unworthy  of  bishops. 
Therefore,  Augustine  in  order  to  avoid  all  appear- 
ance of  avarice  or  injustice,  and  to  soothe  the 
wounded  feelings  of  the  Thiavites,  awarded  them 
all  the  property.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  acquit- 
ting Augustine  of  any  sordidness  in  the  matter,  but 
it  is  a  valuable  sidelight  (or  shadow)  on  the  hfe  of 
the  Church  in  his  day. 


128  Augustine::  Th^  Thinker. 

With  his  usual  loyalty,  M.  Poujoulat  defends 
Augustine's  preoccupation  with  spiritual  concern. 
The  bishop  of  Hippo,  he  says,  was  interested  chiefly 
in  the  higher  things,  and  found  it  difficult  to  climb 
down  from  thoughts  of  eternity  to  listen  to  the  noise 
of  earth.  This,  of  course,  is  a  fair  picture  of  the 
saint  and  of  the  proper  halo,  but  it  keeps  us  from 
getting  near  the  man  of  busy  interests  that  Augus- 
tine actually  was.  We  find  the  world  crowding  in 
upon  him  with  constant  and  varied  distractions,  and 
it  improves  our  estimate  of  him.  He  had  to  turn 
his  care  not  merely  to  clothing  the  poor,  releasing 
the  captive,  guarding  the  financial  interests  of  the 
Church,  building  a  refuge  for  strangers,  making 
arrangement  for  marriages,  and  a  great  variety  of 
such  minor  matters,  he  also  was  looked  to  as  a  tower 
of  help  by  oppressed  and  persecuted  of  all  classes. 
By  a  gradual  growth  of  the  external  authority  of 
the  Church,  it  came  about  that  bishops  obtained  the 
right  of  moral  supervision  over  judges  and  govern- 
ors in  their  discharge  of  duties  of  State.  In  the 
name  of  religion  they  might  intercede  successfully 
even  with  emperors  in  behalf  of  ''individuals,  entire 
cities  and  provinces,  who  sighed  under  grievous 
])ur(lens,  laid  on  them  by  reckless,  arbitrary  caprice, 
or  who  trembled  in  fear  of  heavy  punishments 
amidst  civil  disturbances."  With  such  far-reach- 
ing privileges,  there  was,  of  course,  room  for  abuses 
on  the  part  of  arrogant  or  obstinate  ecclesiastics.  A 
case  in  point  is  that  of  Macedonius,  a  judge  who 


Thi:  Bishop  at  Work.  129 

writes  to  Augustine  (Ep.  152)  complaining  of  the 
occasional  unreasonableness  of  intercessions,  and 
denouncing  bishops  who  whine  when  their  haughty 
requests  are  denied.  To  prevent  such  perversions, 
a  law  was  framed  in  398,  forbidding  the  clergy  to 
aid  undeserving  criminals.  Augustine  himself  put 
the  right  of  intercession  to  frequent  use.  The 
humblest  and  the  highest  appealed  to  him  for  aid, 
and  none  were  turned  away  without  sympathy.  Even 
pagans,  if  they  had  the  temerity  to  expose  their  dei- 
ties and  themselves  to  Augustine's  unflexible  attacks, 
found  his  humanity  always  abounding.  Fellow- 
bishops  found  him  insistent  upon  "a  square  deal." 
Thus,  when  the  aged  Auxilus  put  a  heavy  ban  upon 
a  certain  man  of  rank,  and  included  all  his  house- 
hold, Augustine  protested  with  great  vehemence,  de- 
manding to  know  wherein  lay  the  justice  of  such  a 
sentence.  Elsewhere^  we  learn  how  orphans  often 
were  left  to  the  protection  of  the  bishop,  and  how 
the  property  of  widows  and  orphans  was  left  under 
his  guardianship. 

After  the  manner  of  the  age,  Augustine  was 
also  constituted  judge  many  times.  Often,  indeed, 
it  was  in  the  episcopal  court  that  he  spent  most  of 
his  time.  Till  dinner  hour  he  would  sit  in  judg- 
ment. Sometimes,  even,  he  would  fail  to  dine  at 
all,  but  would  pass  the  entire  day  hearing  com- 
plaints and  settling  disputes.  The  decision  of  the 
bishop  was  legally  binding  according  to  a  decree  of 


4  Ep.  252  and  Sermon  176. 


130  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

Constantine.  Thus  an  unusually  *  heavy  bur- 
den of  a  foreign  nature  was  imposed  upon 
the  bishops.  Late  in  his  life,  Augustine  found 
it  necessary,  in  order  that  he  might  give 
his  attention  to  theological  work,  to  relinquish  this 
judicial  business  for  five  days  each  week.  Even 
then  they  besieged  him  without  mercy,  till  he  was 
obliged  to  become  severe  in  his  demand  for  quiet. 
His  reputation  as  an  adjudicator  spread  throughout 
Africa.  It  must  have  been  greatly  to  his  distaste 
to  be  thrown  into  this  constant,  heated  turmoil  of 
men's  contentions.  Even  a  self-subduing  saint  is 
condoned  for  such  a  human  complaint  as  Augustine 
finds  it  impossible  to  repress :  ''Depart  from  me,  ye 
wicked  men,  for  I  would  study  the  Word  of  God."^ 
Of  course  there  was  much  vexation  aroused,  which- 
ever way  he  judged.  But  doubtless  this  was  coun- 
terbalanced by  the  wide  opportunity  presented  of 
getting  near  his  people,  and  of  urging  upon  them 
the  blessedness  of  brethren  dwelling  together  in 
unity. 

But  Augustine's  chief  function  was  to  officiate 
each  day  at  the  celebration  in  the  basilica.  There 
was  a  simple  liturgical  service  of  psalms.  The 
Lord's  Supper  was  celebrated  according  to  the 
genuinely  Christian  view  "as  representing  the  fel- 
lowship of  divine  life  subsisting  between  believers, 
their   Redeemer,'  and   one   another."^      Above   all, 


/>  On  the  Psalms  cxix,  115. 

C  Neandcr,  II,  326.  McCabe's  remark,  that  the  "mass  was  already  a 
daily  liturgical  function  in  the  African  Churches,"  implies  more  than  can 
be  proved, 


The:  Bishop  at  Work.  131 

Augustine   stood  before  his  people  in  the  role  of  [ 
preacher.    It  was  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  him  \ 
to  deHver  two  discourses  a  day,  and  preach  five 
days  in  succession.    There  are  in  the  Benedictine 
edition   of   his   works,   three   hundred   ninety-four 
sermons,  of  which  thirty-one  very  Hkely  are  spu- 
rious.   Besides  these  must  be  inckided  many  of  the 
expositions  of  the  Psalms.     These  were  preached 
for    the    most    part    at    Hippo,    though    he    con- 
stantly found  himself  in  demand  at  Carthage,  at 
Constantine,  at  Calamus,  at  Caesarea,  and  at  every 
place  he  appeared  throughout  North  Africa.    This 
popularity  was  due  in  part  to  his  growing  reputa- 
tion as  the  champion  of  orthodoxy,  and  in  part  also 
to  his  real  oratorical  genius.    It  is  no  heresy  to  say 
that  all  Augustine's   sermons   do  not  make   lively 
reading.    His  audience  was  made  up  mostly  of  poor  I 
people,  with  slight  education.    And  it  must  be  said  I 
that  the  sermons  have  a  simplicity  which  must  have  t 
been  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  intelligence  of  his  | 
hearers.    From  their  effect,  and  such  evidence  as  we  | 
have,  we  must  judge  also  that  they  were  given  with  | 
commanding  power  and  deep  feeling.     Augustine 
himself    often    wept    as    he    spoke.      "God    alone  \^ 
knows,"  he  said  to  his  congregation,  ''with  what  \ 
trembling  I  stand  in  your  presence  to  address  you." 
One  rarely  discovers,  however,  any  lack  of  boldness 
when  he  resorts  to  charges  of  vice,  or  perfidy,  or 
delinquency  on  the  part  of  his  members.     But  un- 
doubtedly he  had  in  no  small  degree  that  grace  of 


132  Augustink:  Thi-   TiiinkivR. 

humility  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  most  noble 
1  preaching.       Contrary  to   what   we   would   expect 
!  from  one  of  his  training,  he  was  less  concerned  for 
*  the  ornaments  of  style  than  for  direct  appeal.     He 
said    that   he   cared   not  whether   he   pleased    the 
ihetoricians,  so  long  as  the  common  people  under- 
stood.    Xo  better  example  of  his  power,  over  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  his  hearers,  can  be  given  than 
a  scene  which  he  himself  describes.'^     At  Csesarea, 
in   Mauritania,   there  occurred   annually  a  violent 
upheaval  of  the  entire  town,  a  sort  of  faction-war, 
in  which  neighborhoods  and  homes  were  divided 
■  into  bitter  parties,  and  every  one  was  bent  upon 
;  killing  as  many  others  as  possible.    The  clergy  had 
I  made  an  unsuccessful  campaign  against  this  tradi- 
/  tional  custom,  or  caterva,  as  it  was  called.    When 
(  Augustine  visited  the  town,  therefore,  he  was  be- 

I  sought  to  use  his  talent  against  the  horrible  prac- 
tice.    '*I  strove  with  all  the  vehemence  of  speech 
that  I  could  command  to  drive  from  their  hearts  an 
I  evil  so  cruel  and  inveterate."     At  length  the  con- 
\  gregation  applauded,  and  Augustine  felt  they  were 
being  persuaded.    But  he  continued  with  such  fiery 
.  zeal  that  they  burst  into  tears,  and  he  knew  he  had 
•  possession  of  their  hearts.     He  adds  significantly: 
"It  is  now  eight  years  or  more  since  anything  of 
the  sort  was  attempted  there." 

Such  successes  were,  however,  only  occasional. 
The  people  of  the  Hippo  Church  were  pitifully  jeal- 


T  On  Christian  Doctrine,  IV,  24. 


The:  Bishop  at  Work.  133 

ous  and  unstable.  They  complained  if  their  head 
pastor  went  away  for  a  journey.  Augustine  must 
have  suffered  from  the  lack  of  appreciation,  and 
from  the  misunderstandings,  which  every  great  per- 
sonality has  to  face  when  crowded  into  cramping- 
quarters.  He  was  unable  to  carry  his  people  with 
him  into  the  rampant  doctrinal  contests  of  his  day. 
So  it  is  not  strange  that  the  sermons  preached  at 
Hippo  begin  in  the  first  years  with  a  show  of  care- 
ful preparation,  but  gradually  descend  into  weak- 
ness and  hurry  of  method.  Often  he  came  into  his  f 
pulpit  without  having  given  his  remarks  previous  [ 
thought.  As  he  himself  confesses,  he  would  take  his  I 
text  from  the  passage  read  by  the  ''praelector,"  and  ? 
extemporize  according  to  the  impressions  of  the  I 
hour.®  In  the  nature  of  the  case,  inspiration  could 
not  continue  uniformly  strong  under  such  condi- 
tions. What  Dr.  JMarcus  Dods  says  of  the  writings 
of  Augustine  in  general,  applies  with  special  force 
to  the  sermons — they  *'may  be  compared  with  his 
country,  wide  tracts  of  thin,  sterile  ground,  inter- 
spersed with  spots  so  fruitful  as  to  be  capable  of 
sustaining  the  whole  population  and  invite  the 
weary  to  linger."  x\s  one  winds  his  way  through 
the  ponderous  six  volumes  of  the  Oxford  transla- 
tion of  the  "Expositions  on  the  Psalms,"  it  is  to  feel 
how  provokingly  predominant  is  the  "thin,  sterile 
ground."  It  may  be  said  in  extenuation,  that  al- 
lowance must  be  made  for  the  prevalent  allegorical 


On  the  Psalms,  cxxxviii,  i. 


134 


Augustine:  Thd  Thinker. 


method  to  which  Augustine  was  bred.  Or  we  may 
profit  by  the  exhortation  of  Dr.  A.  Cleveland  Coxe, 
and  turn  to  Augustine  if  we  wish  "to  catch  the  liv- 
ing spirit  that  animates  the  wheels  of  the  Psalms." 
But,  when  all  is  said,  and  predispositions  of  rev- 
erence for  patristics  is  laid  aside,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  sermon-commentaries  are  rather 
solid  than  buoyant,  ingenious  than  impressive, 
clever  than  winsome.  For  the  most  part,  as  a  re- 
sponsible critic  has  estimated,  Augustine  was  an 
"expository  lecturer,"^  lapsing  into  many  foolish 
and  trivial  blunders  of  exegesis,  sometimes  preach- 
ing from  a  text  and  sometimes  not,  resorting  very 
little  to  illustration,  though  generally  with  telling 
eflfect.  Although  he  was  thus  unequal,  his  sermons 
often  have  the  swing  of  deep  earnestness  and  men- 
tal power,  and  he  must  hold  his  place  as  the  great- 
est of  the  Latin  preachers. 

One  of  the  matters  of  particular  interest,  as  in- 
dicating the  daily  occupation  of  Augustine,  is  his 
relation  with  eminent  contemporaries.  Antony,  the 
father  of  monasticism,  died  two  years  after  Augus- 
tine's birth.  Athanasius,  Gregory  of  Nazianzum, 
Basil  and  his  brother  Gregory,  of  Nyssa,  and  Am- 
brose, passed  from  the  scene  before  the  bishop  of 
Hippo  reached  his  day  of  power.  The  bishop  of 
IMilan  seems  not  to  have  recognized  the  promise  of 
the  young  rhetoric  master.  But  Simplicianus,  his 
successor  in  the  Italian  see,  did  not  fail  to  show 


9  Edward  C.  Dargan,  D.  D.,  A  History  of  Preaching. 


The  Bishop  at  Work.  135 

Augustine  the  respect  due  one  of  his  worth  and  in- 
fluence. Another  name  of  note  in  Augustine's  age 
was  PauHnus.  This  man  was  born  of  a  senatorial 
house  in  Bordeaux,  and  himself  attained  to  highest 
rank  through  his  ability  and  culture.  Contrary  to 
his  own  wish  he  had  been  forced  into  the  priest- 
hood by  the  inhabitants  of  Barcelona,  but  had  re- 
tired to  Nola,  where  he  added  a  sixth  church  of 
rare  beauty  to  the  five  already  built  about  the  tomb 
of  St.  Felix..  In  his  letters  to  this  devoted  Christian, 
Augustine  expressed  himself  with  refreshing  free- 
dom and  reality.^^  There  ought  to  be  mention, 
also,  in  passing,  of  the  letters  between  Augustine 
and  such  representative  men  as  Hilary,  General 
Boniface,  Aurelius,  and  Victorinus. 

But  of  surpassing  value  are  the  relations  between 
Augustine  the  greatest  Churchman,  and  Jerome  the 
greatest  scholar,  of  that  age.  From  the  gloomy 
monastic  cell  of  Bethlehem,  Jerome  had  kept  close 
to  the  world  through  a  voluminous  correspondence, 
learned  writings  on  various  phases  of  Old  and  New 
Testament  scholarship,  and  controversies.  Some  of 
his  work  fell  into  the  hands  of  Augustine,  who  at 
once  set  about  to  express  in  a  letter  his  delight,  and 
to  lay  before  the  famous  recluse  some  of  his  own 
writings.  This  was  in  the  year  395,  while  Augus- 
tine was  still  a  priest.  After  begging  Jerome  to 
give  the  Christian  students  a  Latin  translation  of 
the    Greek   Scriptures,    he  turned  to  criticise  the 


10  See  Eps.  24,  25,  30,  94,  121,  149,  186;  also  31,  42,  45,  80,  95. 


136  Augustine:  Thd  Thinke:r. 

monk's  commentary  on  Gal.  ii,  11-14.  This  passage 
had  been  a  kind  of  stumbhng-block  to  some  recent 
coDverts,  and  Jerome  had  made  a  bold  assertion 
that  Paul's  withstanding  Peter  to  the  face  was  a 
preconcerted  arrangement  piously  devised  for  its 
effect  in  a  delicate  situation.  As  a  precedent  in 
the  interpretation  of  Scripture,  this  daring  ingenuity 
hardly  appealed  to  Augustine,  and  he  frankly  says 
so,  though  with  proper  courtesy.  As  this  letter  did 
not  reach  Bethlehem,  Augustine  made  another  at- 
tempt shortly  after  becoming  bishop.  By  rare  mis- 
fortune this  letter  also  failed  of  its  destination,  and, 
by  becoming  a  part  of  Augustine's  other  writings, 
reached  Jerome  by  a  long  detour  and  after  a  wide 
leading  in  Rome  and  elsewhere.  Not  till  the  year 
402  did  Augustine  hear  through  a  traveler  from  the 
Holy  Land,  that  in  Bethlehem  it  was  common  gos- 
sip that  Jerome  had  been  attacked  relentlessly  by 
the  new  bishop  of  Hippo.  He  hastened  to  set  the 
matter  right  in  a  kindly  message  to  Jerome.  But 
he  was  speedil}'  to  find  that  sainthood  in  the  Eastern 
monastery  was  mixed  with  some  spleen.  The  reply 
came  at  once,  and,  in  spite  of  pretences  of  humility 
and  love,  showed  that  the  old  man's  pride  had  been 
offended  :  ''Far  be  it  from  me  to  presume  to  attack 
anything  your  grace  has  written.  For  it  is  enough 
for  me  to  prove  my  own  views  without  controvert- 
mg  what  others  hold.  But  it  is  well  known  to  one 
of  your  wisdom,  that  every  one  is  satisfied  with  his 
own  opinion,  and  that  it  is  puerile  self-sufficiency  to 


The:  Bishop  at  Work.  137 

seek,  as  young  men  have  of  old  been  wont  to  do, 
to  gain  glory  to  one's  own  name  by  assailing  men 
who  have  become  renowned.  Love  one  who  loves 
you,  and  do  not  because  you  are  young  challenge 
a  veteran  in  the  field  of  Scripture." 

Next  year,  by  a  young  deacon  on  his  way  to 
the  East,  Augustine  sent  another  letter.  Perhaps 
he  had  not  yet  received  Jerome's  reply.  At  any  rate, 
he  resorts  once  more  to  a  friendly  criticism  of  some 
of  his  elder's  work. 

By  this  time  affairs  had  become  involved  in  a 
sorry  tangle.  The  miscarriage  of  Augustine's  let- 
ters, and  their  inclusion  in  his  works  as  a  kind  of 
challenge  to  the  old  monk,  could  not  be  understood 
by  Jerome.  His  natural  pride,  his  dislike  for  oppo- 
sition, his  violent  temper — all  of  which  had  broken 
forth  in  extravagant  and  scurrilous  language  upon 
his  departure  from  Rome — had  not  been  entirely  re- 
pressed by  the  diligent  labors  and  restraints  of  his 
ascetic  retreat.  He  admits,  in  the  letter  of  403,  a 
serious  difficulty  in  regarding  Augustine's  explana- 
tion as  guileless — a  ''honeyed  sword"  he  calls  it. 
The  younger  man's  polite  request  that  he  should 
recall  the  ill-advised  comment  on  Galatians,  should 
"recant  it  in  a  humble  Palinode,"  was  a  setting  at 
naught  of  "the  laws  of  brotherly  love."  "If  you 
wish  to  exercise  or  display  your  learning,  choose  as 
your  antagonists  young,  eloquent,  and  illustrious 
riien,  of  whom  it  is  said  there  are  many  at  Rome." 
"You  are  challenging  an  old  man,  disturbing  the 


138  Augustine;:  Thk  Thinkkr. 

peace  of  one  who  asks  only  to  be  allowed  to  oe 
cjuiet."  He  adds  rather  snubbingly:  *'I  can  at  this 
time  pronounce  nothing  in  your  works  to  merit  cen- 
sure ;  for  I  have  never  read  them  with  any  atten- 
tion." 

In  no  passage  of  his  history  does  the  character 
of  Augustine  show  to  better  advantage.  Letters 
often  were  lost  in  the  Roman  w^orld,  when  no  gov- 
ernment was  responsible  for  their  safe  delivery.  It 
ought  not  therefore  to  occasion  surprise  if  the 
haughtiness,  or  blindness,  of  Jerome  had  at  least 
ruffled  the  spirits  of  his  critic.  But  Augustine  has- 
tened to  show  himself  a  man  of  peace.  After  free- 
ing himself  from  Jerome's  charge  of  insincerity 
and  desire  for  self-exaltation,  he  concludes  (Ep. 
73)  :  "If  it  be  possible  for  us  to  discuss  anything 
by  which  our  hearts  may  be  nourished  without  any 
bitterness  of  discord,  I  entreat  you  let  us  address 
ourselves  to  this.  But  if  it  is  not  possible  for  either 
of  us  to  point  out  what  he  may  judge  to  demand 
correction  in  the  other's  writings,  without  being 
suspected  of  envy  and  regarded  as  wounding  friend-* 
ship,  let  us,  having  regard  to  our  spiritual  life  and 
health,  leave  such  conference  alone." 

The  response  came  in  a  long  letter  of  eight  thou- 
sand words.  The  rancor  was  still  lingering  in 
Jerome's  breast.  *'I  pass  by,"  he  begins,  "the  con- 
ciliatory phrases  in  your  courteous  salutation :  I 
say  nothing  of  the  compliments  by  which  you  at- 
tempt to  take  the  edge  off  your  censure."    He  can 


Thi:  Bishop  at  Work.  139 

not  quite  forget  the  smart  of  the  imaginary  "hon- 
eyed sword."  As  for  the  disputed  Pauhne  pas- 
sage, ought  not  the  youthful  bishop  his  antagonist, 
to  spread  his  opinions  throughout  the  world,  and 
thus  engage  all  other  bishops  to  adopt  them?  "As 
for  me,  in  my  forlorn  monastery,  with  my  fellow- 
monks,  I  dare  not  pronounce  on  such  weighty  ques- 
tions, but  rely  chiefly  on  the  interpretations  of  Ori- 
gen  and  the  other  Greek  theologians."  This  is  both 
a  sneer  and  a  mistake.  But  it  is  not  more  unpar- 
donable than  the  ungracious  remarks  about  Augus- 
tine's deficiencies  in  Greek  learning. 

In  another  year,  however,  the  cloud  has  passed. 
Jerome  writes  with  pacified  good-nature :  "Let  us 
quit  quarreling.  Let  there  be  sincere  brotherliness 
between  us ;  and  henceforth  let  us  exchange  letters, 
not  of  controversy,  but  of  mutual  charity.  Let  us 
exercise  ourselves  in  the  field  of  Scripture  without 
w^ounding  each  other."  It  is  hard  to  believe  that 
Jerome,  an  old  man  of  seventy-five,  gave  very  mi- 
nute care  to  Augustine's  reply  of  ten  thousand 
words,  for  he  begs  to  be  allowed  the  peace  which  an 
old  veteran  has  earned.  But  in  all  the  remaining  let- 
ters there  is  a  tone  of  friendliness,  and  even  of  ad- 
miration, on  Jerome's  part,  while  Augustine  con- 
tinues to  respect  and  seek  the  opinion  of  the  more 
erudite  monk.  Indeed,  he  forbore  expressing  him- 
self on  one  subject  until  after  Jerome's  death  in 
419,  lest  by  antagonizing  the  latter,  he  might  sever 
the  relations  which  erew  in  warmth  till  the  last. 


CHAPTER  XL 
DONATUS. 

It  is  now  generally  conceded  by  eminent 
scholars  that  what  is  known  as  Donatism  did  not 
originate  immediately  in  a  doctrinal  dispute.  Some 
French  and  German  writers  make  large  capital  out 
f)f  their  theory  of  the  growth  of  episcopal  power  and 
the  popular  uprising  against  it,  as  if  this  accounted 
for  the  famous  schism.  A  closer  scrutiny  discloses 
the  fact,  that,  while  a  point  o^  principle  soon 
cropped  out,  the  controversy  began  with  differences 
of  a  political  and  personal  nature. 

It  is  necessary  to  notice  that  the  clergy  did  not 
all  emerge  from  the  Diocletian  persecution  (303- 
305)  purged  as  by  fire.  In  North  Africa  there  had 
grown  up  a  spirit  of  pride,  fanaticism,  and  malice. 
All  this  came  to  view  in  a  council  of  305,  assembled 
in  the  Numidian  city  Cirta,  for  the  purpose  of 
choosing  a  bishop  for  that  place.  The  presiding 
bishop,  Secundus,  had  certain  grievances  against 
Mcnsurius,  head  of  the  Church  at  Carthage.  It 
appears  that  the  recent  persecution  had  found  some 
of  the  bishops  wanting  in  the  true  spirit  of  martyr- 
dom. By  force  or  by  fear  they  had  been  induced  to 
surrender  to  the  pagan  authorities  the  sacred  writ- 
140 


DONATUS.  141 

ings.  For  this  they  were  called  traditores.  It  was 
assumed  that  if  they  had  not  thus  saved  themselves, 
they  would  have  suffered  violent  death.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  were  many  who  courted  martyr- 
dom, imprisonment,  and  loss  of  goods,  as  things  par- 
ticularly pleasing  to  God  and  deserving  the  praise 
of  men.  Thus  there  arose  two  parties.  The  fanat- 
ical, superstitious  party  was  led  by  Secundus,  while 
Mensurius,  seconded  by  his  archdeacon,  Caecilian, 
opposed  the  imprudent  veneration  of  men  who  had 
given  themselves  up  to  voluntary  and  unnecessary 
martyrdom.  Upon  opening  the  Council  of  Cirta, 
Secundus  did  not  hesitate  to  lay  bare  his  suspicions 
of  the  misconduct  of  his  fellow-clergy.  Some,  he 
found,  were  falsely  accused.  Others,  like  Men- 
surius, had  saved  their  lives  by  giving  up  other 
writings  than  the  Bible.  One  Purpurius,  a  man  of 
glowing  temper,  resented  the  inquisitorial  spirit  of 
Secundus,  against  whom  he  turned  the  probe  by 
asking:  "How  did  it  happen  you  got  off  so  easily, 
though  it  was  known  you  had  copies  of  the  Bible  ?" 
Rather  than  subject  his  own  conduct  to  such  severe 
examination,  Secundus  accepted  the  advice  of  one 
of  his  colleagues  to  leave  the  whole  matter  to  the 
judgment  of  God.^ 

1  The  transactions  of  this  assembly  may  be  followed  in  Augustine's 
work,  Against  Cresconius.  The  Donatists  held,  but  on  very  insufficient 
ground,  that  the  documents  had  been  interpolated.  Augustine  himself 
had  the  advantage  of  coming  to  the  controversy  in  the  second  or  third 
generation.  Optatus  had  written  his  History  of  Donatism  in  374,  and  it  is 
the  classic  on  that  subject.  To  Optatus,  Augustine  pays  his  respects  in 
these  words:  "Optatus,  of  venerable  memory,  Bishop  of  Mileve  in  the 
Catholic  Communion." 


142  AucusTiNTv:  Thtv  Thtnkkr. 

In  the  year  311,  a  date  from  which  the  Donatist 
schism  must  properly  begin,  Mensurius  was  sum- 
moned to  the  court  at  Rome  to  answer  for  the  un- 
tamed ardor  of  an  overzealous  subordinate.  Fear- 
ing, so  it  is  alleged,  that  he  might  not  return  alive, 
he  intrusted  the  hiding-place  of  the  costly  Church 
vessels  to  two  of  his  clergy,  Celestius  and  Botrus. 
Xot  content  with  this  precaution  he  confided  his 
secret  also  to  a  saintly  woman  of  his  congregation. 
As  he  had  presaged,  Mensurius  died  on  his  way 
home.  Steps  were  taken  at  once  for  the  election  of 
his  successor.  Botrus  and  Celestius,  it  is  still  fur- 
ther alleged,  having  cast  eyes  on  the  wealth  of  the 
Carthaginian  see,  looked  to  the  vacancy  with  covet- 
ous longings.  Greatly  to  their  chagrin,  therefore, 
Caecilian,  the  archdeacon,  w^ho  had  stood  nearest 
the  deceased  bishop  in  his  official  duties,  was  chosen, 
and  presently  consecrated  by  Felix,  Bishop  of  Ap- 
tunga.  The  wrath  of  the  disappointed  pair  was 
not  soothed  by  the  next  step.  The  aforementioned 
woman  having  testified  as  to  the  precious  posses- 
sions of  the  Church  at  Carthage,  Botrus  and  his 
confederate  were  obliged  to  bring  forward  the  en- 
tire amount. 

It  is  for  these  reasons  that  Optatus  lays  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Donatist  division,  "Greed  and  ambi- 
tion." But  those  two  words  do  not  describe  all  the 
trouble.  Caecilian  was  out  of  favor  with  the  party 
at  Carthage  that  disputed  the  position  of  Men- 
surius; for  it  was  while  carrying  out  the  bishop's 


DONATUS.  '  143 

policy  that  he  had  forbidden  Christians  to  foster 
criminaHty  by  bearing  food  to  the  prisons  for  the 
rehef  of  pseudo-martyrs.  In  this  way  he  had  run 
counter  to  the  practices  of  a  wealthy,  and  accord- 
ingly influential,  Christian  matron  of  Carthage, 
named  Lucilla.  This  woman  had  obtained  certain 
fragments  of  bones,  which  she  pretended  were  relics 
of  some  martyr  or  other,  and  was  in  the  habit  of 
kissing  them  each  morning  previous  to  her  partak- 
ing of  the  communion.  The  deacon  Caecilian  con- 
cluded that  such  a  silly  superstition  must  be  abol- 
ished, and  roundly  rebuked  Lucilla.  This  humil- 
iation she  of  course  resented.  And  her  resentment 
forms  a  third  root  of  the  Donatist  controversy. 

No  sooner  was  Csecilian  elected  and  ordained 
than  the  combined  and  powerful  forces  of  Lucilla, 
Secundus,  Botrus,  and  Celestius  set  at  work  to  op- 
pose him.  From  Augustine,^  we  learn  that  the  in- 
triguers met  in  the  house  of  Lucilla,  (another  in- 
stance in  history  of  "dux  femina  facti.")  They 
began  by  refusing  to  recognize  Caecilian  as  bishop. 
When  challenged  to  bring  forward  their  charges, 
they  fell  back  upon  the  old  North  African  principle 
that  because  Felix,  the  consecrating  bishop,  was  a 
traditor,  the  ordination  of  Caecilian  was  therefore 
invalid.  Their  insincerity  in  this  position  was  at 
once  manifest.  Caecilian  (either  from  a  desire  for 
peace  at  any  cost,  or  because  he  conceded  the  prin- 
ciple said  to  be  at  stake)  offered  to  resign  that  he 


?  Sermon,  No,  4$. 


144  Augustink:  Thtv  Thinkkr. 

might  be  consecrated  anew  by  the  bishops  from 
Numidia.  But  they,  in  turn,  after  choosing  a  sec- 
ond bishop  for  Carthage,  Marjorinus,  a  reader  of 
the  Church  and  a  favorite  of  Lucilla,  proceeded  to 
excommunicate  Csecihan  for  submitting  to  unlaw- 
ful ordination.^  Thus  was  set  adrift  a  division  of 
the  early  Church,  destined  to  a  hapless,  ugly  career. 
AVhile  Marjorinus  took  the  nominal  lead  of  the 
antagonizing  party,  Ihe  real  head  was  at  first  Dona- 
tus,  Bishop  of  Casse  Nigrse  in  Numidia.  It  was, 
however,  another  Donatus,  successor  of  Marjo- 
rinus, in  315,^  who  gave  the  sect  its  name  and  was 
its  soul.  *'And  he  Vv'as  well  suited  to  stand  at  the 
head  of  a  party,  being  a  man  of  fiery,  untutored 
eloquence,  of  great  firmness  of  principle,  and  of 
great  energy^  of  action."  Under  such  leadership, 
the  Donatists  sought  at  the  start  the  recognition  of 
the  Emperor  Constantine.  From  Rome,  Aries,  and 
finally,  Milan  in  316,  imperial  decisions  accord- 
ingly were  given.  But  these  were  favorable  to  the 
Catholics,  and  frowned  upon  the  Donatists.  At 
length,  wearying  of  their  persistency,  Constantine 
took  from  the  offending  party  their  churches  and 
property,  and  otherwise  persecuted  them.  His  suc- 
cessors down  to  Valentinian  and  Gratian  were  less 
violent;   but   these   last   emperors    adopted   drastic 

3  It  is  gratuitous  to  say  that  this  was  done  by  the  seventy  Numidian 
bishops  after  "pocketing  a  heavy  bribe  from  Lucilla,"  yet  one  of  Augus- 
tine's critics  goes  that  far,  apparently  for  the  sake  of  local  color. 

4  At  least  this  seems  to  me  the  true  view  of  the  matter.  For  con- 
clusive reasons  see  Neander  II,  p.  190,  f,  n.  2. 


DONATUS.  145 

and  often  ill-advised  measures,  which  resulted 
lather  in  the  spread  of  Donatism  than  in  its  sup- 
pression. During  the  usurpation  of  Gildo  (an  Af- 
rican prince  who  maintained  himself  as  ruler  of  the 
African  province  after  the  death  of  Theodosius,  till 
398),  the  Donatists  were  shielded  from  imperial 
persecution,  and  gained  steadily  in  power  and  num- 
bers. In  fact,  there  was  no  time  during  the  entire 
century  when  their  fierce  spirit  was  subdued  or  their 
courage  daunted.  When  Augustine  confronted 
them  at  the  close  of  Gildo's  revolt,  they  were  re- 
garded as  the  national  party,  and  outnumbered  the 
Catholic  Christians. 

There  is  one  phase  of  the  controversy  which 
forms  a  dark  picture.  In  North  Africa  there  lived 
a  band  of  fanatical  monks,  who,  despising  work, 
wandered  among  the  peasant  huts,  begging  or  ex- 
acting food  and  shelter.  For  this  they  were  termed 
Circitmcellions  (men  who  wander  among  huts). 
They  called  themselves  soldiers  of  Christ,  and 
Christian  Champions.^  But  their  weapons  were 
carnal.  In  claim,  at  least,  they  represented  the  puri- 
tanic spirit  of  that  part  of  Africa.  It  was  for  this 
reason  that  they  sympathized  with  the  Donatist,  or 
popular  African,  Church,  which  they  pretended  to 
protect.  It  was  very  easy  to  incite  these  people  to 
any  kind  of  wild  outrage.  Pretending  to  be 
fighters  for  God,  they  roved  about  the  country  seek- 
ing to   arouse    slaves   against  their  masters,    and 


5  Cf.  Augustine,  On  the  Psalms,  cxxxii,  6. 
10 


146  Augustine:  The;  Thinker. 

debtors  against  their  creditors.  They  compelled 
venerable  heads  of  families  to  submit  to  degrading 
insults.  They  dragged  rich  Catholics  from  their 
chariots  and  then  harnessed  them  in  place  of  the 
horses.  They  showed  merciless  disrespect  to  the 
Csecilianist  bishops  and  presbyters,  and  shamefully 
desecrated  their  churches.  Indeed,  they  shrank 
neither  from  the  destruction  of  churches  nor  from 
the  murder  of  those  who  resisted  them.  When  they 
themselves  found  opportunity,  they  "rushed  head- 
long into  the  joy  and  crown  of  martyrdom,"  throw- 
ing themselves  over  precipices,  leaping  into  fires, 
and  paying  others  to  kill  them.^ 

By  far  the  most  important  phase  of  the  Dona- 
tist  schism  is  Augustine's  connection  wdth  it.  When 
he  came  to  Hippo,  the  Donatists  were  greatly  in 
the  majority,  and  he  informs  us  that  so  strained 
were  the  relations,  that  in  a  time  of  stress  no  Dona- 
tist  would  venture  to  bake  bread  for  a  Catholic.'' 
By  this  time,  also,  numbers  were  not  the  only  for- 
midable asset  of  the  Donatists.  They  had  had 
nearly  a  century  in  which  to  organize  themselves 
into  a  compact  body,  and  they  stood  for  very  defi- 
nite and  vigorous  principles.  Among  these  the 
most  pronounced  were  an  insistence  upon  a  holy 
membership  of  the  Church  (the  true  Church  con- 
sisting only  of  such  as  were  known  or  thought  to 


6  For  confirmation  of  these  statements,  and  for  details,  see  Augustine's 
Letter  to  Count  Boniface,  No.  185,  and  the  account  in  Optatus,  Chaps.  II 
and  III.  Augustine,  in  Ep.  35,  tells  of  the  insolence  shown  him  by  one  of 
the  Circumcellions.  7  Against  the  Letters  of  Petilianus,  II,  184. 


DONATUS.  147 

be  faithful)  ;  the  rebaptism  of  traditores;  the  abso- 
lute separation  of  Church  and  State ;  the  invalidity 
of  baptism  and  ordination  conferred  by  ecclesiastics 
of  doubtful  character.  Had  these  adversaries,  of 
what  was  prevalently  known  as  Csecilianism,  been 
consistent,  or  able  to  maintain  their  positions,  they 
might  have  wrought  permanent  disaster  to  the 
Catholic  Church.  But  with  such  unwearied  zeal  did 
Augustine  take  up  and  continue  his  warfare,  that 
long  before  the  close  of  his  life  there  was  a  com- 
plete reversal  of  the  standing  of  the  two  parties. 

We  have  already  had  occasion  to  speak  of  Au- 
gustine's engagements  with  the  Donatists  in  the 
early  years  of  his  presbyterate  at  Hippo.  Up  to  the 
year  398  nothing  further  occurred  of  enough  inter- 
est to  claim  our  attention.  In  that  year,  Honorius 
replaced  the  defeated  Gildo.  This  meant  a  renewal 
of  the  oppressive  laws  of  Theodosius,  and  a  check 
upon  the  Circumcellions.  But  the  imperial  re- 
straints were  not  at  this  time  Augustine's  chief  re- 
liance. He  continued  to  make  the  mxost  of  letters, 
sermons,  public  debates,  and  controversial  writings. 
No  opportunity  escaped  him.^ 

Very  little  is  gained  by  undertaking  a  minute 
examination  of  all  Augustine's  work  in  antagonism 
to  the  Donatist  position.  But  it  is  important  to 
glimpse  the  principal  facts.^  One  of  the  most  able 
disputants  on  the  other  side  was  Parmenian,  suc- 


8  See  Ep.  44,  written  in  399. 

9  A  fuller  account  may  be  found  in  Dr.  Hartranft's  Introduction  Es- 
say to  the  Anti-Donatist  Writings,  Post  Nicene  Fathers,  Vol.  IV. 


148  Augustink:  Thk  Thinkkr. 

cesser  of  Donatus  in  Carthage.  In  defense  of  his 
party,  he  held  that  the  Donatist  communion  was 
without  blemish,  and  that  it  was  essential  to  sep- 
arate the  evil  from  the  Church  in  order  to  preserve 
the  true  notion  of  the  Church  inviolate.  But  in  ar- 
riving at  this  end,  the  interference  of  the  State  must 
be  deprecated.  In  reply  Augustine  defends  the  use 
of  secular  power,  l)Ut  charges  the  Donatists  with 
originating  the  custom  of  appeal  thereto.  With 
many  thrusts,  he  shows  how  impossible  it  has  been 
for  the  Donatists  themselves  to  maintain  a  pure 
membership  or  a  blameless  ministry.  Yet  he  con- 
fesses the  need  of  discipline.  Appealing  to  Cyprian, 
he  emphasizes  the  need  for  unity,  and  the  sin  of 
schism,  in  the  Church,  and  makes  much  of  the  note 
of  universality,  the  true  Church  being  diffused 
throughout  the  whole  world.  All  this  has  a  par- 
ticular bearing  on  Augustine's  later  attitude. 

It  was  not,  however,  till  later  in  the  same  year 
(400)  that  he  set  himself  to  elaborate  a  treatise 
against  the  Donatists,  ''On  Baptism,"  and  one  in 
refutation  of  the  contentions  of  Petilian,  Donatist 
Bishop  of  Constantia.^''  In  the  latter  of  these, 
which  is  in  three  books,  one  finds  a  great  deal  of 
sterile  and  intemperate  speech  in  place  of  argu- 
ment. Augustine  charges  his  opponent  with  ''fool- 
ish loquacity"  and  "impious  pride,"  derides  his 
"panting  lungs  and  swollen  throat,"  and  in  closing 
makes  a  modest  comparison  between  his  own  claims 


10  Against  the  Letters  to  Petilian. 


DONATUS.  149 

and  those  of  Petilian.  The  third  book,  mdeed,  can 
hardly  be  dignified  by  the  term  ''argument :"  it  is  at 
best  only  verbose  and  often  unsuccessful  rebuttal  of 
rather  lame  propositions,  mixed  with  liberal  lumps 
of  self-vindication.  In  book  two,  Petilian  presses 
for  an  answer  to  the  questions:  ''What  have  you 
to  do  with  the  kings  of  this  world?"  "If  you  wish 
us  to  be  your  friends,  why  do  you  drag  us  to  you 
against  our  will?"  The  first  question,  Augustine 
turns  back  upon  the  Donatists — Why  did  they  con- 
sort so  closely  with  the  apostate  Julian  ?^^  As  to 
the  second  query,  Augustine  makes  a  firm  denial  of 
any  intention  to  coerce.  It  was  not  against  their 
will,  he  said;  for  they  were  like  children  who 
needed  to  learn  freedom  through  restraint  and  com- 
pulsion :  "The  very  object  of  our  negotiations  with 
you  is  that  you  should  cease  to  be  heretics,  and  when 
you  come  over  from  your  heresy  to  us,  you  cease 
to  be  what  we  hate,  and  begin  to  be  what  we  love." 
In  all  this  it  is  seen  how  Augustine  gradually  be- 
came hardened  in  the  conflict.  He  began  with  in- 
tense disbelief  in  the  employment  of  force,  expect- 
ing by  impassioned  argument  to  win  over  his  ene- 
mies. But  he  found  the  evil  deep-seated  and  his 
foe  stubborn.  At  length  he  was  glad  to  look  to  a 
stronger  arm  for  co-operation. 

It  is  in  the  other  work,  "On  Baptism,"  that  we 


11  Under  him  the  Donatist  party  received  new  life,  their  exiled 
bishops  were  recalled,  and  they  were  given  back  their  property  and  rights 
of  worship.  Of  course,  these  facts  could  not  justify  Augustine  in  his  de- 
fense of  the  use  of  imperial  force.     The  comparison  was  ill-drawn. 


I50  Augustine:  The:  Thinker. 

come  more  directly  in  contact  with  the  core  of  the 
dispute.  And  here,  Cyprian,  as  Professor  Harnack 
has  expressed  it,  *Svas  played  off  against  himself." 
It  is  chiefly  around  this  bishop-martyr,  therefore, 
that  the  discussion  ought  to  be  studied.  Augustine 
held  to  the  necessity  of  baptism  to  salvation,  but 
considered  it  of  value  only  when  accompanied  by 
regeneration.  In  any  case,  the  character  of  the  ad- 
ministrator was  a  matter  of  indifference,  as  long  as 
Christ's  institution  was  followed.  If,  therefore,  the 
ordinance  was  administered  in  an  heretical  sect,  it 
was  a  real  baptism ;  but  inasmuch  as  under  such 
conditions,  there  could  be  no  spiritual  power  of  a 
new  life,  the  ordinance  was  ineffectual.  For,  hold- 
ing as  he  did,  the  unity  of  the  Church,  it  was  im- 
possible in  Augustine's  mind  for  a  man  to  find  sal- 
vation outside  the  Catholic  communion.  This  was 
the  essential  position  of  Cyprian.  The  man  who 
leaves  the  Church  sins  against  love  and  humility. 
And  that  was  a  precise  description  of  the  Donatist. 
When  he  returns  to  the  Catholic  unity,  it  is  to  re- 
ceive the  spirit  signified  by  the  rite  already  be- 
stowed ;  for  now  he  has  healthfully  what  he  pre- 
viously had  hurtfully  and  unworthily.^^ 

On  their  side,  the  Donatists  contended  they  were 
the  true  Church.  Going  back  to  the  source  of  the 
schism,  they  declared  that,  since  the  ordination  of 
Cajcilian  by  Felix  was  tlie  act  of  a  traditor,  the 
1  arty  of  Augustine,  which  descended  from  Felix 


12  On  Baptism,  VII,  41. 


DONATUS.  151 

and  Csecilian,  could  by  no  means  be  the  Church. 
Moreover,  the  Church,  in  order  to  be  true,  must 
cast  out  such  as  are  of  impure  hfe,  both  lay  and 
cleric.  If  men  were  baptized  by  a  faithless  min- 
ister, it  was  not  faith  they  received,  but  guilt.  Hence 
they  must  be  rebaptized.  To  support  this  claim, 
reference  was  made  to  Cyprian,  and  the  Carthagin- 
ian Council  of  265.  Thus  it  is  seen  how  the  au- 
thority of  Cyprian  was  made  to  stand,  on  one  hand 
for  the  preservation  of  miity,  and  on  the  other,  for 
the  repetition  of  baptism. 

But,  to  get  back  to  the  current  of  events.  While 
Augustine  was  busy  with  tongue  and  pen,  and  grad- 
ually was  breaking  away  from  these  more  peaceful 
measures  to  place  reliance  on  State  interference,  the 
Circumcellions  were  becoming  more  active.  But  the 
struggle  was  beginning  to  count  in  favor  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  Many  Donatists  came  over  to 
Augustine's  view,  and,  according  to  a  decree  of  401, 
passed  in  the  Council  of  Carthage,  these  recedents 
received  liberal  treatment.  At  another  general 
council,  of  403,  measures  were  adopted  looking  to 
a  friendly  discussion  of  contested  points.  Thus  en- 
couraged, by  what  looked  like  favorable  progress, 
Augustine  addressed  a  general  letter  (No.  76)  to 
the  Donatists,  calling  upon  them  not  to  imperil  their 
salvation  by  persisting  in  disunion,  and  exposing 
their  inconsistencies.  This  had  an  opposite  effect  to 
what  he  intended.  Instead  of  being  won  to  an  at- 
titude of  open-mindedness,    the  Donatist  bishops 


152  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

were  highly  incensed,  and  their  allies,  the  easily- 
inflamed  Circumcellions,  committed  fresh  indigni- 
ties. At  a  council  held  in  Carthage  the  next  year 
(404),  accordingly,  the  prominent  question  was, 
whether  new  penal  laws  should  not  be  sought 
against  the  Donatists.  Augustine  took  the  position 
that  compelling  men  to  belong  to  the  Catholic  body 
was  only  to  make  hypocrites.  The  truth  must  be  its 
own  defense.  But  he  did  not  carry  the  council  en- 
tirely with  him.  Indeed,  it  was  not  long  before  the 
Donatists  found  themselves  the  objects  of  a  merci- 
less attack  at  the  hands  of  the  Emperor  Honorius. 
As  heretics  they  were  deprived  of  property  and 
the  right  to  receive  legacies;  many  were  heavily 
fined,  and  in  Carthage,  the  sect  speedily  dropped 
out  of  view. 

This  activity  of  Honorius  was  regarded  as  com- 
mendable by  the  majority  of  Catholics.  Augustine 
himself  seems  by  this  time  to  have  suffered  a  com- 
plete change  of  heart.  He  had  preferred  moral 
force,  but  it  had  not  won  the  day.  Although  the 
Donatists  of  better  disposition  disclaimed  respon- 
sibility for  the  fury  of  the  Circumcellions,  we  have 
Augustine's  word  that  Catholics  could  not  possibly 
have  lived  in  the  country  were  it  not  that  city  Dona- 
tists were  held  as  hostages  for  their  protection.  In 
a  letter  to  Vincentius  (No.  93),  he  defends  his  sym- 
pathy for  the  use  of  civil  constraints.  "The  im- 
portant point,"  he  says,  "it  not  whether  a  man  is 
coerced,  but  to  what  he  is  coerced."    Justification 


DONATUS.  153 

for  imperial  decrees  is  found  in  their  good  results. 
Many  a  Donatist  has  lived  to  be  grateful  that  un- 
usual pressure  led  him  to  see  more  clearly  the  Cath- 
olic position.  Religious  coercion  is  like  the  force 
by  which  a  sick  man  is  kept  from  hurling  himself 
from  a  window.  It  is  strange  to  find  Augustine  in 
the  same  breath,  with  all  this,  appealing  to  the  tol- 
erance of  Cyprian.  In  fact,  one  has  little  difficulty 
in  spying  out  broad  inconsistencies  between  the 
views  of  398  and  those  of  408.  In  this  instance  it 
must  be  acknowledged  that  principles,  with  Augus- 
tine, changed  with  exigencies.  Success  was  his  vin- 
dication. 

During  the  next  few  years,  Augustine  wrote 
several  important  letters/^  and  sermons  in  antag- 
onism to  the  Donatists  and  in  explanation  of  his 
own  convictions.  There  is  also  a  careful  work  en- 
titled ''Against  Cresconius,"  in  which  he  goes  over 
the  old  questions  concerning  baptism,  persecution, 
ordination  and  unity.  Of  the  letters,  the  ones  to 
claim  our  particular  attention  relate  to  political 
events  of  deep  significance.  In  the  year  408,  Stili- 
cho,  to  whom  Theodosius  had  entrusted  his  two 
sons,  Arcadius  and  Honorius,  and  who  was  the  real 
ruling  power  of  the  West,  was  cruelly  assassinated. 
The  man  who  succeeded  him,  as  magister  ofUciorum, 
Olympius,  found  North  Africa  in  commotion  on  ac- 
count of  religious  strife.  He  sought  the  counsel  of 
Augustine,  who,  in  return,  points  to  the  practical 


13  See  especially  Nos.  86,  87,  88,  89,  97,  100,  105,  106,  io8,  iii,  and  112. 


154  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

benefits  of  coercion,  and  begs  him  await  the  return 
of  an  episcopal  commission,  which  was  even  then 
on  its  way  to  Italy,  in  search  of  imperial  aid  against 
the  mad  unrestraint  of  the  Circumcellions.  The 
commission  did  its  v/ork  well.  It  was  not  long  be- 
fore the  forces  of  government  were  working 
smoothly,  beside  the  earnest  arguments  of  Augus- 
tine, to  bring  reluctant  Donatists  into  the  Catholic 
fold.  Meanwhile,  the  storms  were  gathering  about 
the  hills  of  Rome.  It  would  not  do  for  the  em- 
peror's forces  to  be  divided  in  Africa,  upon  the  pos- 
session of  which  the  Goths  now  looked  wath  envious 
eyes,  for  there  was  the  granary  of  Rome.  In  conse- 
quence, Honorius  sent  to  Africa  this  short  decree, 
intended  to  crush  out  as  quickly  as  possible,  the  for- 
midable army  of  Circumcellions :  "Let  them  suffer 
by  proscription  and  death  if  they  dare  to  meet  again 
in  criminal  audacity."  This  was  followed  within  a 
few  weeks,  by  another  decree,  intended  to  bring 
about  a  quiet  ending  of  the  differences  between 
Donatist  and  Catholic.  According  to  this  plan, 
there  should  be  a  Cor.ference  at  Carthage,  at  which 
representatives  of  both  parties  should  argue  their 
cases  in  the  presence  of  a  civil  judge.  This  was  in 
accord  with  a  wish  which  Augustine  and  his  fellow- 
bishops  long  had  sought  to  bring  to  fulfillment. 

In  October  of  410,  edicts  concerning  the  con- 
ference were  sent  out  by  Marccllinus,  the  tribune. 
It  was  not,  however,  till  the  following  May  that 
the  same  officer  convoked  the  assembly  and  pro- 


DONATUS.  155 

ceeded  to  sit  in  judgment  over  it.  There  were  in  all 
five  hundred  and  sixty-five  bishops,  of  whom  a  trifle 
more  than  half  were  Catholic.  This  is  a  smaller 
body  than  a  Quadrennial  Conference  of  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church.  But  there  were  no  com- 
mittees to  arrange  every  detail  and  discussion.  *'The 
business,"  exclaimed  Bishop  Petilian  petulantly, 
''belongs  to  those  who  concocted  this  whole  affair." 
Hence  it  was  nobody's  business.  The  Donatists 
from  the  start  were  suspicious,  and  the  transactions 
were  noisy  and  disorderly.  Whether  it  displayed 
any  magnanimity  or  not,  the  Catholic  bishops  set 
out  with  a  proposition  that  if  the  Donatists  lost 
their  cause  they  would  share  their  own  parishes 
with  them,  but  if  the  Catholic  cause  were  defeated 
they  would  yield  their  Churches  to  the  Donatists. 
Perhaps  the  result  seemed  like  a  foreg-one  conclu- 
sion anyway.  Marcellinus  was  a  devoted  Catholic. 
Augustine,  in  a  sermon  previous  to  the  confer- 
ence, had  counseled  love  and  gentleness.  But  his 
exhortation  bore  little  fruit.  The  first  day  was  con- 
sumed in  a  tiresome  wrangle  over  questions  of 
privilege,  and  the  second  day  in  an  even  more 
monotonous  debate  on  delay  and  adjournment.  For 
the  Donatists,  the  chief  speaker  was  Petilian,  and 
on  the  other  side,  Augustine.  Marcellinus  invited 
all  the  bishops  to  be  seated  as  he  himself  was.  Only 
the  Catholics  complied.  Petilian,  on  behalf  of  his 
colleagues,  declared  they  could  not  sit  down  with 
such  adversaries.    Thereupon  the  imperial  commis- 


156  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

sioner  ordered  his  own  chair  removed  and  he  and 
his  officials  remained  standing.  With  undisguised 
maHce,  PetiHan  renewed  the  old  trumped-up 
charges  that  were  made  against  his  great  rival  at 
ordination,  but  the  matter  was  ruled  out.  When  the 
unwieldy  body  finally  settled  down  to  the  points  at 
issue,  there  was  a  spirited  and  long-continued  dis- 
cussion. The  pronounced  differences  were  not  long 
in  coming  to  view.  There  w^as  first  of  all  the  his- 
torical question,  as  to  the  origin  of  the  schism.  Was 
Caecilian  validly  consecrated?  Or  was  Felix  law- 
fully qualified  to  consecrate  ?  Both  were  denied  by 
the  Donatists.  For  his  side,  Augustine  declared 
the  allegations  of  his  opponents  totally  groundless.^* 
But  even  if  Felix  v;as  a  tr  adit  or,  his  act  had  the 
sanction  of  the  Church  and  was  therefore  lifted 
beyond  question. 

Although  the  doctrinal  issues  did  not  all  come  to 
the  front  in  the  Council  of  Carthage,  there  were  cer- 
tain great  questions  involved,  which  summarize  the 
controversy,  and  must  receive  brief  treatment.  First 
of  all.  What  is  the  Church,  and  who  belong  to  iff  On 
the  Donatist  side,  it  was  declared  that  the  Church 
is  what  you  see,  provided  priests  are  "pure"  (neither 
heretics,  traditorcs,  nor  otherwise  unworthy)  and 
members  are  holy  and  validly  baptized.  The 
counter-proposition  of  Augustine  was  that  wheat 
and  tares  must  grow  together,  after  the  parable  of 
Christ,  the  true  Church  being  the  Catholic  which 

14  Repeated  research  has  borne  out  this  contention  of  the  Catholic 
party.     See  Hurst,  History  of  the  Christian  Church,  Vol.  I,  p.  251,  f.  n.  a. 


DONATUS.  157 

is  visible  in  the  sacraments.^^  The  second  question 
had  to  do  with  the  validity  of  ordination  and  the 
sacrament  of  baptism.  As  already  noted,  the  Dona- 
tist  contention  was,  that  only  priests  of  spotless 
character  could  duly  administer  these  sacraments ; 
this  accounted  for  their  practice  of  rebaptism.  Ac- 
cording to  Augustine,  on  the  other  hand,  the  sacra- 
ment of  baptism  was  independent  of  human  disposi- 
tion. It  possessed  a  sort  of  magical  efficacy  which 
depended,  not  on  any  human  factor,  but  upon  *'the 
Word  and  sign."^*^  If  bestowed  by  heretics,  it  was 
still  valid,  and  became  "efficacious  unto  salvation" 
upon  the  wanderer's  returning  penitently  to  the 
Church.  While  it  is  true  that  the  Donatists  were 
not  consistent  on  this  question  in  practice,  it  is 
equally  true  that  Augustine  could  not  be  con- 
sistent in  his  defense  of  the  position  he  took. 
For  one  thing,  it  ran  counter  to  his  thesis  that 
the  sacraments  belong  inseparably  to  the  Cath- 
olic Church.  Moreover,  it  was  a  denial  of  his  view 
of  the  supreme  authority  of  the  Church.  This 
raised  a  third  question  as  to  ''the  scat  of  authority." 
The  Donatists  appealed  to  visions,  miracles,  the 
hearing  of  prayer,  the  holiness  of  their  bishops. 
These  were  satisfactory  evidence  of  the  truth  and 
worth  of  their  Church.  But  the  Catholic  Church, 
said  Augustine,  admitted  no  testimony  but  that  of 
God  in  the  Holy  Scriptures.     All  other  evidence 


16  This  question  will  receive  further  attention  in  the  next  chapter. 
16  See  Ep.  173,  3,  On  Baptism,  IV,  6,  16;  VI,  i. 


158  AuGUSTiNi-:  Thk  Thinkkr. 

was  without  validity.  Because  the  CathoHcs  had 
this  Scriptural  witness,  they  constituted  the  sole  true 
Church.  But,  in  the  next  place,  zvhat  are 
the  true  notes  of  the  Church?  ''Holiness," 
said  the  Donatists.  "Yes,"  w^as  the  reply,  "but  only 
in  a  limited  sense ;  namely,  in  that  the  Church,  w^hile 
necessarily  made  up  of  good  and  evil,  must  employ 
discipline ;  and  also,  because  the  Church  in  its  sac- 
raments, and  in  its  union  with  Christ,  has  the  only 
efficient  means  of  sanctification."  Other  important 
marks  of  the  true  Church,  according  to  Augustine, 
were  unity,  especially  in  faith  and  love ;  universality 
— /.  e.,  "identical  with  itself"  everywdiere  and  al- 
ways ;^"  apostolicity — possession  of  the  apostolic 
writings,  and  unity  based  upon  episcopal  succes- 
sion down  from  the  apostles.  In  all  these  respects, 
it  was  claimed,  the  Donatists  were  lacking,  and 
could  not,  therefore,  be  the  true  Church.^^  But, 
finally,  how  far  is  physical  force  admissible  in  mat- 
ters of  religion F  The  Donatists  denied  that  the 
Catholic  Church  "had  a  divine  right  to  rule  the  con- 
science." It  may  be  they  went  too  far  in  their  set- 
ting forth  of  the  opposition  existing  between 
Church  and  State.  But  their  fundamental  asser- 
tion was  most  defensible — that  "the  peace  of 
Christ,"  in  the  words  of  their  Bishop  Gaudentius, 
"never  forces  men  against  their  wills."     In  oppos- 


17  See  the  statement  by  Prof.  Rainy,  The  Ancient  Catholic  Church, 
p.  418,  f.  n.  I,  on  p.  419. 

18  Cf,  Harnack,  V,  pp.  144-155. 


DONATUS.  159 

ing  this  principle,  Augustine  doubtless  was  caught  f 
in  the  subtle  toils  of  the  time-spirit.  The  age  was 
with  him  in  yielding  to  imperial  power  the  settle- 
ment of  religious  disputes.  And  too  easily  did  he 
go  over  to  the  side  of  those  who  misapplied  the 
words  of  Christ — ''Compel  them  to  come  in."  Thus 
he  gave  his  weighty  influence  to  a  theory  which 
"contained  the  germ  of  that  whole  system  of  spirit- 
ual despotism,  of  intolerance  and  persecution, 
which  ended  in  the  tribunals  of  the  Inquisition."^^ 
It  is  clear  that  the  results  of  the  conference  of 
411  were  not  satisfactory  to  the  Donatists.  Mar- 
cellinus,  as  was  expected,  gave  his  decision  in  favor 
of  the  Catholic  party.  To  them  the  Donatists  were 
bidden  turn  over  all  their  churches,  while  they 
themselves  were  prohibited  from  holding  services 
any  longer.  This  outcome  only  incensed  the  weaker 
side.  Talk  of  unfairness  and  fraud  was  rife.  A 
law  of  414  was  added,  by  which  Honorius  sought 
to  crush  the  Donatists  beyond  all  hope  of  reawak- 
ening. This  naturally  aroused  furious  indignation 
among  the  Donatist  body.  But  they  were  weaken- 
ing, in  fact,  becoming  helpless.  They  now  began 
to  display  a  reckless  indifference  to  life.  Augustine 
describes  (Ep.  172)  one  who  threw  himself  vio- 
lently from  a  horse,  and  another  who  plunged  into 
a  well.  Of  their  savage,  desperate  conduct  at  this 
time  we  have  vivid  pictures  in  the  letter  to  Boni- 


19  Neander,  History  of  the  Christian  Religion  and  Church,  Vol.  II, 
p.  217.     Cf.  Allen,  Continuity  of  Christian  Thought,  p.  153. 


i6o  Augustink:  Thf.  Thinker. 

face,  afterwards  Issued  as  a  separate  work  under 
the  title  '*On  the  Correction  of  Donatists." 

In  the  year  418,  Augustine  joined  in  a  confer- 
ence at  Caesarea,  at  which  Emeritus,  Donatist  bishop 
of  the  city,  was  present.  As  he -was  considered  the 
best  of  the  seven  Donatist  disputants  at  the  Council 
of  Carthage,-*^  Augustine  invited  him  to  defend  his 
position,  but  he  sullenly  held  his  peace,  except  to 
say  that  his  party  were  not  defeated  by  the  truth  so 
much  as  oppressed  by  power.  The  renewal,  in  this 
same  year,  of  the  obnoxious  edicts,  was  followed 
on  the  one  hand  by  many  suicides  and  murders,  and 
on  the  other,  by  many  ''conversions."  Thus  the  con- 
flict continued,  so  far  as  Augustine  was  interested, 
down  to  within  a  few  years  of  his  death.  When  the 
Arian  Vandals  devastated  Africa,  Catholic  and  Do- 
natist suffered  alike.  Traces  of  this  unusually  per- 
sistent and  daring  sect  are  found  (chiefly  through 
the  letters  of  Gregory  the  Great)  down  to  the  sixth 
century.  Every  effort  to  identify  them  with  the 
modern  Baptists  has  proved  of  little  value.  With 
all  their  inconsistencies  they  stood  for  certain  high 
principles,  such  as  the  separation  of  State  and 
Church,  and  the  necessity  for  a  Church  "holy  and 
without  blemish,"  which,  if  they  had  prevailed, 
would  have  saved  the  Church  both  shame  and  hu- 
miliation. 


20  Sec  Ep.  87. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  TWO  CITIES. 

It  is  of  deep  significance  that  the  writing  of 
Augustine's  *'City  of  God"  was  coincident  with  the 
collapse  of  paganism  and  the  fall  of  Rome.  To  un- 
derstand this  great  book,  one  must  begin  with  an 
examination  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  "city  of 
men." 

Some  chapters  back,  I  tried  to  make  it  plain 
that  the  old  religion  of  the  empire  received  a  de- 
cisive setback  under  the  young  Valentinian  in  384, 
the  year  Augustine  was  sojourning  in  Rome.  From 
that  time  the  dissolution  of  paganism  was  rapid 
and  certain.  Especially  in  the  East,  under  repress- 
ive measures,  pagan  worship  had  a  hard  fight  for 
life.  At  Alexandria,  the  colossal  statue  and  tem- 
ple of  Serapis  were  destroyed,  and  all  other  tem- 
ples were  either  brought  low  or  turned  into 
churches.  The  offering  of  sacrifices  became  a  crime 
of  high  treason,  punishable  by  death.  If  Arcadius, 
the  youthful  son  and  successor  of  Theodosius  in 
the  East,  moved  more  cautiously  for  the  sake  of 
political  advantages,  his  hesitation  was  quickly  over- 
pome  by  the  crafty  empress,  Eudoxia,  who  sought 


i62  Augustine:  Thiv  Thinker. 

merit  for  herself  by  her  zeal  in  destroying  idola- 
trous temples. 

History  was  making  rapidly  in  the  western  part 
of  the  empire.  Symmachus  and  his  party  found  the 
collusion  between  Rome  and  Milan  too  cogent  a 
force  for  their  progress.  For  in  391,  Valentinian  II 
was  led  to  issue  an  edict  closing  the  doors  of  the 
temples  and  putting  a  restraint  upon  heathen  sac- 
rifices. Then,  to  be  sure,  with  the  murder  of  Val- 
entinian the  very  next  year,  there  dawned  a  tem- 
porary hope  for  the  pagans.  A  rhetorician,  Euge- 
nius,  through  the  influence  of  the  pagan  general, 
Arbogast,  took  the  reins  of  government.  Against 
those  pagan  influences  to  which  Eugenius  owed  his 
position,  the  voice  of  Ambrose  now  had  little 
weight.  The  statue  of  Victory  was  restored  to  the 
forum.  The  antagonistic  laws  of  former  emperors 
were  annulled.  For  two  years  careless  Rome 
reveled  again  in  the  rites  and  sacrifices  connected 
with  her  gods.  But  the  Emperor  Theodosius  had 
only  gone  ''on  a  journey."  In  394  he  returned. 
With  a  powerful  army  he  crushed  the  forces  of 
the  usurping  Eugenius,  and,  entering  the  city,  be- 
gan to  put  the  Christian  religion  on  its  feet  again. 
That  his  efforts  were  not  fruitless,  may  be  gathered 
from  a  letter  of  Jerome's,  written  a  decade  later,  in 
which  he  describes  the  Roman  temples  as  covered 
over  with  dirt  and  other  signs  of  neglect. 

This  act  of  Theodosius  was  most  timely.  In 
another  year  he  was  dead.    Honorius,  to  whom  he 


The:  Two  Cities.  163 

left  the  government  of  the  West,  reiterated  the 
laws  of  his  father,  but  could  not  back  them  with 
the  same  stable  power.  The  inconsistencies  .  of 
treacherous  governors,  and  the  almost  uninterrupted 
political  turmoil  of  the  period,  made  the  re-enact- 
ment of  the  laws  a  continual  necessity.  In  the 
provinces,  especially,  there  were  difficulties  attend- 
ing the  suppression  of  paganism,  and  Africa  had 
its  share.  The  year  398  seems  to  have  been  a  year 
of  expectation  and  unusual  energy  among  adher- 
ents of  the  expiring  cult.  An  unknown  wag  had 
gotten  up  some  Greek  verses  which  purported  to 
be  the  utterance  of  a  sacred  oracle.  These  declared 
that  Peter,  by  magic  arts,  had  brought  it  to  pass 
that  the  religion  of  Christ  should  have  a  duration  of 
365  years,  beginning  with  the  year  33,  on  the  Ides 
of  May — the  day  of  the  sending  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
It  was  then  to  come  to  a  sudden  end.^  This  may 
account  in  part  for  the  rejuvenation  of  paganism 
in  this  fateful  year.  And  this  reawakening  is  suffi- 
cient in  itself  to  account  for  the  restrictive  measures 
of  398  and  399.  It  is  gratuitous  to  force  upon 
Augustine  responsibility  for  the  temple-destroying 
passion  which  in  these  years  seized  the  imperial 
power.2  One  characteristic  incident  was  the 
attempt    of    a    heathen    magistrate    to    gild    the 


1  This  matter  is  discussed  by  Augustine  in  the  City  of  God  (XVIII, 
53  and  54),  where  he  heaps  fine  scorn  upon  those  who  trusted  in  the  re- 
puted "oracle." 

2  For  an  example  of  strained  logic,  in  this  connection,  see  McCabe 
(P-  334).  who  claims  to  be  "compelled  to  conclude  that  Augustine  and  the 
Carthaginian  bishops  started  the  persecutioQ  of  the  old  religion  in  Africa." 


164  Augustine::  Thi:  Thinke:r. 

beard  of  a  statue  of  Hercules  in  Carthage, 
and  the  consequent  horror  of  the  Christian 
part  of  the  populace.  Encouraged  by  Augustine, 
it  may  be  (for  he  chanced  to  be  preaching  in  Car- 
thage at  the  time),  they  demanded  that  idols  should 
be  torn  down  in  Carthage  as  they  were  in  Rome. 
Moreover,  there  was  unusual  indifference  to  the 
laws  among  pagan  landholders.  With  great  diffi- 
culty, Augustine  preserved  to  the  Church  peasants 
under  such  temptations  to  indulge  in  heathen  wor- 
ship. In  other  cases,  he  was  obliged  to  restrain 
his  people  from  demolishing  idols  upon  neighboring 
estates.  Accordingly  Honorius  gave  new  sanction 
to  former  edicts,  by  ordering  the  destruction  of  all 
heathen  places  of  worship  in  the  country.  It  is  cer- 
tain, however,  that  the  execution  of  this  order  ex- 
tended also  to  the  cities ;  for  we  have  Augustine's 
word  that  in  399  two  officers  of  Honorius,  Gauden- 
tius  and  Jovius,  entered  Carthage  and  overthrew 
all  temples  and  images. 

All  this,  of  course,  brought  pagan  and  Christian 
factions  into  embittered  relations.  Acts  of  violence 
became  frequent.  In  Suffectum,  a  town  of  Tunis, 
a  bloody  riot  resulted  from  the  demolition  of  a 
favorite  statue  of  Hercules.  When  the  tumult  had 
quieted,  it  was  found  that  sixty  Christians  had  been 
killed.  Blame  for  the  outrage  was  put  upon  the 
magistrates  of  the  town,  and  they  seem  to  have  ap- 
pealed to  Augustine  for  an  adjustment  of  difficul- 
ties, and  especially  for  restoration  of  the  lamented 


Ths  Two  Cities.  165 

Hercules.  In  his  reply  (Ep.  50),  Augustine 
charges  them  with  flagrant  disrespect  of  imperial 
authority,  and  scornfully  offers  to  make  good  the 
loss  of  their  god,  "Fear  not,  your  god  is  in  the 
hands  of  his  makers,  and  shall  be  with  all  diligence 
hew^n  out  and  polished  and  ornamented.  We  will 
give  in  addition  some  red  ochre  to  make  him  blush 
in  such  a  way  as  may  well  harmonize  with  your 
devotions."  His  only  condition  is  that  they  restore, 
on  their  side,  the  lives  of  the  sixty  martyrs. 

A  different  light  is  thrown  upon  the  declining 
pagan  worship  by  another  letter  (232),  in  which 
Augustine  takes  exception  to  the  manner  in  which 
the  citizens  of  Madaura  had  addressed  him  as 
"Father,"  while  wishing  him  "health  and  a  long 
life  in  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord."  He  notes  that  Ma- 
daura has  suffered  no  change  of  heart  since  his 
student  days  there,  and  therefore  regards  their  salu- 
tation as  mockery.  Though  he  looks  upon  them  as 
"fathers,"  yet  he  abhors  their  idolatrous  worship 
and  points  them  to  Christ.  Such  opportunities  of 
drawing  a  Christian  lesson  he  never  let  pass.  Thus 
he  was  able  to  exercise  a  most  wholesome  influence 
over  pagans  of  nobler  mind,  such  as  Dioscorus,  the 
emperor's  remembrancer,  and  Longinianus,  a 
learned  grammarian  of  Madaura.^ 

Meanwhile  affairs  were  hurrying  to  a  crisis  in 
the  once  imperial  city.  Stilicho,  the  daring  Vandal, 
who  had  been  the  directing  genius  of  the  empire, 


3  See  Letters  117  and  118,  133,  134,  and  135. 


i66  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

came  under  the  suspicion  of  Honorius,  who  caused 
his  death.  This  act  precipitated  a  fresh  attack  upon 
Rome  bv  the  barbarians  under  Alaric,  whom  Hono- 
rius hitherto  had  succeeded  in  buying  off.  The 
haughty  leader  of  the  Gothic  forces  was  reminded  of 
the  immense  population  of  the  city,  but  replied 
laconically:  "If  the  hay  is  thick,  the  easier 'will  be 
the  mowing."  Once  more,'  however,  Honorius 
proffered  a  heavy  ransom,  and  for  a  time  the  city 
was  at  ease  again.  But  a  new  pretext  soon  brought 
Alaric  to  the  gates.  By  seizing  Ostia,  he  was  en- 
abled to  make  demands  upon  the  senate.  As  a  re- 
sult, Attains,  a  Greek  Arian  and  prefect  of  the  city, 
was  appointed  puppet  emperor.  Rome  now  re- 
joiced in  a  renaissance  of  religiosity  of  the  Olympian 
mold.  Honorius  was  reduced  to  desperate  straits 
in  his  capital  stronghold,  Ravenna.  About  to  yield, 
two  things  saved  him.  First,  enough  cohorts  ar- 
rived to  make  his  own  position  impregnable.  Then, 
in  Africa,  whose  possession  was  indispensable  to 
Rome,  Heraclian,  true  to  his  emperor,  easily  dis- 
posed of  the  meager  troops  sent  by  Attains  to  de- 
pose him.  In  anger,  the  dreaded  Alaric  moved  upon 
the  fated  city.  Slaves  within  made  an  entrance  possi- 
ble. Attains  was  deposed.  On  the  twenty-fourth 
of  August  the  pillaging  of  the  city  began.  For  six 
frightful  days  the  destructive  work  w^ent  on,  only 
Christian  buildings  being  spared.  Heathenism  was 
receiving  a  mortal  blow  at  its  life-center.  With 
weakening  pulse-beat  the  ugly  body  was  tottering 


,The  Two  Cities.  167 

to  doom.  A  few  devotees  there  continued  to  be  for 
another  decade.  But  when  Theodosius  II  decreed, 
in  423,  that  confiscation  of  property,  and  banish- 
ment, should  be  the  fate  of  any  remaining  pagans, 
he  was  constrained  to  add:  "That  is,  such  pagans 
as  survive,  although  we  believe  there  are  none." 

For  Christianity,  also,  there  was  a  severe  shock 
in  the  fall  of  Rome.  A  tremor  ran  through  the  em- 
pire. Men  were  not  only  alarmed ;  they  were  filled 
with  awe  and  wonder.  They  must  find  a  cause  for 
the  awful  disaster.  And,  to  the  pagan  mind,  the 
only  adequate  explanation  was  the  supernatural 
one — the  gods  of  Rome  had  been  outraged;  their 
altars  deserted;  their  temples  closed.  For  a  mil- 
lennium these  ancient  deities  had  defended  the  city, 
and  given  her  unprecedented  power.  At  length, 
amid  the  frittering  away  of  their  worship,  their  pa- 
tience was  exhausted,  and  it  was  they  who  had 
visited  calamity  upon  the  empire.  The  corollary  to 
all  this  proved  a  severe  tax  upon  the  faith  of  mul- 
titudes of  Christians.  They  were  the  responsible 
party,  for  they  had  led  men  to  accept  their  God 
under  pretense  that  universal  peace  and  bliss  would 
follow.  Thus  Christianity  came  to  be  confronted 
with  a  new  and  twofold  peril,  that  from  within, 
and  another  from  without.  Especially  was  the  cry 
widespread  and  bitter  from  'without.  Christian 
preachers  found  themselves  called  upon  to  employ 
all  their  resources  in  defense  of  the  faith.  ''The 
gods,"  said  the  sullen  pagan,  "have  struck  us  down 


i68  Augustink:  The  Thinker. 

for  our  faithlessness,  and  the  Christians  must  bear 
the  blame." 

We  may  pause  long  enough  to  see  that  such  a 
charge  was  unsupported,  although  Gibbon  and  some 
other  secular  historians  sympathize  with  the  pagans 
in  their  complaint.  As  Christian  apologists  every- 
where, and  none  so  stoutly  as  Augustine,  protested, 
it  was  just  the  forces  arra}'ed  against  Christianity 
that  had  caused  Rome's  downfall.  A  disinterested 
judgment  must  pronounce  the  difficulty  to  have 
been  an  unchecked,  inner  disease.  Indeed  it  is  quite 
impossible  to  understand  how  Christianity  was  at 
all  accountable.  What  had  the  Christian  religion 
to  do  with  that  'Vast,  dimly-known  chaos  of  num- 
berless barbarous  tongues  and  savage  races,"  which 
stretched  northward  and  northeast  of  the  Roman 
borders,  and  as  early  as  the  days  of  the  first  Caesar 
began  that  restless  crowding  down  the  Danube, 
which  at  length  was  to  bring  them  to  the  walls  of  the 
"eternal"  city  ?  Or  how  could  Christianity  be  called 
to  account  for  the  soddenness  of  the  people  of  the 
empire,  the  avarice  of  petty  governors,  the  stupid 
treatment  of  the  alien  races,  the  effeminacy  and 
recklessness  of  the  ''nobility,"  the  repetition  of 
wasteful  and  needless  wars,  or  for  the  spiritual 
deadness  and  rank  unconcern  of  men  and  women 
submerged  in  doltish  dissipation?^  As  for  the 
emperors    who   bore    the    name    Christian,    one    is 


H  Cf.  Augustine  in  a  letter  to  Marcellinus,  A    D.  412.     He  is  speaking 
of  the  age  of  Cicero.     See  £p.  138,  Chap.  III. 


The  Two  Cities.  169 

perplexed  to  know  how  the  empire  could  have 
been  better  protected  had  they  been  pagan.  The 
fact  that  several  of  them  were  mere  boys,  and 
most  of  them  incapable,  is  by  no  means  chargeable 
on  their  religion.  There  is  this  much  true,  how- 
ever, that  the  Christian  clergy  of  the  age  were  often 
perfidious,  or  devoid  of  a  high  sense  of  their  respon- 
sibilities. In  the  message  which  the  Great  Apostle 
preached  to  the  end,  in  the  Roman  capital — "the 
Kingdom  of  God,"  and  "the  things  concerning  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ"^ — was  the  only  hope  of  the  king- 
dom of  men.  Had  that  message  continued  to  be 
preached,  in  singleness  of  purpose  and  sincerity  of 
heart,  and  reasonably  heeded  by  Rome's  poor  and 
her  mighty,  the  page  of  history  would  wear  a  far 
m.ore  attractive  aspect.^ 

Among  the  wealthy  inhabitants  of  Italy,  who 
poured  into  North  Africa  during  and  after  the  ter- 
rible siege,  was  the  noble  widow  of  Sextus  Petro- 
nius,  once  prefect  and  most  noteworthy  citi- 
zen of  Rome.  Proba  had  given  three  sons  to  the 
service  of  the  empire  (in  the  consulship),  and,  in 
her  splendid  palace  had  maintained  one  of  the  chief 
centers  of  Christian  influence  in  the  city.  Accom- 
panied by  her  daughter-in-law,  Juliana,  and  her 
granddaughter,  Demetrias,    she  put  off  in  a  small 


6  Acts  xxviii,  31. 

6  The  group  of  letters,  Nos.  132-142,  is  of  great  interest,  and  will  re- 
pay a  careful  reading.  Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  discontent  with 
Christianity,  "which  rolled  sullenly  through  the  provinces,"  there  are 
tokens  in  these  letters  that  much  of  the  best  thought  of  the  time  was 
directed  towards  Christianity  for  help. 


170  AuGusTixi::  Tut:  Thinker. 

.skiff  from  which  they  watched  the  burning  of  their 
kixiirious  home.  Landing  at  Carthage  with  such 
fragments  of  their  vast  fortune  as  they  had  been 
able  to  save,  a  worse  fate  was  hardly  averted.  The 
Count  Heraclian,  having  preserved  Africa  to  Ho- 
norius  was  apparently  seized  with  personal  ambi- 
tions of  wide-sweeping  proportions.  With  a  strong 
hand  he  was  master  of  the  African  situation,  while 
the  emperor  was  hopelessly  weak  and  his  empire 
in  a  state  of  hastening  ruin.  It  was  an  hour  of 
destiny  for  a  man  of  vision  and  action.  But  Hera- 
clian was  not  long  in  proving  he  was  not  that  man. 
\\'ith  the  flight  of  so  many  families  of  rank  to  his 
as3^1um,  he  w^as  smitten  with  a  blinding  greed  for 
gold.  Female  fugitives  were  confronted  by  his  ac- 
complices at  the  port  of  Carthage,  and  compelled 
to  pay  dearly  for  protection  from  the  ravishments 
of  the  Goth,  or  the  oppression  of  the  slave-dealer. 
It  is  charged  that  Heraclian  demanded  large  sums 
from  helpless  maidens  of  noble  birth,  and,  when 
they  could  not  pay,  sold  them  to  Syrian  merchants, 
to  be  disposed  of  in  Oriental  harems.  Gibbon  de- 
clares*' that  the  family  of  Proba  were  no  exception 
to  the  rapaciousness  of  Count  Heraclian,  but  were 
relieved  of  half  their  wealth  as  the  price  of  their 
liberty.  Augustine  in  a  sympathetic  letter  to  Proba, 
on  the  subject  of  prayer,  points  out  the  true  spirit 
of  Christian  submission.  He  also  undertook,  but 
with  poor  success,  to  use  his  good  offices  in  behalf 

7  Decline  and  Full  of  the  Roman  Empire,  Chap.  XXXI. 


Thk  Two  Citie:s.  171 

of  these  and  other  fugitives.  But  the  most  famous 
sequel  of  the  flight  of  this  illustrious  family  is  fur- 
nished by  the  announcement,  two  years  later,  that 
Demetrias  had  taken  the  vows  of  virginity.  This 
celebrated  heiress — ''the  foremost  maiden  of  the 
Roman  world  for  nobility  and  wealth,''  Jerome  de- 
scribes her — had  been  betrothed  to  a  young  noble- 
man. But,  apparently  acting  under  the  counsel  of 
Augustine,  she  had  determined  to  give  herself  to  a 
holy  life  after  the  manner  of  her  age.  At  any  rate, 
the  conferring  of  the  veil  upon  Demetrias,  on  the 
eve  of  her  appointed  wedding-day,  was  hailed  with 
acclaim  not  only  by  Augustine,  but  by  Aurelius, 
Jerome,  Alypius,  and  by  the  renowned  Pelagius,  re- 
cently arrived  in  Carthage  and  soon  to  engage  our 
attention.  The  afifair  made  greater  stir,  inasmuch 
as  a  crowd  of  maidens,  besides  slaves  and  depend- 
ants, followed  the  lead  of  this  first  lady  of  Rome.^ 
Much  more  excitement  and  annoyance  was  occa- 
sioned by  the  presence  in  Hippo  itself  of  some  of 
these  exotics  of  noble  blood  and  Christian  confession. 
There  were  few  more  remarkable  Christian  women 
in  her  day  than  the  lady  Melania.  Abandoning  her 
high  position  in  Roman  society  she  had  accompanied 
the  historian  Rufinus  to  the  East,  where  she  finally 
built  two  monasteries.  In  order  to  escape  the  depre- 
dations of  the  barbarians,  she  had  taken  her  daugh- 
ter-in-law, Albina,  and  her  granddaughter  and  her 


8  These  events  are  set  forth  in  Augustine's  Letters,  Nos.  130,  131,  150, 
and  188. 


172  AuGusTiNj-:  Thi^  Thinker. 

husband,  Melania  and  Pinianus  (whose  marriage 
had  blasted  the  elder  Melania's  hope  of  making  a 
nun  of  her  granddaughter),  and  settled  with  them 
in  Thagaste.  The  entire  family  were  inclined  to 
the  more  rigid  view  of  the  religious  life.  They 
built  and  endowed  two  monasteries  at  Thagaste, 
one  for  thirty  men,  and  the  other  for  several 
hundred  women.  In  other  ways  they  lav- 
ished their  wealth  upon  the  poor,  both  of  clergy  and 
people.  Of  course  they  were  anxious  to  see  and 
converse  with  Augustine.  But  he  explained  to 
them  that  infirmities  of  body,  and  the  jealousy  of 
his  congregation,  forbade  his  making  the  journey 
to  them.  Accordingly  Pinianus  and  his  wife  vis- 
ited Hippo.  Their  immense  wealth,  their  piety,  and 
their  generosity,  naturally  won  them  immediate  no- 
tice among  the  humble  folk  of  Augustine's  parish. 
But  these  same  things  also  led  soon  to  circumstances 
embarrassing,  and  not  entirely  creditable,  to  Au- 
gustine. 

We  have  had  occasion  heretofore  to  make  ref- 
erence to  the  habit,  in  the  early  Church,  of  pressing 
the  priestly  office  upon  unwillmg,  but  desirable,  can- 
didates. Pinianus  seems  to  have  anticipated  some 
such  trouble  in  his  own  case;  for  one  of  his  first 
precautions  was  to  exact  a  promise  from  Augustine 
that  he  should  not  be  ordained  against  his  wish. 
He  was  probably  not  surprised,  therefore,  when  one 
day,  during  service  in  the  Hippo  Church,  there 
arose  a  persistent  clamor  for  his  election  and  con- 


Thi:  Two  Cities.  173 

secration  to  the  priesthood.  That  would  mean  of 
course,  the  bestowal  of  his  possessions  upon  the 
Church — from  the  worldly  point  of  view,  a  most 
desirable  end.  Mindful  of  his  promise,  Augustine 
descended  to  the  nave  of  the  church,  explained  his 
situation  to  the  people,  and  added  that  they  must 
relinquish  their  demand  or  lose  him  as  their  bishop. 
This  produced  a  temporary  lull.  But  presently  the 
cries  were  renewed,  and  Augustine  found  himself 
helpless.  The  crowd  openly  charged  Alypius,  who 
was  present,  with  wishing  to  keep  Pinianus  in  Tha- 
gaste.  There  was  even  danger  of  the  church's  be- 
ing wrecked  if  the  popular  demand  were  not 
granted.  Melania  and  her  hapless  husband  had 
some  bitter  things  to  say  about  the  covetous  spirit 
of  the  Hipponenses,  and  threatened  to  leave  Africa. 
This  led  to  a  side  conference,  after  which  Augus- 
tine was  able  to  announce  that  the  noble  visitors 
would  remain  in  Hippo,  if  the  ordination  was  not  in- 
sisted upon.  This  sop  did  not  prove  satisfactory.  The 
conclusion  of  that  day — though  not  of  "the  whole 
matter" — was  that  poor  Pinianus  was  obliged  to 
promise,  under  solemn  oath,  that  he  would  not  de- 
part from  that  city,  nor  suffer  ordination  elsewhere. 
Perhaps,  in  the  end,  we  must  see  the  more 
humorous  side  of  the  situation.  Augustine  really 
deserves  sympathy.  For,  the  uproar  of  that 
memorable  day  was  sudden  and  violent.  Either 
Pinianus  had  to  take  the  oath,  or  the  church  had  to 
come  down,  and  Augustine  confesses  that  he  could 


174  Auc.usttnk:  Tiik  ThinkivR. 

not  conscientiously  stand  by  and  ''allow  the  Church 
which  I  serve  to  be  overthrown."  Only,  one  may 
justly  pause  to  reflect  with  gratitude,  that  Christian 
manners  have  improved  with  the  years.  Still  later, 
this  unusual  family  fell  victims  to  the  infamous 
cruelty  of  Ileraclian.  Dispossessed  of  their  wealth, 
their  popularity  in  Hippo  waned,  and  they  were  al- 
lowed, without  a  protest,  to  make  their  w^ay  to  the 
monasteries  of  Palestine. 

Readers  of  "Hypatia"  are  familiar  with  the  final 
disillusion  of  Count  Heraclian,  and  ruin  of  his  wild 
ambitions.  A  hurried,  heedless  expedition  to  Italy 
met  with  disaster  at  the  hands  of  Alarinus,  and  re- 
vealed to  its  hypocritical  leader  his  own  smallness. 
When  ^larinus  turned  his  attention  to  ill-governed 
Africa,  one  of  his  first  acts  was  to  punish  Hera- 
clian's  confederates,  both  real  and  supposed. 
Among  these  Marcellinus  was  charged  (evidently 
through  false  witnesses)  with  being  one.  He  had 
been  a  vigorous  opponent  of  the  Donatists,  who 
now,  by  a  temporary  turn  of  fortune,  won  the  ear 
of  Marinus,  and  brought  Marcellinus  to  judgment. 
Augustine  and  other  bishops  who  interceded  for 
him,  were  given  to  understand  that  no  further  ac- 
tion would  be  taken  until  some  bishop  should  hear 
before  Honorius  the  case  of  the  distinguished  pris- 
oner. But  the  execution  took  place  suddenly  and 
under  the  most  suspicious  circumstances.  The  fact 
that  Augustine  thereupon  left  Carthage  "imme- 
diately and  secretly"  has  led  one  author  to  whine, 
wholly  without  warrant,  that  "his  behavior  on  the 


The:  Two  Cities.  175 

occasion  is  not  so  clear  as  one  could  wish."  Surely 
nothing  could  be  more  "clear,"  or  satisfactory,  than 
Augustine's  own  explanation — that  he  could  not 
both  seek  from  Marinus  leniency  towards  certain 
fugitive  rebels  who  crowded  the  churches  of  Car- 
thage, and  also  "rebuke  him  with  the  severity  which 
his  crime  deserved."  The  death  of  Marcellinus  was 
a  personal  blow  to  Augustine,  who  pays  him  a 
glowing  tribute,  dwelling  upon  his  innocence,  con- 
stancy, zeal,  sincerity,  humility,  and  integrity. 
When  the  emperor  heard  of  this  judicial  crime,  he 
took  away  from  Marinus  his  office  and  banished 
him. 

It  was  in  this  period  of  confusion,  of  shifting 
uncertainties,  of  dissolution  and  terror  and  won- 
der, that  Augustine  wrote  "The  City  of  God." 
Sometimes  complaint  is  made  that  the  sober- 
minded  bishop  had  lost  all  sympathy  with  the  city 
of  men,  and  that  the  wreck  of  Rome,  therefore,  did 
not  concern  him  except  as  he  might  draw  from  it 
moral  and  spiritual  lessons.  One  might  well  ask, 
"What  better  occupation  could  there  be  for  a  zeal- 
ous bishop  than  spiritual  use  of  such  a  calamity?" 
But  the  complaint  in  reality  is  groundless.  Doubt- 
less he  was  not  as  visibly  moved  as  Jerome,  who 
cried  out:  "A  terrible  rumor  reaches  me  from  the 
West,  telling  of  Rome  bought,  besieged,  life  and 
property  perishing  together.  My  voice  falters,  for 
she  is  captive ;  that  city  which  enthralled  the  world." 
It  is  certain,  however,  that  the  shock  of  Rome's  fall 


176  AuGUSTiNii:  Tnr:  Thinker. 

did  disturb  Augustine.  In  his  sermons  he  reverted 
to  it  often,  insomuch  that  his  people  cried  out,  ''O 
that  lie  would  hold  his  tongue  about  Rome  !"^  Fur- 
thermore, in  the  new  defense  of  Christianity  which 
was  occasioned  by  the  breaking  up  of  the  empire, 
Augustine  was,  as  we  have  seen,  foremost.  In  this 
he  was  joined  by  others,  like  Jerome,  Orosius,  Am- 
brose, and  Salvian.  Then,  at  the  instigation  of 
friends,  he  set  himself  to  a  wider  elaboration  of  what 
he  already  had  attempted  in  sermons  and  letters.  His 
purpose  at  first  was  to  show  that  it  was  not  Rome's 
discarding  of  her  old  gods  which  had  ruined  her. 
On  the  contrary,  the  Christian  religion,  if  duly  fol- 
lowed, would  produce  the  best  not  only  of  soldiers 
but  of  husbands,  sons,  officials,  creditors.  In  short, 
the  decay  of  Rome,  as  acknowledged  by  Sallust  and 
other  writers  of  earlier  times,  had  set  in  long  be- 
fore the  Christian  era.^^  But,  following  out  these 
ideas,  Augustine's  work  at  last  expanded  into  a 
comprehensive  theory  of  history,  and  became,  as 
Ozanam  has  said,  ''the  first  real  effort  to  produce  a 
philosophy  of  history."  With  this  task  he  was  busy 
nearly  down  to  the  year  of  his  death ;  for  the  com- 
position of  "The  City  of  God"  ran  over  thirteen  or 
fourteen  years. 

This  is  hardly  the  place  for  a  thorough-going 
analysis  of  "The  Citv  of  God.''^^     It  is  rather  the 


»  Sermon  105:  Ch.  12.  10  City  of  God,  II,  18;  and  III,  10. 

11  If  any  one  cares  for  an  elaborate^  analysis  of  the  book— though 
only  the  reading  of  the  book  itself  can  give  satisfaction— it  can  be  found  in 
a  number  of  places,  such  as,  Cutts's  Saint  Augustine,  Chap.  XX,  in  The 
Fathers  for  English  Readers;  or  in  American  Presbyterian  Theological  R^- 
riew,  Vol.  Ill,  Article  by  E.  H.  Gilbert,  D,  D. 


The:  Two  Cities.  177 

circumstances  of  its  writing  which  clothe  it  with 
a  deathless  grandeur.  As  Augustine  pondered 
upon  the  vanished  glory  of  the  earthly  city,  there 
seemed  to  hover  over  the  ruins  the  splendid  vision 
of  the  City  of  God,  ''coming  down  out  of  heaven, 
adorned  as  a  bride  for  her  husband."  Human  his- 
tory and  human  destiny  were  not  therefore  wholly 
identified  with  the  history  of  any  earthly  power. 
Men  must  take  profounder  views  of  history,  and 
see  that,  from  the  first,  the  community  of  God's 
people  has  lived  side  by  side  with  the  kingdom  of 
this  world.  In  all,  there  are  twenty-two  books.  Of 
these,  five  books  are  given  to  an  attack  upon  pagan- 
ism— to  use  Augustine's  own  words,  "to  refute 
those  who  fancy  that  the  polytheistic  worship  is 
necessary  in  order  to  secure  worldly  prosperity, 
and  that  all  these  overwhelming  calamities  have 
befallen  us  in  consequence  of  its  prohibition."  The 
following  five  books  are  more  philosophic  in  nature, 
the  moral  impotence  of  the  systems  of  Varro  and 
Plato  coming  in  for  unsparing  criticism.  In  the  re- 
maining twelve  books,  which  form  the  second  half 
of  the  work,  Augustine  is  led  into  a  full  treatment 
of  his  own  convictions  concerning  such  historical 
doctrines  as  the  creation,  the  fall,  the  connection 
between  the  two  Testaments,  the  incarnation,  and 
the  ''last  things."  Of  the  effect  produced  by  "The 
City  of  God"  on  its  own  age,  one  hesitates  to  judge. 
So  great  a  scholar  as  Bengnot  declares  that  the 
effect  must  have  been  only  slight.    But  there  can  be 


17S  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

no  doubt  of  its  popularity  during  the  later  ages,  nor 
of  the  sanity  of  the  judgment  that  this  is  Augus- 
tine's masterpiece.  In  spite  of  the  prolixities,  the 
verbose  eloquence,  the  flimsy  arguments,  and  what 
Erasmus  charitably  styled  "the  apparent  obscurity," 
"The  City  of  God"  must  take  rank  as  a  book  of  pro- 
found genius,  wide  horizons,  vast  learning,  and, 
for  the  most  part,  unanswerable  argument,  "among 
the  few  greatest  books  of  all  time."^^ 

The  central  idea  of  the  book  is  the  familiar  con- 
trast between  the  earthly  city  (civitas  terrena),  and 
the  city  of  God  (Civitas  Dei).  These  two  societies 
stand  for  principles  and  aims  precisely  opposite. 
The  City  of  God  is  controlled  by  a  love  of  God 

.  which  extends  to  the  contempt  of  self,  and  aspires 
to  "heavenly  peace."  In  the  city  of  men,  the  rule 
is,  to  love  self,  even  to  the  disregard  of  God,  and 
to  seek  an  earthly  peace,  even  by  the  path  of  false- 
hood and  force. 

But  who  comprise  this  City  of  God?  The  exi- 
gencies of  his  contemporaneous  struggle  with  the 
Pelagians  determined  Augustine's  answer.  The 
contrast  was  more  than  one  of  principles  and  of 
inirposes.    It  was  a  contrast  between  elect  and  non- 

^j?lect.     But  Augustine  was  at  least  keen  enough  to 

perceive  that  there  could  be  no  final  and  visible  sep- 

/    aration  of  the  two  in  this  world.     Not  only  do  the 

two  cities  depend  upon  one  another,  so  that  the 

City  of  God   (according  to  Augustine)   is  wanting 

12  Marcus  Dods,  in  Translator's  Preface  of  City  of  God,  Post-Nicene 
Fathers,  Vol.  II,  p,  13. 


The:  Two  Cities.  179 

in  resources  to  give  it  visible  power  without  the 
help  of  the  earthly  city,  and  the  City  of  Men  can 
not  attain  its  purposes  without  the  aid  of  such  moral 
influences  as  are  found  only  in  the  heavenly  citv.  / 
In  addition,  the  Church  is  only  a  portion  of  the 
City  of  God ;  for  outside  the  fold  of  the  one,  Augus- 
tine is  willing  to  admit  there  are  individuals  be- 
longing to  the  other.  But,  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
City  of  God,  men  cease  to  be  good  or  to  do  good, 
their  "virtues"  being  nothing  more  than  "splendid 
vices." 

Nevertheless,  it  was  the  ecclesiastical  organiza- 
tion, the  Church,  which  to  Augustine  stood  in  the 
world  visibly,  as  the  City  of  God.^^  With  him,  for 
the  first  time  in  history,  the  machinery  of  the  State 
was  called  in  to  give  potency  to  this  organization,  to 
make  the  Church  irresistible.  The  idea  of  world- 
empire,  which  for  hundreds  of  years  had  hung  about 
the  name  of  Rome,  must  be  centralized  in  a  new 
power,  in  order  to  meet  the  universal  demand  of  a 
capricious  age  for  absolute  authority.  Hitherto,  the 
religious  movement  and  the  political  movement  had 
existed  side  by  side.  But  the  fall  of  the  earthly 
commonwealth  made  way  for  its  spiritual  correla- 
tive, "the  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose 
builder  and  maker  is  God."  Thus,  in  its  impressive 
organization,  in  its  institutions,  and  above  all,  in 
its  great  councils,  the  City  of  God  presented  to  men 
the  aspect  of  a  world-wide  Holy  Empire. 


13  City  of  God,  XIX,  21 


i8o  Augustink:  The  Thinke^r. 

It  must  not  be  overlooked  that  there  is  a  deeper 
view  of  Augustine's  idea  of  the  kingdom  of  God, 
a  view  with  which  this  one  is  seemingly  quite  in- 
consistent. But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  with 
him  the  mediaeval  conception  of  an  established  hier- 
archical system  had  its  theoretical  roots.  As  Mr. 
James  Bryce  has  declared,  in  his  invaluable  work: 
"It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire  was  built  upon  the  foundation  of  the  'City 
of  God.'  "^*  Augustine  could  not  have  foreseen 
the  inevitable  outcome  of  the  process  to  which  he 
thus  gave  sanction.  He  hardly  understood  that  if 
the  empire  "took  its  place  within  the  Church,  and 
the  Church  through  it  governed  the  world,"  the 
only  result  was  a  papacy — a  new  Rome,  and  an  im- 
perial throne  of  the  Church.  But  it  is  easy,  from 
our  vantage-point,  to  see  how  all  this  came  about. 
All  that  was  required  was  to  change  in  slight  de- 
gree Augustine's  ideal  of  the  City  of  God — "to  sub- 
stitute for  the  reign  of  Christ  in  the  soul,  the  fa- 
miliar thought  of  the  kingdom  in  the  sense  of  an 
organized  government,"  and  you  have  "the  eccle- 
siastical superstructure,  raised  by  Gregory  VII  an,d 
Innocent  III,  of  an  omnipotent  hierarchy  set  over 
nations  and  kingdoms,  to  pluck  up  and  break  down 


14  Bryce,  The  Holy  Roman  Empire,  p.  94,  f.  n.  1.  In  the  same  place 
is  found  an  interesting  reference  to  the  influence  of  the  City  of  God  upon 
Charles  the  Great:  "He  was  delighted  with  all  the  books  of  St.  Augus- 
tine, especially  in  those  entitled  the  City  of  God."  "  One  can  imagine  the 
impression  which  such  a  chapter  as  that  on  the  true  happiness  of  a'Chris- 
tian  emperor  (v.  24)  would  make  on  a  pious  and  susceptible  mind." 


The:  Two  Cities.  i8i 

and  to  destroy,  and  to  overthrow  and  to  build  and 
to  plant."!^ 

Professor  Allen,  who,  in  most  respects,  does  not 
spare  Augustine,  gives  his  conception  of  the  Church 
credit  for  doing  two  things.  It  proved  an  insuper- 
able barrier  to  the  wave  of  Mohammedanism,  and 
it  made  possible  the  transition  from  the  Roman  Em- 
pire of  his  day  to  the  papal  empire  of  the  Middle 
Ages.^^  This  is  important.  Historians  agree  that 
there  was  no  thought  of  antagonism  to  the  empire 
in  the  barbarian  mind.  So  wide-spread  was  the 
conception  of  empire,  that  the  barbarians  could  not 
think  in  other  terms.  One  can  hardly  regard  it 
otherwise  than  providential,  therefore,  that  Augus- 
tine's commanding  message  of  a  Church,  universal 
and  enduring  and  magnificent  as  the  empire  itself, 
should  gain  the  ear  of  these  young  Germano-Roman 
tribes,  just  at  that  opportune  time,  when  the  rend- 
ing of  the  old  order  made  the  existence  of  a  new 
one,  of  equal  grandeur,  a  necessity.  The  Church 
may  deprecate  the  unwarrantable  abuses  and  the 

15  Archibald  Robertson,  Regnum  Dei,  the  Bampton  Lectures,  1901. 
Dr.  R's  entire  discussion  of  Augustine  (Lecture  V)  seems  to  me  searching, 
scholarly,  and  impartial. 

16  Continuity  of  Christian  Thought,  p.  169.  The  words  are  memo- 
rable :  "  The  history  of  nearly  a  thousand  years  is  summed  up  in  his  experi- 
ence ;  but  it  was,  on  the  whole,  a  history  which  the  world  does  not  care  to 
see  repeated,  valuable  as  may  be  the  results  which  it  has  contributed  to  se- 
cure to  Christian  civilization.  It  may  have  been  necessary  that  the  world 
should  go  back  again  to  the  *  beggarly  elements ' — but  if  so,  it  was  because 
new  races  had  come  forward  to  carry  on  the  Ime  of  human  progress — who 
must  pass  under  the  yoke  of  the  law  before  they  were  ready  for  the  spirit 
of  life  and  liberty.  The  work  of  Augustine  ministered  to  this  end."  Cf. 
also  Harnack,  History  of  Dogma,  V,  p.  240. 


i82  Augustine:  Thi-  Thinker. 

shame,  which  have  followed  in  the  train  of  ideas  to 
which  Augustine  gave  the  impulse.  She  may  not 
succeed  in  finding  full  vindication  for  either  his 
theories  or  his  practices.  But  we  must  in  an  im- 
partial judgment,  conclude  that  the  triumphant  rise 
of  the  City  of  God,  out  of  the  prostrate  City  of 
Men,  was  due  to  the  ardor  and  stern  loyalty  of 
Augustine. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LABORS,   LITERARY   AND  THEOLOG- 
ICAL. 

Whate:vi:r  may  be  our  judgment  as  to  the  value 
of  Augustine's  thousand-and-one  works/  we  can 
not  suppress  our  admiration  for  the  mind  which 
produced  them.  When  one  considers  the  variety 
of  his  subjects  and  the  countless  distractions,  the 
wonder  is,  that  he  wrote  so  much  of  permanent 
worth.  Most  of  the  philosophy,  the  science,  the 
theology,  the  knowledge  of  the  arts,  the  ethics,  of 
his  day,  are  reflected  in  his  writings.  It  is  difficult 
to  agree  with  one  famous  Frenchman  in  his  effusive 
praise  of  Augustine,  which  leads  him  to  declare 
that  he  wrote  equally  well  on  music  and  on  free- 
will. The  truth  is,  Augustine  was  unequal.  One 
would  not  think  of  comparing  "On  the  Divination 
of  Demons"  with  his  four  books  ''On  Christian 
Doctrine."  But  sustained  grandeur  is  not  sought  in 
any  man,  of  however  great  genius,  when  that  man 
has  been  crowded  with  incessant  labors  through 
forty  years.  And  the  labors  were  about  as  varied 
as    any   man    was    ever    called    upon    to    assume. 

1  The  earliest  biographer  of  Augustine  enumerates  considerably  over 
a  thousand  works,  though  he  includes  letters  and  sermons. 

183 


184  AuGUSTiNic:  Thi^  Thinker. 

Prcacliing,  traveling-,  acting  in  the  capacity  of  judge 
and  arbiter,  answering  at  great  length  and  with 
painstaking  care  the  inquiries  of  anxious  philoso- 
phers and  puzzled  statesmen,  and  pious  women,  by 
sheer  ability  thrusting  himself  to  the  forefront  of 
every  controversy  of  his  age,  catechising,  teaching, 
descending  to  the  needs  of  the  many  poor  and  af- 
flicted of  his  congregation — thus  did  this  man  spend 
himself,  though  bearing  about  an  extremely  frail 
body  to  the  end.  If  Carlyle's  dictum  were  true — "I 
have  no  notion  of  a  truly  great  man  that  could  not 
be  all  sorts  of  men" — ^then  Augustine  would  have, 
by  that  test,  a  just  claim  to  greatness. 

Of  all  that  Augustine  ever  wrote,  the  living  in- 
terest will  continue,  in  the  future  as  in  the  past,  to 
center  about  the  works  that  have  to  do  with  him- 
self. There  are  three  volumes  which  are  of  this 
abiding  personal  nature.  Little  more  need  be  said 
of  the  "Letters."  To  them  one  must  look  for  a  true 
picture  of  Augustine  in  his  manifold  relations  to 
the  people  and  activities  of  his  time.  In  them  one 
finds  the  busy  bishop  at  his  work,  the  steadfast 
friend,  the  tender  brother,  the  zealous  Churchman, 
the  adroit  statesman,  the  father  of  the  oppressed, 
the  foe  of  heresy,  the  oracle  of  men  and  women 
with  questions,  the  central  figure  in  the  Church  of 
the  fourth  century.  Some  of  the  letters  swelled 
to  the  proportions  of  serious  theological  treatises. 
Their  purely  literary  quality  perhaps  ought  not  to 
be  a  subject  of  inquiry;  for  the  letters  apparently 


Labors — Literary,  Theological.  1S5 

came  warm  from  their  author's  heart,  without  any 
attempt  at  rhetorical  effect.  They  are  the  utterance 
of  a  man  of  intense  convictions,  and  often  surprise 
by  their  narrow  intolerance.  But  they  never  do 
violence  to  the  grace  of  gentleness,  unless  it  is  when 
he  lets  loose  his  '1ash  of  lightnings"  to  scourge 
some  moral  monstrosity  of  his  day.  Genuine  lit- 
erary flavor,  however,  is  not  wanting  to  the  letters. 
An  impressive  earnestness  one  never  fails  to  find. 
Flashes  of  humor,  sympathy  almost  superhuman, 
epigram,  simile,  do  a  great  deal  to  offset  the  tire- 
some prolixities  and  involved  rhetoric.  But  these 
letters  must  always  possess  more  than  an  obsolete 
interest,  because  they  open  the  door  for  us  into  a 
life  that  was  brotherly  and  warmly  human  to  men 
of  every  degree. 

As  of  the  same  autobiographic  value  must  be 
mentioned  the  "Retractations."  By  this  word  it  is 
not  to  be  understood  that  Augustine  came  in  later 
life  so  fully  to  alter  his  positions  as  to  require  a 
separate  work  for  amendment  and  withdrawal.  His 
main  purpose,  undertaken  in  his  seventy-third  year, 
was  to  pass  his  entire  writings  under  critical  re- 
view, mindful  of  the  cheapness  of  mere  words,  and 
eager  to  eliminate  any  that  were  overhasty  or  in- 
consistent. The  honesty  and  humility  of  Augustine 
in  the  '"Retractions"  are  beyond  censure.  One  may 
not  be  able  to  detect  the  necessity  for  all  these  re- 
visions, and  in  many  cases  it  may  be  equally  difficult 
to  find  anv  choice  between  later  and  earlier  state- 


i86  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

nients.  But  the  passion  for  truth,  the  unadulterated 
conscientiousness  (never  seen  to  purer  advantage 
than  in  an  old  man  making  frank  acknowledgment 
that  he  has  been  in  the  wrong),  and  courage,  that 
led  to  the  patient  correction  of  his  mistaken  judg- 
ments and  unfortunate  phrases,  win  our  unstinted 
esteem. 

But  as  all  the  world  knows,  it  is  in  the  "Con- 
fessions" that  Augustine  is  found  at  his  best;  for 
there,  in  praise  to  God  for  His  mercy,  he  unre- 
servedly pictures  himself  at  his  worst.  Of  that 
enough  perhaps  has  been  said.  Soul-revelations,  of 
the  type  of  Rousseau's  "Confessions"  or  Goethe's 
"Truth  and  Fiction,"  are  of  doubtful  value.  The 
cjuestion  of  public  confession  of  particular  guilt 
has  been  finally  settled  in  such  books  as  "The  Scar- 
let Letter."  Wherever  one's  own  life  is  masked  in 
h}  pocrisies  by  silence,  or  another  life  is  blighted,  an 
open  confession  is  imperative.  On  the  other  hand, 
what  Charles  Spurgeon  called  positive  "pollution" 
may  result  from  such  regrettable  self-disclosures  as 
those  of  the  brilliant  German  and  the  forlorn 
Frenchman.  Their  lack  of  any  worthy  motive,  their 
insincerity  and  affectation  are  not  met  in  the  "Con- 
fessions." Augustine  does  not  pose.  Nor  does  he 
dangle  his  sins  before  our  eyes  with  the  air  of  the 
soured  cynic  or  the  conscienceless  dilettante.  He 
is  in  manly  earnest  in  his  detestation  of  the  voluptu- 
ousness which  marred  his  young  manhood.  He 
has  no  concessions  to  make  to  that  weak  philosophy 


Labors — Literary,  Theological.  187 

which  looks  upon  such  vices  as  a  sort  of  stepping- 
stone  to  manhood.  Rather  would  he  join  with  a 
modern  prophet  in  terming  such  a  preparation  for 
life's  activities  only  "a,  kind  of  mud-bath,"  declar- 
ing that  "we  become  men,  not  after  we  have  been 
dissipated,  and  disappointed  in  the  chase  of  false 
pleasure,"  not  by  the  training  we  ''receive  in  this 
devil's  service,  but  only  by  our  determining  to 
desert  from  it."^  To  the  last  Augustine  was  con- 
scious that  the  entanglements  of  his  school-days 
formed  a  dark  blot  upon  the  total  canvas  of  his  life. 
In  old  age,  with  the  gift  of  a  copy  of  the  "Con- 
fessions" to  the  distinguished  Darius,  he  writes : 
"In  these  behold  me,  that  you  may  not  praise  me 
beyond  what  I  am." 

In  their  passionately  devotional  spirit,  the  "Con- 
fessions" hold  a  place  with  the  best  work  of  a 
Kempis,  Bunyan,  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  Henry  Drum- 
mond.  One  often  feels  about  Augustine  as  has 
been  said  of  Samuel  Rutherford,  that  "he  was  so 
much  a  lover  of  his  Lord  that,  when  you  read  his 
words,  you  think  yourself  eavesdropping,  as  if  you 
were  hearing  two  lovers  in  their  gentle,  wooing 
speech ;  so  love-impassioned  was  his  intimacy  with 
Christ."  Nothing  could  be  more  Christian  than  the 
spirit,  which  prostrates  itself  in  shame  and  con- 
fusion in  memory  of  its  sin,  but  immediately  rises 
in  affectionate  faith  and  assured  communion  with 
God.    As  Harnack  describes  the  piety  of  Augustine : 


2  Thomas  Carlyle,  in  the  Essay  on  Burns. 


i88  Augustine:  The:  Thinker. 

''He  preached  the  sincere  humiHty  which  blossoms 
only  on  ruins — the  ruins  of  self-righteousness."^ 
And  this  humility  was  founded  upon  an  over- 
sweeping  sense  of  his  reconciliation  to  God  through 
the  blood  of  Christ  alone.  But  that  very  thing  de- 
termined the  nature  of  his  faith — a  deep,  unques- 
tioning, happy  confidence  in  God.  It  led  him  to 
call  God  both  Father  and  Mother,  ''Thou  Fairness, 
ancient,  yet  so  new,"  "Sweetness  happy  and  as- 
sured," or  in  the  untranslatable  words  of  the  "Medi- 
tations:" "Dulcissime,  Amantissime,  Desideratis- 
sime,  Pulcherrime,  Tu  melle  dulcior,  lacte  et  nive 
candidior,  nectare  suavior,  gemmis  et  auro  pre- 
ciosior,  cunctisque  terrarum  divitiis  et  honoribus 
mihi  carior,  quando  Te  videbo?  quando  satiabor  de 
pulchritudine  tua?"  One  never  feels  that  such  ex- 
pressions, from  the  lips  of  Augustine,  even  ap- 
proach anything  like  a  weak  sentimentality.  They 
are  the  strong  outpourings  of  a  nature  deeply  re- 
ligious. The  "Confessions"  do  not  represent  man- 
hood shorn  of  its  vigors.  They  are  a  saint's  protest 
that  manhood,  virile,  pure,  and  in  perfect  balance, 
is  possible  only  through  union  with  God.  Augus- 
tine has  been  named  the  father  of  mysticism.  But 
his  mysticism,  while  not  lacking  in  ecstasy,  and 
emotional  self-repression,  is  always  intelligent,  and 
passes  readily  into  the  most  abstract  reasoning. 
Faith  leads  him  to  God,  but  also  to  everything  else 
in  the  universe.    It  is  the  starting-point  of  all  intel- 

3  History  of  Dogma,  V,  p.  65. 


Labors — Liti^rary,  The:oi.ogicai,.         189 

lectual,  as  well  as  soul,  attainment.  The  new  world 
into  which  faith  ushers  the  soul,  broadens  into 
realms  beyond  the  comprehension  of  the  unbe- 
liever. Hence,  one  must  not  be  surprised  to  be  con- 
ducted suddenly,  from  the  warm  realities  of  a  veri- 
fiable Christian  experience,  in  the  first  nine  books 
of  the  ''Confessions,"  to  the  chilled  atmosphere  of 
the  closing  books  (X-XIII),  in  which  are  elabo- 
rated, in  analytical  and  metaphysical  vein,  the 
truths  of  creation,  the  essence  of  God,  time  and 
eternity,  and  the  human  mind. 

To  these  writings,  of  a  more  personal  nature, 
must  be  added  the  polemical  works  of  Augustine. 
Of  this  work  in  general,  it  may  be  said  that  it  is 
remarkable  for  its  absence  of  bitterness,  combined 
with  its  obstinate  insistence  upon  the  correctness  of 
its  own  positions.  To  the  Manichseans  he  writes 
with  the  utmost  tolerance :  *Xet  neither  of  us  assert 
that  he  has  found  truth ;  let  us  seek  it  as  if  it  were 
unknown  to  both.  For  truth  can  be  sought  with 
zeal  and  unanimity,  if  by  no  rash  presumption  it  is 
believed  to  have  been  already  found."  But  pres- 
ently he  does  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  their  doc- 
trine nonsense  and  absurdity.*  Of  his  relation  to 
the  Donatist  and  Manichsean  disputes  I  have  spoken. 
To  him  belongs  the  credit  of  raising  an  effective 
barrier  against  the  progress  of  the  error  of  Mani 
in  the  West.    It  was  his  vigorous  assaults,  also,  that 


4  Cf.  Against  the  Ep.  of  Manichaeus  Called  Fundamental,  I,  3,  and 
On  the  Profit  of  Believing. 


iQo  Augustine:  Thk  Thinke:r. 

finally  took  the  heart  out  of  the  Donatist  party.^ 
Against  the  Priscillianists  (a  Spanish  offshoot  of 
]\lanichseism),  he  wrote  two  important  books,  and  a 
few  letters.  In  truth,  there  was  no  heresy  of  his 
day  which  Augustine  did  not  oppose.  An  account 
of  the  heresies,  in  all  eighty-eight,  from  Simonians 
to  Pelagians,  he  set  forth  in  a  work  addressed  to 
his  friend  Quodvultdeus  in  the  year  430. 

Nearly  all  Augustine's  constructive  theology 
grew  out  of  the  exigencies  of  controversy.  This  is 
true  of  the  works  dealing  with  the  Holy  Spirit,  the 
Deity  of  our  Lord,  and  the  Trinity.  The  Arian 
heresy  had  not  died  with  the  triumph  of  the  Athana- 
sians.  To  that  branch  of  faith  the  Vandals  and 
Goths  had  been  converted.  In  428,  a  band  of  these 
Arian  Goths  were  sent  to  Africa,  and  one  of  their 
bishops,  Maximinus,  visited  Hippo.  Naturally,  a 
debate  took  place  between  him  and  Augustine.  The 
latter  was  somewhat  stiff  and  uncompromising, 
which  led  the  suave  Maximinus  to  charge  him  with 
collusion  with  imperial  forces.  The  debate  was  not 
finished,  as  the  Arian  was  summoned  to  Carthage, 
where  it  was  soon  rumored  that  Augustine  had  been 
worsted.  This  resulted  in  a  decisive  work,  ''Against 
Maximinus."  In  the  same  year  came  forth  one  of 
Augustine's  most  monumental  works,  upon  which 
he  busied  himself  with  studious  care  from  the  year 
400  until  428.  I  refer  to  the  fifteen  books  against 
the  Arians,  *'0n  the  Holy  Trinity." 

5  For  complete  listb  of  the  Anti-Manichaean  and  Anti-Donatist  writings 
the  reader  is  directed  to  Vol.  IV  of  the  Post-Nicene  Fathers,  edited  by 
Prof.  Phihp  Schaff. 


Labors — Liti^rary,  Theologicai,.         191 

To  Augustine,  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  was 
one  of  those  mysteries,  "which,  unless  it  were  too 
vast  for  our  full  intellectual  comprehension,  would 
surely  be  too  narrow  for  our  spiritual  needs."^  In 
constructing  the  doctrine,  therefore,  he  was  more 
concerned  to  find  expression  for  facts  of  experience 
than  merely  to  formulate  a  philosophical  tradition. 
I  think  it  can  easily  be  demonstrated  that  his  work 
was  not  primarily  speculative,  but  arose  out  of  a 
desire  to  combine  in  a  coherent  system  the  full 
teaching  of  the  Bible.  But  it  is  undoubtedly  true 
that  he  was  influenced  by  at  least  two  other  con- 
siderations. First,  he  had  met  with  the  beginnings 
of  a  doctrine  of  Trinity  in  Neo-Platonism,  and  had 
no  difficulty  in  developing  what  he  had  learned 
there.  This,  however,  can  hardly  be  regarded  as 
important.  But  the  second  influence  was  impor- 
tant. Probably  few  would  care  to  go  so  far  as  Pro- 
fessor Harnack,  in  declaring  that  Augustine  was 
obliged  by  tradition  to  formulate  a  theory  of  Trin- 
ity, and  by  experience  to  believe  in  one  God,  and 
that,  if  he  had  been  able  to  make  a  fresh  start,  he 
never  would  have  given  the  Trinity  a  thought."^ 
But  it  is  safe  to  say  the  traditional  doctrine  filled 
his  horizon  enough  to  determine  his  unyielding  in- 
sistence upon  its  truth.  Athanasius  had  cleared  the 
air  for  those  who  came  under  the  bracing  influences 
of  his  thought.     But  that  was  mostly  in  the  East. 


6  On  the  Trinity,  V,  2. 

7  See  the  History  of  Dogma,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  129-136. 


192  AugustixXE:  The  Thinkejr. 

Western  Christianity  was  less  given  to  speculation 
on  the  nature  of  God.  Augustine  himself  was  un- 
familiar with  the  Greek  writings  on  the  subject, 
while  he  quotes  no  Latin  father,  except  Hilary  of 
Poictiers. 

There  were  four  problems  which  confronted 
Augustine  in  his  development  of  the  Trinitarian 
view.  First,  he  must  show  that  the  Triune  God  is 
one  God.  In  his  quarter  of  Christendom,  indeed, 
that  was  the  starting-point.  '*We  are  not  to  speak 
of  three  gods,  but  one  God.  The  Trinity  is  one 
God."^  In  an  effort  to  preserve  monotheism,  the 
teachers  of  the  West  dwelt  rather  more  upon  the 
divine  unity  than  upon  the  distinctions  of  persons  in 
the  Godhead.  But,  in  the  second  place,  it  was  also 
necessary  to  explain  how  there  could  exist  three 
distinct  persons,  with  separate  functions,  in  one  un- 
divided substance — how  there  could  be  one  God  in 
Trinity.  The  Christian  reply  is,  that  the  Trinita- 
rian idea  of  God  is  a  necessary  idea.  The  God  of 
Revelation  can  not  be  other  than  Triune.  Augus- 
tine arrives  at  this  conclusion  by  thinking  of  God 
as  *Xove."  "When  you  have  seen  Love,"  he  says, 
"you  have  seen  the  Trinity."  To  such  modern  ques- 
tions as  those  of  personality,  he  did  not  give  a  pro- 
found or  definite  answer.  "It  is  necessary  that 
these  three  should  have  a  specific  name,  which  yet 
is  not  to  be  found"  (a  view  which,  with  Anselm, 
becomes,  "Three,  I  know  not  what").^ 


8  On  the  Trinity,  V,  9,  12.  9  Ibid.  VII,  7. 


Labors — ^Liti^rary,  The:oi.ogicai,.         193 

A  third  question  then  arose :  To  zvhaf  extent  can 
one  believe  in  subordination,  and  still  hold  fast  to 
Trinity?  In  effect,  Augustine  ruled  out  the  Chris- 
tian idea  of  subordination.  The  Father,  though 
*'the  Fountainhead  of  Deity,"  stood  higher  than  the 
Son  only  in  being  unbegotten,  and  the  Son  was  in- 
ferior only  in  having  taken  on  a  human  nature 
through  the  Incarnation.^^  Similarly,  the  Holy 
Spirit,  proceeding  from  both  Father  and  Son,  holds 
an  inferior  place  to  both.  Of  that  "personal  peculiar- 
ity of  each  person  in  the  Trinity" — the  "origination" 
of  the  Father,  the  **self-assertive  obedience"  of  the 
Son,  the  "personal  self-effacement"  of  the  Holy 
Spirit — of  which  a  present-day  teacher  so  finely 
bears  witness/^  Augustine  has  nothing  to  say.  Sub- 
ordination with  him  is  rather  formal  and  legal,  than 
essential. 

Augustine's  fourth  problem  was  to  explain  how 
there  could  be  such  a  thing  as  the  generation  of  an 
eternal  Son.  The  clear  solution  given  by  Athana- 
sius  seemingly  was  unknown  to  the  bishop  of 
Hippo.  Waving  all  physical  analogies,  such  as 
would  imply  a  division  of  the  Divine  substance, 
Athanasius  dwells  upon  the  necessity  of  the  Son  of 
God  being   Son  by  nature.    His  begetting  is   an 


10  This  can  be  verified  in  a  number  of  places  :  e.  g.,  XV,  31 ;  II,  2. 

11  Professor  Olin  A.  Curtis,  in  The  Christian  Faith,  p.  502.  Dr.  Cur- 
tis's  entire  discussion  of  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity  (chapter 
5CXXVI)  is  the  most  spiritual  and  robust  of  which  the  author  knows. 

13 


194  Augustine::  Thi;  Tiiinkkr. 

inward  process,  the  outcome  of  which  Hes  in  the 
eternal  nature  of  God — God's  Fatherhood  is  eter- 
nally of  His  own  essential  Being.  Augustine's  at- 
tempt to  set  forth  all  this,  by  the  use  of  such  images 
as  light  and  its  radiance,  or  fountain  and  stream, 
results  only  in  confusion. 

In  forming  his  doctrine,  Augustine  had  recourse 
to  both  Scripture  and  reason.  It  must  be  ad- 
mitted, how^ever,  that  his  effort,  to  put  a  phi- 
losophy underneath  his  doctrine  of  Trinity,  is 
a  trifle  more  satisfactory.  In  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  soul  he  thought  he  found  some  image 
of  the  Trinity.  As  self-consciousness  can  arise  only 
when  an  image  of  the  memory  is  stamped,  by  the 
will,  upon  the  mind,  Augustine  saw  in  these  rela- 
tions, of  memory,  will,  and  intellect,  the  Father, 
the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit.  But,  as  Professor 
Ottley  points  out,  this  is  to  emphasize  the  relation- 
ships of  the  three  persons  rather  than  their  per- 
sonal distinctions.^-  Only,  it  must  be  said  in  fair- 
ness to  Augustine,  that  he  constantly  calls  attention 
to  the  imperfection  and  inadequacy  of  these  in- 
genious analogies.  Professor  Harnack  calls  the 
discussions  of  this  sort  ''extraordinarily  acute" — a 
statement  which  might  have  been  moderated  in  the 
interests  of  truth.  They  are  clever,  but  hardly  pro- 
found. They  did  supply  "subsequent  centuries  with 
a  philosophical  education,"  but  subsequent  cen- 
turies might  have  been  better  off  without  them. 

12  R.  L.  Ottlcy,  M.  A.,  in  The  Doctrine  of  the  Incarnation,  Vol.  II_ 
pp.  349  ff- 


Labors — ^"Literary,  The:oi,ogicai,.  195 

In  short,  Augustine's  Trinity  is  undeniably 
modalistic.  He  gives  us  *'a  Trinity  of  powers  and 
functions  in  the  one  Person,  and  not  a  Trinity  of 
personal  distinctions."^^  He  himself  disclaimed  be- 
ing a  "modalist."  But  it  can  not  be  said  that  he  suc- 
ceeded, from  a  philosophical  point  of  view,  in  get- 
ting far  beyond  an  idea  of  God  as  One,  ''with  three 
successive  and  exclusive  historic  attitudes."  His 
influence  upon  the  later  understanding  of  the  doc- 
trine is  unquestionable.  In  the  creed  called  "Athana- 
sian,"  there  is  a  clear  trace  of  his  characteristic 
methods  of  thought.  His  book  became  a  treasure- 
store  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  "contains  Scholasti- 
cism." But  that  is  hardly  to  its  credit.  Probably 
the  Trinitarian  situation  to-day  would  be  vastly  im- 
proved could  it  be  cleared  of  modes  of  thought  that 
go  back  directly  to  Augustine. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  Augustine  would  pro- 
duce some  sort  of  theological  system,  so  as  to  in- 
clude all  his  ideas  of  Christianity  in  a  total  view. 
The  nearest  he  ever  came  to  this  was  in  the  "En- 
chiridion," or  "Hand-Book,"  addressed  to  Lauren- 
tius.  The  book  was  primarily,  however,  only  a  re- 
view of  Catholic  doctrine.  No  attempt  need  be 
made  at  analysis  of  the  "Enchiridion,"  as  the  table 
of  contents  is  accessible  to  the  English  reader,  and 
so  full  as  readily  to  yield  the  nature  of  the  book. 
In  most  respects  the  "Enchiridion"  would  be  called 


13  Professor  James  Orr,  The  Christian  View  of  God  and  the  World, 
p.  271. 


196  AunusTixr::  Tiir:  Thinker. 

orthodox — merely  an  adequate,  compact  expression 
of  what  Christians  beheve.  But  there  are  some 
pecuHaritics  of  teaching  that  require  examination. 

What  has  Augustine  to  say  about  Christ  ?  Prac- 
tically he  rested  upon  Him  alone  for  the  hope  of 
salvation.  But,  in  seeking  a  basis  for  his  faith,  he 
fails  to  lay  hold  of  the  difficulties  of  the  Incarnation. 
His  interest  in  such  problems  seems  more  religious 
than  deeply  intellectual.  He  is  content  with  the 
traditions  of  the  Church.  When  he  is  excited  by 
the  marvel  of  Christ's  life,  he  falls  back  easily  upon 
God's  infinite  power.  If  he  must  ask  how  the  man 
Christ  Jesus  can  bear  about  the  dignity  of  the  Son 
of  God,  it  is  clearly  a  remarkable  display  of  the 
Divine  grace.  Seemingly  it  does  not  occur  to  him 
to  begin  in  the  Pauline  w^ay.  Had  he  thoroughly 
and  finally  settled  the  question  of  the  nature  of  the 
Son  of  God,  many  of  the  questions  of  the  Humilia- 
tion would  already  have  been  answered. 

The  same,  almost,  may  be  said  of  Augustine's 
views  of  Redemption.  Of  ''theories"  he  knew  little. 
A  close  connection  he  acknowledges  between 
Christ's  death  and  the  forgiveness  of  sins.  The 
efficacy  of  this  death  consists  in  its  fitness  as  a  ran- 
som to  the  devil,  who,  by  the  fall,  secured  a  sort  of 
legal  right  to  human  souls.  In  this  Marcionite  doc- 
trine of  price  and  barter,  Augustine  does  not  go  to 
the  disgusting  lengths  of  later  theology.'"*     But  he 


14  Gregory  I,  e.  g.,  calls  Christ's  humanity  the  bait :  the  devil  (fish) 
snapped  at  it,  and  was  left  dangling  on  the  unseen  hook,  Christ's  divinity. 


Labors — Literary,  Theologicai,.  197 

resorts  to  the  same  figures  with  approval.  His  fa- 
vorite theme  in  Redemption,  however,  is  the  humil- 
iation, and  example  of  Christ,  which  have  power  to 
subdue  our  broken  natures.  ''When  sin  had  placed 
a  wide  gulf  between  God  and  the  human  race,  it 
was  expedient  that  a  Mediator,  who,  alone  of  the 
human  race,  was  born,  lived,  and  died  without  sin, 
should  reconcile  us  to  God,  in  order  that  the  pride 
of  man  might  be  exposed  and  cured  through  the 
humility  of  God ;  that  man  might  be  shown  how  far 
he  had  departed  from  God,  when  God  became  in- 
carnate to  bring  him  back;  that  an  example  might 
be  set  to  disobedient  man  in  the  life  of  obedience 
of  the  God-man. "^^  This  of  course  does  not  touch 
the  borders  of  the  deep,  moral  questions  involved 
in  the  Atonement.  At  best,  it  is  but  a  devotional 
presentation  of  the  "moral-influence"  view  of 
Christ's  sacrifice. 

Another  peculiarity  of  the  "Enchiridion"  is  the 
view  of  remission  of  sins.  Forgiveness  is  built 
upon  penance  (which,  in  turn,  is  provided  for  by 
the  penitential  seasons  instituted  by  the  Church), 
and  is  really  reserved  for  the  future  judgment. 
Thus  personal  assurance  is  curtailed.  With  pen- 
ance, almsgiving  co-operates  to  save  the  sinner, 
though  all  good  works  issue  from  an  inner  trans- 
formation. True,  there  is  an  insistence  that  men 
are  saved  only  "on  account  of  their  faith  in  Christ." 
But  who  can  not  easily  detect  the  germs  of  Roman- 


ic Enchiridion,  io8. 


198  Augustine::  The:  Thinki^r. 

ism?  Perhaps  they  appear  even  more  clearly  in 
the  teaching  about  purgatory — though  the  purging 
fires  of  this  intermediate  state  are  limited  to  those 
who  in  life  have  believed.  Most  of  all,  as  showing 
this  Romanizing  tendency  in  Augustine,  he  leaned 
decidedly  to  a  belief  in  "the  benefit  to  the  souls  of 
the  dead  from  the  sacraments  and  alms  of  their 
living  friends." 

The  closer  student  of  Augustine  must  also  be- 
come familiar  with  a  mass  of  similar  works  of  this 
dogmatic  and  philosophical  nature.  Among  these 
are  the  following:  ''On  the  Care  of  the  Dead," 
written  about  420 ;  "On  the  Catechetical  Instruction 
of  the  Ignorant,"  400;  "On  Faith  and  the  Creed," 
393  5  "On  the  Christian  Combat,"  396 ;  "On  Various 
Questions  of  Simplicianus,"  397;  "On  Faith  in  the 
Unseen,"  400;  "On  Faith  and  Works,"  413;  "On 
Patience,"  418;  special  sermons,  such  as  "On  the 
Creed,"  "On  the  Fourth  Day,"  "On  the  Flood,"  "On 
the  Barbarian  Epoch,"  "On  the  Use  of  Fasting," 
and  "On  the  Destruction  of  the  City." 

Then,  there  is  Augustine's  work  as  a  commenta- 
tor. In  the  main,  he  followed  his  own  fixed  princi- 
ples of  exegesis,  as  set  forth  in  the  book  "On  Chris- 
tion  Doctrine."  The  "rule  of  faith"  was  the 
instrument  of  all  right  interpretation.  If  pas- 
sages were  obscure,  they  must  be  explained  by 
more  luminous  ones;  if  a  literal  meaning  were 
repulsive,  one  must  use  the  allegorical  method. 
All    of    which    comes    to    light    in    the    two    vol- 


Labors — Literary,,  Theologicaiv.  199 

umes  of  "Commentaries."  A  literal  explanation 
of  Genesis,  for  example,  was  attempted  in  his 
earlier  years,  but  abandoned  for  a  more  "spiritual," 
but  unedifying,  interpretation  which  was  not  fin- 
ished till  the  year  415.  There  were  also  two  com- 
mentaries on  the  Heptateuch,  and  the  "Annotations" 
to  Job,  of  Old  Testament  works.  In  the  New  Tes- 
tament, Augustine  devoted  himself  to  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  Romans,  and  Galatians,  a  "Harmony 
of  the  Gospels,"  and  the  Fourth  Gospel.  Toward 
the  close  of  his  life  he  wrote  an  outline  of  the  teach- 
ing of  the  entire  Bible,  and  called  it  "The  Mirror 
of  Holy  Scripture."  But  his  most  enduring  work 
of  this  kind  was  the  "Commentary  on  the  Psalms," 
most  of  which  was  given  in  the  form  of  sermons. 
It  will  endure,  that  is,  mostly  because  of  its  lively 
appreciation  of  spiritual  realities,  not  for  any 
marked  exegetical  values. 

Finally,  there  is  still  a  peculiar  interest  in  the 
various  moral  and  ascetic  treatises  of  Augustine. 
His  own  practice,  leaving  aside  the  question  of  his 
relation  to  the  mother  of  his  son,  involved  him  in 
self-denial  and  life-engulfing  consecration.  But  his 
theories,  of  voluntary  celibacy  and  poverty,  the 
world  has  already  condemned.  We  can  not  follow 
him,  except  in  the  spirit  which  impelled  him  to 
write  the  works  "On  Virginity,"  "On  Conjugal 
Love,"  "On  Continence,"  "On  Marriage,"  "On  the 
Blessedness  of  Widowhood,"  and  "On  Lying," 
though  the  two  last  reflect  an  ethical  passion  which 


200  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

excites  the  admiration.  Augustine  never  caught  a 
ghmpse  of  the  glory  of  the  Christian  family.  He 
lived  in  an  age  of  awful  sexual  excesses,  and  his 
soul,  like  that  of  the  fathers  in  general,  revolted, 
finding  rest  in  an  undivided  service  of  Christ  and 
His  Church. 

In  this  survey  (perhaps  too  extended,  but,  even 
so,  inadequate)  we  have  been  able  to  judge  Augus- 
tine's qualities  in  a  great  variety  of  situations.  He 
was  human,  and  lived  under  the  pressure  of  many 
unavoidable  and  unfortunate  conditions.  Hence, 
we  must  pass  a  charitable  judgment  upon  his  de- 
fects, while  we  lament  the  evils  that  grew  from 
them,  and  hold  up  for  praise  the  truly  noble  attain- 
ments which  offset  them. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    PELAGIANS. 

During  the  twenty  years,  from  410  down  to 
the  very  day  of  his  death,  there  were  three  men 
who  occasioned  Augustine  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 
One  was  the  monk  known  in  history  by  the  name 
Pelagius.  In  all  probability  he  was  a  Briton. 
Jerome,  always  more  picturesque  than  exact,  calls 
him  "the  great,  fat  Albion  dog."  He  was  alluding 
to  the  well-known  corporeal  dimensions  of  Pela- 
gius, whom  he  describes  in  another  place  by  the 
vulgar  phrase,  "protruding  with  the  porridge  of 
the  Picts."  At  any  rate,  if  the  British  monk  might 
justly  be  charged  with  being  a  good  eater,  he  seems 
to  have  practiced  a  commendable  self-restraint  in 
other  respects.  When  we  find  him  first  in  Rome, 
early  in  the  fifth  century  (being  unattached  to  any 
monastery),  he  was  a  man  of  devout  and  virtuous 
character,  a  professor  of  Christianity,  and  noted  for 
his  zeal  in  winning  converts  to  the  faith.  Preach- 
ing as  he  did  a  rigid  asceticism,  he  naturally  found 
himself  in  antagonism  to  the  corruption  and  laxity 
of  the  Roman  Church.  When  he  chided,  he  was 
met  with  the  excuse  that  human  nature  is  weak. 
Such  excuses  became  intolerable  to  him.  "O  blind 
201 


202  Augustixk:  Thi^  Thinker. 

madness,"  was  his  outcry,  "we  accuse  God  of  for- 
getting the  human  weakness  of  which  He  Himself 
is  the  author,  and  imposing  law^s  on  man  which  he 
can  not  endure."  The  blameless  life,  he  declared, 
was  the  possible  life  because  it  was  the  necessary 
life.  It  was  his  custom  in  preaching,  therefore,  to 
begin  by  showing  the  inherent  power  of  man's  na- 
ture. It  was  in  this  way  he  came  in  conflict  with 
the  teaching  of  Augustine.  He  heard  it  said  one 
day  that  the  great  bishop  had  written,  in  the  ''Con- 
fessions," this  prayer:  "Give  what  thou  command- 
est,  and  command  what  Thou  wilt."  Pelagius  met 
this  saying  with  a  passionate  denial  of  its  truth. 
"I  say  that  man  is  able  to  be  without  sin,  and  that 
he  is  able  to  keep  the  commandments  of  God." 
This  seems  to  have  been  with  him  an  honest  con- 
viction. Apparently  he  had  been  called  upon  to 
fight  no  battles  for  purity.  He  was  possessed  of  a 
mind  quite  in  sympathy  with  truth,  and  had  been 
able  to  discipline  his  nature  into  harmony  with 
moral  order.^ 

Pelagius  had  one  great  success  in  Rome.  He 
won  over  to  his  views  the  Roman  lawyer  Coelestius. 
This  man,  unlike  his  teacher,  had  the  fire  of  youth, 
and  besides  brought  to  the  new  doctrine  a  consid- 
erable argumentative  ability.  He  and  Pelagius  fled 
from  Rome  some  time  during  the  general  unrest  of 
409  and  410.  In  the  following  year  they  landed 
in  Africa  and  proceeded  to  Hippo.     Just  at  that 

1  Cf.  Principal  Rainy,  The  Ancient  Catholic  Church,  p  470. 


The  Pelagians.  203 

time,  the  Donatist  controversy  was  at  its  height, 
and  Augustine  was  absent  in  Carthage  controlhng 
the  course  of  the  great  conference.  Owing  to  this 
preoccupation,  therefore,  there  was  no  open  meet- 
ing between  the  future  protagonists,  though  they 
saw  one  another.  Shortly  thereafter,  Pelagius  set 
cut  for  Palestine.  It  was  the  impulsive  Coelestius, 
therefore,  who  was  first  to  sound  in  Africa  the  new 
notes  of  morality,  free-will,  and  reason.  The  third 
Pelagian  of  note  was  Julian,  the  young  Bishop  of 
Kclanum.  He,  however,  did  not  identify  himself 
with  the  heresy  till  418,  but  brought  with  him  a 
philosophic  mind,  a  readiness  of  expression,  and  a 
vigor  in  debate  that  taxed  all  the  resources  of 
Augustine.  The  teachings  of  these  men  burst  with 
sudden  and  startling  energy  upon  the  Church  of 
Augustine's  day.  Settlement  had  been  made  in  the 
two  previous  centuries  of  the  doctrines  of  God. 
But  the  doctrine  of  man  and  sin  was  still  in  a  form- 
ative state.  The  newness  of  the  assertions  of 
Pelagius  consisted  not  so  much  in  his  stress  upon 
free  will,  as  upon  his  denial  of  the  demoralization 
of  the  race,  and  the  need  of  Divine  help.  It  Is  true 
that  in  the  Western  Church  there  had  been  a  deeper 
sense  of  the  tragic  misery  and  ruin  of  sin,  while  in 
the  East  a  kind  of  guard  had  been  placed  upon  the 
lips  lest  one  should  speak  openly  of  a  corrupt  human 
nature.  But  the  extreme  utterances  of  Pelagius 
were  beyond  doubt  a  novelty. 

To  get  the  substance  of  the  dispute  before  us  at 


204  Augustink:  Thi:  Thinker. 

once,  what  claims  did  the  Pelagians  set  forth  ?  Let 
Augustine  himself  give  us  a  brief  answer.^ 

Fundamental  with  them  was  their  proclamation 
of  the  dignity  and  perfection  of  human  nature  in 
every  man  at  his  birth.  Thus,  they  arrayed  them- 
selves against  any  idea  of  original  sin.  Then  they 
went  a  step  farther,  and  declared  for  the  unsullied 
purity  of  marriage  and  the  sexual  relation,  as 
against  the  idea  of  a  transmission  of  hereditary 
taint.  In  the  third  place,  there  was  with  the  Pela- 
gians an  insistence  upon  the  possibility,  at  all  times, 
of  a  free  exercise  of  the  human  will,  so  that  the 
co-operation  of  Divine  grace  was  rendered  unneces- 
sary. Finally,  the  notion  of  universal  sinful- 
ness, was  offset  by  that  of  the  sanctification 
of  saints.  In  these  tenets,  other  points,  of 
course,  were  involved,  as  will  appear.  I  think  it 
can  hardly  be  shown  that  Wesley  was  wholly  cor- 
rect in  his  summary  judgment  that  "the  real  heresy 
of  Pelagius  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  this: 
the  holding  that  Christians  may,  hy  the  grace  of 
God  (not  without  it ;  that  I  take  to  be  a  mere  slan- 
der) 'fulfill  the  law  of  Christ.'"  The  Pelagians 
did  make  profession  of  belief  in  "Grace,"  but  they 
meant  something  very  different  from  the  evangel- 
ical grace  of  which  Augustine  makes  so  much.^ 

Of  the  outward  course  of  the  controversy,  and 
of  Augustine's  part  in  it,  only  the  most  important 

2  From  the  work  of  Augustine,  Against  Two  Letters  of  the  Pelagians. 
8  Cf.  with  this  Hurst,  Vol.  I,  p.  459,  footnote. 


The:  Pivi.agians.  205 

events  can  be  mentioned.  But  it  must  be  borne  in 
mind  that  he  was  active  almost  without  intermis- 
sion, preaching,  and  debating,  and  directing  a  large 
correspondence,  besides  issuing  the  numerous  and 
exhaustive  treatises  against  Pelagianism. 

Shortly  after  the  departure  of  Pelagius  for  the 
East,  Coelestius  sought  ordination  as  a  presbyter  at 
Carthage.  He  was  challenged  by  Paulinus,  a  dea- 
con, and  summoned  before  a  synod  under  the  presi- 
dency of  Bishop  Aurelius.  Ultimately,  he  was  ex- 
communicated, charged  with  heresy  on  seven 
counts :  that  Adam  was  created  mortal  and  would 
have  died  even  if  he  had  not  sinned;  that  his  sin 
entailed  no  guilt  upon  others ;  that  infants  are  born 
in  the  state  in  which  Adam  was  before  the  fall; 
that,  even  without  baptism,  they  have  eternal  life; 
that  the  whole  race  does  not  die  in  Adam  nor  rise 
in  Christ ;  that  through  the  law  as  well  as  the  Gos- 
pel, is  entrance  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven;  and 
that  there  were  before  Christ  men  living  without 
sin.  Justice  requires  us  to  recognize  the  ethical 
considerations  which  lay  beneath  these  contentions 
of  Coelestius.  It  was  not  merely  the  Pelagian  idea 
of  human  power  and  freedom  which  stirred  him. 
He  felt  the  injustice  of  punishing  a  whole  race  for 
one  man's  faults,  and  the  awful  cruelty  of  damning 
helpless  infants  for  want  of  a  rite,  and  the  peril  of 
denying  the  freedom  of  the  will,  lest  human  respon- 
sibility be  crushed  out  with  the  denial.  To  Augus- 
tine, who  was  ready  to  beat  down  anything  which 


2o6  Aur.usTiNi-:  The  Thinker. 

stood  like  a  huniaii  pretension  mocking  the  sov- 
ereign grace  of  God,  these  moral  concerns  appar- 
ently counted  for  nothing.  Between  them  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  corruption  of  the  heart  of  man 
and  the  majesty  of  the  irresistible  will  of  God  on 
the  other,  he  could  see  no  reconciliation.  And  the 
Divine  purpose  must  stand  at  all  cost. 

Coelestius  fled  East,  but  not  until  he  had  made 
converts.  Augustine  had  not  shared  in  the  delib- 
erations of  the  synod  of  Carthage.  But  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  presence, 
in  Africa,  of  the  Pelagian  heresy  in  full  blast.  As  if 
expecting  it  after  a  life-long  preparation,  he  leaped 
into  the  controversy  at  once.  By  sermon  and  letter 
he  tried  to  interpose  a  quiet,  persistent  barrier  to 
the  theories  rapidly  increasing  in  popularity.  One 
commendable  feature  of  this  first  work  of  412,  was 
the  patience  and  equipoise  with  which  Augustine 
proceeded.  His  policy  was  not  to  mention  the 
names  of  Pelagius  and  the  fiery  Coelestius,  but 
rather  to  bring  to  judgment  their  teachings. 

In  that  same  year,  Alarcellinus,  who  will  be  re- 
membered as  the  presiding  officer  of  the  Donatist 
conference,  during  the  previous  year,  sent  to  Au- 
gustine a  number  of  questions  bearing  upon  the 
Pelagian  doctrine.  He  wished  to  know  Augus- 
tine's opinion  concerning  the  relation  of  death  and 
sin,  the  transmission  of  sin,  and  the  possibility  of  a 
life  without  sin.  But  his  special  eagerness  was  for 
light  on  the  subject  of  infant  baptism,  for  this  had 


The:  Peilagians.  207 

become  one  of  the  crucial  tests  of  the  debate. 
Augustine  repHed  in  three  books  On  the  Merits 
and  Remission  of  Sins,  and  on  the  Baptism  of  In- 
fants. His  answer  to  the  chief  question  of  Mar- 
celhnus  is  coupled  with  a  long  dissertation  on  orig- 
inal sin  as  deduced  from  the  universal  reign  of 
death.  As  to  a  life  of  sinless  perfection,  he  says 
there  is  the  possibility  of  one,  but  such  was  never 
lived.  Then  he  lays  down  his  famous  dicta  about 
infants.  ''The  universal  practice  of  baptizing  them 
is  an  acknowledgment  of  their  sin.  Moreover,  if 
unbaptized,  they  can  not  be  with  Christ;  and  'He 
that  is  not  with  Me  is  against  Me.'  Therefore, 
though  there  is  a  lighter  punishment  for  infants, 
they  must,  in  case  of  death,  be  forever  with  the 
devil."  Marcellinus  complained  that  there  were 
weighty  moral  objections  to  such  an  argument.  But 
Augustine  stood  his  ground  as  being  based  on  Reve- 
lation, which  closed  the  reasons  of  men. 

But  Marcellinus  had  another  perplexity.  He 
could  not  understand  how,  if  it  was  possible  for 
nien  to  live  sinless  lives  with  Divine  aid,  there  had 
never  been  such  a  life  except  in  the  case  of  Mary. 
This  difficulty  brought  forth  from  the  watchful 
Augustine  another  important  work,  "On  the  Spirit 
and  the  Letter,"  written  also  in  412.  This  treatise 
has  been  praised  as  telling  us  most,  next  to  the 
"Confessions,"  "of  the  thoughts  of  that  rich,  pro- 
found, and  affectionate  mind  on  the  soul's   rela- 


2o8  Augustink:  Thk  ThinkivR. 

tions  to  its  God."-'  What  is  meant  is,  that  Augus- 
tine surpassed  himself  in  exalting  the  necessity  of 
grace.  A  distinction  must  be  made,  he  said,  be- 
tween the  Scripture  and  the  light  of  conscience,  on 
one  side  and  the  need  of  a  spirit-given  assistance. 
The  former,  the  letter,  kills,  but  the  spirit  gives 
light.  All  the  light  a  man  has  may  serve  simply 
to  set  out,  in  more  glaring  prominence,  his  diverg- 
ence from  his  moral  standard  and  his  need  of 
higher  help. 

But,  already,  the  heat  of  the  controversy  was 
transferred  from  West  to  East.  Augustine  at  this 
time,  415,  was  well-nigh  bewildered  by  overwork. 
But  he  was  always  accessible.  From  the  remotest 
borders  of  Spain  came  a  youth  of  burning  zeal, 
Orosius,  to  get  some  of  his  questions  answered ;  for, 
when  he  had  sought  elsewhere,  he  had  been  told, 
** Augustine  is  the  man."  He  found  the  bishop 
sympathetic,  but  not .  anxious  to  attack  any  new 
opinions,  and  was  content  to  receive  from  Augus- 
tine a  letter  to  Jerome.  Accordingly,  he  put  forth 
on  his  further  quest.  Augustine  also  sent  word  to 
Jerome  on  a  question  of  his  own,  about  the  origin 
of  souls,  entreating  the  old  monk  for  a  reply.  But 
Jerome  was  in  one  of  his  moods,  and  replied  that 
he  had  no  leisure  for  such  problems.  This,  how- 
ever, was  not  the  end  of  the  mission  of  Orosius. 
Once  in  Jerusalem,  he  became  the  accuser  of  Pela- 
gius  before  the  synod  of  clergy  under  Bishop  John. 

4  Canon  Bright,  in  Introduction  to  Select  Anti-Pelagian  Treatises,  XX, 


The:  Pe^lagians.  209 

Pelagiiis  also  was  present.  The  young  Spaniard  re- 
cited the  facts  relating  to  the  excommunication  of 
Coelestius  and  described  Augustine's  writings 
against  the  new  theories.  This  was  met,  on  the 
part  of  Pelagius,  by  a  sullen  denial  of  any  obliga- 
tions to  Augustine.  Bishop  John  was  compelled 
to  quiet  the  disputants  at  this  point,  and  bade  them 
go  on  in  peace.  At  length,  Pelagius  was  acquitted, 
and  Orosius  retired  to  the  shelter  of  the  angered 
Jerome.  News  of  the  affair  was  soon  at  the  ears 
of  Augustine  through  an  epistle  of  Pelagius,  in 
which  he  arrogantly  declared  he  had  "shut  the 
mouth  of  opposition  in  confusion." 

Augustine  wisely  awaited  the  return  of  Orosius, 
although  he  must  have  become  restless,  as  the  poi- 
sonous report  went  round  that  Pelagius  had  been 
voted  orthodox  by  fourteen  bishops.  He  was  loath 
to  press  the  case  against  Pelagius,  admitting  as  he 
did,  the  unimpeachableness  of  his  character.  But 
he  saw  distinctly  that  it  was  time  for  decisive  ac- 
tion. Hurrying  to  Carthage,  he  arranged  for  coun- 
cils both  there  and  at  Mileve.  Letters  from  Jerome, 
and  from  two  Gallic  bishops,  Heros  and  Lazarus, 
had  been  brought  home  by  Orosius  meantime,  and 
these,  with  other  documents,  were  presented  to  the 
Council  of  Carthage  late  in  416.  The  outcome  was, 
that  the  sixty-nine  bishops  decided  to  anathematize 
both  Pelagius  and  Coelestius,  and  to  present  the 
whole  case  to  the  Roman  bishop.  A  similar  de- 
cision was  arrived  at  by  the  sixty-one  bishops  at 
14 


2IO  Augustink:  Tiik  Thinker. 

]\Iilevc.  Three  letters,  the  last  of  a  more  private! 
nature,  were  written  to  Innocent,  of  Rome.  They 
appear  among  Augustine's  'Xetters/'  and  are 
mainly  his  composition.  It  was  Pelagius's  denial 
of  grace  that  largely  formed  the  charge  against 
him.  The  bishops  at  Jerusalem  apparently  had  mis- 
understood his  definitions,  for  certainly  the  practi- 
cal outcome  of  human  self-sufficiency  would  be  the 
abandonment  of  both  Church  and  sacraments.  It 
was  suggested  to  Innocent  that  he  send  for  Pela- 
gius,  and  subject  him  to  a  searching  examination. 
Naturally,  a  pause  is  demanded  by  this  appeal 
to  the  Roman  bishop.  Time  and  again  it  has  been 
offered  as  a  proof  of  pontifical  prerogatives  and 
supremacy.  From  events  yet  to  be  narrated,  it  will 
be  seen  that,  as  a  matter  of  history,  the  African 
Church  was  thoroughly  independent  of  Rome. 
Augustine  himself  has  in  no  place  any  word  which 
hints  at  a  belief  in  anything  like  the  later  papal  au- 
thority. As  historians  have  shown  sufficiently,  this 
particular  recommendation  to  Rome  was  an  expe- 
dient. In  Rome  the  heresy  had  begun,  and  had  be- 
come widespread.  For  many  reasons,  the  Roman 
Church  was  the  important  center  of  Catholicism. 
If  Pelagianism  were  stamped  out  there,  it  would  be 
a  decisive  result  for  the  rest  of  the  Church.^     Au- 

6  1  give  here  a  helpful  note  from  Prof.  John  A.  Faulkner,  taken  from 
iriy  notebook  of  1901  :  Six  causes  of  Roman  supremacy  :  i.  Rome's  firmness 
in  maintenance  of  the  faith  ;  no  heresies.  2.  Her  hospitality  and  generos- 
ity, wealth  and  benefactions.  3.  The  influence  of  Paul  and  Peter  in  Rome. 
4.  Rome  as  capital  of  the  empire;  power  of  an  idea;  the  influence  of  sec- 
ular divisions  on  Church  polity;  people  resorted  thither.  5.  Literary 
helps;  Clementine  recognitions;  for^^-  ries  ;  Cyprian,  Unity  of  the  Church  ; 
Irenxus.     6.  The  claims  of  Rome. 


The;  Pe:i,agians.  211 

gustine  also  suggests,  in  his  third  letter  (No.  177), 
that  the  well-known  character  and  ability  of  Inno- 
cent would  be  of  great  weight  in  determining  the 
issue  of  the  controversy. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Innocent  received  the 
African  appeal  with  self-complacent  exultation. 
His  three  replies  are  repellently  boastful.  McCabe 
says,  facetiously,  that  Innocent  "takes  remarkable 
pains  to  point  out  that  they  are  following  the  time- 
honored  custom  of  appealing  to  Rome,  whilst  his 
delight  at  the  novelty  floods"  all  the  letters.  At  all 
events,  he  rewarded  Augustine's  flatteries  by  de- 
claring Pelagius  and  Ccelestius  deprived  of  the  com- 
munion of  the  Church,  until  they  should  ^'recover 
their  senses  from  the  wiles  of  the  devil,  by  whom 
they  are  held  captive."  Now  that  both  Rome  and 
Africa  had  frowned  on  the  errors  of  the  Pelagians, 
Augustine  had  reason  both  for  rejoicing,  and  for 
confidence  of  his  final  victory.  In  a  celebrated  and 
much  misquoted  sermon  (No.  131),  he  expressed 
his  jubilation,  and  hoped  that  before  long  this  dis- 
turbance of  the  Church  would  cease.® 

But  by  this  time,  as  a  sort  of  prelude  of  com- 
ing events,  news  reached  Hippo  of  the  full  proceed- 
ings of  the  council  at  Diospolis,  at  which  Pelagius 
was  acquitted  a  second  time.  These  records  are 
important  as  showing  that  Pelagianism  made  a 
favorable   impression  upon  the  East,   not  because 


6  His  exact  words  were:  "Already  two  councils  have,  in  this  cause, 
sent  letters  to  the  Apostolic  See,  whence  also  rescripts  have  come  back. 
The  cause  is  ended;  would  that  the  error  might  some  day  end  !  ' 


212  Augustink:  Thk  Thinkkr. 

ihe  Eastern  mind  was  more  inclined  In  the  direc- 
tlon  of  that  "worldly  philosophy"  (as  Augustine 
termed  it),  but  because  Pelagius  actually  explained 
away  or  repudiated  his  heresy  before  his  judges. 
They  also  bring  to  light  an  outrage  wdiich  is  charged 
against  the  sympathizers  of  Pelagius.  Shortly  after 
his  acquittal,  the  cloister  of  Jerome  at  Bethlehem 
was  laid  under  siege,  some  buildings  were  de- 
stroyed, and  several  servants  were  killed.  Augus- 
tine sternly  rebuked  this  perpetration. 

In  fact,  more  stressful  times  were  already  at 
hand.  A  Greek,  Zosimus,  had  succeeded  Innocent 
upon  his  death  in  March,  417.  Coelestius,  led  to 
believe  that  the  Eastern  mind  was  more  receptive  to 
his  views,  made  an  effort  to  have  himself  and  Pela- 
gius reinstated.  He  visited  Rome  in  September, 
and  made  a  direct  appeal  to  the  bishop.  Zosimus 
seems  to  have  had  little  or  no  interest  in  theological 
niceties.  Failing  to  rally  his  refractory  clergy,  he 
held  back  his  decision  in  the  case  of  Coelestius,  but 
wrote  to  Africa,  rebuking  the  Church  there  for  its 
too-consuming  zeal  in  passing  so  severe  a  judgment. 
In  like  manner  Pelagius  had  sent  a  remonstrance  to 
the  "Apostolic  See."  His  defense  of  himself,  as 
Zosimus  afterwards  informed  Augustine's  party, 
almost  produced  tears  among  the  members  of  the 
Roman  synod.  They  were  deeply  grieved  that  so 
virtuous  a  man  should  be  thus  abused,  and  ended 
l)y  declaring  Pelagius  "a  good  Catholic  of  un- 
doubted faith." 


The:  Pe:i,agians.  213 

These  communications  from  Zosimus  were  not 
likely  to  create  the  best  kind  of  feeling  in  Africa. 
A  council  met  in  Carthage  early  the  following  year. 
Augustine  was  in  the  forefront.  It  was  stoutly  and 
summarily  decreed  that  the  case  of  Pelagius  and 
his  young  disciple  should  be  regarded  as  closed, 
until  they  should  recant.  By  this  time  Zosimus  had 
found  his  bearing.  He  replied  that  the  African 
Church  must  not  take  too  literally  his  remarks  on 
the  case  of  Coelestius.  His  final  word  had  not  yet 
been  spoken.  Indeed,  he  was  considering  new  evi- 
dence which  would  probably  lead  him  to  a  reversal 
of  sentiment.  This  message  was  read  before  the 
second  Council  of  Carthage,  late  in  April.  Over 
two  hundred  bishops  were  in  attendance.  The  un- 
looked-for mildness  of  Zosimus  modified  their  plans 
and  they  were  content  with  passing  a  series  of 
canons  against  Pelagianism..  These  they  forwarded 
to  Rome  to  confirm  the  wavering  bishop's  faith. 

One  writer  regards  as  *'a  remarkable  piece  of 
engineering,"  on  Augustine's  part,  certain  events 
which  occurred  almost  simultaneously  with  "the 
great  African  Council" — events  which  probably  had 
considerable  weight  in  determining  Zosimus's 
change  of  heart.  If  there  is  no  direct  proof  that 
Augustine  was  instrumental  in  obtaining  the  inter- 
vention of  State  aid,  at  this  juncture,  the  evidence 
certainly  points  towards  him.  In  any  case,  the  Em- 
peror Honorius  sent  forth  an  order,  just  before  the 
Carthaginian  Council  met,  throwing  on  the  side  of 


2  14  Augustine::  The  Thinker. 

the  African  Church  the  influence  of  imperial  author- 
ity. It  was  not  the  first  time  Augustine  had  resorted 
to  civil  penalty  for  heresy,  and  it  is  known  he  was 
in  correspondence  with  powerful  friends  at  court. 
The  effect  of  the  decree  was  to  send  into  exile  the 
leaders  of  the  heresy,  and  to  confiscate  their  goods. 
About  this  time,  Augustine  began  to  busy  him- 
self with  more  pretentious  literary  refutations  of 
the  false  doctrine.  A  notable  case  is  his  renewed 
relations  with  Pinianus  and  Melania.  It  will  be  re- 
membered vliat  these  noble  persons,  under  adverse 
fortune,  had  left  Hippo  (their  departure  being  lit- 
tle to  the  credit  of  Augustine's  Church),  and  settled 
in  a  monastery  at  Bethlehem.  There,  at  length,  they 
came  in  contact  with  Pclagius,  and  besought  him  to 
renounce  his  reputed  errors.  To  their  surprise,  he 
boldly  denounced  "the  man  who  says  that  the  grace 
of  God,  whereby  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save 
sinners,  is  not  necessary,  not  only  every  hour,  but 
for  every  act  of  our  lives."  He  read  to  them  from 
his  book,  moreover,  his  opinion  that  infants  should 
be  baptized  in  the  same  manner  as  adults.  Thus 
artfully  did  he  seek  to  draw  them  into  his  net.  They 
thought  it  best,  however,  to  seek  the  counsel  of 
Augustine,  and  he  replied  by  writing  two  books, 
"On  the  Grace  of  Christ,"  and  "On  Original  Sin" 
(418).  In  the  former  he  denies  Pelagius's  pretense 
about  grace,  declaring  that  the  monk  has  no  con- 
ception of  grace,  except  as  Revelation  and  the  ex- 
ample of  Christ.     During  all  this  period  of  "sharp- 


The:  Pe:i,agians.  215 

est  conflict"  with  the  Pelagians,  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  Augustine  was  preaching  incessantly. 
His  pen  also  was  never  weary  of  letter-writing. 
Among  the  significant  series  of  letters  in  his  col- 
lection are  those  which  passed  between  him  and  the 
presbyter  Sixtus,  afterwards  Pope  Sixtus  III. 

It  is  with  the  year  420  that  Julian,  of  Eclanum, 
comes  into  view.  In  condemning  the  Pelagians, 
Zosimus  had  threatened  with  expulsion  from  their 
bishoprics  those  of  his  clergy  who  did  not  subscribe 
to  Augustinian  principles.  Among  the  first  to  re- 
fuse was  Julian.  His  first  attack  was  upon  the  work 
concerning  marriage.  He  was  vehement  in  his 
charges.  He  accused  Augustine  of  returning  to 
Manichaeism  in  his  idea  of  a  corrupt  nature,  and 
declared  that  the  doctrine  of  predestination  led  to 
fatalism.  He  demanded  a  proper  rehearing  of  the 
whole  case  before  a  regular  council. 

Pope  Boniface,  who  had  followed  Zosimus,  re- 
ferred Julian's  defense  of  himself  to  the  attention  of 
Augustine.  He,  in  turn,  published  an  elaborate  ex- 
amination of  the  questions  involved  under  the  title, 
^'Against  Two  Letters  of  the  Pelagians."  In  this 
work,  Augustine  took  up  one  by  one  the  separate 
items  in  Julian's  indictment.  No  sooner  had  he 
finished,  than  he  was  made  acquainted  with  the  full 
nature  of  his  new  opponent's  attack,  and  proceeded 
promptly  to  express  himself  with  greater  force,  and 
at  greater  length,  than  before,  in  a  book  entitled 
''Against  Julian,"  which  one  admirer  has  described 


2i6  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

ft 
as  "almost  divine."    Few  of  the  saints  have  suffered 

more  from  the  servile  flatteries  of  intemperate 
friends  than  Augustine.  There  were  numerous  in- 
terruptions to  a  second  massive  work  against  the 
same  incorrigible  young  heresiarch,  so  that,  until 
the  very  close  of  his  career,  Augustine  was  en- 
gaged upon  the  book  which  bares  the  significant 
title,  "The  Unfinished  Work."  We  can  not  honestly 
regret  the  failure  to  prolong  this  work ;  for  in  real- 
ity, there  are  now  more  of  the  same  sort  than  any 
one  (save  a  very  limited  coterie)  ever  reads.  But 
Augustine's  courage,  which  kept  him  at  his  inde- 
fatigable labors  until  the  Vandals  thundered  almost 
at  his  study-door,  deserves  a  passing  tribute  of  re- 
spect. 

These  last  years  of  the  bishop's  life  were 
crowned  with  several  of  his  most  noteworthy  anti- 
Pelagian  treatises.  About  426,  he  sent  the  "En- 
chiridion" out  into  the  world,  intending  it  not 
merely  as  a  hand-book  on  religion,  but  as  a  calm 
survey  of  the  truth  denied  and  made  void  by  his 
antagonists.  Sooh  after  he  tried  to  quiet  the  strife 
of  the  monastery  of  Adrumentum  by  such  exposi- 
tions of  doctrine  as  are  found  in  his  larger  work, 
"On  Grace  and  Free  Will."  The  monks  at  Adru- 
mentum, however,  were  inclined  to  a  certain  amount 
of  free-thinking,  which  led  them  to  question  the 
admissibility  of  all  "Lord  Pope  Augustine"  (as 
they  called  him)  had  to  say  on  the  subject  of  sov- 
ereign grace.     With  no  little  human  passion,  they 


The:  Pe:i,agians.  217 

wished  to  know  how  It  came  about  that,  if  all  good 
was  from  God's  grace,  man  could  be  rebuked  for 
not  doing  what  he  could  not  do?  A  reply  was 
made  in  another  work,  "On  Rebuke  and  Grace,"  in 
which  Augustine  endeavors  to  make  clear  that  the 
supremacy  of  Divine  grace  does  not  supersede 
human  duty.  "We  deserve  rebuke  for  our  very 
unwillingness  to  be  rebuked,"  is  his  uncompromis- 
ing declaration.  Of  this  more  will  be  said  in  the 
next  chapter.  Already,  the  atmosphere  was  clear- 
ing of  the  extreme  Pelagian  views,  and  a  middle 
school  of  "semi-Pelagians"  was  beginning  to  make 
itself  felt.  Against  the  representatives  of  this  new 
movement,  at  the  instigation  of  two  laymen.  Pros- 
per and  Hilary,  Augustine  wrote  two  books  which 
go  under  the  separate  title  of  "On  the  Predestina- 
tion of  the  Saints,"  and  "The  Gift  of  Perseverance." 
These  are  the  best  evidences  we  have  of  the  strength 
of  his  mental  powers  in  their  full  maturity.  The 
heresy  outlived  Augustine.  Traces  of  it  linger  un- 
til the  close  of  the  century.  But  at  an  CEcumenical 
Council  of  Ephesus,  in  431,  pure  Pelagianism  re- 
ceived the  final  condemnation  of  both  East  and 
West.^ 

It  is  perhaps  a  misfortune  that  the  student  of  this 
controversy  is  obliged  to  rely  almost  wholly  upon 
the  writings  of  Augustine,  in  order  to  get  his  un- 
derstanding of  the  peculiarities  of  belief  on  the  other 
side.     But  we  can,  even  so,  approximate  a  truthful 


7  Cf.  Prin.  Rainy,  Ancient  Catholic  Church,  p.  473,  f.  n.  2. 


2i8  Augustine:  The;  Thinker. 

survey  of  Pelagian  teaching.  The  fundamental 
point  was  that  free  will  remains  unimpaired  by  the 
fall.  This  power  of  choice  itself  was  acknowledged 
as  a  gift  of  God,  but  its  use  in  practical  action  was 
man's  prerogative.  This  implied,  moreover,  that  no 
corruption  had  been  transmitted  from  the  first  man 
to  his  offspring  of  the  race.  If  the  battle  is  harder 
for  men  now,  it  is  not  because  they  are  not  born 
with  the  same  moral  powers  with  which  Adam  was 
endowed,  but  because  appeals  to  the  appetites  of 
men  have  increased  with  the  centuries.  And  it  cer- 
tainly was  untenable  (they  said)  to  charge  the  guilt 
of  Adam  to  any  one  except  himself. 

Pelagius  and  his  disciples  also  had  a  conception 
of  grace.  But  it  is  certain  they  meant  nothing  like 
a  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon  the  nature  of  man. 
At  most  it  was  a  vague  confession  of  benefits  of 
God's  goodness — the  remission  of  sins,  the  Divine 
revelation  (especially  the  example  of  Christ),  and 
ability  to  act  freely  in  the  choice  of  good.  There 
were  considerations  minor  to  these.  But  the  root 
of  the  trouble  was  the  assertion  of  an  absolutely  un- 
fettered will  in  every  man. 

Augustine's  doctrine  of  grace  was  formulated 
under  the  stress  of  controversy,  but  was  simply  an 
(nit.L^^rowth  of  previous  convictions.  These  had  re- 
sulted from  an  examination  of  the  Epistles  of  Paul, 
especially  Romans  and  Corinthians.  In  his  earlier 
career  he  had  held  that  man  is  dependent  on  Divine 
help  for  salvation,  but  that  faith  is  man's  own  spon- 


The  PeivAGians.  219 

taneous  act.  But  he  came  to  believe  that  it  was 
both  presumption  and  an  impossibility  for  man's 
relations  with  God  to  originate  in  free-will.  Thus 
he  settled  down  to  an  irreversible  conviction  that 
men  live  under  an  absolute  necessity  of  grace  for 
their  salvation. 

This  necessity  arose  from  the  helpless  condition 
of  the  race  through  Adam's  transgression.  Augus- 
tine conceived  that  the  first  man's  fall  involves  the 
entire  race,  not  by  any  arbitrary  constitution,  but 
because  the  entire  race,  potentially,  was  present  in 
its  progenitor,  and  therefore  shares  with  him  his 
guilt,  as  well  as  his  perdition.  Men  are  not  dis- 
possessed of  their  powers  of  choice.  They  are  still 
"free."  But  they  are  left  with  no  desire  for  any- 
thing but  evil,  and  can  therefore  choose  nothing 
good.  It  is  clear  from  this,  so  the  argument  goes, 
that  any  renewal  of  man's  nature  must  begin  in  the 
omnipotence  of  God. 

Grace  is  God's  means  of  providing  and  bringing 
near  to  men  the  gift  of  His  salvation.  With  Augus- 
tine it  is  the  first  and  last  word  of  the  Gospel.  He 
describes  it  sometimes  as  prevenient,  meaning  that 
it  influences  and  enables  us  to  make  right  choices. 
It  is  also  co-operative,  since  it  works  with  the  good 
will  so  soon  as  we  have  one.  In  addition,  it  is  irre- 
sistible, God  holds  it  utterly  in  His  power  to  be- 
stow His  favors  where  He  will.  He  does  so  not 
regardless  of  all  laws,  but  by  providential  use  of 
them.     Whatever  the  obstacle,  His   grace   at  last 


220  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

must  overcome  it,  if  it  sets  out  to.  Above  all,  grace 
is  gratuitous.  It  comes  to  us  totally  v^ithout  our 
choice  or  desert. 

Upon  whom,  then,  in  the  view  of  Augustine,  is 
the  grace  of  God  bestowed?  Our  answer  must 
keep  in  sight  the  ideas  of  man  as  "a  mass  of  ruin," 
and  of  grace  as  gratuitous.  It  follows  from  the 
unmitigated  and  self-imposed  ruin  of  mankind,  that 
they  have  no  claim  whatever  upon  the  mercy  of 
God.  If  He  should  leave  them  to  perish,  it  would 
be  only  justice.  Consequently,  there  is  no  injustice 
in  His  choosing  this  one  and  that,  as  the  objects  of 
His  unmerited  favor.  And  this  bestowal  of  grace 
is  not  uncertain,  for  it  proceeds  according  to  God's 
foreknown  purpose.  Predestination,  in  the  thought 
of  Augustine,  was  God's  sovereign  grace  winning 
whom  it  would  to  the  fold  of  God.  Once  brought 
into  the  fold,  this  grace  carried  them  irresistibly 
through  all  the  trials  of  life,  and  made  their  perse- 
verance to  the  end  a  certainty. 

Surveying  the  wide  field  from  the  side  of  ethics, 
it  must  appear  that  Pelagius  was  nearer  the  truth 
than  Augustine,  though  both  erred  broadly.  It 
can  not  be  maintained,  of  course,  that  men  are  free 
to  choose  the  course  of  right  always.  Nothing  is 
truer  of  life  than  the  fact  of  moral  conflict,  most 
present  and  poignant  to  the  man  of  high  ideals  who 
has  not  learned  the  way  to  Christian  victory.  But 
where  does  the  turning-point  He?  Is  it  in  man's 
free  will,  or  in  God's  generous  grace?    It  is  claimed 


The;  Pe:i,agians.  221 

man  is  helpless  to  choose ;  that  his  ruin  has  left  him 
deprived  of  power  even  to  accept  a  proffered  Divine 
help.  But  what  moral  meaning  can  there  be  to  his 
failure  to  choose  Christ,  let  us  say,  if  he  is  not  re- 
sponsible for  his  failure?  And  how  can  responsi- 
bility be  urged  where  there  is  no  moral  freedom? 
A  proper  Augustinian  reply,  probably,  would  be, 
that  there  is  responsibility — for  the  helplessness  in 
which  his  share  of  Adam's  guilt  involves  him;  for 
every  man  is  born  a  ruined  sinner.  But  such 
answers,  unfortunately,  make  no  accoimt  of  the 
yawning  difference  between  personal  sin  and  racial 
sin.  The  modern  doctrine  of  heredity  is  made  much 
of  by  disciples  of  Augustine.^  But  there  is  nothing 
consonant  with  that  doctrine  in  the  theory  of  the 
transmission  of  guilt.  It  is  depravity,  not  demerit, 
which  is  handed  down  from  parent  to  child.  Never 
can  an  unbiased  judgment  see  anything  right  in  a 
man's  being  held  responsible  for  what  is  not  per- 
sonally and  finally  his.  And  Augustine's  older  con- 
temporary, the  eloquent  Chrysostom,  proclaimed 
a  more  wholesome  and  satisfying  message,  when 
he  taught  that  the  will  of  man,  though  im- 
paired by  the  fall,  has  still  the  power  to  accept  or 
reject  the  offer  of  salvation.  This  brings  the  crisis 
of  man's  turning  to  God  where,  ethically,  it  should 
be — in  his  own  will.  In  this,  moreover,  the  Scrip- 
tures undoubtedly  concur.     There  is  no  denial  of 


See,  e.  g..  Prof.  James  Orr,  The  Progress  of  Dogma,  pp.  150  ff. 


222  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

grace  in  such  a  position,  but  a  glorious  exaltation 
of  it 

But  it  was  ine\-itable  with  Augustine,  that,  hav- 
ing taken  his  stand  on  the  declaration  of  man's  com- 
plete moral  ruin,  he  should  pass  on  to  his  idea  of 
the  Di\'ine  method  of  sa\-ing  people  out  of  their 
corruptions.  DiWne  election  is  indispensable  in 
saving  men  who  have  no  moral  powers  of  their 
own.  But,  first,  is  it  a  defensible  method?  -And 
then,  is  it  possible?  It  is  not  enough  to  say  God's 
ways  are  inscrutable,  but  must  be  just.  Xor  is  there 
any  help  in  the  more  recent  way  of  oitsetting  the 
horror  of  the  doctrine  by  painting  a  white  back- 
ground of  love  in  God.  The  fact  remains,  whether 
it  sounds  well  to  say  so  or  not,  that  the  Augustinian 
notion  of  unconditional  predestination  is  arbitrary 
and  indefensible.  If  it  is  said  that  none  have  any 
claim  whatever  upon  God's  grace,  and  that  there- 
fore God  is  not  unjust  in  *'passing  by''  some,  the 
quick  reply  is  that,  on  the  broad  level  of  no  claim, 
justice  requires  that  all  should  be  treated  alike,  and 
not  that  some  should  be  treated  as  if  they  possessed 
claims. 

But,  is  unconditional  election  possible?  Can 
God  override  the  wills  of  men?  Is  grace  irresisti- 
ble? Is  it  possible  for  God  to  break  down,  as  Pro- 
fessor Orr  suggests,  even  the  desire  to  resist  the 
good  ?  What  moral  meaning  is  there,  then,  to  faith  ? 
Such  questions  ought  to  be  answered  in  the  asking. 

Augustine   was   in   sorest    straits   when   he   at- 


The:  Pelagians.  223 

tempted  to  weld  into  one  his  theories  of  the  Church 
and  the  doctrine  of  grace.  Plainly  it  was  the  visi- 
ble Church  which  was  the  only  adequate  representa- 
tion of  God's  purpose  in  salvation.  Here  were  His 
elect.  But,  were  none  saved  outside  the  visible 
Church?  At  this  point  Augustine  halted.  But 
then  he  pushed  his  conclusions  to  their  end :  ''He 
that  has  not  the  Church  as  his  mother,  has  not  God 
for  his  Father."  And  unbaptized  infants?  The 
step  was  unavoidable :  "All  those  who  die  unbap- 
tized, including  infants,  are  finally  lost  and  depart 
into  eternal  punishment,''  (though  mercifully,  "the 
place  of  lightest  punishment  in  hell  is  assigned  to 
those  who  were  guilty  of  no  sin  but  original  sin"). 
The  heresy  of  Pelagius  was  a  dangerous  one. 
But  it  was  not  to  be  met  by  Augustine's  no  doubt 
zealous,  but  nevertheless  distorted  views.  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  predestination,  and  it  concerns 
the  salvation  of  men.  But  it  is  accompanied  by  a 
universal  appeal  to  men,  and  is  based  through  fore- 
knowledge, upon  the  freely-made  choices  of  men 
under  the  pressure  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Such  fore- 
ordination  is  truly  Pauline,  and  answers  to  a  deep 
Christian  experience  of  the  undeserved  riches  of 
God's  ineffable  grace,  in  making  so  magnificent  a 
provision. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AUGUSTINE   AND   THE   FINAL   STRUG- 
GLE. 

Not  till  the  year  after  Augustine's  death  did  the 
OEcumenical  Council  at  Ephesus,  pass  final  ad- 
verse judgment  upon  the  views  of  Pelagius.  But, 
as  we  have  seen,  out  of  the  ashes  had  already  sprung 
a  mild  compromise,  which  was  destined  to  run  its 
course  for  many  years,  and  to  come  to  us  under 
the  name  of  semi-Pelagianism.  As  this  was  a  pro- 
test against  the  more  exaggerated  ideas  of  Augus- 
tine, it  was  inevitable  that  he  should  be  drawn  into 
the  contest  w^hich  ensued. 

A  form  of  compromise,  between  the  harsher 
features  of  Augustinianism  and  the  unscriptural 
ground  of  Pelagius,  was  attempted  by  the  monk 
Cassian,  whose  monastery  was  in  Southern 
Gaul.  Cassian  was  ready  to  admit  the  universal 
need  of  Divine  grace  for  salvation.  But  he  pro- 
tested that  men  could  resist  God's  grace,  or  could 
freely  turn  to  Him,  and  that  grace  was  not  granted 
without  regard  to  merit,  w^hile  God's  predestination 
was  only  fatalism.  In  the  two  works  which  this 
new  heresy  called  forth,  **On  the  Predestination  of 
the  Saints,"  and  "The  Gift  of  Perseverance,"  Au- 
224 


Th^  Final  Struggle:.  225 

gustine  endeavored  in  a  final  effort  to  make  clear 
his  position.  But  it  can  not  be  said  that  he  suc- 
ceeded in  making  his  favorite  doctrine  of  predes- 
tination at  all  attractive.  No  objection,  he  said, 
could  be  made  against  predestination  that  did  not 
lie  with  equal  strength  against  grace.  But  he  failed 
to  see,  as  usual,  that  there  can  be  no  grace  in  giv- 
ing, unless  there  is  free  will  in  receiving. 

Of  kindred  interest  is  Augustine's  relations  at 
this  time  with  another  monk  from  the  south  of 
France,  a  certain  Leporius.  This  man,  according 
to  report,  had  been  condemned  in  his  native  coun- 
try, because  of  his  leanings  toward  Pelagianism. 
Accordingly  he  had  emigrated  with  a  little  com- 
pany to  North  Africa.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  and  as 
Augustine  discovered  upon  the  monk's  visiting- 
Hippo,  Leporius  had  imbibed  with  his  Pelagian 
poison  a  vague  belief  concerning  the  person  of 
Christ.  ''It  was  not  God  Himself,"  he  declared, 
**who  was  born  as  man,  but  a  perfect  man  was 
born  with  God."  This  is  a  kind  of  hearkening  for- 
ward to  the  confusion  of  Nestorius.  In  Carthage, 
Augustine  achieved  the  distinction  of  winning  this 
Gallic  monk  back  to  the  faith,  and  leading  him  to  a 
public  recantation  of  his  error. 

In  all  this,  it  will  be  seen  how  Augustine  de- 
voted himself  until  the  end  to  the  work  of  purging 
the  Church  of  error.  Even  when  the  Vandal  hordes 
were  pressing  towards  Hippo,  and  pounding  at  the 
city  gates,  he  was  conscientiously  toiling  at  the  long- 


226  AuGusTiNr::  The  Titinkt^r. 

est  of  all  his  works,  the  vast  anti-Pelagian  project 
elicited  by  the  treatises  of  Julian  of  Eclanum.  As 
already  noted,  this  zeal  for  Catholic  opinion  brought 
him  into  conflict  with  the  growing  pretensions  of 
Rome.  No  sooner  was  the  first  controversy  with 
Zosimus  over,  than  Augustine  was  drawn  into  an- 
other, not  so  far-reaching  in  its  direct  results,  but 
bringing  to  a  climax  the  North  African  revolt  from 
the  domination  of  the  Roman  bishopric. 

A  short  time  before.  Bishop  Urbanus,  of  Sicca, 
a  former  pupil  of  Augustine,  had  condemned  and 
dismissed  one  of  his  priests,  Apiarius  by  name,  for 
reprehensible  conduct.  Appeal  was  at  once  made 
to  Rome.  Zosimus,  ready  to  grasp  at  anything 
which  meant  to  him  an  increase  of  prestige,  sus- 
tained the  appeal.  A  legate  was  sent  in  haste  to 
demand  the  reinstatement  of  Apiarius.  Faustinus, 
an  arrogant  Italian  bishop,  wdio  bore  the  message, 
cited  two  canons  of  Nic?ea  in  support  of  the  claim 
of  Zosimus  that  Rome  had  a  right  to  interfere 
and  be  obeyed.  As  a  matter  of  history,  these  par- 
ticular canons  were  not  added  till  later.  Great  was 
the  astonishment  of  Aurelius  and  his  fellow-bishops, 
therefore,  when  they  found  the  decrees  absent  from 
their  authentic  copies  of  the  doings  of  the  Nicene 
Council.  However,  they  were  willing  to  admit 
them,  pending  an  investigation.  But  their  liberty 
and  manhood  were  nevertheless  at  stake,  and  they 
gave  expression  to  their  concern  by  ordaining  that, 
whoever,   thereafter,    instead   of   appealing   to   the 


The)  Final  Struggi.^.  227 

jurisdiction  of  the  North  African  Church,  appealed 
to  one  beyond  the  sea,  should  be  excluded  from  the 
fellowship  of  the  Church.  This  was  in  keeping- 
with  a  spirit  of  ecclesiastical  freedom  which  had 
manifested  itself  in  North  Africa  from  the  earliest 
times.- 

How  Zosimus  would  have  treated  the  question 
of  Rome's  supremacy,  had  he  lived,  we  can  not  tell. 
His  death,  in  December  of  418,  left  the  question  to 
the  settlement  of  other  minds.  His  immediate  suc- 
cessor, Boniface,  reappointed  the  despised  Fausti- 
nus,  who,  at  a  council  of  African  bishops,  held  in 
Carthage  late  in  May  of  the  following  year,  impa- 
tiently renewed  his  haughty  assertions  about  the 
pretended  canons.  It  was  finally  agreed  to  regard 
them  as  legitimate,  but  to  send  to  the  bishops  of  Al- 
exandria, Constantinople,  and  Antioch,  for  confir- 
mation. 

Although  Augustine  maintains  a  tantalizing 
silence  on  the  subject,  we  can  not  doubt  that  the 
reply  soon  received  from  the  distant  Churches  must 
have  exasperated  him  greatly.  For  all  three  bishops 
forwarded  authentic  copies  of  the  Nicene  canons, 
and,  lo !  there  was  no  trace  of  the  articles  so  stoutly 
proclaimed  by  Zosimus,  and  defended  by  his  legate. 
This  was  not  the  end  of  the  matter,  however. 
Although  he  had  been  restored,  the  base  char- 
acter of  Apiarius  could  not  long  remain  hidden. 
In   a   few   years,    he   suffered   a   second   dismissal 


2  See  Neander,  II,  p.  174  f. 


228  AuGUSTiNK:  Tiii:  TiiTNKr;R. 

for  immanly  conduct,  and  a  second  time  ap- 
pealed to  Rome.  Caelestine,  whom  Augustine  ad- 
dresses in  most  affectionate  terms  in  Epistle  192, 
had  succeeded  Boniface  as  Bishop  of  Rome  in  423. 
But  any  friendship  he  had  for  Augustine  was  out- 
weighed by  his  zeal  for  the  exaltation  of  Rome. 
He  welcomed  Apiarius,  and  once  more  selected  the 
obnoxious  Faustinus  to  represent  him  before  the 
African  bishops.  With  them,  however,  the  case 
was  prejudged.  Faustinus  encountered  a  violent 
opposition.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  the  outcome, 
had  not  Apiarius  acknowledged  his  guilt,  and 
thereby  silenced  the  ''pompousness"  of  Rome.  At 
any  rate  the  bishops  directed  to  Caelestine  a  letter 
which  was  a  veritable  declaration  of  independence. 
Throughout  is  manifest  the  vigor  of  Augustine, 
who  signed  the  document. 

Shortly  after  these  events,  on  the  other  hand, 
Augustine  had,  to  say  the  least,  paid  a  rather  re- 
markable tribute  of  respect  to  the  bishop  of  Rome, 
in  the  form  of  a  request  for  his  advice,  in  a  tangle 
which  was  greatly  disturbing  the  bishop  of  Hippo.^ 
Not  far  from  the  district  of  Hippo  was  a  small  town 
named  Fussala.  Formally  the  Donatists  had  com- 
pletely dominated  the  surrounding  country,  and  not 
cne  Catholic  was  to  be  found  in  the  town.  By  great 
sacrifice,  even  of  life,  a  little  communion  had  been 
established  there,  and  under  Augustine's  direction 
a  chapel  was  erected.     Then,  as  it  was  impossible 

3  Sec  Ep.  309,  entire.    The  letter  is  sometimes  called  in  question, 


Thk  Finai.  Struggi.^.  229 

to  keep  the  growing  work  under  his  eye,  Augustine 
made  a  separate  parish  of  it,  and  proceeded  thither 
for  the  ordination  of  a  bishop.  For  that  purpose  he 
invited  from  a  distance  the  aged  primate  of  Nu- 
midia.  Great  was  his  chagrin,  at  the  last  moment, 
to  find  his  candidate  for  the  office  of  bishop  un- 
wilhng  to  serve.  It  was  seemingly  out  of  the  ques- 
tion to  postpone  the  ordination,  though  Augustine 
admits  in  his  letter  to  Cselestine  that  it  would  have 
been  more  prudent.  Among  his  companions  was  a 
young  man  named  Antonius,  who  had  been  reared 
*'from  childhood"  in  his  monastery,  but,  withal,  a 
lad  of  no  experience,  except  as  a  "reader."  Augus- 
tine confesses  with  confusion  that  it  was  a  great 
risk  to  take,  and  overhasty,  but  Antonius  was  made 
bishop  on  the  spot. 

This  was  in  418.  By  422,  the  Fussalenses  had 
had  enough  of  their  youthful  bishop.  Charges  of 
intolerable  tyranny  and  spoliation,  of  extortion, 
covetousness,  and  oppression,  were  preferred  against 
him,  and  Augustine  was  asked  to  remove  him.  In- 
stead, a  council  was  called  and  Antonius,  though 
found  guilty  on  minor  counts,  was  allowed  to  re- 
tain his  office  with  restricted  powers.  The  whole 
affair  came  to  the  ears  of  Boniface  through  An- 
tonius himself,  who  complained  that  he  had  been 
abused.  Boniface,  flattered  by  the  appeal  to  him- 
self, demanded,  with  a  threat  of  violence,  the  full 
reinstatement  of  Antonius.  The  Roman  bishop's 
death  at  this  juncture  left  the  disturbance  in  the 


230  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

hands  of  Cc-elestine.  It  was  being  rumored  that 
imperial  power  was  about  to  be  used  to  restore  An- 
tonius,  and  heavy  criticism  was  directed  against 
Augustine.  This  led  to  the  letter  already  men- 
tioned. Augustine,  without  malice  towards  the  Fus- 
salenses,  and  with  an  evident  desire  for  fairness  all 
around,  urges  Caelestine  to  show  compassion.  In- 
deed, he  even  declares  that  anxiety  over  this  un- 
fortunate business  had  all  but  driven  him  to  retire- 
ment from  his  episcopal  office.  The  following  year 
came  the  break  with  Rome,  and  we  hear  nothing 
more  of  the  case. 

As  belonging  among  the  events  of  this  closing 
period,  mention  is  generally  made  of  certain  mira- 
cles which  are  said  to  have  been  performed  at  Hippo 
about  the  year  424.  These  Augustine  details  at 
great  length,  and  with  simple  faith,  in  the  last  book 
of  'The  City  of  God."  Some  years  previous,  so  it 
was  declared,  certain  bones  of  the  martyr  Stephen 
had  been  brought  from  the  Holy  Land  to  Africa. 
A\'herever  they  were  carried,  according  to  the  testi- 
mony of  men  like  Possidius  and  Evodius,  strange 
and  wonderful  deeds  were  wrought.  At  Hippo, 
Augustine  received  a  portion  of  the  relics  w^ith  great 
joy,  and  had  them  enshrined  in  a  chapel  by  them- 
selves. Two  years  after,  he  announces  himself  as 
bewildered  by  the  large  number  of  miraculous  oc- 
currences, to  which  he  bears  unquestioning  witness. 
"Were  I  to  be  silent  of  all  others,  and  to  record  ex- 
clusively   the    miracles    of    healing    which    were 


The  Finai,  Struggle.  531 

wrought  in  Calaina  and  Hippo  by  means  of  this 
martyr,  they  would  iill  volumes/'  Of  those  actually 
published,  he  knows  of  seventy,  but  the  unpublished 
ones  were  "incomparably  more."* 

For  the  most  part,  these  miracles  had  to  do  with 
devil-possession.  There  are  some  more  fantastic. 
Several  were  cases  of  the  raising  of  the  dead.  Au- 
gustine seems  to  have  been  at  pains  to  get  full  evi- 
dence in  each  case.  But  his  investigations  would 
not  pass  muster  to-day.  In  the  episode  of  the 
Syrian,  Bassus,  for  example,  there  is  surprisingly 
slim  proof  of  all  the  facts.  This  man's  daughter 
was  perilously  ill,  and  he  had  brought  her  dress  to 
the  shrine  of  Stephen.  Upon  returning  home,  "his 
servants  ran  from  the  house  to  tell  him  she  was 
dead."  He  found  the  household  in  tears.  Throw- 
ing upon  "his  daughter's  body  the  dress  he  was 
carrying,  she  was  restored  to  life."  Augustine 
speaks  of  "the  martyr  himself,  by  whose  prayers 
she  was  healed" — a  species  of  superstition  for 
which  there  is  no  authority  whatever  in  the  Chris- 
tianity of  the  early  Church. 

No  doubt  the  most  exciting  of  these  "miracles" 
was  the  reputed  healing  of  Paulus  and  Palladia,  a 
brother  and  sister  from  the  Cappadocian  Cassarea. 
Together  with  six  other  brothers  and  two  sisters, 
they  had  been  cursed  by  their  mother  for  some 
wrong  they  had  done  her  (Augustine  inserts  no 
disapproval),  and  were  all  "seized  with  a  hideous 


4  City  of  God,  Bk.  XXII,  Ch.  VIII. 


232  Augustine::  The  Thinke:r. 

shaking  in  all  their  limbs."  The  credulity  of  Au- 
gustine in  this  instance  is  remarkably  naive.  Re- 
luctantly one  is  forced  to  believe  that  it  was  only 
the  eagerness  for  an  unanswerable  defense  of  his 
faith,  that  led  him  in  old  age  to  such  artless  accept- 
ance of  easily  explained,  even  if  unusual,  occur- 
rences. 

Even  more  spectacular,  but  with  similar  results, 
was  the  cure  of  Palladia.  It  is  regrettable  that  so 
masterful  a  mind  as  Augustine's  did  not  break  away 
from  the  superstitions  of  that  decadent  age  and 
blaze  a  new  path  for  himself  and  for  the  mediaeval 
Church. 

The  labors  of  Augustine  at  this  time  were  not 
only  abundant  for  a  man  of  ripe  years ;  they  were 
becoming  oppressive.  He  had  requested  his  people 
to  leave  him  in  quiet,  but  they  had  continued  to 
throng  him  as  before.  He  was  unwilling,  more- 
over, to  leave  the  choice  of  his  successor  till  after 
his  death;  for  experience  had  taught  him  that  dis- 
sension often  accompanied  these  elections.  It  was 
contrary  to  his  policy  to  think  of  choosing  a  coad- 
jutor, following  the  precedent  set  in  his  own  case. 
Accordingly,  he  decided  to  have  the  people  appoint 
a  successor-designate,  to  whom  could  be  intrusted 
most  of  the  responsibilities  of  office.  We  have  a 
most  readable  record,  prepared  by  Augustine  him- 
self, of  the  proceedings  which  followed.^ 

There  is  little  basis  left  us  for  a  fair  estimate  of 

fi  See  Ep.  213. 


Tut  FiNAi.  Struggi.^.  233 

the  new  bishop-elect.  Augustine  was  satisfied,  and 
his  people  certainly  had  no  question  to  raise.  For 
only  four  years  was  Bishop  Eraclius  to  stand  at  the 
older  man's  side,  and  then,  with  the  tragic  termina- 
tion of  the  work  in  Hippo,  he  was  to  be  without 
further  opportunity  to  give  his  particular  talent  full 
play. 

Indeed,  North  Africa  and  its  Churches  was  al- 
ready doomed.  And  it  was  a  part  of  the  bitter  ex- 
periences of  Augustine's  last  year  of  life  that  one 
of  his  trusted  admirers  was  so  intimately  involved 
in  the  inevitable  ruin.  For  twenty-five  years,  the 
empire  was  ruled  by  a  woman,  Placidia,  mother  of 
the  Emperor  Valentinian  III.  She  had  placed  the 
province  of  Africa  in  the  hands  of  a  noble  Christian 
general,  the  Count  Boniface.  With  him  Augustine 
began  to  have  pleasant  relations  as  early  as  418. 
Within  a  year  or  two  his  wife  died,  and  the  sorrow- 
ing count  was  nearly  persuaded  to  enter  a  mon- 
astery. At  this  crisis,  Augustine  showed  that  the 
charge  of  his  being  unpractical,  sometimes  made 
against  him,  is  groundless.  He  induced  Boniface 
to  remain  at  his  important  post,  though  adding,  after 
the  manner  of  his  time,  the  advice  that  he  should 
not  remarry.  To  this  program  Boniface  agreed. 
But,  alas !  for  human  weakness.  He  was  soon  en- 
snared by  the  wiles  of  a  Vandal  princess  in  Spain, 
and  married  her.  Augustine  sought  to  find  com- 
fort in  the  fact  that  Pelagia  turned  Catholic  with 
her  marriage.    But  his  comfort  could  hardly  have 


234  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

been  deep  when  rumors  came  to  his  ears  that  the 
count  was  not  proving  true  to  his  new  wife.  At 
any  rate,  he  watched  the  subsequent  events  in  the 
Hfe  of  Boniface  with  increasing  regret. 

In  the  court  of  Placidia,  few  had  so  much  in- 
fluence as  ^tius.  He  was  shrewd  and  ambitious. 
In  the  way  of  his  schemes  stood  Boniface,  and  he 
hastened  straightway  to  effect  a  plan  for  the  Afri- 
can count's  downfall.  First,  Placidia  was  per- 
suaded that  Boniface  had  formed  a  selfish  alliance 
with  the  king  of  the  Vandals,  through  the  marriage 
with  Pelagia.  Thus  ^tius  succeeded  in  accom- 
plishing the  recall  of  his  rival.  Simultaneously,  he 
wrote  to  Boniface  urging  him  not  to  obey,  since  his 
return  from  Africa  would  mean  political  ruin  and 
probably  death.  Acting  upon  this  advice,  Boniface 
refused  to  heed  the  imperial  mandate.  The  royal 
mother  naturally  looked  upon  such  open  rebellion 
as  a  proof  of  the  pretended  suspicions  of  .^tius. 
Three  armies  were  sent  against  Boniface,  and  he 
defeated  them  all.  But  he  knew  too  well  his  com- 
parative weakness,  and  the  certainty  of  his  ultimate 
overthrow.  In  his  desperation,  and  all  unheeding 
the  treachery  of  the  unscrupulous  yEtius,  he  sent 
to  Gonderic,  king  of  the  \^andals  in  Spain,  an  offer 
of  alliance.  It  was  agreed  at  length  that  Boniface 
should  yield  control  of  two-thirds  of  the  provinces 
to  his  new  allies.  Gcnseric,  brother  of  Gonderic, 
and  after  the  lattcr's  death  his  successor,  made  im- 
mediate preparations  for  the  expedition.    In  Spain 


The  Final  StruggIvE:.  235 

his  people  were  without  a  rival  since  the  expulsion 
of  the  Visigoths.  But  Africa  offered  a  field  for 
even  wider  empire.  With  an  unwieldy  army  of 
over  fifty  thousand  men,  Genseric  set  sail  across  the 
strait  to  Africa,  early  in  429. 

Until  Boniface  was  deep  in  the  meshes  of  his 
fatal  alliance,  Augustine  found  no  opportunity  of 
addressing  him.  Everything  was  uncertain,  and 
messengers  were  not  to  be  relied  upon.  But  the  let- 
ter which  finally  reached  the  count,  from  the  feeble 
bishop,  proved  that  Augustine's  mental  power  and 
great  courage  were  not  failing,  as  he  beheld  old 
age  and  grave  dangers  approaching.  There  is  no 
mincing  of  words  and  no  fruitless  flattery  in  the  let- 
ter. It  is  the  wise,  sympathetic,  anxious  word  of  a 
father  counseling  his  erring  son.  Augustine  ap- 
pears ignorant  of  the  fraud  of  which  his  distin- 
guished friend  was  the  victim,  and  for  that  reason 
rather  misjudges  his  motives.  But  even  so,  he  can 
not  quite  reconcile  the  earlier  zeal  by  which  Boni- 
face tended  to  perpetuate  the  Church  in  Africa, 
through  imperial  protection,  with  his  present  self- 
ishness in  allowing  the  Vandals  to  lay  waste  the 
entire  province.  It  was  not  "secular  counsel"  which 
the  count  needed.  Therefore  Augustine  frankly 
avows  he  has  none  to  give.  He  turns  to  the  more 
difficult  task  of  counseling  him  "in  reference  to 
God,"  understanding  well  how  slow  friends  are  to 
offer  such  advice.  There  is  sympathetic  recognition 
of  the  embarrassments  into  which  the  unfortunate 


236  AuGUSTiNi::  The:  Thinker. 

mail  has  fallen.  But  Augustine  dares  to  suggest 
that,  had  it  not  been  for  Boniface's  **love  of  the 
good  things  of  the  world,"  he  would  not  now  be  in 
such  peril.  In  short,  he  can  offer  but  one  way  of 
escape :  let  him  renounce  his  whole  present  position. 
"Show  you  are  a  brave  man.  \"anquish  the  desires 
with  which  the  world  is  loved.  Do  penance  for  the 
evils  of  your  past  life.  Give  alms,  pour  forth 
prayers,  practice  fasting."  Here  was  a  dignified, 
uncompromising  call  to  duty.  Augustine  saw  that 
the  one  hope  for  Boniface,  whatever  became  of 
Africa,  was  to  rise  to  the  moral  height  of  the  Chris- 
tian demands  upon  him.  Besides  such  considera- 
tions, ''secular  counsel"  (the  absence  of  which,  in 
the  letter,  is  so  bitterly  lamented  by  writers  like 
McCabe),  was  of  no  importance.^ 

Looking  at  it  merely  from  the  secular  side,  we 
may  say  that  Count  Boniface  fortunately  was 
spared  the  necessity  of  doing  anything  so  heroic. 
At  any  rate,  he  was  freed  from  the  embarrassment 
of  being  at  enmity  with  the  ruling  powers.  Placidia 
sent  a  trusted  ambassador,  Count  Darius  (whose 
favor  and  friendship  Augustine  was  delighted  to 
win,  though  they  did  not  meet^),  to  seek  peace  with 
Boniface.  The  plot  of  ^tius  was  quickly  laid 
bare,  and  the  Count  of  Africa  returned  to  his  former 
allegiance.  But  it  was  then  too  late  to  close  the 
flood  gate.  The  restless,  blue-eyed,  covetous  bar- 
barians were  not  to  be  swept  back. 

6  See  Ep.  220.  7  Sec  Eps.  229-231. 


The  Final  StruggIvE.  237 

The  Vandals  were  in  the  hands  of  a  far-seeing, 
fearless  leader.  For  fifty  years  after  these  events. 
Genseric  continued  to  push  his  conquests  in  all  di- 
rections. He  ruled  the  Mediterranean,  and  swept 
down  upon  Rome  with  torch  and  sword.  If  Attila 
was  ''the  scourge  of  God,"  Genseric  was  His  light- 
ning. He  was  both  dreadful  and  cunning.  He  held 
back  neither  from  cruelty  'nor  treachery,  if  he  might 
satisfy  his  all-consuming  avarice.  With  his  fol- 
lowing of  wild  Vandals  and  nomad  Moors,  he  had 
already  devastated  a  large  area  of  Mauritania. 
"Soon  they  reached  the  broad  roads  that  the 
Romans  had  constructed  along  the  coast  and  the 
outlying  towns.  They  poured  themselves  over  the 
fields  and  orchards,  leaving  only  a  waste  of  black- 
ened stubble  and  uprooted  trees  behind  them.  They 
swept  down  upon  the  cities  with  a  bitter  scorn  for 
their  civilization  or  their  Trinitarian  religion,  and 
an  insatiable  thirst  for  gold."  The  student  of  Gib- 
bon will  recall  how  these  rapacious  Arians  made 
cruel  use  of  their  difference  of  faith  to  demolish 
Christian  churches  and  subject  the  members  and 
priests  to  horrible,  inhuman  treatment. 

But  now  Boniface  was  ready  to  restore  the 
provinces  to  peace  and  order.  He  sent  word  to 
Genseric  that  there  was  no  further  need  for  him 
in  Africa,  and  he  might  lead  his  plunderers  back  to 
his  empire  in  Spain.  But  the  rich  plains  of  Numidia 
were  just  in  sight,  and  the  Vandal  king  had  meas- 
ured his  strength.    His  back  was  turned  to  a  desp- 


23S  Augustine:  The  Thinker. 

late  country,  and  he  faced  a  land  of  promise  whose 
people  were  disorganized.  A  brief  truce  was  de- 
clared, during  which  Genseric  haughtily  spurned 
the  proposition  of  Boniface  to  buy  him  off.  He 
saw  farther  than  a  paltry  ransom.  And,  as  his  only 
barrier  to  success  was  the  army  of  the  count  of 
Africa,  it  was  necessary  for  them  to  cross  swords 
at  once.  A  bloody  battle  ensued,  in  which  Boniface 
exhausted  his  skill  in  a  final  effort  in  behalf  of  the 
empire.  The  fury  of  Genseric  could  not  be  stayed. 
Forcing  his  enemy  into  the  walled  city  of  Hippo, 
he  sat  down  before  its  gates  to  await  his  day. 

What  was  the  state  of  mind  of  the  bishop  of 
Hippo  on  that  memorable  day  of  ^lay,  430,  when 
the  siege  was  begun,  can  be  only  conjectured.  Cer- 
tainly he  could  expect  nothing  but  defeat,  however 
long  delayed.  Hippo  occupied  a  strong  defensive 
position.  But  help  must  come  mostly  from  within. 
The  empire  was  held  too  loosely  together  for  Rome 
to  hear  and  heed  the  cry  for  help.  Moreover,  the 
ruin  of  Xumidia,  and  of  the  bishopric  of  Hippo, 
meant  to  Augustine  the  ruin  of  all  his  life-work.  It 
was  a  sad  picture  that  met  his  eyes,  as  he  stood  upon 
the  central  hill  of  the  city,  and  beheld  the  surround- 
ing province  wreathed  in  lurid  lines  of  smoke. 
Strange  indeed  was  the  contrast  between  all  this 
tumbling  into  oblivion  of  his  prodigious  efforts,  and 
the  inner  consciousness  that  North  Africa  was  now 
his  and  the  Church's.  The  old  enemies  of  the  Cath- 
olic doctrine  were  in  full  retreat.     Paganism  was 


The:  Finai,  Struggle.  239 

being  forg-otten  as  a  relic.  The  Militant  Church  of 
Christ  was  dominant  everywhere.  But  now,  con- 
flagration and  waste  met  his  anxious  gaze  on  every 
hand.  And  the  Arian  Vandal  held  the  entire  city 
in  a  tightening  grip. 

But  Augustine  was  not  dismayed.  His  calm 
faith  in  God  led  him  to  look  upon  the  situation 
without  a  tremor.  Each  day,  as  long  as  the  wan- 
ing strength  of  his  seventy-six  years  would  allow, 
he  preached  to  the  wondering  populace,  inspiring 
them  with  fresh  courage. 

Thus  the  siege  wore  on  for  many  a  weary  month. 
Pearly  in  August  a  fever  laid  hold  of  the  venerable 
bishop,  and  he  was  forced  to  remain  in  his  room. 
Possidius  relates  how,  on  his  bed  of  sickness,  a  sick 
man  was  brought  to  him,  and  Augustine  was  be- 
sought to  cure  him.  At  first  he  refused.  If  he 
were  able  to  work  miracles,  he  said  jocosely,  he 
would  heal  himself.  But  they  urged  him  till  he 
stretched  forth  his  hands,  and  the  man  was  won- 
drously  cured.  This  is  the  only  miracle  with  which 
Augustine  is  credited.  A  fortnight  before  his  death 
he  bade  his  friends  farewell,  and  ordered  that  he 
be  left  alone  in  his  own  room,  except  for  the  neces- 
sary visits  of  his  physician  and  attendants.  Writ- 
ten large  on  the  walls  beside  him  were  the  psalms 
of  penitence.  On  the  twenty-eighth  of  August,  430, 
the  end  came.  He  died  in  full  possession  of  his 
faculties  and  in  full  peace.  Thus,  amid  the  tumults 
of  the  City  of  Men  his  soul  passed  on  to  the  long- 


240  AuGUSTixE:  Thk  Thinker. 

cherished  sight  of  the  holy  City  of  God.  ''He  made 
no  will,"  says  Possidius  (who  was  with  Augustine 
until  the  last),  ''since  he  was  one  of  God's  paupers 
and  had  nothing  from  which  to  make  one.  His 
library  he  ordered  should  be  given  to  his  Church, 
and  all  his  writings,  forever  guarded  by  posterity." 

Nearly  a  year  passed  after  the  death  of  Augus- 
tine, and  Hippo  was  still  intact.  In  the  fourteenth 
month,  Genseric  was  obliged  to  raise  the  siege,  and 
the  inhabitants  escaped,  by  sea,  to  Italy.  But  the 
city  was  lost  to  the  empire,  through  a  second  defeat 
of  Boniface,  while  the  Vandals  poured  through  the 
gates  to  plunder  and  burn.  The  precious  books  of 
Augustine,  the  record  goes,  and  his  church,  were 
preserved  amid  the  general  disaster.  Two  cen- 
turies later,  the  Arabs  completed  the  ruin  of  the 
former  city,  leaving  to  coming  centuries  a  dust- 
heap  and  an  imperishable  memory. 

Darkness  closes  over  these  outward  remains  of 
the  work  of  Augustine,  but  not  over  his  name.  Ad- 
mitting the  presence  in  him  of  divers  deplorable  de- 
fects, we  are  far  from  grudging  a  tribute  to  the 
commanding  genius  of  a  man  who  stands  out  in 
marked  contrast  to  the  dark,  unstable  age  in  which 
he  lived,  and  has  shed  an  influence  for  good  over 
all  succeeding  ages.  Augustine  saw  past  the  fading 
glories  of  this  world,  and  riveted  the  attention  of 
men  upon  the  things  of  enduring  value.  He  was 
exemplary  also  as  a  loyal  Catholic.  We  can  not 
impeach  the  zeal  and  self-repressive  devotion  with 


Th^  Final  Struggi^E.  241 

which  he  gave  himself  to  the  aggrandizement  of  the 
Church.  He  has  made  the  world  see  her  majesty — . 
in  the  words  of  Renter,  **  the  grandeur  of  her  organ- 
ization, the  ordered  ranks  of  her  episcopate,  the 
authority  of  her  tradition,  the  rich  resources  of 
her  means  of  grace/'  His  "theology  of  grace"  has, 
at  least,  had  the  credit  of  lifting  up  the  indispensable, 
absolutely  essential  preparatory  work  which  God 
has  done  for  our  salvation.  He  has  enriched  liter- 
ature and  human  life  by  all  he  contributed  of  mind 
and  heart.  It  is  not  saying  too  much,  to  declare 
that  he  was  as  necessary  to  his  age  as  was  Paul  to 
his,  or  Luther  and  Cromwell  and  Lincoln  to  theirs. 
It  was  God  who  gave  them  all,  each  one  to  his  own 
time. 


le 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  STREAM  OF  AUGUSTINIANISM. 

One:  is  not  to  suppose  that  Augustine's  identity 
with  his  own  age  shuts  him  off  from  a  masterful 
influence  upon  succeeding  generations.  It  is  not 
merely  that  he  turned  out  to  be  the  schoolmaster  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  There  is  a  silent  pressure  of  his 
power  felt  in  every  period  of  the  history  of  the 
Church  and  of  Christian  doctrine.  Indeed,  it  is  but 
very  recently  that  admission  has  been  made  of  the 
decadence  of  his  teaching.  Although  the  Augustin- 
ian  view  of  things  has  held  sway  for  nearly  a  mil- 
lennium and  a  half,  writes  one  critic,  to-day  his 
"empire  over  religious  thought  is  trembling."^  An- 
other makes  complaint  of  the  ''lingering  hold  of 
Augustine  upon  the  modern  mind."  He  judges  that 
**the  tenets  of  the  Bishop  of  Hippo  have  been  for  so 
many  years  identified  with  divine  revelation,  that  it 
requires  an  intellectual  revolution  in  order  to  attain 
the  freedom  to  interpret  correctly,  not  only  the  early 
Fathers  of  the  Church,  but  Scripture  itself."^  This 
is  undoubtedlv  true.    But  it  must  not  be  overlooked 


1  Briefly,  The  Eternal  Religion,  p.  36. 

2  Allen,  Continuity  of  Christian  Thought,  p.  11.    Cf.  also  the  remark- 
able charge  made  on  page  170. 

242 


Thk  Stream  oi^  Augustinianism.        243 

that  the  necessary  ''intellectual  revolution"  has  al- 
ready taken  place. 

With  almost  equal  enthusiasm,  and  of  course  for 
very  opposite  reasons,  Augustine  has  been  esteemed 
by  both  Protestants  and  Romanists.  His  canoniza- 
tion by  the  latter  was  most  fitting,  and  has  long  since 
ceased  to  excite  wonder.  Perhaps  it  is  an  exaggera- 
tion to  say  he  was  the  Father  of  Roman  Catholicism. 
Justice  requires  a  moderation  of  that  oft-repeated 
statement.  Certainly  he  never  would  have  given 
conscious  consent  to  the  later  extraordinary  devel- 
opments of  his  conceptions  of  the  Church.  But  it 
must  be  conceded  that  Catholicism  had  its  roots  in 
Augustine,  and  it  is  not  inconceivable  that  the 
growth  was  a  natural  one.^ 

Extended  reference  has  previously  been  made  to 
Augustine's  doctrine  of  the  Church.  He  regarded 
the  Church  as  a  thoroughly  equipped,  omnipotent 
society,  whose  organization,  institutions,  and 
heaven-given  rights  were  not  to  be  called  in  ques- 
tion. Of  the  necessity  for  a  supreme  organ  of  in- 
fallible authority,  such  as  later  became  centralized 
in  Rome,  he  had  not  even  a  remote  idea.  But  there 
were  elements  in  him,  such  as  his  insistence  upon 
the  universality  and  exclusiveness  of  the  Church, 
his  doctrine  of  baptism,  and  his  intolerant  treatment 


3  Cf.  Robertson,  in  Regnum  Dei :  "  He  registers  for  us  the  beginning 
of  a  process  the  full  nature  of  which  he  could  not  fully  realize;  a  process 
which  could  only  be  embodied,  in  fact,  in  conditions  which  Augustine 
neither  knew  nor  foresaw,  but  which  were  none  the  less,  even  then,  on 
their  way  to  fulfillment." 


244  AuGUSTiNK:  The  ThinkKR. 

of  heretics,  which  made  possible  the  papacy.  He 
appropriated  the  saying  of  Cyprian:  ''Outside  the 
Church  salvation  Is  impossible."  And  he  added :  "I 
would  not  believe  the  Gospel  except  the  authority 
of  the  Catholic  Church  had  moved  me." 

The  immediate  results  of  such  extreme  ideas  are 
difficult  to  trace.  Scarcely  a  decade  had  passed 
after  Augustine's  death,  before  Leo  the  Great  de- 
manded supremacy  for  the  authority  of  Rome,  thus 
establishing  the  papacy  upon  a  claim  which  has 
never  been  yielded.  A  century  and  a  half  later, 
Pope  Gregory  I,  building  upon  Augustinian  founda- 
tions, made  salvation  dependent  upon  meritorious 
works,  and  purgatory  a  necessity.  This  type  of 
teaching — "a  sacred  tradition,  attested  by  ecclesias- 
tical authority,  the  validity  of  which  it  was  impious 
to  doubt" — was  passed  on  to  the  Middle  Ages  by 
the  influences  of  hierarchical  prerogative.  Scholas- 
ticism, proclaiming  the  infallibility  and  superior 
rights  of  the  pope,  followed  hard  upon.  Its  re- 
nowned champion,  Thomas  Aquinas,  was  in  many 
respects  an  echo  of  Augustine,  so  that  the  saying 
goes,  ''There  is  but  one  path  to  Augustine ;  it  is  by 
way  of  Aquinas."  The  most  striking  modern  phase 
of  this  stream  of  tendency  was  the  Tractarian  Move- 
ment, with  John  Henry  Newman  as  its  leading 
spirit.  On  him  the  marks  of  Augustine  are  pro- 
liounced."* 


4  Cf.  Fisher :  •'  Newman's  memory  was  haunted  by  the  sounding 
phrase  of  Augustine, '  Securus  judical  orbis  terrarum.' "  History  of  Chris- 
tian Doctrine,  p.  459. 


The:  Stre;am  of  Augustinianism.        245 

We  must  conclude,  therefore,  that  in  Augustine 
were  the  germs  of  the  mighty  Roman  Church.  He 
was  the  defender  of  CathoUc  authority,  and  the 
apostle  of  ecclesiastical  imperialism.  In  this,  that 
part  of  the  Church  which  acknowledges  the  sole  au- 
thority of  a  Divine  Person,  speaking  through  an 
unfettered  conscience,  can  not  follow  him.  There 
is,  however,  something  to  be  said  in  Augustine's 
favor.  He  could  not  have  foreseen  the  inevitable 
outworkings  of  his  own  theories.  Moreover,  as  we 
have  seen,  there  was  a  special  appropriateness  to 
that  age  in  the  idea  of  a  high  ecclesiastical  author- 
ity. In  the  presence  of  the  oversweeping  forces  of 
a  crude  barbarism  the  majestic  power  of  an  organ- 
ized Church  was  simply  "a,  providential  adaptation 
of  Christianity  to  a  lower  environment."  Accord- 
ing to  Guizot,  it  was  only  such  a  Church  that  could 
defend  itself  against  the  barbarians  and  the  internal 
decay  of  the  empire. 

On  the  other  hand,  Augustine  has  made  a  deep 
impress  upon  certain  ideas  classed  as  essentially 
Protestant.  Dissent  from  the  principle  of  predes- 
tination early  asserted  itself  in  Hilary  of  Aries,  and 
in  John  Cassian.  Still  later  (about  850),  when  the 
monk  Gottschalk  announced  a  rigid  Augustinian 
doctrine  of  election,  he  was  condemned,  scourged, 
and  imprisoned  for  life.  But  the  pronounced  pre- 
destinarian  notion  was  only  slumbering.  Luther — 
together  with  Wiclif  and  Huss — was  a  profound 
student  of    Augustine,    whom   he  considered  the 


246  Augustine:  The;  Thinker. 

mightiest  of  the  Fathers.  And  he  revived  the  char- 
acteristic teaching  about  election  in  all  its  rigor ; 
every  separate  sin,  in  his  view,  is  determined  by 
the  sovereign  will  of  God.  Space  will  not  permit 
of  a  close  pursuit  of  this  stream  of  thought.  Augus- 
tine begot  Calvin.  Jansenism,  the  Thirty-nine  Ar- 
ticles, the  Westminster  Confession,  the  Federal 
theology  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  later  writ- 
ings of  Edwards  and  ]\Iozley  and  the  Princeton 
theologians,  the  sermons  of  Spurgeon,  and  the  latest 
contentions  of  Professor  Orr, — all  bear  witness 
to  the  virility  of  the  predestinarianism  so  stoutly 
asserted  by  Augustine. 

Happily  and  hopefully,  the  Protestant  world  is 
refusing  more  and  more  to  accept  the  repugnant  de- 
terministic elements  of  Augustine's  theology^  "A. 
reduction  of  the  area  of  Calvinism"  is  admitted  by 
so  eminent  an  authority  as  Professor  Fisher.^  An 
even  more  recent  writer  speaks  of  "the  almost  uni- 
versal abandonment  of  that  merciless  logic  which 
reads  in  the  will  of  God  the  denial  of  the  human 
will,  and  the  absolute,  irrevocable  doom  before  their 
birth  of  a  majority  of  the  human  race."®     At  all 


6  History  of  Christian  Doctrine,  p.  549. 

6  Professor  C.  T.  Winchester,  The  Life  of  John  Wesley,  p.  209.  In 
this  exceedingly  able  book.  Professor  Winchester's  remark  p.  105)  that 
"  the  evangelist,  though  he  may  think  like  a  Calvinist  in  his  study,  must 
preach  like  an  Arminian  in  the  fields  and  the  streets,"  reminds  one  of 
Richard  Garnet's  mot  about  the  mother  of  Carlyle  :  "As  a  Calvinist  she  is 
certajn  that  Tom's  fate  is  fixed  from  eternity,  and  as  a  mother  is  equally 
sure  that  he  may  go  to  heaven  if  he  will."  Certainly  an  evangelist  ought 
to  be  able  to  preach  anywhere  what  he  believes,  and  vice  versa. 


The  Stream  of  Augustinianism.         247 

events,  there  are  few  nowadays  who  would  ac- 
quiesc  in  the  quaint  judgment  of  Cotton  Alather, 
expressed  in  the  Magnalia:  "During  the  first  sev- 
enty-five years  of  New  England  there  had  flourished 
so  many  regenerate  souls  that  one  might  almost 
statistically  infer  that  New  England  was  specially 
favored  of  God."  Even  in  Scotland,  I  am  per- 
suaded that  Professor  Denney's  commentary  on  the 
Westminster  Confession  would  be  considered  too 
hard  and  narrow ;  for  he  says  :  "Calvinism  is  strong 
because,  when  necessity  and  chance  are  offered  to 
it  as  the  alternative  explanations  of  the  universe, 
and  even  of  man's  destiny,  it  elects  for  necessity."^ 
Dr.  Stalker  insists  that  "God  is  calling  all,  and  that 
Christ  is  offered  to  all  without  distinction."^  And 
Professor  George  Adam  Smith  eloquently  pleads 
in  behalf  of  a  love  in  God  "Svhich  dares  and  ven- 
tures all  with  the  worst,  with  the  most  hopeless  of 
us."®  The  modern  mind  in  this  matter  is  mirrored 
in  the  noble  message  of  ''In  Memoriam :" 

"  Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how ; 
Our  w411s  are  ours,  to  make  them  Thine." 

With  this  the  earlier  judgment  of  Augustine  him- 
self was  in  perfect  accord.  "God  does  everything 
to  save  us,"  he  declares,  "except  deprive  us  of  our 
free  will." 


7  Gospel  Questions  and  Answers. 

8  John  Knox  :  His  Ideas  and  Ideals,  p.  165. 
»  The  Book  of  Isaiah,  xl-lxvi. 


248  Augustine:  The  Thinke:r. 

Most  of  all,  Augustine's  tenets  regarding  sin  and 
grace  have  found  a  place  in  the  Christian  thought 
of  the  centuries.  It  is  unnecessary  to  revert  to  the 
perverted  and  undiscriminating  notions  of  original 
sin.  Every  student  of  doctrine  is  familiar  with  the 
reappearance  of  those  ideas  in  Anselm,  Peter  Lom- 
bard, and  Aquinas.  Melanchthon,  with  the  other 
Lutheran  Reformers,  surpassed  even  the  schoolmen 
in  his  clouding  of  the  question  of  personal  respon- 
sibility for  personal  sin.  ''By  reason  of  our  native 
corruption,"  he  writes,  "we  are  born  guilty ;  and  if 
any  one  chooses  to  add  that  men  are  guilty,  also,  for 
the  fall  of  Adam,  I  make  no  protest."  Such  ab- 
horrent ideas  as  these  were  transmitted  to  the  pres- 
ent generation  by  the  Westminster  Confession, 
Jonathan  Edwards,  Professor  Charles  Hodge,  and 
kindred  influences.  But  it  must  be  believed  that  a 
growing  clearness  of  thought  will  result  in  a  uni- 
versal abandonment  of  Augustinian  confusions  on 
this  subject.  Racial  corruption  and  a  relentless  law 
of  heredity  must  be  admitted.  But,  as  some  one 
has  remarked,  a  man's  accountability  is  not  for  the 
disposition  with  which  he  was  born,  but  for  the  dis- 
position with  which  he  dies. 

Augustine's  great  service  was  in  his  stern  and 
unyielding  reprobation  of  all  that  is  sin.  He  was 
not  the  man  to  adopt  the  calm  optimism  of  a  Whit- 
man :  "There  is  no  evil ;  or,  if  there  is,  I  say  it  is 
just  as  important  to  you,  to  the  land,  or  to  me,  as 
anything  else."     Nor  would  he  assume  the  arro- 


The:  Stream  oi<'  Augustinianism.         249 

gance  of  another  modern  spirit,  who  unctuously 
proclaims  that  *'the  superior  man"  has  ceased  to  be 
troubled  about  his  sins.  One  reason  why  the  "Con- 
fessions" continue  to  be  read  is,  that  they  brand  sin 
with  its  right  name,  and  make  no  attempt  to  hide  the 
worst  that  is  true  of  human  life.  In  its  pages  many 
a  college  boy  has  seen  a  portrait  of  himself,  and 
been  led  thereby  to  a  repentance  that  is  not  unto 
death. 

It  was  this  settled  conviction  of  the  tragedy  of 
sin,  coupled  with  an  experimental  appreciation  of  the 
meaning  of  grace,  that  has  made  the  piety  of  Au- 
gustine, both  in  its  depth  and  in  its  ardor,  a  type. 
It  was  reproduced  in  Bernard  of  Clairvaux,  and  in 
Richard  Baxter.  Its  fundamental  position,  that 
"whatsoever  is  without  God  is  not  sweet,"  gives  us 
an  impressive  insight  into  the  more  spiritual  side 
of  the  doctrine  of  sovereign  will.  Had  Augustine's 
thought  of  God  ended  with  devotional  yearnings 
and  aspirations,  instead  of  breaking  over  into  dis- 
avowal of  human  freedom,  there  would  be  less  in 
him  to  regret. 

With  ail  his  passion  and  piety,  for  which  he  will 
continue  to  remain  a  spiritual  guide  to  thousands,  I 
must  believe  that  the  final  judgment  about  Augus- 
tine will  be  that  he  does  not  represent  the  highest 
(the  New  Testament)  view  of  Christianity.  He 
had  glimpses  of  it.  Sometimes  he  touches  pro- 
foundly some  of  the  vital  things.  But  the  sweep- 
ing, organic  thought  of  Christianity  did  not  seize 


250  AuGusTfNE:  The  Thinker. 

upon  him.  There  is  in  him  no  central  place  for  the 
illuminating,  all-determining  person  and  work  of 
our  Lord.  And  he  dwells  little  upon  the  unflagging 
ministry  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  is  equally  true  that 
Augustine  fails  in  estimating  human  nature.  He 
never  grasped  the  meaning  of  personality.  Mitiga- 
tions and  explanations  there  may  be,  and  are,  a 
plenty.  But  we  are  not  to  permit  the  glamour  of 
his  own  story,  told  with  such  spiritual  fascination, 
or  the  passionate  piety  with  which  he  acknowl- 
edged his  debt  to  the  Church  and  to  the  "irresisti- 
ble" grace  of  God,  to  win  us  to  an  unqualified  ap- 
proval of  all  his  doctrinal  conclusions  as  if  they  were 
inerrant. 


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