Chapter I: Character Sketches (2)

This contrast of character, leading, first, to 15
intimacy, then to differences, is interestingly
displayed, though painfully, in one passage of the
history of Basil and Gregory: Gregory the
affectionate, the tender-hearted, the man of quick
feelings, the accomplished, the eloquent 20
preacher,--and Basil, the man of firm resolve and hard
deeds, the high-minded ruler of Christ's flock,
the diligent laborer in the field of ecclesiastical
politics. Thus they differed; yet not as if they
had not much in common still; both had the 25
blessing and the discomfort of a sensitive mind;
both were devoted to an ascetic life; both were
men of classical tastes; both were special
champions of the Catholic creed; both were skilled
in argument, and successful in their use of it; 30
both were in highest place in the Church, the one
Exarch of Cæsarea, the other Patriarch of
Constantinople. I will now attempt to sketch the
history of their intimacy.

II

Basil and Gregory were both natives of
Cappadocia, but here, again, under different 5
circumstances; Basil was born of a good family, and
with Christian ancestors: Gregory was the son of
the Bishop of Nazianzus, who had been brought
up an idolater, or rather an Hypsistarian, a
mongrel sort of religionist, part Jew, part Pagan. 10
He was brought over to Christianity by the efforts
of his wife Nonna, and at Nazianzus admitted by
baptism into the Church. In process of time he
was made bishop of that city; but not having a
very firm hold of the faith, he was betrayed in 15
360 into signing the Ariminian creed, which caused
him much trouble, and from which at length his
son recovered him. Cæsarea being at no
unsurmountable distance from Nazianzus, the two
friends had known each other in their own country; 20
but their intimacy began at Athens, whither
they separately repaired for the purposes of
education. This was about A.D. 350, when each of
them was twenty-one years of age. Gregory
came to the seat of learning shortly before Basil, 25
and thus was able to be his host and guide on his
arrival; but fame had reported Basil's merits
before he came, and he seems to have made his
way, in a place of all others most difficult to a
stranger, with a facility peculiar to himself. He
soon found himself admired and respected by
his fellow-students; but Gregory was his only
friend, and shared with him the reputation of 5
talents and attainments. They remained at
Athens four or five years; and, at the end of that
time, made the acquaintance of Julian, since of
evil name in history as the Apostate. Gregory
thus describes in after life his early intimacy 10
with Basil:

"Athens and letters followed on my stage;
Others may tell how I encountered them;--
How in the fear of God, and foremost found
Of those who knew a more than mortal lore;-- 15
And how, amid the venture and the rush
Of maddened youth with youth in rivalry,
My tranquil course ran like some fabled spring,
Which bubbles fresh beneath the turbid brine;
Not drawn away by those who lure to ill, 20
But drawing dear ones to the better part.
There, too, I gained a further gift of God,
Who made me friends with one of wisdom high,
Without compeer in learning and in life.
Ask ye his name?--in sooth, 'twas Basil, since 25
My life's great gain,--and then my fellow dear
In home, and studious search, and knowledge earned.
May I not boast how in our day we moved
A truest pair, not without name in Greece;
Had all things common, and one only soul 30
In lodgment of a double outward frame?
Our special bond, the thought of God above,
And the high longing after holy things.
And each of us was bold to trust in each,
Unto the emptying of our deepest hearts;
And then we loved the more, for sympathy
Pleaded in each, and knit the twain in one."

The friends had been educated for rhetoricians,
and their oratorical powers were such, that they 5
seemed to have every prize in prospect which a
secular ambition could desire. Their names were
known far and wide, their attainments
acknowledged by enemies, and they themselves personally
popular in their circle of acquaintance. It was 10
under these circumstances that they took the
extraordinary resolution of quitting the world
together,--extraordinary the world calls it,
utterly perplexed to find that any conceivable
objects can, by any sane person, be accounted 15
better than its own gifts and favors. They
resolved to seek baptism of the Church, and to
consecrate their gifts to the service of the Giver.
With characters of mind very different--the
one grave, the other lively; the one desponding, 20
the other sanguine; the one with deep feelings,
the other with feelings acute and warm;--they
agreed together in holding, that the things that
are seen are not to be compared to the things that
are not seen. They quitted the world, while it 25
entreated them to stay.

What passed when they were about to leave
Athens represents as in a figure the parting which
they and the world took of each other. When
the day of valediction arrived, their companions 30
and equals, nay, some of their tutors, came about
them, and resisted their departure by entreaties,
arguments, and even by violence. This occasion
showed, also, their respective dispositions; for
the firm Basil persevered, and went; the
tender-hearted Gregory was softened, and stayed awhile 5
longer. Basil, indeed, in spite of the reputation
which attended him, had, from the first, felt
disappointment with the celebrated abode of
philosophy and literature; and seems to have given up
the world from a simple conviction of its emptiness. 10

"He," says Gregory, "according to the way of human
nature, when, on suddenly falling in with what we hoped
to be greater, we find it less than its fame, experienced
some such feeling, began to be sad, grew impatient, and
could not congratulate himself on his place of residence. 15
He sought an object which hope had drawn for him;
and he called Athens 'hollow blessedness.'"

Gregory himself, on the contrary, looked at
things more cheerfully; as the succeeding
sentences show. 20

"Thus Basil; but I removed the greater part of his
sorrow, meeting it with reason, and smoothing it with
reflections, and saying (what was most true) that
character is not at once understood, nor except by long time
and perfect intimacy; nor are studies estimated, by 25
those who are submitted to them, on a brief trial and
by slight evidence. Thus I reassured him, and by
continual trials of each other, I bound myself to him."
--_Orat._ 43.

III

Yet Gregory had inducements of his own to 30
leave the world, not to insist on his love of Basil's
company. His mother had devoted him to God,
both before and after his birth; and when he was
a child he had a remarkable dream, which made
a great impression upon him.

"While I was asleep," he says in one of his poems, 5
which runs thus in prose, "a dream came to me, which
drew me readily to the desire of chastity. Two virgin
forms, in white garments, seemed to shine close to me.
Both were fair and of one age, and their ornament lay
in their want of ornament, which is a woman's beauty. 10
No gold adorned their neck, nor jacinth; nor had they
the delicate spinning of the silkworm. Their fair robe
was bound with a girdle, and it reached down to their
ankles. Their head and face were concealed by a veil,
and their eyes were fixed on the ground. The fair glow 15
of modesty was on both of them, as far as could be seen
under their thick covering. Their lips were closed in
silence, as the rose in its dewy leaves. When I saw
them, I rejoiced much; for I said that they were far
more than mortals. And they in turn kept kissing me, 20
while I drew light from their lips, fondling me as a dear
son. And when I asked who and whence the women
were, the one answered, 'Purity,' the other, 'Sobriety';
'We stand by Christ, the King, and delight in the beauty
of the celestial virgins. Come, then, child, unite thy 25
mind to our mind, thy light to our light; so shall we carry
thee aloft in all brightness through the air, and place
thee by the radiance of the immortal Trinity.'"

--_Carm._ p. 930.

He goes on to say, that he never lost the 30
impression this made upon him, as "a spark of
heavenly fire," or "a taste of divine milk and
honey."

As far, then, as these descriptions go, one might
say that Gregory's abandonment of the world
arose from an early passion, as it may be called,
for a purity higher than his own nature; and
Basil's, from a profound sense of the world's
nothingness and the world's defilements. Both 5
seem to have viewed it as a sort of penitential
exercise, as well as a means towards perfection.

When they had once resolved to devote
themselves to the service of religion, the question
arose, how they might best improve and employ 10
the talents committed to them. Somehow, the
idea of marrying and taking orders, or taking
orders and marrying, building or improving their
parsonages, and showing forth the charities, the
humanities, and the gentilities of a family man, 15
did not suggest itself to their minds. They fancied
that they must give up wife, children, property,
if they would be perfect; and, this being taken
for granted, that their choice lay between two
modes of life, both of which they regarded as 20
extremes. Here, then, for a time, they were in
some perplexity. Gregory speaks of two ascetic
disciplines, that of the solitary or hermit, and that
of the secular;[27] one of which, he says, profits
a man's self, the other his neighbor. Midway, 25
however, between these lay the Coenobite, or
what we commonly call the monastic; removed
from the world, yet acting in a certain select
circle. And this was the rule which the friends
at length determined to adopt, withdrawing from 30
mixed society in order to be of the greater service
to it.

[27] [Greek: azyges] and [Greek: migades].

The following is the passage in which Gregory
describes the life which was the common choice
of both of them: 5

"Fierce was the whirlwind of my storm-toss'd mind,
Searching,'mid holiest ways, a holier still.
Long had I nerved me, in the depths to sink
Thoughts of the flesh, and then more strenuously.
Yet, while I gazed upon diviner aims, 10
I had not wit to single out the best:
For, as is aye the wont in things of earth,
Each had its evil, each its nobleness.
I was the pilgrim of a toilsome course,
Who had o'erpast the waves, and now look'd round, 15
With anxious eye, to track his road by land.
Then did the awful Thesbite's image rise,
His highest Carmel, and his food uncouth;
The Baptist wealthy in his solitude;
And the unencumbered sons of Jonadab. 20
But soon I felt the love of holy books,
The spirit beaming bright in learned lore,
Which deserts could not hear, nor silence tell.
Long was the inward strife, till ended thus:--
I saw, when men lived in the fretful world, 25
They vantaged other men, but risked the while
The calmness and the pureness of their hearts.
They who retired held an uprighter port,
And raised their eyes with quiet strength towards heaven;
Yet served self only, unfraternally. 30
And so, 'twixt these and those, I struck my path,
To meditate with the free solitary,
Yet to live secular, and serve mankind."

AUGUSTINE AND THE VANDALS

"The just perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart; and men of
mercy are taken away, for there is none to understand; for the just
man is taken away from before the face of evil."

I

I began by directing the reader's attention to
the labors of two great bishops, who restored
the faith of Christianity where it had long been
obscured. Now, I will put before him, by way
of contrast, a scene of the overthrow of 5
religion,--the extinction of a candlestick,--effected, too,
by champions of the same heretical creed which
Basil and Gregory successfully resisted. It will
be found in the history of the last days of the
great Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, in Africa. 10
The truth triumphed in the East by the power of
preaching; it was extirpated in the South by the
edge of the sword.

Though it may not be given us to appropriate
the prophecies of the Apocalypse to the real 15
events to which they belong, yet it is impossible
to read its inspired pages, and then to turn to
the dissolution of the Roman empire, without
seeing a remarkable agreement, on the whole,
between the calamities of that period and the 20
sacred prediction. There is a plain announcement
in the inspired page, of "Woe, woe, woe, to
the inhabitants of the earth;" an announcement
of "hail and fire mingled with blood," the
conflagration of "trees and green grass," the
destruction of ships, the darkening of the sun, and the 5
poisoning of the rivers over a third of their course.
There is a clear prophecy of revolutions on the
face of the earth and in the structure of society.
And, on the other hand, let us observe how fully
such general foretokenings are borne out, among 10
other passages of history, in the Vandalic
conquest of Africa.

The coast of Africa, between the great desert
and the Mediterranean, was one of the most
fruitful and opulent portions of the Roman world. 15
The eastern extremity of it was more especially
connected with the empire, containing in it
Carthage, Hippo, and other towns, celebrated as
being sees of the Christian Church, as well as
places of civil importance. In the spring of the 20
year 428, the Vandals, Arians by creed, and
barbarians by birth and disposition, crossed the
Straits of Gibraltar, and proceeded along this
fertile district, bringing with them devastation
and captivity on every side. They abandoned 25
themselves to the most savage cruelties and
excesses. They pillaged, ravaged, burned,
massacred all that came in their way, sparing not even
the fruit trees, which might have afforded some
poor food to the remnant of the population, who 30
had escaped from them into caves, the recesses
of the mountains, or into vaults. Twice did this
desolating pestilence sweep over the face of the
country.

The fury of the Vandals was especially exercised
towards the memorials of religion. Churches, 5
cemeteries, monasteries, were objects of their
fiercest hatred and most violent assaults. They
broke into the places of worship, cut to pieces all
internal decorations, and then set fire to them.
They tortured bishops and clergy with the hope of 10
obtaining treasure. The names of some of the
victims of their ferocity are preserved. Mansuetus,
Bishop of Utica, was burnt alive; Papinianus,
Bishop of Vite, was laid upon red-hot plates of
iron. This was near upon the time when the 15
third General Council was assembling at Ephesus,
which, from the insecure state of the roads, and
the universal misery which reigned among them,
the African bishops were prevented from
attending. The Clergy, the religious brotherhoods, the 20
holy virgins, were scattered all over the country.
The daily sacrifice was stopped, the sacraments
could not be obtained, the festivals of the Church
passed unnoticed. At length, only three cities
remained unvisited by the general 25
desolation,--Carthage, Hippo, and Cirtha.

II

Hippo was the see of St. Austin, then
seventy-four years of age (forty almost of which had been
passed in ministerial labors), and warned, by
the law of nature, of the approach of dissolution.
It was as if the light of prosperity and peace
were fading away from the African Church, as
sank the bodily powers of its great earthly
ornament and stay. At this time, when the terrors 5
of the barbaric invasion spread on all sides, a
bishop wrote to him to ask whether it was allowable
for the ruler of a Church to leave the scene of his
pastoral duties in order to save his life.
Different opinions had heretofore been expressed on 10
this question. In Augustine's own country
Tertullian had maintained that flight was unlawful,
but he was a Montanist when he so wrote. On
the other hand, Cyprian had actually fled, and
had defended his conduct when questioned by 15
the clergy of Rome. His contemporaries,
Dionysius of Alexandria, and Gregory of Neocæsarea,
had fled also; as had Polycarp before them, and
Athanasius after them.

Athanasius also had to defend his flight, and he 20
defended it, in a work still extant, thus: First,
he observes, it has the sanction of numerous
Scripture precedents. Thus, in the instance of
confessors under the old covenant, Jacob fled
from Esau, Moses from Pharao, David from Saul; 25
Elias concealed himself from Achab three years,
and the sons of the prophets were hid by Abdias
in a cave from Jezebel. In like manner under
the Gospel, the disciples hid themselves for fear
of the Jews, and St. Paul was let down in a basket 30
over the wall at Damascus. On the other hand,
no instance can be adduced of overboldness and
headstrong daring in the saints of Scripture.
But our Lord Himself is the chief exemplar of
fleeing from persecution. As a child in arms He
had to flee into Egypt. When He returned, He 5
still shunned Judea, and retired to Nazareth.
After raising Lazarus, on the Jews seeking His
life, "He walked no more openly among them,"
but retreated to the neighborhood of the desert.
When they took up stones to cast at Him, He 10
hid Himself; when they attempted to cast Him
down headlong, He made His way through them;
when He heard of the Baptist's death, He retired
across the lake into a desert place, apart. If it
be said that He did so, because His time was not 15
yet come, and that when it was come, He
delivered up Himself, we must ask, in reply, how a
man can know that his time is come, so as to
have a right to act as Christ acted? And since
we do not know, we must have patience; and, 20
till God by His own act determines the time, we
must "wander in sheepskins and goatskins,"
rather than take the matter into our own hands;
as even Saul, the persecutor, was left by David
in the hands of God, whether He would "strike 25
him, or his day should come to die, or he should
go down to battle and perish."

If God's servants, proceeds Athanasius, have
at any time presented themselves before their
persecutors, it was at God's command: thus Elias 30
showed himself to Achab; so did the prophet
from Juda, to Jeroboam; and St. Paul appealed
to Cæsar. Flight, so far from implying
cowardice, requires often greater courage than not to
flee. It is a greater trial of heart. Death is an
end of all trouble; he who flees is ever expecting 5
death, and dies daily. Job's life was not to be
touched by Satan, yet was not his fortitude
shown in what he suffered? Exile is full of
miseries. The after-conduct of the saints showed
they had not fled for fear. Jacob, on his 10
death-bed, contemned death, and blessed each of the
twelve Patriarchs; Moses returned, and
presented himself before Pharao; David was a
valiant warrior; Elias rebuked Achab and
Ochazias; Peter and Paul, who had once hid 15
themselves, offered themselves to martyrdom at
Rome. And so acceptable was the previous
flight of these men to Almighty God, that we
read of His showing them some special favor
during it. Then it was that Jacob had the 20
vision of Angels; Moses saw the burning bush;
David wrote his prophetic Psalms; Elias raised
the dead, and gathered the people on Mount
Carmel. How would the Gospel ever have been
preached throughout the world, if the Apostles 25
had not fled? And, since their time, those, too,
who have become martyrs, at first fled; or, if they
advanced to meet their persecutors, it was by
some secret suggestion of the Divine Spirit. But,
above all, while these instances abundantly 30
illustrate the rule of duty in persecution, and the
temper of mind necessary in those who observe
it, we have that duty itself declared in a plain
precept by no other than our Lord: "When they
shall persecute you in this city," He says, "flee
into another;" and "let them that are in Judea 5
flee unto the mountains."

Thus argues the great Athanasius, living in
spirit with the saints departed, while full of
labor and care here on earth. For the
arguments on the other side, let us turn to a writer, 10
not less vigorous in mind, but less subdued in
temper. Thus writes Tertullian on the same
subject, then a Montanist, a century and a half
earlier: Nothing happens, he says, without
God's will. Persecution is sent by Him, to put 15
His servants to the test; to divide between good
and bad: it is a trial; what man has any right
to interfere? He who gives the prize, alone can
assign the combat. Persecution is more than
permitted, it is actually appointed by Almighty 20
God. It does the Church much good, as leading
Christians to increased seriousness while it lasts.
It comes and goes at God's ordering. Satan
could not touch Job, except so far as God gave
permission. He could not touch the Apostles, 25
except as far as an opening was allowed in the
words, "Satan hath desired to have you, but I
have prayed for thee," Peter, "and thou, being
once converted, confirm thy brethren." We
pray, "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver 30
us from evil;" why, if we may deliver ourselves?
Satan is permitted access to us, either for
punishment, as in Saul's case, or for our chastisement.
Since the persecution comes from God, we may
not lawfully avoid it, nor can we avoid it. We
cannot, because He is all powerful; we must not, 5
because He is all good. We should leave the
matter entirely to God. As to the command of
fleeing from city to city, this was temporary. It
was intended to secure the preaching of the
Gospel to the nations. While the Apostles preached 10
to the Jews,--till they had preached to the
Gentiles,--they were to flee; but one might as
well argue, that we now are not to go "into the
way of the Gentiles," but to confine ourselves
to "the lost sheep of the house of Israel," as that 15
we are now to "flee from city to city." Nor,
indeed, was going from city to city a flight; it was
a continued preaching; not an accident, but a
rule: whether persecuted or not, they were to go
about; and before they had gone through the 20
cities of Israel, the Lord was to come. The
command contemplated only those very cities.
If St. Paul escaped out of Damascus by night,
yet afterwards, against the prayers of the disciples
and the prophecy of Agabus, he went up to 25
Jerusalem. Thus the command to flee did not last
even through the lifetime of the Apostles; and,
indeed, why should God introduce persecution,
if He bids us retire from it? This is imputing
inconsistency to His acts. If we want texts to 30
justify our not fleeing, He says, "Whoso shall
confess Me before men, I will confess him before
My Father." "Blessed are they that suffer
persecution;" "He that shall persevere to the end,
he shall be saved;" "Be not afraid of them that
kill the body;" "Whosoever does not carry his 5
cross and come after Me, cannot be My disciple."
How are these texts fulfilled when a man flees?
Christ, who is our pattern, did not more than
pray, "If it be possible, let this chalice pass;"
we, too, should both stay and pray as He did. 10
And it is expressly told us, that "We also ought
to lay down our lives for the brethren." Again, it
is said, "Perfect charity casteth out fear;" he
who flees, fears; he who fears, "is not perfected
in charity." The Greek proverb is sometimes 15
urged, "He who flees, will fight another day;"
yes, and he may flee another day, also. Again,
if bishops, priests, and deacons flee, why must
the laity stay? or must they flee also? "The
good shepherd," on the contrary, "layeth down 20
his life for his sheep;" whereas, the bad shepherd
"seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep,
and fleeth." At no time, as Jeremiah, Ezekiel,
and Zechariah tell us, is the flock in greater
danger of being scattered than when it loses its 25
shepherd. Tertullian ends thus: "This doctrine, my
brother, perhaps appears to you hard; nay,
intolerable. But recollect that God has said, 'He
that can take, let him take it;' that is, he who
receives it not, let him depart. He who fears to 30
suffer cannot belong to Him who has suffered.
He who does not fear to suffer is perfect in love,
that is, of God. Many are called, few are chosen.
Not he who would walk the broad way is sought
out by God, but he who walks the narrow."
Thus the ingenious and vehement Tertullian. 5

III

With these remarks for and against flight in
persecution, we shall be prepared to listen to
Augustine on the subject; I have said, it was
brought under his notice by a brother bishop,
with reference to the impending visitation of the 10
barbarians. His answer happily is preserved to
us, and extracts from it shall now be set before
the reader.

"TO HIS HOLY BROTHERS AND FELLOW-BISHOP HONORATUS, AUGUSTINE SENDS
HEALTH IN THE LORD

"I thought the copy of my letter to our brother
Quodvultdeus, which I sent to you, would have been 15
sufficient, dear brother, without the task you put on me
of counseling you on the proper course to pursue under
our existing dangers. It was certainly a short letter;
yet I included every question which it was necessary to
ask and answer, when I said that no persons were 20
hindered from retiring to such fortified places as they were
able and desirous to secure; while, on the other hand, we
might not break the bonds of our ministry, by which
the love of Christ has engaged us not to desert the Church,
where we are bound to serve. The following is what I 25
laid down in the letter I refer to: 'It remains, then,'
I say, 'that, though God's people in the place where we
are be ever so few, yet, if it does stay, we, whose ministration
is necessary to its staying, must say to the Lord,
Thou art our strong rock and place of defense.'

"But you tell me that this view is not sufficient for
you, from an apprehension lest we should be running
counter to our Lord's command and example, to flee 5
from city to city. Yet is it conceivable that He meant
that our flocks, whom He bought with His own blood,
should be deprived of that necessary ministration
without which they cannot live? Is He a precedent for
this, who was carried in flight into Egypt by His parents 10
when but a child, before He had formed Churches which
we can talk of His leaving? Or, when St. Paul was let
down in a basket through a window, lest the enemy
should seize him, and so escaped his hands, was the Church
of that place bereft of its necessary ministration, seeing 15
there were other brethren stationed there to fulfill what
was necessary? Evidently it was their wish that he,
who was the direct object of the persecutors' search,
should preserve himself for the sake of the Church.
Let then, the servants of Christ, the ministers of His 20
word and sacraments, do in such cases as He enjoined
or permitted. Let such of them, by all means, flee from
city to city, as are special objects of persecution; so
that they who are not thus attacked desert not the
Church, but give meat to those their fellow-servants, 25
who they know cannot live without it. But in a case
when all classes--I mean bishops, clergy, and
people--are in some common danger, let not those who need the
aid of others be deserted by those whom they need. Either
let one and all remove into some fortified place, or, if 30
any are obliged to remain, let them not be abandoned
by those who have to supply their ecclesiastical necessity,
so that they may survive in common, or suffer in common
what their Father decrees they should undergo."

Then he makes mention of the argument of a 35
certain bishop, that "if our Lord has enjoined
upon us flight, in persecutions which may ripen
into martyrdom, much more is it necessary to
flee from barren sufferings in a barbarian and
hostile invasion," and he says, "this is true and
reasonable, in the case of such as have no 5
ecclesiastical office to tie them;" but he continues:

"Why should men make no question about obeying
the precept of fleeing from city to city, and yet have
no dread of 'the hireling who seeth the wolf coming, and
fleeth, because he careth not for the sheep'? Why do 10
they not try to reconcile (as they assuredly can) these
two incontrovertible declarations of our Lord, one of
which suffers and commands flight, the other arraigns
and condemns it? And what other mode is there of
reconciling them than that which I have above laid down? 15
viz., that we, the ministers of Christ, who are under the
pressure of persecution, are _then_ at liberty to leave our
posts, when no flock is left for us to serve; or again,
when, though there be a flock, yet there are others to
supply our necessary ministry, who have not the same 20
reason for fleeing,--as in the case of St. Paul; or,
again, of the holy Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria,
who was especially sought after by the emperor
Constantius, while the Catholic people, who remained
together in Alexandria, were in no measure deserted by the 25
other ministers. But when the people remain, and the
ministers flee, and the ministration is suspended, what
is that but the guilty flight of hirelings, who care not for
the sheep? For then the wolf will come,--not man, but
the devil, who is accustomed to persuade such believers 30
to apostasy, who are bereft of the daily ministration of
the Lord's Body; and by your, not knowledge, but
ignorance of duty, the weak brother will perish, for whom
Christ died.

"Let us only consider, when matters come to an 35
extremity of danger, and there is no longer any means
of escape, how persons flock together to the Church, of
both sexes, and all ages, begging for baptism, or
reconciliation, or even for works of penance, and one and
all of them for consolation, and the consecration and 5
application of the sacraments. Now, if ministers are
wanting, what ruin awaits those, who depart from this
life unregenerate or unabsolved! Consider the grief
of their believing relatives, who will not have them as
partakers with themselves in the rest of eternal life; 10
consider the anguish of the whole multitude, nay, the
cursings of some of them, at the absence of ministration
and ministers.

"It may be said, however, that the ministers of God
ought to avoid such imminent perils, in order to 15
preserve themselves for the profit of the Church for more
tranquil times. I grant it where others are present to
supply the ecclesiastical ministry, as in the case of
Athanasius. How necessary it was to the Church, how
beneficial, that such a man should remain in the flesh, the 20
Catholic faith bears witness, which was maintained
against the Arians by his voice and his love. But when
there is a common danger, and when there is rather
reason to apprehend lest a man should be thought to
flee, not from purpose of prudence, but from dread of 25
dying, and when the example of flight does more harm
than the service of living does good, it is by no means
to be done. To be brief, holy David withdrew himself
from the hazard of war, lest perchance he should 'quench
the light of Israel,' at the instance of his people, not on 30
his own motion. Otherwise, he would have occasioned
many imitators of an inactivity which they had in that
case ascribed, not to regard for the welfare of others,
but to cowardice."

Then he goes on to a further question, what is 35
to be done in a case where all ministers are likely
to perish, unless some of them take to flight? or
when persecution is set on foot only with the view
of reaching the ministers of the Church? This
leads him to exclaim:

"O, that there may be then a quarrel between God's 5
ministers, _who_ are to remain, and _who_ to flee, lest the
Church should be deserted, whether by all fleeing or all
dying! Surely there will ever be such a quarrel, where
each party burns in its own charity, yet indulges the
charity of the other. In such a difficulty, the lot seems 10
the fairest decision, in default of others. God judges
better than man in perplexities of this sort; whether it
be His will to reward the holier among them with the
crown of martyrdom, and to spare the weak, or again,
to strengthen the latter to endure evil, removing those 15
from life whom the Church of God can spare the better.
Should it, however, seem inexpedient to cast
lots,--a measure for which I cannot bring precedent,--at
least, let no one's flight be the cause of the Church's
losing those ministrations which, in such dangers, are 20
so necessary and so imperative. Let no one make
himself an exception, on the plea of having some particular
grace, which gives him a claim to life, and therefore to
flight.

"It is sometimes supposed that bishops and clergy, 25
remaining at their posts in dangers of this kind, mislead
their flocks into staying, by their example. But it is
easy for us to remove this objection or imputation, by
frankly telling them not to be misled by our remaining.
'We are remaining for your sake,' we must say, 'lest you 30
should fail to obtain such ministration, as we know to
be necessary to your salvation in Christ. Make your
escape, and you will then set us free.' The occasion for
saying this is when there seems some real advantage in
retiring to a safer position. Should all or some make 35
answer, 'We are in His hands from whose anger no one
can flee anywhere; whose mercy every one may find
everywhere, though he stir not, whether some necessary
tie detains him, or the uncertainty of safe escape deters
him'; most undoubtedly such persons are not to be
left destitute of Christian ministrations. 5

"I have written these lines, dearest brother, in truth,
as I think, and in sure charity, by way of reply, since you
have consulted me; but not as dictating, if, perchance,
you may find some better view to guide you. However,
better we cannot do in these perils than pray the Lord 10
our God to have mercy upon us."--_Ep._ 228.

IV

The luminous judgment, the calm faith, and
the single-minded devotion which this letter
exhibits, were fully maintained in the conduct of
the far-famed writer, in the events which 15
followed. It was written on the first entrance of
the Vandals into Africa, about two years before
they laid siege to Hippo; and during this
interval of dreadful suspense and excitement, as well
as of actual suffering, amid the desolation of the 20
Church around him, with the prospect of his own
personal trials, we find this unwearied teacher
carrying on his works of love by pen, and word
of mouth,--eagerly, as knowing his time was
short, but tranquilly, as if it were a season of 25
prosperity....

His life had been for many years one of great
anxiety and discomfort, the life of one dissatisfied
with himself, and despairing of finding the truth.
Men of ordinary minds are not so circumstanced 30
as to feel the misery of irreligion. That misery
consists in the perverted and discordant action
of the various faculties and functions of the soul,
which have lost their legitimate governing power,
and are unable to regain it, except at the hands 5
of their Maker. Now the run of irreligious men
do not suffer in any great degree from this
disorder, and are not miserable; they have neither
great talents nor strong passions; they have not
within them the materials of rebellion in such 10
measure as to threaten their peace. They follow
their own wishes, they yield to the bent of the
moment, they act on inclination, not on principle,
but their motive powers are neither strong nor
various enough to be troublesome. Their minds 15
are in no sense under rule; but anarchy is not in
their case a state of confusion, but of deadness;
not unlike the internal condition as it is reported
of eastern cities and provinces at present, in
which, though the government is weak or null, 20
the body politic goes on without any great
embarrassment or collision of its members one with
another, by the force of inveterate habit. It is
very different when the moral and intellectual
principles are vigorous, active, and developed. 25
Then, if the governing power be feeble, all the
subordinates are in the position of rebels in arms;
and what the state of a mind is under such
circumstances, the analogy of a civil community will
suggest to us. Then we have before us the 30
melancholy spectacle of high aspirations without
an aim, a hunger of the soul unsatisfied, and a
never ending restlessness and inward warfare of
its various faculties. Gifted minds, if not
submitted to the rightful authority of religion,
become the most unhappy and the most mischievous. 5
They need both an object to feed upon, and the
power of self-mastery; and the love of their
Maker, and nothing but it, supplies both the one
and the other. We have seen in our own day, in
the case of a popular poet, an impressive instance 10
of a great genius throwing off the fear of God,
seeking for happiness in the creature, roaming
unsatisfied from one object to another, breaking
his soul upon itself, and bitterly confessing and
imparting his wretchedness to all around him. 15
I have no wish at all to compare him to St.
Augustine; indeed, if we may say it without
presumption, the very different termination of their trial
seems to indicate some great difference in their
respective modes of encountering it. The one 20
dies of premature decay, to all appearance, a
hardened infidel; and if he is still to have a name,
will live in the mouths of men by writings at once
blasphemous and immoral: the other is a Saint
and Doctor of the Church. Each makes 25
confessions, the one to the saints, the other to the
powers of evil. And does not the difference of
the two discover itself in some measure, even to
our eyes, in the very history of their wanderings
and pinings? At least, there is no appearance in 30
St. Augustine's case of that dreadful haughtiness,
sullenness, love of singularity, vanity, irritability,
and misanthropy, which were too certainly the
characteristics of our own countryman.
Augustine was, as his early history shows, a man of
affectionate and tender feelings, and open and 5
amiable temper; and, above all, he sought for some
excellence external to his own mind, instead of
concentrating all his contemplations on himself.

But let us consider what his misery was; it
was that of a mind imprisoned, solitary, and wild 10
with spiritual thirst; and forced to betake itself
to the strongest excitements, by way of relieving
itself of the rush and violence of feelings, of which
the knowledge of the Divine Perfections was the
true and sole sustenance. He ran into excess, 15
not from love of it, but from this fierce fever of
mind. "I sought what I might love,"[28] he says
in his Confessions, "in love with loving, and safety
I hated, and a way without snares. For within
me was a famine of that inward food, Thyself, 20
my God; yet throughout that famine I was not
hungered, but was without any longing for
incorruptible sustenance, not because filled therewith,
but the more empty, the more I loathed it. For
this cause my soul was sickly and full of sores; it 25
miserably cast itself forth, desiring to be scraped
by the touch of objects of sense."--iii. I.

[28] Most of these translations are from the Oxford edition of 1838.

"O foolish man that I then was," he says elsewhere,
"enduring impatiently the lot of man! So I fretted,
sighed, wept, was distracted; had neither rest nor
counsel. For I bore about a shattered and bleeding
soul, impatient of being borne by me, yet where to repose
it I found not; not in calm groves, nor in games and
music, nor in fragrant spots, nor in curious banquetings, 5
nor in indulgence of the bed and the couch, nor, finally, in
books or poetry found it repose. All things looked ghastly,
yea, the very light. In groaning and tears alone found
I a little refreshment. But when my soul was withdrawn
from them, a huge load of misery weighed me down. 10
To Thee, O Lord, it ought to have been raised, for Thee
to lighten; I knew it, but neither could, nor would;
the more, since when I thought of Thee, Thou wast not
to me any solid or substantial thing. For Thou wert not
Thyself, but a mere phantom, and my error was my God. 15
If I offered to discharge my load thereon, that it might
rest, it glided through the void, and came rushing down
against me; and I had remained to myself a hapless
spot, where I could neither be, nor be from thence. For
whither should my heart flee from my heart? whither 20
should I flee from myself? whither not follow myself?
And yet I fled out of my country; for so should mine
eyes look less for _him_, where they were not wont to see
him."--iv. 12.

He is speaking in this last sentence of a friend he 25
had lost, whose death-bed was very remarkable,
and whose dear familiar name he apparently has
not courage to mention. "He had grown from a
child with me," he says, "and we had been both
schoolfellows and playfellows." Augustine had 30
misled him into the heresy which he had adopted
himself, and when he grew to have more and more
sympathy in Augustine's pursuits, the latter united
himself to him in a closer intimacy. Scarcely had
he thus given him his heart, when God took him. 35

"Thou tookest him," he says, "out of this life, when he
had scarce completed one whole year of my friendship,
sweet to me above all sweetness in that life of mine.
A long while, sore sick of a fever, he lay senseless in the
dews of death, and being given over, he was baptized 5
unwitting; I, meanwhile little regarding, or presuming
that his soul would retain rather what it had received
of me than what was wrought on his unconscious body."

The Manichees, it should be observed, rejected
baptism. He proceeds: 10

"But it proved far otherwise; for he was refreshed
and restored. Forthwith, as soon as I could speak with
him (and I could as soon as he was able, for I never left
him, and we hung but too much upon each other), I
essayed to jest with him, as though he would jest with 15
me at that baptism, which he had received, when
utterly absent in mind and feeling, but had now understood
that he had received. But he shrunk from me, as from
an enemy; and with a wonderful and sudden freedom
bade me, if I would continue his friend, forbear such 20
language to him. I, all astonished and amazed,
suppressed all my emotions till he should grow well, and his
health were strong enough for me to deal with him as I
would. But he was taken away from my madness, that
with Thee he might be preserved for my comfort: a few 25
days after, in my absence, he was attacked again by
fever, and so departed."--iv. 8.

V

From distress of mind Augustine left his native
place, Thagaste, and came to Carthage, where he
became a teacher in rhetoric. Here he fell in 30
with Faustus, an eminent Manichean bishop and
disputant, in whom, however, he was
disappointed; and the disappointment abated his
attachment to his sect, and disposed him to look
for truth elsewhere. Disgusted with the license
which prevailed among the students at Carthage, 5
he determined to proceed to Rome, and
disregarding and eluding the entreaties of his mother,
Monica, who dreaded his removal from his own
country, he went thither. At Rome he resumed
his professions; but inconveniences as great, 10
though of another kind, encountered him in that
city; and upon the people of Milan sending for a
rhetoric reader, he made application for the
appointment, and obtained it. To Milan then he
came, the city of St. Ambrose, in the year of our 15
Lord 385.

Ambrose, though weak in voice, had the
reputation of eloquence; and Augustine, who seems
to have gone with introductions to him, and was
won by his kindness of manner, attended his 20
sermons with curiosity and interest. "I listened,"
he says, "not in the frame of mind which became
me, but in order to see whether his eloquence
answered what was reported of it: I hung on his
words attentively, but of the matter I was but an 25
unconcerned and contemptuous hearer."--v. 23.
His impression of his style of preaching is worth
noticing: "I was delighted with the sweetness
of his discourse, more full of knowledge, yet in
manner less pleasurable and soothing, than that 30
of Faustus." Augustine was insensibly moved:
he determined on leaving the Manichees, and
returning to the state of a catechumen in the
Catholic Church, into which he had been admitted
by his parents. He began to eye and muse upon
the great bishop of Milan more and more, and tried 5
in vain to penetrate his secret heart, and to
ascertain the thoughts and feelings which swayed him.
He felt he did not understand him. If the
respect and intimacy of the great could make
a man happy, these advantages he perceived 10
Ambrose to possess; yet he was not satisfied that
he was a happy man. His celibacy seemed a
drawback: what constituted his hidden life? or
was he cold at heart? or was he of a famished
and restless spirit? He felt his own malady, and 15
longed to ask him some questions about it. But
Ambrose could not easily be spoken with. Though
accessible to all, yet that very circumstance
made it difficult for an individual, especially one
who was not of his flock, to get a private 20
interview with him. When he was not taken up with
the Christian people who surrounded him, he
was either at his meals or engaged in private
reading. Augustine used to enter, as all persons
might, without being announced; but after 25
staying awhile, afraid of interrupting him, he
departed again. However, he heard his expositions
of Scripture every Sunday, and gradually made
progress.

He was now in his thirtieth year, and since he 30
was a youth of eighteen had been searching after
truth; yet he was still "in the same mire, greedy of
things present," but finding nothing stable.

"To-morrow," he said to himself, "I shall find it; it
will appear manifestly, and I shall grasp it: lo, Faustus
the Manichee will come and clear everything! O you 5
great men, ye academics, is it true, then, that no
certainty can be attained for the ordering of life? Nay,
let us search diligently, and despair not. Lo, things in
the ecclesiastical books are not absurd to us now, which
sometimes seemed absurd, and may be otherwise taken 10
and in a good sense. I will take my stand where, as a
child, my parents placed me, until the clear truth be
found out. But where shall it be sought, or when?
Ambrose has no leisure; we have no leisure to read;
where shall we find even the books? where, or when, 15
procure them? Let set times be appointed, and
certain hours be ordered for the health of our soul. Great
hope has dawned; the Catholic faith teaches not what
we thought; and do we doubt to knock, that the rest
may be opened? The forenoons, indeed, our scholars 20
take up; what do we during the rest of our time? why
not this? But if so, when pay we court to our great
friend, whose favors we need? when compose what we
may sell to scholars? when refresh ourselves, unbending
our minds from this intenseness of care? 25

"Perish everything: dismiss we these empty
vanities; and betake ourselves to the one search for truth!
Life is a poor thing, death is uncertain; if it surprises
us, in what state shall we depart hence? and when shall
we learn what here we have neglected? and shall we not 30
rather suffer the punishment of this negligence? What
if death itself cut off and end all care and feeling?
Then must this be ascertained. But God forbid this!
It is no vain and empty thing, that the excellent dignity
of the Christian faith has overspread the whole world. 35
Never would such and so great things be wrought for
us by God, if with the body the soul also came to an
end. Wherefore delay then to abandon worldly hopes,
and give ourselves wholly to seek after God and the
blessed life?..."

Finding Ambrose, though kind and accessible, 5
yet reserved, he went to an aged man named
Simplician, who, as some say, baptized St.
Ambrose, and eventually succeeded him in his
see. He opened his mind to him, and
happening in the course of his communications to 10
mention Victorinus's translation of some Platonic
works, Simplician asked him if he knew that
person's history. It seems he was a professor of
rhetoric at Rome, was well versed in literature and
philosophy, had been tutor to many of the 15
senators, and had received the high honor of a statue
in the Forum. Up to his old age he had
professed, and defended with his eloquence, the old
pagan worship. He was led to read the Holy
Scriptures, and was brought, in consequence, to 20
a belief in their divinity. For a while he did not
feel the necessity of changing his profession; he
looked upon Christianity as a philosophy, he
embraced it as such, but did not propose to join
what he considered the Christian sect, or, as 25
Christians would call it, the Catholic Church.
He let Simplician into his secret; but whenever
the latter pressed him to take the step, he was
accustomed to ask, "whether walls made a
Christian." However, such a state could not 30
continue with a man of earnest mind: the leaven
worked; at length he unexpectedly called upon
Simplician to lead him to church. He was
admitted a catechumen, and in due time baptized,
"Rome wondering, the Church rejoicing." It
was customary at Rome for the candidates for 5
baptism to profess their faith from a raised place
in the church, in a set form of words. An offer
was made to Victorinus, which was not unusual
in the case of bashful and timid persons, to make
his profession in private. But he preferred to 10
make it in the ordinary way. "I was public
enough," he made answer, "in my profession of
rhetoric, and ought not to be frightened when
professing salvation." He continued the school
which he had before he became a Christian, till 15
the edict of Julian forced him to close it. This
story went to Augustine's heart, but it did not
melt it. There was still the struggle of two wills,
the high aspiration and the habitual inertness.
His conversion took place in the summer of 386. 20

* * * * *

He gives an account of the termination of the
conflict he underwent: