I am a heritage because I brln you years of tboupbt and the lore of time ^ I Impart yet I can pot speab I bave traveled amon^ tbe peoples of tbe eartb I am a rover-^ Oft-Un?eo I 5tr<^ jron? tbe/tresLde, of tbe or^ u;bo toves and D9lc>DeC) n?e ujber? I an? ^oi9e-^5bould you find me Ma^ravi please send i7?e bon9e-an9oi9s n?y brotbers-on tbe book_ shelves of .............. UNIVERSITY LIBRARY )F AUTOBIOGRAPHY I INCLUDING AIJL THE GREAT AUTOBIO GRAPHIBvS AND THE AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL DATA LEFT BY THE WORLD'S FAMOUS MEN AND WOMEN. I BY THE LEADING SCHOLARS NEW YORIC. CTIONS ATIONS IOLAK.S AMERICA, I m \W: M\ **m all (M iki/l m V^ II M^ W ^^\ $^Jn TBJ^N H^x ^\X^V MPANX we. ^^ vv^x N _ ^^t ll SsSx> ^Mf^^^mm^ A ^^ 35TJ This is Copy Number of the PRESIDENTS' EDITION and is registered in the name of ^^*^~^+-^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 3EJ Of the PRESIDENTS' EDITION UNIVERSITY LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY there nave been printed one thousand and fifty numbered and registered sets of fifteen volumes each. 'IU*MjPjMMM^UI THIS SERIES IS DEDICATED TO THAT JUSTLY HONORED GROUP OF MEN, OUR AMERICAN COLLEGE AND UNIVERSITY PRESIDENTS, WITHOUT WHOSE ACTIVE COOPERATION IN ENCOURAGEMENT, ADVICE AND LITERARY CONTRIBUTIONS, THIS WORK WOULD HAVE BEEN IMPOSSIBLE. SPECIAL COLLEGIATE ADVISORS AND CONTRIBUTORS TO THE SERIES BATES COLLEGE President George C. Chase, D.D., LL.D. BROWN UNIVERSITY President William H. P. Faunce, D.D., LL.D. CORNELL UNIVERSITY President Jacob G. Schurman, Sc.D., LL.D. DARTMOUTH COLLEGE President Ernest M. Hopkins, Litt.D., LL.D. ELMIRA COLLEGE FOR WOMEN President John B. Shaw, D.D., LL.D. GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY President Alphonsus J. Donlon, S.J. HOBART COLLEGE President Lyman P. Powell, D.D., LL.D. LELAND STANFORD UNIVERSITY President Ray L. Wilbur, A.M., M.D. MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY President Richard C. Maclaurin, Sc.D., LL.D. MOUNT HOLYOKE COLLEGE President Mary E. Woolley, Litt.D., LL.D. COLLEGE OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK Professor Charles F. Home, Ph.D. PACIFIC UNIVERSITY President Charles J. Bushnell, Ph.D. PENNSYLVANIA STATE COLLEGE President Edwin F. Sparks, Ph.D., LL.D. UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA President Edgar E. Smith, Sc.D., LL.D. PRINCETON UNIVERSITY President John G. Hibben, Ph.D., LL.D. PURDUE UNIVERSITY President Winthrop E. Stone, Ph.D., LL.D. UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS President Robert E. Vinson, D.D., LL.D. UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY President A. C. McGiffert, D.D., Ph.D. VANDERBILT UNIVERSITY President James H. Kirkland, Ph.D., LL.D. UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA President Edwin A. Alderman, D.C.L., LL.D. WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY President Charles F. Thwing, D.D., LL.D. YALE UNIVERSITY Dean Wilbur L. Cross, Ph.D. "Know Thyself" Plato "A few go forth to wonder at the height of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves." St. Augustine . VOLUMF V ric tent Wor SENNACHERIB, KING OF ASSYRIA roefr firistian iTB I Y CHAAT fruit** oj I'MJtrl.U !!.-., tern 3E! I'-t-.M-^.iffi.' -..; j Brown VWJHH+ VOLUME I (B. C._3800 A. D. 430) INCLUDING THE SELF-NARRATIVES OP KING S ARGON, founder of ancient Babylon; SEN- NACHERIB, the Assyrian ravager of Jerusalem; SOCRA- TES, wisest of Greek philosophers; XENOPHON, noblest of Greek heroes; JULIUS CAESAR, greatest of Roman gen- erals; AUGUSTUS CAESAR, first of Roman emperors; JOSEPHUS, the renowned Jewish patriot; MARCUS AURELIUS, profoundest of Roman thinkers; and SAINT AUGUSTINE, the great leader of Christian thought. WITH INTRODUCTORY ESSAYS BY JAMES H. KIRKLAND President of Vanderbilt University ROBERT E. VINSON President of the University of Texas WILLIAM H. P. FAUNCE President of Brown Univertitji COPYRIGHT, 1918, BT F. TYLER DANIELS COMPANY INCORPORATED , Stack Annex CT" PAGE GENERAL INTRODUCTION XIII AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN THE ANCIENT WORLD XIX APPRECIATIONS Socrates, by J. H. Kirkland of Vanderbilt University xxvii Josephus, by R. E. Vinson of the University of Texas xxxi Marcus Aurelius, by W. H. P. Faunce of Brown University. . xxxv THE EARLIEST AUTOBIOGRAPHIES 1 Records of King Sargon of Babylon, S800 B.C. (?) 3 Inscription of Lord Uni of Egypt, 2600 B.C. (?) 5 Memoirs of Prince Sinuhit of Egypt, 2000 B.C 10 Inscription of King Sennacherib of Assyria, 681 B.C 21 SOCRATES, 469-399 B.C 33 The Apologia 34 XENOPHON, 435-354 B.C 57 The Katabasis 58 JULIUS C.ESAR, 100-44 B.C 101 The Commentaries 102 AUGUSTUS C.ESAR, 63 B.C.-14 A.D 141 Monumentum Ancyranum 142 JOSEPHUS, 37-100 A.D 155 The Defense of Flavins Josephus 155 MARCUS AURELIUS, 121-180 A.D 201 Meditations 202 SAINT AUGUSTINE, 354-430 A.D 251 Confessions 252 ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOLUME I TO FACE PAGE Sennacherib, King of Assj-ria Frontispiece Socrates 33 Xenophon 57 Julius Csesar 101 Augustus Csesar 141 Flavius Josephus 155 Marcus Aurelius Antoninus 201 Saint Augustine of Hippo 251 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY GENERAL INTRODUCTION To establish the fact that there was a wide demand for such a series of volumes as is here presented, the reader need only glance at the vigorous endorsement and assistance it has re- ceived from so many of our country 's foremost educators, our leading College Presidents. Their support was doubtless due in part to the arrangement of the series, its scholarship, care, and above all its completeness. Yet the universal approval is due even more to the value of the themes themselves. Autobiography is what biography ought to be. It is the lives of men written not by hearsay, but by exact personal knowledge. Naturally autobiography has always ranked among the most interesting forms of reading. It might also be ranked as the most instructive, the most practically useful; because of its value as psychology. In the careful perusal of a man's own account of his own life, his estimate of his own character, aims and passions, we are reaching the nearest we ever can to the first hand study of human nature. If, as has been often said, history is philosophy taught by example, we might with equal truth declare autobiography to be psychol- ogy taught by example. Would you learn how to direct the thought and action of your fellow-men, how to sway their judgments or lead them to some higher life, read the "confessions" and "apologies" of the various types of men and women whose hearts are here laid bare, with their own candid analyses of impulse and de- sire. No other form of literature so nearly eliminates the "middlemen," the professional authors and publishers mak- ing books for a livelihood. Few autobiographies are written for money, few are published until the writer is dead; so in them the narrator considers not the public's tastes but his xiii xiv LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY own. Autobiographies constitute the most intimate form of literature. That is what creates their value. "The proper study of mankirid is man." Few impulses have proven more universal than the one which leads men to talk of their own lives. Merely mention to any thoughtful person the plan of the present series, and he is almost sure to say that he helieves his own life, truly told, would be of in- terest to others. He becomes reminiscent on the spot. He knows that the lessons of life that his experiences have taught him, would be valuable to others. He knows, as that shrewd critic Alfred Lewis once said, that "People are interested in people in what they say and do and think and are. ' ' More- over it is by studying the lives of others that we learn how to govern our own lives. It is by the light of others' failures or successes, their defeats or victories, that we chart the channels of existence. "Every individual is a lesson-leaf, from which humanity, at school to its own destinies, may draw improve- ment." Doubtless, we find in these facts the chief reason why Na- poleon declared autobiography to be his favorite reading; he was a student of men. Many a shrewd and successful busi- ness man of to-day has expressed a similar preference. Yet both Napoleon and the business man may well have had a deeper reason for their choice. To quote a noted specialist upon the subject, Anna S. Burr, "A sincere, full autobiogra- phy is not written save by an important man." In other words the impulse to explain one's whole life in writing, and the sustained effort to accomplish this, these two in combination imply not only unusual intellectual power, but also unusual earnestness and energy. Moreover the strong impulse to speak forth comes only from strong emotion. The autobiography is almost always the outburst of some intensely passioned, intensely fervent soul, a cry from the deepest deeps of life. Even among ourselves of to-day how many an earnest spirit after some great personal crisis of upheaval, some black night of mental agony, has grasped a pen intending to pour out the gush of feeling, reveal the pang and the stress, so that others may read and be warned and escape. Many autobiographies have been thus written as diaries, some as intimate diaries GENERAL INTRODUCTION xv never intended for alien eyes. The thoughtful reader will approach these earnest works with an uncovered head, as one who stands reverently before the naked soul God's image, though often a distorted one. Shallow spirits babble forth in spoken words ; strong spirits if they speak at all wish to put their words into permanent form, to be read of all men and forever. To quote the cele- brated critic, Leslie Stephens, "A dull autobiography has never been written." Or as the great French critic Taine phrases the idea in his enthusiasm, "I would give fifty vol- umes of charters and one hundred volumes of state papers for the memoirs of Cellini. ' ' If then it be agreed that autobiographies are tremendously worth the reading, for their intensity of interest, their depth of human passion and their breadth of human teaching, the next question arising is, which ones shall we select to read? To answer this the present publishers appealed to all the chief educators, the chief religious teachers, many of the chief thinkers of the country asking which were really the great autobiographies. The response has been widespread and con- clusive, and upon it the present series is founded. Many of these leaders and teachers of our generation have even cared to write for us their specific reasons why they chiefly valued some particular autobiography, and have made of it a special friend through life. With this aid we are able to assure our readers that they will find here every renowned and every important autobiography ranging back through all the ages. Some of these books, such as the Confessions of Augustine or of Rousseau, have long been ranked among the master- works of human effort. They have swayed nations and been read through ages. Yet the effort to recognize them for what they are, a class apart from other books, and to gather them all together in one series for comparison and collective study has not been made before. The present series might well be called the universal library of human nature, as well as of autobiography. In our endeavor to cover the entire field, we have gone back to the very earliest autobiographical remains. The series begins with the childhood of the human race, and seeks to xvi LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY trace how thought and character have developed. 'It places the first crude boastful records of ancient kings side by side with the scientific self-study of Darwin and Spencer, the rapt ecstasy of Saint Theresa, or the profound meditations of Aure- lius. It summons you to see for yourself how men have grown. Hence, while for our earlier volumes every fragment of available self-narrative has been preserved; in the later ones we have carefully eliminated everything not strictly personal. From the narratives of soldiers we have deleted the accounts of campaigns in which the writer had no actual part. From the diplomatic discussions of statesmen we have deleted the long explanations of political conditions. We have preserved only the really human matter, the personal account, what the writer himself did and thought and felt. The enormous mass of autobiographic material has been thus reduced within prac- tical bounds, so that a reader may get at once to the heart of the theme, may read with interest and pleasure as well as profit. In addition to finding here every noted or important auto- biography in literature, the reader will find also another style of self-narrative perhaps equally fascinating. The great au- tobiographers have by no means been always the great leaders of their day. Or, to put it conversely, the greatest of men have often omitted to write autobiographies. Yet almost ev- ery greatest man has left some touch of self-discussion, per- haps in a letter to a friend, or a statement to the public, or a journal, or official dispatch. Such autobiographical frag- ments have also been gathered here. The great leaders of every age are thus pictured in our volumes in so far as they have ever in any degree pictured themselves. In this way the series presents history as well as human nature. Indeed the various writers of their lives can only be understood when we understand their times. For this reason, they have here been grouped chronologically. Each volume covers a definite period of history and includes only the nar- ratives of its own time. Thus instead of a long separate in- troduction being necessary to explain the background of each narrative, they explain one another, while a brief general introduction to each volume covers the period historically, GENERAL INTRODUCTION xvii giving the reader such understanding and appreciation of the men and manners of the time as will enable him to read all the autobiographies with added interest and ease. It has seemed to the publishers perhaps the most valuable single item of their plan, that the whole work was thus made a clear and consecutive single story. These volumes outline the history of mankind and of civilization, at the same time that they show us the minds of earth's greatest leaders, and take us deeply into the real understanding of our human species. Hence the series forms not only an epitome of auto- biography, but also of history and philosophy. The student of himself and of his fellows may make it his master textbook for the study of psychology. INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN THE ANCIENT WORLD B. C. 3800 A. D. 430 AUTOBIOGRAPHY in our modern sense did not exist before the days of Jesus, the Christ. His teachings led men to look in- ward on their own souls, to regard the inner world of thoughts and feelings, the subjective world of the human mind, rather than the outer or objective world of things around us. An- cient man measured himself and his fellows by deeds and deeds alone, by physical results achieved, cities built or con- quered, wealth garnered or dispersed, slaves captured or ene- mies destroyed. Jesus taught that what a man is, values more than what he accomplishes, that the outer world is ruled by accident, the inner is our own to govern and control, and by the inner spiritual results alone should each of us be judged. That idea revolutionized the world. It turned the thoughts of all men inward upon themselves. Each had a kingdom of his own to govern, a character of his own to mold, a soul of his own to lift toward God. Hence the first great study of self, the first great introspective autobiography, is that of the first great "Christian father," Saint Augustine. With his narrative we reach the climax and the close of the present volume, with its self -picture of the ancient world. Before Augustine there had been many objective self-nar- ratives. Among the very earliest instincts of primeval man must have been the desire to boast to his fellows of his own successful deeds. Almost the earliest thought of the earliest pagan victor in his triumph was doubtless to set up a record of his conquests. Only a powerful king could in those uncul- tured days command the means for making and preserving such a record. He would set up a statue with some crudely engraved inscription, or perhaps have his picture and his boasting carved huge upon some mountain rock. xix xx LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY Of such nature are our earliest records of the past-; and the earliest self-story thus preserved that is, the earliest continu- ous narrative as contrasted to a mere king 's name and figure is the record of King Sargon, the reputed founder of Babylon. Sargon was a conqueror who lived almost four thousand years before Christ. He tells us that he was the first king who held in subjection all other men, ruled all the known world around him. But what manner of man was he, happy or unhappy, thoughtful or tumultuous, ruling well or ill ? This it did not occur to him to record. We can see he must have been a strong man and fortunate ; for he tells us that he rose from low estate, was the beloved of the oldest love-goddess, Ishtar of Babylonia. But of the real man Sargon, as his followers knew him, and dealt with him, and played upon his weak- nesses or trusted in his wisdom, of all this we know nothing. A few brief records such as Sargon 's, the first glimmerings of self-consciousness, form the opening section of our volume. They are chosen from the surviving fragments recently redis- covered and deciphered by our modern scientific university explorations in Babylonia and Egypt. We turn next to the far more living, far more human, bits of self-narrative which have come down to us from ancient Greece. It should be remembered that much of old Greek literature has perished with the ages, and that in Greece as in the still older lands of Egypt and of Asia, we build our knowledge only upon fragments, chance-preserved. Of these the oldest and by far the finest work of an autobiographic character is the "Apology of Socrates." This is Socrates' narrative or explanation of his own career, his thoughts and his teaching, which he is said to have given as a speech before the Athenian court when he was accused of corrupting the youth of Athens. The reader will find in this volume the essays of two distinguished modern educators who insist upon the importance of emphasizing this celebrated Apology, as being the first and one of the very grandest flashes of self- revelation by which autobiography opens to us the inner sanc- tum, the "Holy of Holies," the dwelling of the god in man. As Socrates was among the greatest philosophers and teach- ers of ancient Greece, so was Xenophon among its most admi- rable heroes. Athens was the earliest known democracy iu XXI the world, the first successful effort of mankind at equality and self-government. And Xenophon was a typical Athenian. He is little troubled by self-inspection such as that of Socrates, but for practical examination of the world around him, shrewd acceptance of its limitations, vigorous initiative, and assured self-confidence, our own age would have trouble to match young Xenophon. Study his narrative well and learn to know the antique Greeks from him, the characteristic Athe- nian, rather than from Socrates, the glorious exception. The Greeks conquered the old Asiatic civilization and then were in their turn conquered by the Romans, a rougher race little likely to produce even a single genius to achieve a self- study such as that of Socrates. Instead we move far forward through Roman days before we find even the objective auto- biography which records only deeds. This begins with Julius Cffisar. We find mention of an earlier similar narrative by Caesar's predecessor Sulla, but this has not been preserved. In Caesar's day Rome had already conquered the world; now Caesar conquered Rome. Ho became its earliest Empe- ror, a successor of that old Babylonian Sargon, or of the Greek, Alexander the Great, who wept that there were no more worlds for him to conquer. But the Roman ' ' world ' ' of Cassar was far vaster than the narrow region which had con- stituted the domains of the earlier "world-rulers." And even Cgesar's "world" was very tiny when measured with the true expanse of all the continents. Caesar perished at the hands of assassins, and would perhaps be as little known to us as earlier conquerors, had he not writ- ten his remarkable narratives of his own military campaigns. His descriptions are so clear, so exact, and yet so brief, that they have become the textbooks of our Latin schools, and have inspired thousands of military commanders to attempt similar outlines of their own campaigns. Unfortunately for any more humane purpose than the study of Latin and military tactics, Caesar's truly brilliant brevity cuts out almost all reference to himself, except as a figure-head. He even talks of himself in the third person, telling us that Caesar marched here or there, or that Caesar ordered a legion to do this or that, but with never a glance or hardly ever a glance behind the wooden mask to show us xxii LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY that Caesar's soul was glad or sad, or that the heart of Caesar trembled or beat high. Thus the narrative of Caesar prepared the way for many impersonal war narratives; and his influ- ence has kept similar books before us ever since. In these the author's personality is held in such restraint that the work scarcely comes at all within the realm of autobiography. Slightly more personal is the "Monumentum Ancyranum" of Augustus Caesar, which follows next in our volume. Augus- tus was the nephew of Julius Caesar and after much fighting and intrigue became his uncle 's successor, the master or ' ' Im- perator" of the Eoman world. Augustus sought to distinguish himself as the great Emperor of Peace. Roman generals had fought other Roman generals and dragged the whole world hither and thither in their quarrels with endless tumult for almost a century. Augustus, having suppressed revolt, set himself to make his people happy with the long forgotten happiness of peace. It was during that first universal peace the world had ever known, that Jesus was born at Bethlehem, in what was then the Roman subject kingdom of Judea. Naturally such a ruler as Augustus would want his world to realize something of the worthiness of his efforts. The re- nown of generals like his mighty uncle had been impressed on all men's minds by bloody victories, by abject provinces added to Rome's empire. How should Augustus make remembered his kindlier but far less spectacular services to the state ? He set up, probably in many places throughout his empire, monu- ments carefully enumerating each of his good deeds, his build- ings, his benefactions, his reductions of taxation; and each new achievement was regularly numbered and added to the list. Alas for human glory ! Every one of those monuments disappeared and was forgotten, until quite recently the broken remnants of just one such monument were found in the Asiatic city of Aneyra. So we have recovered Augustus ' own orotund announcement of his long-obliterated services to mankind. Thus we see that of pre-Christian self-narratives only those of the Greeks, of Socrates and Xenophon, were at all personal or introspective. The next such work we reach is that of the Jewish statesman and general, Josephus. His book presents a story intensely living, human and vivacious. Josephus like Socrates writes in self-defense. The Jews had risen in a wide- IN THE ANCIENT WORLD xxiii spread and desperate revolt against Rome, and had been crushed after much hard fighting. Josephus had taken part in the revolt, had been its leader in Galilee where he was a sort of semi-official governor, but had escaped punishment by the Romans, indeed been taken into favor. Why? Josephus himself offers excellent reasons, but could not still the voices of his foes among his own people, who accused him of treach- ery. He fronts the difficult task of justifying himself with- out offending his Roman masters ; and he handles the dilemma skilfully and boldly. Here for the first time in autobiography we find diplomacy. Socrates also had faced accusations; but he had scorned to bend or parley. The great Greek philoso- pher made his Apology facing death and willing to face death. Josephus originates for us that type of autobiographer who gives his work to the world during his life with the aim of protecting his remaining days rather than of clarifying the past. Perhaps the reader will begin here to discriminate with us between the various possible purposes of autobiographers and the effect of such contrasting purposes upon their writing. How much of Josephus are we to believe ? And if he does not stoop to falsify, how much does he suppress which might if told give a wholly different aspect to the tale? What other motives beside self-justification or as in the case of Sargon and Augustus, self-laudation could lead a man to the labor of autobiographic toil ? Partly perhaps we catch another mo- tive in Julius Caesar. His is that scientific impulse which finds a satisfaction in the mere logical systematizing of ma- terial for one's own use and that of others. Assuredly we approach another impulse with our next autobiography, the celebrated "Meditations" of Marcus Aurelius. Aurelius was also a Roman Emperor, though of later date (121-180 A. D.) than Julius and Augustus. The world which his predecessors had conquered, he ruled with kindliness and wisdom, was reckoned indeed among the very noblest of Ro- man rulers. In his day Christianity did not yet dominate the world. Aurelius himself knew very little of it except as a suspected doctrine held by some rebellious slaves. Yet the rising introspective spirit of the age is clearly visible in Aure- lius' work. xxiv LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY A great critic recently ranked Aurelius' book as* being the noblest pre-Christian expression of mankind; and another, while regretting that its formlessness made it of little value in the education of youth, declared that in the aid and guidance which it gives to older men, it has few equals. He says "it makes its appeal, not to the hopes and enthusiasm of youth, so much as to the graver moods which disciplines of patience and experience bring." Aurelius, a true philosopher, tells us of the experiences of life which have brought him to his views, and then presents the views. Why ? Partly perhaps because of his lifelong imperial policy of helping others; but partly also, one suspects, as relief to a great gentle heart, lonely and overcharged with sorrow. Jesus, without the divine uplifting spark of hope which made him more than man, might have written as Aurelius wrote. This brings us to Saint Augustine, the first Christian auto- biographer. The world had changed grimly in the two centu- ries which separate Aurelius and Augustine. The old Ro- man machine was running still, but was a sadly broken and outworn world-organism. The manhood of civilization, or at least of Rome's tyrannous leadership of civilization, was ex- hausted. Her armies were filled with German barbarians, and these had learned their power. Augustine saw all Gaul and upper Italy ravaged repeatedly by German hordes and finally saw Rome itself sacked by them in the year 410. Before that, the Roman Emperor Constantine had removed his capital to the safer seclusion of Constantinople. He had also (328 A. D.) formally adopted Christianity as the state religion of the Roman world. The "Galilean" had conquered. The carpenter's son of Nazareth, a peasant born among a subject people, was acknowledged as "Lord of Life and of Eternity." Why the older faiths and philosophies thus yielded to Chris- tianity, we can learn from Saint Augustine. He was not born a Christian; at first like other leaders of the day he despised the sect, in ignorance of what it really taught. But Augustine was born a thinker of the keenest, clearest, highest order. In marvelous fashion he tells us how he searched all faiths and philosophies, testing out mere carnal pleasure amid the rest ; and how he found conviction or contentment in none, IN THE ANCIENT WORLD xxv until the great Saint Ambrose showed him the real heart of Christianity. No fair-minded man has any right to reject the essential essence of Christianity, the spirit of superhuman love, until he has read, has mastered, and has dared reject, the "Confessions" of Saint Augustine. THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES By J. H. Kirklcmd, Ph.D., LL.D. BIOGRAPHY is the essence of history and history is a compo- site, a blending of many biographies. Events do not happen, they are brought to pass. They are the result of personal force, they come from many conflicting and cooperating en- deavors. A large part of historical study consists in the collection of biographical material. And no other biograph- ical material is so interesting as that which is contributed by the party whose life and work is to be studied. Personal ex- planations, interpretations, disclosures, have a distinct ad- vantage over all contributions made by others, whether friend or foe. And every man makes such disclosures. In a sense every man writes his own biography. All achievement is a self-revelation ; all speech, all writing, tells part of a life story. Such material has a value and interest as great as the life of the writer, and sometimes even greater. Hence the im- portance of letters, of journals, of speeches, of memoirs of all kinds. Some documents of this kind have a place among the most valued literature of the world. They occupy a unique place, nothing can ever supplant them ; passing years only add to their interest. Among notable works of this character might be mentioned the Diary of Samuel Pepys, the Table Talk of Martin Luther, the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, and Froissart's Chronicle. Among shorter papers not one surpasses in value and in human interest that which Plato has preserved for us under the title "The Apology of Socrates." This remarkable ad- dress will forever command the attention of the world, and it will never have a rival. There was but one Socrates. There was never a life like his, so original, so unconventional, so erratic, so broadly human, and yet so apart from the common pattern of men. There was never a trial like the one to which he was summoned, and there was never a defense like the one he made. xxvii xxviii LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY At the outset we are met with the question whether the Apology preserved for us by Plato is really the one made by Socrates. There was no attempt to take the speech as deliv- ered and no manuscript was prepared in advance. His "di- vine sign" had forbidden him to take thought as to what he should utter and he deemed it unworthy of his blameless life to make a defense like a school boy with a carefully prepared speech. Nevertheless we may easily accept the speech given us by Plato as essentially the defense of Socrates. Certainly it is true in substance ; and even in form and manner of pre- sentation it is appropriate to the man and to the occasion. The trial of Socrates was in 399 B. C. before one of the popular tribunals, or Heliastic courts, consisting of more than five hundred members. At that time Socrates was 70 years of age. His accusers, three in number, were Meletus, Anytus and Lycon. The indictment charged him with failure to wor- ship the gods whom the city worshiped, and with the intro- duction of new divinities of his own, also next with corrupting the youth. The penalty asked for was death. Socrates in his defense centers his remarks on the first charge. In his judg- ment the second and third charges fall necessarily with the first. To this charge he not only enters the claim of "not proven" but the counter assertion of a positive denial. His mature life had been given to the service of the God. For this he had counted other goods as of no value, he had despised wealth, he had neglected his family, he had sought no ad- vancement in the state. He was a religious missionary. His whole time was spent in public, he talked to all who would join in conversation or would listen, his commission was to improve moral character as well as to clarify the intellectual vision. And he did this without thought of personal gain. His clothing was scant, his food was coarse, his meat was to do the will of Him by whom he was sent. His themes were human virtues, as piety, justice, temperance, courage. His exhortations were to knowledge, to wisdom, to truth. His re- bukes of ignorance, of conceit, of baseness and falsity, were unceasing and unsparing. Naturally he had made a host of enemies. These were his real accusers. Back of Meletus, Anytus and Lycon he saw the men whom he had offended and who in turn had filled Athens with charges against him. ' ' The THE BOOK OF SOCRATES xxix envy and malice of the multitude is what will condemn me, if condemned I am." Many of those whom he had offended were eminent as statesmen, poets, or rhetoricians men of in- fluence and position. That Socrates had followed such a career so long without molestation has been considered by many a stranger circumstance than that of his final arrest and trial. The tone of his defense is remarkable. Socrates is con- scious of enmity but not of guilt. He speaks only because required to do so under the law. He promises no alteration of life but declares that were he now acquitted he would continue in the course he had been pursuing. And to the views and feelings and pride of the judges he makes no concessions. He bears witness to the truth, he speaks for distant ages, he keeps the integrity of his own soul. He cares nothing for life if it has to be preserved even by the slightest deviation from the path of personal dignity and rectitude hence there is no appeal, no entreaty, no conciliatory assurances, no suggestion of relief other than the complete vindication of his life and his labors. Grote wonders not that he was convicted, but that he was convicted by so small a majority. Xenophon says : ' ' He was not willing to do any of those things contrary to law which are wont to be done in court; and although had he consented to do anything of the kind, even in a very moderate degree, he might easily have gotten from the judges his re- lease, he preferred to die abiding by the laws, rather than transgressing them to live." Socrates' trial and death testify to his inflexible obedience to divine commands as interpreted in his own soul ; also to his reverence for law and his unwillingness to violate it. Against these, life had no charms and death no terrors. The issues are universal. Again and again through the ages men are brought to judgment and have to face similar alternatives. In every struggle of this character Socrates' Apology is a sublime chal- lenge. Quintilian expresses his satisfaction that Socrates "maintained that towering dignity which brought out the rarest and most exalted of his attributes, but which at the same time renounced all chance of acquittal. ' ' Grote has well summed up the case as follows : ' ' He took his line of defense advisedly, and with full knowledge of the result. It supplied xxx LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY him with the fittest of all opportunities for manifesting, in an impressive manner, both his personal ascendency over human fears and weakness, and the dignity of what he believed to be his divine mission. It took him away in his full grandeur and glory, like the setting of the tropical sun, at a moment when senile decay must be looked upon as close at hand. He calculated that his defense and bearing on the trial would be the most emphatic lesson which he could possibly read to the youth of Athens ; more emphatic, probably, than the sum total of those lessons which his remaining life might suffice to give, if he shaped his defense otherwise." There is but one other incident in history to which the trial of Socrates may be compared. More than four hundred years later there stood before Pilate's judgment seat a Jewish pris- oner whose life, whose teachings, whose devotion to humanity, whose relation to a divine Father, whose indifference to his own fate, were worthily foreshadowed in the trial, the defense and death of Socrates. THE LIFE OF FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS By Robert Ernest Vinson, D.D., LL.D. IT is given to some men to bring about crises in human his- tory, and themselves to direct the course of after-centuries. Others live in and through great crises, and participate in their struggles and benefits, but make no real contribution thereto. Others, still, live at these partings of the world's ways, and play a certain part, but, through some strange per- versity or blindness to essential issues, fail utterly to direct their abilities aright, and permit the opportunities to pass without profit either to themselves or to their fellows. In this last class, we must place Flavius Josephus, one of its most outstanding examples, who has himself unconsciously lifted the hand of warning against imitation. Born only seven years after the close of the earthly career of Christ, he lived until about the third year of the Second Century, in a period which meant more to the Jewish people than any other of equal length throughout their history, and perhaps more than all the rest of their history together. The nation was upon the verge of ruin, a catastrophe which two thousand years have not yet redeemed. It was a time of suffering and death, of heroes and martyrs and traitors. Jo- sephus suffered, but he did not die, and he was neither a hero nor a martyr in the cause of his nation. He did some service too. The larger part of his own record of his life is taken up with his command of the Jewish soldiers in Galilee, and par- ticularly with accounts of his efforts to keep the people and their local leaders assured of his loyalty. He had consider- able ability as a commander of men, and must have been a quick and attractive personality. He endeavored to avoid bloodshed whenever possible, and was never guilty of harsh treatment of his enemies, at least as harshness went in those days. But underlying all that he said and did is the fact, acknowledged by him, that he thought that the Jews should xxxi xxxii LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY x not fight against Rome. He himself was assured of Rome's greater power and of the uselessness of resistance. So much was this the case that he seems not to have considered whether any principles were involved. He saw his people face to face with the inevitable, with no recourse except submission. This conclusion of his was concealed, and he advised those who were associated with him to dissemble their real opinions until such time as it might be expedient to declare themselves. His effort seems to have been in the direction of saving the nation from outward ruin, from material destruction, by the simple process of sacrificing national honor to national existence. After his capture by Vespasian, succeeding a rather memo- rable defense of the stronghold of Jotapata, he threw the weight of his influence upon the side of the Romans, and was employed by them in their final successful operations against Jerusalem, chiefly in the effort to dissuade his own people from further resistance to superior force. For these services, he was richly rewarded by the Emperor. Lands in Judea were assigned him, and sufficient provision for his living in Rome was made, both Josephus and Vespasian having concluded, wisely, that residence in Judea under all the circumstances might not be comfortable. The remainder of his days, after the fall of Jerusalem, Josephus spent in Rome, engaged in writing. In this, he was both voluminous and successful, pro- ducing his Antiquities, Wars of the Jews, Against Apion, and a number of Dissertations, in addition to the account of his own life. How is such a man to be adjudged? He was descended from royal and sacerdotal lines. He enjoyed all the advan- tages which fell to the lot of any favored youth of his own day. He was the sort of man to profit by his opportuni- ties, his mental alertness being easily gathered from his writ- ings, which confirm his own naive estimate of himself: "I made mighty proficiency in the improvements of my learning, and appeared to have both a great memory and understand- ing. Moreover, when I was a child, and about fourteen years of age, I was commended by all for the love I had to learning ; on which account the high priests and principal men of the city came frequently to me together, in order to know my opinion about the accurate understanding of points of the THE BOOK OF JOSEPHUS xxxiii law." Such a procedure upon the part of the high priests and principal men may have meant much or little so far as the actual ability of this boy was concerned; for in those days it was quite customary to secure opinions upon moot points from children and women, simply for the value which was supposed to reside in the opinion of an untutored mind. But the possibility of the possession of "understanding" by a boy of fourteen was contrary to all Jewish precedents. As far back as the days of Job, it had been a firm conviction tha v t wisdom and discretion "dwell with the aged," being matters not only of memory of written law but of some experience in living. Their attitude toward Josephus seems to have borne in him its proper fruit; for he proceeds to relate, "when I was about sixteen years old, I had a mind to make trial of the several sects that were among us, . . . Pharisees, . . . Sadducees, and . . . Essenes"; which leaves the reader of to-day in "a strait betwixt two," whether he should wonder more at the temerity of the boy or at the candor of the man in making the record. After all is said, however, we must admit the mental ability of Josephus. Weakness here was not his trouble. It lay deeper, in his moral nature, and it is just this distinction which makes the record of his life of greatest value to the present-day reader. There is no substitute for moral weakness, nor any foil for it. It cuts, deeply, irremediably. All other qualities, however excellent, fail to counteract its deadly force. There is no reference to the grosser forms of immorality (Josephus was not that sort, by the record), but to the kind of im- morality which enters into judgments and values. It was the power of Rome, not her right, to conquer Jerusalem which weighed with him. He saw the inevitable, and bowed his head. He could not stand upright and be crushed for princi- ple, the quality of moral and spiritual stamina was lacking. John of Gischala, his contemporary, was a finer figure, as he marched, loaded with chains, at the chariot wheels of Titus through the streets of Rome, than Josephus, who sat perhaps in the Emperor's box. Compare him with Albert of Belgium, of similar circumstances, who lost all, country, army, people, and throne, everything but honor, a species of conduct of in- estimable value, preserving as it does a fineness of spiritual xxxiv LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY sensibility of which the world always stands in ne^ed, and we have in him the opposite of Josephus; for Josephus trimmed his sails to every wind and drove his boat upon the rocks, and no one cared. MARCUS AURELIUS By William H. P. Faunce, D.D, LL.D. AMONG the great teachers of humanity few occupy a place so secure as the great Koman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. The ruler of a hundred million people, with an empire extending from the gray hills of Scotland to the burning sands of Africa, and from Gibraltar to the Euphrates, he yet lived the simple life, and was himself what he advised others to be. He came to the throne in the year 161, A. D., and immediately faced the problem of governing the civilized world. He faced con- spiracy and famine and plague, he grappled with questions financial, economic, political and social, he fought barbarous tribes in the marshes of the Danube, he was surrounded by petty ambitions and vast intrigues. But he lived a life so sincere and serene and just that the whole empire admired him living and worshiped him as a god when dead. The secret of his life is embodied in his famous "Medita- tions," twelve small books, or chapters, written in Greek and apparently written for himself alone. These are a sort of private journal, into which he copied extracts from writers he admired, and in which he set down his inmost thoughts. He quoted from Homer, Plato, Sophocles and a score of other teachers, but his own clear thought, the perfect mirror of an untroubled soul, is that which makes the book immortal. The mediaeval monks placed the "Meditations" beside the New Testament and thought of Aurelius as possessing a mind "naturally Christian." An Italian cardinal, Barberini, de- voted years to translating the Meditations into his native tongue. French philosophers, like Montesquieu and Renan, have sounded the praises of Aurelius, and Captain John Smith carried the Meditations to Virginia, that in the wilds of a newly settled colony he might draw from the Roman emperor courage and strength. The great Germans, Richter the poet, and Niebuhr, the historian, drank deep of this spring. Mat- XXXV xxxvi LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY thew Arnold expounds the emperor 's ideas and Canon Farrar numbers him among the great "seekers after God." Any man who is not acquainted with the Meditations has missed, a treasure-house that is close beside him. When we open those twelve small books we find that they contain little of what we call now theology or metaphysics, but are mainly occupied with a code of conduct. Constantly he insists on the supremacy of mind over matter, the power of the soul to control the body and its environment. "Does any natural defect force you to grumble, to lay your faults on your constitution, to be stingy or a flatterer, to seek after popularity, to boast and be disturbed in mind ? Can you say that you are so weakly made as to be driven to these prac- tices? The immortal gods know the contrary." Again he says: "Look inwards, for you have a lasting fountain of happiness at home that will always bubble up if you will but dig for it. ' ' At times he approaches our modern mental thera- peutics: "Do not suppose you are hurt and your complaint ceases. ' ' Man, he holds, is so related to deity that always he carries divine power within. Why, then, do not troubled souls escape to the inner sanctuary? "It is the custom of people to go to unfrequented places and country places and the seashore and the mountains for retirement. But after all this is but a vulgar fancy, for it is in your power to withdraw into yourself whenever you desire. Make frequent use of this retirement and refresh your virtue in it." Hence he glorifies simplicity and sincerity. He declares Socrates was greater than Csesar. He affirms that men do not need any things whatever, since virtue is the only good. Yet this austere doctrine does not isolate him from his fellows; he is ever teaching social duty, and recognizing the bonds that bind kindred and friends. Nature is order and beauty and law. Evil is but the necessary "sawdust in the carpen- ter's shop." The gods exist: "I never had a sight of my own soul, and yet I have a great value for it. And thus by my constant experience of the power of the gods I have a proof of their being, and a reason for my veneration. ' ' Death according to the emperor leads to the unknown, but it must be a return to the infinite power whence we came, and the wise man cannot fear it. Then he sums up his whole philoso- THE BOOK OF AURELIUS xxxvii phy in one unsurpassed and memorable sentence: ''Let peo- ple's tongues and actions be what they will, my business is to be good, and make the same speech to myself that an emerald should : ' I must be true emerald and keep my color. ' ' And when was this lofty thinking done ? Where were these calm cool sentences written ? At the end of one book we find the memorandum: "This was written among the Quadi" a tribe of barbarians in Bohemia against whom the emperor fought a long campaign. In the general's tent, during a lull in the fighting, or after a long day's march, this astonishing ruler of men wrote down the secret of his peace. How much do we know of his life ? The external events are given in the standard histories of Rome. Only one blot rests on his character, his bitter persecution of the Christians. Yet his attitude is easily understood. Christianity was the only religion in the empire that would not compromise. All other faiths would come in under the emperor's protection and yield him obedience if he would recognize their deities and put their statues in the Roman pantheon. Christianity alone wanted no imperial recognition and refused to sacrifice to any pagan deity. Hence the Christians appeared agnostic, obstinate, disloyal, inhuman. Against them the mild Aurelius launched his edicts. Thus by a strange perversion and tragedy he persecuted because he was full of human "kindness and even of affection. The opening chapter of his Meditations is full of gratitude to his father, his ancestors, his noble teachers. ' ' The example of my grandfather Verus gave me a good disposition, not prone to anger Rusticus taught me to write letters in a plain unornainental style Apollonius taught me to maintain an equality of temper, even in acute pains, and in loss of chil- dren or tedious sickness I learned from Maximus to com- mand myself to turn off business smoothly, neither to hurry an enterprise nor go to sleep over it, never to be puzzled or dejected, not to be angry or suspicious, but ever ready to do good and to forgive and speak the truth I have to thank the gods that I was subject to the emperor my father, and bred under him, who was the most proper person living to put me out of conceit with pride, and to convince me that it is possible to live in a palace without richness and distinc- xxxviii LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY tion of habit, without torches, statues, or such other marks of royalty and state." On the Capitoline Hill in Rome there has stood under the open sky through all the centuries the bronze figure of Marcus Aurelius one of the great statues of the world. Mounted on his horse the emperor with outstretched arm is apparently summoning his troops. But his summons went far beyond the Roman eagles. His call is to all humanity, to all who wish to live nobly and be remembered with lasting gratitude. THE EARLIEST AUTOBIOGRAPHIES PERSONAL RECORDS SURVIVING FROM ANCIENT BABYLONIA AND EGYPT 3800 B. C.-681 B. C. (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) The remarkable scientific explorations and investigations of the last two generations have reopened to us a broad and intensely interesting knowledge of that earliest civilization which flourished in Babylonia and Egypt for ages, while Europe was still a savage wilderness. Perhaps the most impressive of all these recovered records of earliest mankind are the autobiographies. In Egypt these are usually epitaphs, life records carved or painted on an ancient tomb. In Babylonia they are more often inscriptions on a building, statue, or public gift. The donor names him- self and all that he has achieved. Among these ancient boastful records of self-praise, the foremost place both in age and interest may perhaps be assigned to the records of King Sargon, the long-forgotten conqueror to whom tradition assigns the founding of Babylon. He has usually been regarded as reigning about 3800 B. C., though recent investigations have suggested changing this date to 2600 B. C. There may even have been two Sargons, and the two inscriptions here given may refer to different kings having similar names, But whether these early conquerors be one or two, we have here a great leader's tale of his childhood rescue from the river, a tale very similar to that of Moses, and told at least a thousand years before the great Hebrew teacher was born. A similar chronological uncertainty affects the next of the autobiog- raphies here given, the tomb record of Uni, an Egyptian noble who lived under three successive Pharaohs of the Sixth Dynasty. Scientists have set the dates of this dynasty at either 3600 or 2600 B. C. The latter date seems to be more probable; yet Lord Uni, the judge, the general, the "king's friend," may have lived almost as long ago as Sargon, though A V. 11 2 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY in another land. Like Sargon, Uni records his rise from an inferior position; only in Uni's case we have much more wealth of detail, a clear picture of the competent, energetic official, mounting step by step. Third among these brief and publicly proclaimed autobiographies we give one which is far more human and more personal. Unfortunately, like most of these surviving records, that of the Egyptian prince, Sinuhit, is more or less obscure to us, fragmentary and defaced by time. He seems to have fled from Egypt through fear of being assassinated, and to have had many adventures among the wild tribes that occupied the Holy Land before the coming of the Israelites. Sinuhit 's narrative no longer exists in what was probably its original form, as a tomb record, but only as a manuscript story. Evidently this account of strange lands and changing fortunes became a popular tale, widely copied and widely read in ancient Egypt. With it therefore we pass from the mere boastful records of kings and lords, to what may fairly be called "literature," a human narrative of hopes and fears, a writing which other men cared to cherish and reread. Our fourth and final sample of these ancient approaches to auto- biography ia by an Assyrian king. The Assyrians were ferocious fighters who finally conquered both Egypt and Babylon. Several of these official records of the reigns of Assyria's kings have been recovered. They are all similar in tone, frightful boasts of human holocausts, of lands ravaged and cities destroyed to satisfy the vanity of the king and of his ' ' god. ' ' With childish simplicity each king praises his own divine mission and laments the wickedness of other nations in refusing to obey him. The record here selected, that of Sennacherib, has special interest, because the Bible mentions him and the devastation of his army by the Lord, in the Assyrian attacks on Hezekiah, the king of Jerusalem. The view- point from which Hezekiah saw the contest has long been known to us from the Bible. The question of how Sennacherib viewed it is here answered by himself in widely differing fashion. KING SARGON THE FOUNDER OF BABYLON, THE " BELOVED OF THE GODS" 3800 B. C. (?) SARGON 'S OWN RECORD OF HIS YOUTH Sargon, the powerful king, King of Agade, am I. My mother was of low degree, my father I did not know. The brother of my father dwelt in the mountain. My city was Azurpirani, situate on the banks of the Eu- phrates. My humble mother conceived me; in secret she brought me forth. She placed me in a basket boat of rushes; with pitch she closed my door. She gave me over to the river which did not rise over me. The river bore me along ; to Akki, the irrigator, it carried me. Akki, the irrigator, in the brought me to land. Akki, the irrigator, reared me as his own son. Akki, the irrigator, appointed me his gardener. While I was gardener, Ishtar looked on me with love four years I ruled the kingdom. [The last few lines of the record are so worn as to be un- readable.] A TEMPLE RECORD SET UP BY KING SARGON OR SARRU-KIN SARGON, King of Agade, Viceregent of Ishtar, 1 King of Kish, high-priest of Anum, King of the land, great worshiper of Enlil : the city of Uruk he smote and its wall he destroyed. With the people of Uruk he battled and he routed them. 1 Ishtar was the chief goddess and Enlil the chief god of Sargon. The other names are of conquered cities and kings. 3 4 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY With Lugal-zaggisi, King of Uruk, he battled and he captured him and in fetters he led him through the gate of Enlil. Sargon, King of Agade, battled with the man of Ur and vanquished him ; his city he smote and its wall he destroyed. E-Ninmar he smote and its wall he destroyed, and its entire territory from Lagash to the sea he smote. His weapons he washed in the sea. With the man of Umma he battled and he routed him and smote his city and destroyed its wall. Unto Sargon, King of the land, Enlil gave no foe (no equal adversary) ; from the upper sea to the lower sea, Enlil subjected the lands to him. . . . 2 and the man of ... and the man of ... stand in attendance before Sargon, King of the land. Sargon, King of the land, restored Kish (i. e. the people of Kish) in its old place. Their city he gave to them as a dwelling place. Who shall destroy this inscription, may Shamash tear out his foundations and destroy his seed. . . . and he gave unto him the upper land, Mari, larmuti, and Ibla, as far as 'the cedar forest and the silver mountains. Unto Sargon, the King, Enlil did not give an adversary. 5400 men eat daily food before him. Whoever destroys this inscription, may Anu destroy his name, may Enlil extirpate his seed. a The dots indicate words which our archaeologists have been unable to translate. LORD UNI THE FIRST PRIVATE PERSON OP WHOSE LIFE WE HAVE PULL RECORD 2600 B. C. ( ?) UNI'S TOMB INSCRIPTION IN EGYPT COUNT, governor of the South, chamber-attendant, attached to Nekhen, lord of Nekheb, sole companion, revered before Osiris, First of the Westerners, Uni. He says : I was a child who fastened on the girdle under the Majesty of Teti ; my office was that of supervisor of 1 . . . and I filled the office of inferior custodian of the domain of Pharaoh. ... I was eldest of the . . . chamber under the Majesty of Pepi. His Majesty appointed me to the rank of com- panion and inferior prophet of his pyramid-city. While my office was ... his Majesty made me judge attached to Nek- hen. He loved me 2 more than any servant of his. I ' ' heard, ' ' 3 being alone with only the chief judge and vizier, in every private matter ... in the name of the King, of the royal harem and of the six courts of justice ; because the King loved me more than any official of his, more than any noble of his, more than any servant of his. Then I besought the Majesty of the King 4 that there be brought for me a limestone sarcophagus from Troja. 5 The King had the treasurer of the god ferry over, together with a troop of sailors under his hand, in order to bring for me this sarcophagus from Troja; and he arrived with it, in a large ship belonging to the court, together with its lid, the false 1 This inscription is very, very old and much weatherworn. The dots indicate untranslatable words. 2 Literally, ' ' his heart was filled with me. ' ' 'Meaning: heard cases in court as judge. 4 Literally, "the Majesty of the lord." 8 Quarries opposite Memphis, five or six miles south of Cairo. 5 6 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY door; the setting, two . . . and one offering-tablet. Never was the like done for any servant, for I was excellent to the heart of his Majesty, for I was pleasant to the heart of his Majesty, for his Majesty loved me. While I was judge, attached to Nekhen, his Majesty ap- pointed me as sole companion and superior custodian of the domain of Pharaoh, and ... of the four superior custodians of the domain of Pharaoh, who were there. I did so that his Majesty praised me, when preparing court, 6 when preparing the King's journey, or when making stations. I did through- out so that his Majesty praised me for it above everything. When legal procedure was instituted in private 7 in the harem against the Queen, 8 Imtes, his Majesty caused me to enter, in order to hear the case alone. No chief judge and vizier at all, no prince at all was there, but only I alone, be- cause I was excellent, because I was pleasant to the heart of his Majesty ; because his Majesty loved me. I alone was the one who put it in writing, together with a single judge at- tached to Nekhen; while my office was only that of superior custodian of the domain of Pharaoh. Never before had one like me heard the secret of the royal harem, except that the King caused me to hear it, because I was more excellent to the heart of his Majesty than any official of his, than any noble of his, than any servant of his. His Majesty made war on the Asiatic Sand-dwellers, and his Majesty made an army of many ten thousands: in the entire South, southward to Elephantine, and northward to Aphroditopolis ; in the Northland on both sides entire in the stronghold, 9 and in the midst of the strongholds, among the Irthet negroes, the Mazoi negroes, the Yam negroes, among the Wawat negroes, among the Kau negroes, and in the land of Temeh. 10 * There is a contrast here between his duties at the fixed court and mak- ing preparations for the King's journeys. The third reference is perhaps to the duty of assigning court stations to noblemen according to rank. 'Literally, "When the matter was contested." "Literally, "great king 's- wife. " 8 Some particular stronghold is apparently meant ; Erman suggests ' ' the old fortress in the eastern part of the Delta," but this is a conjecture. 10 This is a list of Nubian lands. The discovery of another inscription has thrown light on the location of Yam, showing that the journey thither and return occupied seven months. LORD UNI 7 His Majesty sent me at the head of this army while the counts, while the wearers of the royal seal, while the sole com- panions of the palace, while the nomarchs and commanders of strongholds belonging to the South and the Northland ; the companions, the caravan-conductors, the superior prophets belonging to the South and the Northland, the overseers of the crown-possessions, were each at the head of a troop of the South or the Northland, of the strongholds and cities which they commanded, and of the negroes of these countries. I was the one who made for them the plan while my office was only that of superior custodian of the domain of Pharaoh of . . . Not one thereof . . . with his neighbor ; not one thereof plundered dough or sandals from the wayfarer; not one thereof took bread from any city; not one thereof took any goat from any people. I dispatched them from the Northern Isle, the Gate of Ihotep, the bend 1X of Horus, Nibmat. While I was of this rank . . . everything, I inspected the number of these troops, although never had any servant inspected. This army returned in safety, after it had hacked up the land of the Sand-dwellers ; this army returned in safety, after it had destroyed the land of the Sand-dwellers; this army returned in safety, after it had overturned its strongholds; this army returned in safety, after it had cut down its figs and its vines; this army returned in safety, after it had thrown fire upon all its foes; this army returned in safety, after it had slain troops therein, in many ten thousands ; this army returned in safety, after it had carried away therefrom a great multitude as living captives. His Majesty praised me on account of it above everything. His Majesty sent me to lead this army five times, in order to traverse the land of the Sand-dwellers at each of their rebellions, with these troops. I did so that his Majesty praised me on account of it. When it was said there were revolters because of a matter among these barbarians in the land of Gazelle-nose, I crossed over in troop-ships with these troops, and I voyaged to the back of the height of the ridge 12 on the north of the Sand- 11 A river bend, or a district. "The Palestinian highlands. Uni must have landed a little farther north and reached the highlands of southern Palestine. 8 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY dwellers. When this army had been brought in the highway, I came and smote them all and every revolter among them was slain. 13 When I was master of the footstool of the palace and sandal-bearer, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Mernere, my lord, who lives forever, made me count, and governor of the South, southward to Elephantine, and northward to Aphroditopolis ; 14 for I was excellent to the heart of his Majesty, for I was pleasant to the heart of his Majesty, for his Majesty loved me. When I was master of the footstool and sandal-bearer, his Majesty praised me for the watchfulness and vigilance, which I showed in the place of audience, above his every official, above his every noble, above his every servant. Never before was this office conferred upon any servant. I acted as gov- ernor of the South to his satisfaction. Not one therein . . . with his neighbor. I accomplished all tasks; I numbered everything that is counted to the credit of the court in this South twice; all the corvee that is counted to the credit of the court in this South twice. 15 I performed the ... in this South; never before was the like done in this South. I did throughout so that his Majesty praised me for it. His Majesty sent me to Ibhet, 16 to bring the sarcophagus named: " Chest-of-the-Living, " together with its lid and the costly, splendid pyramid ion for the pyramid called: "Mer- nere-Shines-and-is-Beautif ul, " of the Queen. 17 u The end of Uni 's career under Pepi I. is marked by a line of separa- tion on the stone. 14 The northern and southern limits of Upper Egypt. 15 The meaning is that Uni twice made a census of all the royal prop- erties. 18 This unknown quarry must be in the vicinity of Assuan, where black granite is found; the material of the sarcophagus (not given here) as discovered in Mernere 's pyramid at Sakhara in January, 1881, by Mari- ette (just a few days before his death), is a fine black granite. The lid mentioned in our text is pushed back, but still lying on the sarcophagus, within which Marietta's native assistant, Mustapha, found the body of the King Mernere, now in the Cairo Museum. The ' ' pyramidion, ' ' or final capstone of the pyramid, was of finer material than the other masonry; it is no longer preserved, but tomb-paintings often show this final block colored black by the artist. 17 The exact place and meaning of the last three worda are uncertain : possibly they refer to a burial-place of the Queen in connection with the pyramid. LORD UNI 9 His Majesty sent me to Elephantine 18 to bring a false door of granite, together with its offering-tablet, doors and settings of granite; to bring doorways and offering-tablets of granite, belonging to the upper chamber of the pyramid called: "Mernere-Shines-and-is-Beautiful," of the Queen. Then I sailed down-stream to the pyramid called: " Mernere-Shines- and-is-Beautif ul, " with 6 cargo-boats, 3 tow-boats and 3 ... boats to only one war-ship. Never had Ibhet and Elephantine been visited in the time of any kings with only one war-ship. Whatsoever his Majesty commanded me I carried out com- pletely according to all that his Majesty commanded me. His Majesty sent me to Hatnub to bring a huge offering- table of hard stone of Hatnub. I brought down this offering- table for him in only 17 days, it having been quarried in Hatnub, and I had it proceed down-stream in this cargo-boat. I hewed for him a cargo-boat of acacia wood of 60 cubits in its length, and 30 cubits in its breadth, built in only 17 days, in the third month of the third season (eleventh month). Although there was no water on the ... I landed in safety at the pyramid called: "Mernere-Shines-and-is-Beautiful"; and the whole was carried out by my hand, according to the mandate which the Majesty of my Lord had commanded me. His Majesty sent me to dig 5 canals 19 in the South and to make 3 cargo-boats and 4 tow-boats of acacia wood of Wawat. Then the negro chiefs of Irthet, Wawat, Yam, and Mazoi drew timber therefor, and I did the whole in only one year. They were launched and laden with very large granite blocks for the pyramid called: ' ' Mernere-Shines-and-is- Beautiful." I then . . . for the palace in all these 5 canals, because I honored, because I . . . , because I praised the fame of the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Mernere, who lives forever, more than all gods, and because I carried out everything according to the mandate which his spirit com- manded me. I was one beloved of his father, and praised of his mother ; first-born . . . pleasant to his brothers, the count, the real governor, of the South, revered by Osiris, Uni. 18 This voyage was made in connection with the preceding, as Ibhet could not have been far from Elephantine. " These must be for passing the cataracts; as was the canal of Sesostria III. PRINCE SINUHIT AN EGYPTIAN ADVENTURER IN THE WILDS OF ANCIENT PALESTINE 2000 B. C. THE MEMOIRS OF SINUHIT, AN EGYPTIAN PAPYRUS 1 THE hereditary prince, royal sealbearer, confidential friend, judge, "keeper of the gate of the foreigners, true and beloved royal acquaintance, the royal follower Sinuhit says: I attended my lord as a follower of the King, of the house of the hereditary princess, the greatly favored, the ro^al wife, Ankhet-Usertesen, who shares the dwelling of the royal son Amenemhet in Kanefer. In the thirtieth year, the month Paophi, the seventh day the god entered his horizon, the king Sehotepabra 2 flew up to heaven and joined the sun's disk, the follower of the god met his maker. The palace was silenced, and in mourning, the great gates were closed, the courtiers crouching on the ground, the people in hushed mourning. His Majesty had sent a great army with the nobles to the land of the Temehu (Lybia), his son and heir, the good god King Sesostris as their leader. Now he was returning, and had brought away living captives and all kinds of cattle with- out end. The councilors of the palace had sent to the West to let the King know the matter that had come to pass in the inner hall. The messenger was to meet him on the road, and reach him at the time of evening : the matter was urgent. ' ' A hawk had soared with his followers." Thus said he, not to let the army know of it. Even if the royal sons who com- manded in that army send a message, he was not to speak to a single one of them. But I was standing near, and heard his voice while he was speaking. I fled far away, my heart 1 From the translation of Prof. Flinders-Petrie. 'This is King Amenemhet I. 10 PRINCE SINUHIT 11 beating, my arms failing, trembling had fallen on all my limbs. 3 I turned about in running to seek a place to hide me, and I threw myself between two bushes, to wait while they should pass by. Then I turned me toward the south, not from wishing to come into this place for I knew not if war was declared nor even thinking a wish to live after this sovereign, I turned my back to the sycamore, I reached Shi- Seneferu, and rested on the open field. In the morning I went on and overtook a man, who passed by the edge of the road. He asked of me mercy, for he feared me. By the evening I drew near to Kher-ahau (old Cairo), and I crossed the river on a raft without a rudder. Carried over by the west wind, I passed over to the east to the quarries of Aku and the land of the goddess Herit, mistress of the red mountain (Gebel Ahmar). Then I fled on foot, northward, and reached the walls of the prince, built to repel the Sati. I crouche^ in a bush for fear of being seen by the guards, changed each day, who watch on the top of the fortress. I took my way by night, and at the lighting of the day I reached Peten, and turned me toward the valley of Kemur. Then thirst hastened me on; I dried up, and my throat narrowed, and I said, "This is the taste of death." When I lifted up my heart and gathered strength, I heard a voice and the low- ing of cattle. I saw men of the Sati, and one of them a. friend unto Egypt knew me. Behold he gave me water and boiled me milk, and I went with him to his camp; they did me good, and one tribe passed me on to another. I passed on to Sun, and reached the land of Adim (Edom). When I had dwelt there half a year Amu-an-shi who is the prince of the Upper Tenu sent for me and said: "Dwell thou with me that thou mayest hear the speech of Egypt." He said thus for that he knew of my excellence, and had heard tell of my worth, for men of Egypt who were there with him bore witness of me. Behold he said to me: "For what cause hast thou come hither? Has a matter come to pass in the palace ? Has the King of the two lands, 'Apparently when the new King Sesostris learned of his succession to the throne, he was expected to slay all his brothers or other relatives who might oppose his claim or become his rivals. Hence Sinuhit, learning by chance of the message, feels himself important enough to be in danger and seeks safety in sudden flight. 12 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY Sehetepabra gone to heaven? That which has happened about this is not known. ' ' But I answered with concealment, and said: "When I came from the land of the Tamahu, and my desires were there changed in me, if I fled away it was not by reason of remorse that I took the way of a fugitive ; I have not failed in my duty, my mouth has not said any bitter words, I have not heard any evil counsel, my name has not come into the mouth of a magistrate. I know not by what I have been led into this land." And Amu-an-shi said: "This is by the will of the god (King of Egypt), for what is a land like if it know not that excellent god, of whom the dread is upon the lands of strangers, as they dread Sekhet in a year of pestilence?" I spake to him, and replied: "For- give me, his son now enters the palace, and has received the heritage of his father. He is a god who has none like him, and there is none before him. He is a master of wisdom, prudent in his designs, excellent in his decrees, with good- will to him who goes or who comes; he subdued the land of strangers while his father yet lived in his palace, and he ren- dered account of that which his father destined him to per- form. He is a brave man, who verily strikes with his sword ; a valiant one, who has not his equal ; he springs upon the bar- barians, and throws himself on the spoilers; he breaks the horns and weakens the hands, and those whom he smites can not raise the buckler. He is fearless, and dashes the heads, and none can stand before him. He is swift of foot, to destroy him who flies; and none who flees from him reaches his home. His heart is strong in his time ; he is a lion who strikes with the claw, and never has he turned his back. His heart is closed to pity; and when he sees multitudes, he leaves none to live behind him. He is a valiant one who springs in front when he sees resistance ; he is a warrior who rejoices when he flies on the barbarians. He seizes the buck- ler, he rushes forward, he never needs to strike again, he slays and none can turn his lance; and when he takes the bow the barbarians flee from his arms like dogs ; for the great goddess has given to him to strike those who know her not ; and if he reaches forth he spares none, and leaves naught behind. He is a friend of great sweetness, who knows how to gain love ; his land loves him more than itself, and rejoices in PRINCE SINUHIT 13 him. more than in its own god; men and women run to his call. A king, he has ruled from his birth ; he, from his birth, has increased births, a sole being, a divine essence, by whom this land rejoices to be governed. He enlarges the borders of the South, but he covets not the lands of the North : he does not smite the Sati, nor crush the Nemau-shau. If he descends here, let him know thy name, by the homage which thou wilt pay to his Majesty. For he refuses not to bless the land which obeys him." And he replied to me: "Egypt is indeed happy and well settled ; behold thou art far from it, but whilst thou art with me I will do good unto thee." And he placed me before his children, he married his eldest daughter to me, and gave me the choice of all his land, even among the best of that which he had on the border of the next land. It is a goodly land : laa is its name. There are figs and grapes; there is wine commoner than water; abundant is the honey, many are its olives ; and all fruits are upon its trees ; there are barley and wheat, and cattle of kinds without end. This was truly a great thing that he granted me, when the prince came to invest me, and establish me as prince of a tribe in the best of his land. I had my continual portion of bread and of wine each day, of cooked meat, of roasted fowl, as well as the wild game which I took, or which was brought to me, besides what my dogs captured. They made me much butter, and pre- pared milk of all kinds. I passed many years, the children that I had became great, each ruling his tribe. When a mes- senger went or came to the palace he turned aside from the way to come to me; for I helped every man. I gave water to the thirsty, I set on his way him who went astray, and I rescued the robbed. The Sati who went far, to strike and turn back the princes of other lands, I ordained their goings ; for the Prince of the Tenu for many years appointed me to be general of his soldiers. In every land which I attacked I played the champion, I took the cattle, I led away the vassals, I carried off the slaves, I slew the people, by my sword, my bow, my marches, and my good devices. I was excellent to the heart of my prince ; he loved me when he knew my power, and set me over his children when he saw the strength of my arms. 14 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY A champion of the Term came to defy me in my tent: a bold man without equal, for he had vanquished the whole country. He said, "Let Sinuhit fight with me"; for he desired to overthrow me, he thought to take my cattle for his tribe. The prince counseled with me. I said: "I know him not. I certainly am not of his degree, I hold me far from his place. Have I ever opened his door, or leaped his fence? It is some envious jealousy from seeing me; does he think that I am like some steer among the cows, whom the bull overthrows? If this is a wretch who thinks to enrich him- self at my cost, not a Bedawi and a Bedawi fit for fight, then let us put the matter to judgment. Verily a true bull loves battle, but a vainglorious bull turns his back for fear of contest; if he has a heart for combat, let him speak what he pleases. Will God forget what he has ordained, and how shall that be known?" I lay down; and when I had rested I strung my bow, I made ready my arrows, I loosened my poniard, I furbished my arms. At dawn the land of the Tenu came together ; it had gathered its tribes and called all the neighboring people, it spake of nothing but the fight. Each heart burned for me, men and women crying out; for each heart was troubled for me, and they said: "Is there another strong one who would fight with him? Behold the adversary has a buckler, a battle-ax, and an armful of jave- lins." Then I drew him to the attack; I turned aside his arrows, and they struck the ground in vain. One drew near to the other, and he fell on me, and then I shot him. My arrow fastened in his neck, he cried out, and fell on his face : I drove his lance into him, and raised my shout of victory on his back. Whilst all the men of the land rejoiced, I, and his vassals whom he had oppressed, gave thanks unto Mentu. This prince, Amu-an-shi, embraced me. Then I carried off his goods and took his cattle, that which he had wished to do to me, I did even so unto him ; I seized that which was in his tent, I spoiled his dwelling. As time went on I increased the richness of my treasures and the number of my cattle. PETITION TO THE KING OF EGYPT "Now behold what the god has done for me who trusted in him. Having once fled away, yet now there is a witness of PRINCE SINUHIT 15 me in the palace. Once having fled away, as a fugitive, now all in the palace give unto me a good name. After that I had been dying of hunger, now I give bread to those around. I had left my land naked, and now I am clothed in fine linen. After having been a wanderer without followers, now I pos- sess many serfs. My house is fine, my land wide, my mem- ory is established in the temple of all the gods. And let this flight obtain thy forgiveness ; that I may be appointed in the palace ; that I may see the place where my heart dwells. How great a thing is it that my body should be embalmed in the land where I was born! To return there is happiness. I have made offering to God to grant me this thing. His heart suffers who has run away unto a strange land. Let him hear the prayer of him who is afar off, that he may revisit the place of his birth, and the place from which he removed. "May the King of Egypt be gracious to me that I may live of his favor. And I render my homage to the mistress of the land, who is in his palace ; may I hear the news of her children. Thus will my limbs grow young again. Now old age comes, feebleness seizes me, my eyes are heavy, my arms are feeble, my legs will not move, my heart is slow. Death draws nigh to me, soon shall they lead me to the city of eternity. Let me follow the mistress of all (the Queen, his former mistress) ; lo ! let her tell me the excellencies of her children; may she bring eternity to me." Then the Majesty of King Kheper-ka-re, 4 the blessed, spake upon this my desire that I had made to him. His Majesty sent unto me with presents from the King, that he might enlarge the heart of his servant, like unto the province of any strange land; and the royal sons who are in the palace addressed themselves unto me. COPY OF THE DECREE WHICH WAS BROUGHT TO ME WHO SPEAK TO YOU TO LEAD ME BACK INTO EGYPT "The Horus, life of births, lord of the crowns, life of births, King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Kheper-ka-re, son of the Sun, Amenemhet, ever living unto eternity. Order for the follower Sinuhit. Behold this order of the King is sent to thee to instruct thee of his will. * The religious name of Sesostris I. 16 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY ' ' Now, although thou hast gone through strange lands from Adim to Tenu, and passed from one country to another at the wish of thy heart behold, what hast thou done, or what has been done against thee, that is amiss? Moreover, thou reviledst not; but if thy word was denied, thou didst not speak again in the assembly of the nobles, even if thou wast desired. Now, therefore, that thou hast thought on this mat- ter which has come to thy mind, let thy heart not change again; for this thy Heaven (Queen), who is in the palace, is fixed, she is flourishing, she is enjoying the best in the king- dom of the land, and her children are in the chambers of the palace. "Leave all the riches that thou hast, and that are with thee, altogether. When thou shalt come into Egypt behold the palace, and when thou shalt enter the palace bow thy face to the ground before the Great House ; thou shalt be chief among the companions. And day by day behold thou grow- est old; thy vigor is lost, and thou thinkest on the day of burial. Thou shalt see thyself come to the blessed state, they shall give thee the bandages from the hand of Tait, the night of applying the oil of embalming. They shall follow thy funeral, and visit the tomb on the day of burial, which shall be in a gilded case, the head painted with blue, a canopy of cypress wood above thee, and oxen shall draw thee, the singers going before thee, and they shall dance the funeral dance. The weepers crouching at the door of thy tomb shall cry aloud the prayers for offerings: they shall slay victims for thee at the door of thy pit ; and thy pyramid shall be carved in white stone, in the company of the royal children. Thus thou shalt not die in a strange land, nor be buried by the Amu; thou shalt not be laid in a sheepskin when thou art buried; all people shall beat the earth, and lament on thy body when thou goest to the tomb." When this order came to me, I was in the midst of my tribe. When it was read unto me, I threw me on the dust, I threw dust in my hair ; I went around my tent rejoicing, and saying : ' ' How may it be that such a thing is done to the servant, who with a rebellious heart has fled to strange lands? Now with an excellent deliverance, and mercy delivered me from death, thou shalt cause me to end my days in the palace. ' ' PRINCE SINUHIT 17 COPY OF THE ANSWER TO THIS ORDER "The follower Sinuhit says: In excellent peace above everything consider of this flight that he made here in his ignorance ; Thou, the Good God, Lord of both Lands, Loved of Re, Favorite of Mentu, the lord of Thebes, and of Amen, lord of thrones of the lands, of Sebek, Re, Horus, Hathor, Atmu, and of his fellow-gods, of Sopdu, Neferbiu, Samsetu, Horus ; lord of the east, and of the royal uraeus which rules on thy head, of the chief gods of the waters, of Min, Horus of the desert, Urrit, mistress of Punt, Nut, Harnekht, Re, all the gods of the land of Egypt and of the isles of the sea. May they give life and peace to thy nostril, may they load thee with their gifts, may they give to thee eternity without end, everlastingness without bound. May the fear of thee be doubled in the lands of the deserts. Mayest thou subdue the circuit of the sun's disk. This is the prayer to his master of the humble servant who is saved from a foreign land. ' ' wise King, the wise words which are pronounced in the wisdom of the Majesty of the sovereign, thy humble servant fears to tell. It is a great thing to repeat. O great God, like unto Re in fulfilling that to which he has set his hand, what am I that he should take thought for me ? Am I among those whom he regards, and for whom he arranges? Thy Majesty is as Horus, and the strength of thine arms extends to all lands. "Then let his Majesty bring Maki of Adma, Kenti-au-ush of Khenti-keshu, and Tenus from the two lands of the Fenkhu; these are the princes who bear witness of me as to all that has passed, out of love for thyself. Does not Tenu believe that it belongs to thee like thy dogs? Behold this flight that I have made : I did not have it in my heart ; it was like the leading of a dream, as a man of Adehi (delta) sees himself in Abu (Elephantine), as a man of the plain of Egypt who sees himself in the deserts. There was no fear, there was no hastening after me; I did not listen to an evil plot, my name was not heard in the mouth of the magistrate ; but my limbs went, my feet wandered, my heart drew me; my god commanded this flight, and drew me on; but I am not stiff- necked. Does a man fear when he sees his own land? Re A. v. 12 18 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY spread thy fear over the land, thy terrors in every strange land. Behold me now in the palace, behold me in this place ; and lo ! thou art he who is over all the horizon ; the sun rises at thy pleasure, the water in the rivers is drunk at thy will, the wind in heaven is breathed at thy saying. "I who speak to thee shall leave my goods to the genera- tions to follow in this land. And as to this messenger who is come, even let thy Majesty do as pleaseth him, for one lives by the breath that thou givest. O thou who art beloved of Re, of Horus, and of Hathor ; Mentu, lord of Thebes, desires that thy august nostril should live forever." I made a feast in laa, to pass over my goods to my children. My eldest son was leading my tribe, all my goods passed to him, and I gave him my corn and all my cattle, my fruit, and all my pleasant trees. When I had taken my road to the south, and arrived at the roads of Horus, the officer who was over the garrison sent a messenger to the palace to give notice. His Majesty sent the good overseer of the peasants of the King's domains, and boats laden with presents from the King for the Sati who had come to conduct me to the roads of Horus. I spoke to each one by his name, and I gave the pres- ents to each as was intended. I received and I returned the salutation, and I continued thus until I reached the city of Thetu. When the land was brightened, and the new day began, four men came with a summons for me; and the four men went to lead me to the palace. I saluted with both my hands on the ground; the royal children stood at the courtyard to conduct me: the courtiers who were to lead me to the hall brought me on the way to the royal chamber. I found his Majesty on the great throne in the hall of pale gold. Then I threw myself on my belly; this god, in whose presence I was, knew me not. He questioned me graciously, but I was as one seized with blindness, my spirit fainted, my limbs failed, my heart was no longer in my bosom, and I knew the difference between life and death. His Majesty said to one of the companions, "Lift him up, let him speak to me." And his Majesty said: "Behold thou hast come, thou hast trodden the deserts, thou hast played the wanderer. PRINCE SINUHIT 19 Decay falls on thee, old age has reached thee ; it is no small thing that thy body should be embalmed, that the Pedtiu shall not bury thee. Do not, do not, be silent and speechless; tell thy name; is it fear that prevents thee?" I answered in reply: "I fear, what is it that my lord has said that I should answer it? I have not called on me the hand of God, but it is terror in my body, like that which brings sudden death. Now behold I am before thee ; thou art life ; let thy Majesty do what pleaseth him." The royal children were brought in, and his Majesty said to the Queen, "Behold thou Sinuhit has come as an Amu, whom the Sati have produced." She cried aloud, and the royal children spake with one voice, saying, before his Majesty, "Verily it is not so, O King, my lord." Said his Majesty, "It is verily he." Then they brought their collars, and their wands, and their sistra in their hands, and displayed them before his Majesty; and they sang ' ' May thy hands prosper, O King ; May the ornaments of the Lady of Heaven continue. May the goddess Nub give life to thy nostril; May the mistress of the stars favor thee, when thou sailest south and north. All wisdom is in the mouth of thy Majesty; Thy uraeus is on thy forehead, thou drivest away the miserable. Thou art pacified, Re, lord of the lands ; They call on thee as on the mistress of all. Strong is thy horn, Thou lettest fly thine arrow. Grant the breath to him who is without it ; Grant good things to this traveler, Sinuhit the Pedti, born in the land of Egypt, Who fled away from fear of thee, And fled this land from thy terrors. Does not the face grow pale, of him who beholds thy countenance ; Does not the eye fear, which looks upon thee ? ' ' Said his Majesty, "Let him not fear, let him be freed from terror. He shall be a Royal Friend among the nobles; he 20 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY shall be put within the circle of the courtiers. Go ye to the chamber of praise to seek wealth for him." When I went out from the palace, the royal children offered their hands to me ; we walked afterward to the Great Gates. I was placed in a house of a King's son, in which were delicate things, a place of coolness, fruits of the granary, treasures of the White House, clothes of the King's wardrobe, frankin- cense, the finest perfumes of the King and the nobles whom he loves, in every chamber. All the servitors were in their several offices. Years were removed from my limbs: I was shaved, and polled my locks of hair; the foulness was cast to the desert with the garments of the Nemau-sha. I clothed me in fine linen, and anointed myself with the fine oil of Egypt; I laid me on a bed. I gave up the sand to those who lie on it; the oil of wood to him who would anoint himself therewith. There was given to me the mansion of a lord of serfs, which had belonged to a royal friend. There many excellent things were in its buildings ; all its wood was renewed. There were brought to me portions from the palace, thrice and four times each day ; besides the gifts of the royal children, always, with- out ceasing. There was built for me a pyramid of stone amongst the pyramids. The overseer of the architects meas- ured its ground; the chief treasurer wrote it; the sacred masons cut the well; the chief of the laborers on the tombs brought the bricks ; all things used to make strong a building were there used. There were given to me peasants; there were made for me a garden, and fields in it before my man- sion, as is done for the chief Royal Friend. My statue was inlaid with gold, its girdle of pale gold; his Majesty caused it to be made. Such is not done to a man of low degree. May I be in the favor of the King until the day shall come of my death. KING SENNACHERIB THE TERRIBLE ASSYRIAN CONQUEROR WHO BESIEGED JERUSALEM UNDER HEZEKIAH REIGNED 705-681 B. C. SENNACHERIB'S PALACE INSCRIPTION SENNACHERIB, the great King, the powerful King, the King of the world, the King of Assyria, the King of the four zones, the wise shepherd, the favorite of the great gods, the pro- tector of justice, the lover of righteousness, he who gives help, who goes to assist the weak, who frequents the sanc- tuaries, the perfect hero, the manful warrior, the first of all princes, the great, he who destroys the rebellious, who destroys the enemies ; Ashur, the great rock, a kingdom without a rival has granted me. Over all who sit on sacred seats has he made my arms great, from the upper sea of the setting sun, unto the lower sea of the rising sun * the whole of the black-headed people 2 has he thrown beneath my feet and rebellious princes shunned battle with me. They forsook their dwellings; like a falcon which dwells in the clefts, they fled alone to an inaccessible place. In my first campaign I accomplished the destruction of Marduk-baladan King of Kar-duniash, 3 together with the troops of Elam, his allies, near Kish. In the midst of that battle he left his encampment and fled alone, and saved his life. The chariots, horses, freight-wagons, and mules which he left in the onset of battle, my hands seized. Into his palace I entered joyously and opened his treasure-house. Gold, silver, gold and silver utensils, costly stones of every kind, possessions and goods, without number, a heavy spoil, his 1 Lake Van and the Persian Gulf. 2 The inhabitants of Babylonia. 8 Babylonia. 21 22 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY women of the palace, valets de chanibre, youths and maidens, all the artizans, as many as there were, the portable things of his palace, I brought forth and counted as spoil. By the power of Ashur my lord, 75 of his powerful cities, the fortresses of the land of Kaldi, and 420 smaller cities of their environs I besieged, captured, and carried off their spoil. The Arabians, Aramaeans, and Chaldeans of Uruk, Nippur, Kish, Kharsak-kalamma, Kutu, and Sippara together with the inhabitants of the city who had committed transgression, I brought forth and counted as spoil. On my return march, the Tu'muna, the Rikhikhu, the Yadaqqu, the Ubudu, the Kipre, the Malakhu, the Gurumu, the Ubulum, the Damunu, the Gambulum, the Khindaru, the Ru'ua, the Puqudu, the Khamranu, the Khagaranu, the Na- batu, the Li'tau, Aramaeans who were rebellious, I conquered together. 208,000 people, young and old, male and female, 7200 horses and mules, 11,073 asses, 5230 camels, 80,100 cattle, 800,600 sheep, an immense spoil, I carried away to Assyria. In the course of my campaign, I received from Nabubel- shanati, the prefect of the city Khararati, gold, silver, tall palms, asses, camels, cattle, and sheep, a great present. The men of the city Khirimme, a rebellious enemy, I cast down with arms, I left not one alive, their corpses I bound on stakes and placed them round the city. That district I took anew. 1 steer, 10 rams, 10 measures 4 of wine, 20 measures of dates, their first fruits, for the gods of Assyria, my lords, I estab- lished forever. In my second campaign, Ashur, my lord, gave me con- fidence. Against the land of the Cossasans, 5 and the land of the Yasubigallai, who in former times to the kings, my fore- fathers, had not submitted, I marched. Over high, wooded mountains, a rough country, I went on horseback. I brought up the chariot of my feet, with ropes. A steep place I climbed like a wild bull. Bit-Kilamzakh, Khardishpi, Bit-Kubatti his cities, powerful fortresses, I besieged and captured. Men, horses, mules, asses, cattle, and sheep from them I brought forth, and counted as spoil; but their small cities, without number, I destroyed, wasted, and made like fields, *Imeri, i.e., "donkey-loads," the original meaning of the word homer. 5 KassM. They lived in the mountains on the east of Babylonia. KING SENNACHERIB 23 the tents, their dwelling-places, I burned with fire, I reduced to ashes. I made that city Bit-Kilamzakh into a fortress, stronger than before I made its walls ; the people of the coun- tries, the possession of my hands, I made to dwell therein. The people of the land of the Cossaeans, and of the land of Yasubigallai, who had fled before my arms, from the moun- tains I made them descend, in Khardishpi and Bit-Kubatti I made them settle; in the hands of my deputy, the governor of Arrapkha, 6 I placed them; a tablet I caused to be pre- pared; the victory of my hands which I had gained over them I wrote upon it and I set it up in the city as a memo- rial of my triumphs. I turned about and to the land of Ellipi 7 I took my way. Before me Ispabara, their King, left his strong cities, his treasure-houses, and fled away. The whole of his extensive land I wasted like a storm-wind. Marubishti and Akuddu, cities of his royal house, together with 34 small cities of their environs, I besieged, took, destroyed, wasted, and burned with fire ; the inhabitants, young, old, male and female, horses, mules, asses, camels, oxen, and sheep without number I drove away and I made his land desolate, and diminished it. Sisirtu and Kummakhlum, powerful cities, together with the small cities of their environs, the land of Bit-Barru, in its entire extent, from his land I separated and to the land of Assyria added. The city of Ilinzash I made the capital and fortress of that territory and changed its former name; Kar-Senna- cherib I named it. The people of the lands, the possession of my hands, I made to dwell there. In the hands of my deputy, the governor of Kharkhar, 8 I placed them, and wid- ened my territory. On my return I received from the land of Media, 9 far away, of which land no one of my fathers had heard the name, a heavy tribute. I placed them beneath the yoke of my lordship. 6 Hence the classical name of the district of Arrapakhitis, on the "Upper Zab; now Albak. 7 Ellipi was the country of which Ekbatana was subsequently the center, the Media of classical antiquity. 8 Kharkhar adjoined Ellipi on the northeast. 8 Madai. It must be remembered that the Medes spoken of by Sen- nacherib did not as yet inhabit the district of which Ekbatana subse- quently became the capital. Hence the title of "far off," applied to them here. 24 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY In my third campaign I marched to the land of the Hit- tites. 10 Elulams, King of Sidon, was overcome by the fear of the splendor of my lordship and fled far away to the sea and there made his abode. Great Sidon, Little Sidon, Bit- zitti, Sarepta, Makhalliba, Ushu, Ekdippa, Akko, his powerful cities, fortresses, pastures, and cisterns, and his fortifications, the power of the arms of Ashur, my lord, overcame and cast at my feet. Ethobal upon the royal throne I placed over them and a tribute of my lordship, yearly and unchange- able, I set upon him. Menahem of the city of Samsimuruna, Ethobal of Sidon, Abdili'ti of Arvad, Urumilki of Byblos, Mitinti of Ashdod, Buduilu of Beth-Ammon, Kammusu-nadab of Moab, Malik-rammu of Edom, all Kings of the west land, brought rich presents, heavy gifts with merchandise, before me, and kissed my feet. And Tsidqa, the King of Ashkelon, who had not submitted to my yoke, I brought out the gods of the house of his fathers, himself, his wife, his sons, his daughters, his brothers, the seed of the house of his fathers, and took them to Assyria. Sharru-ludari, the son of Rukibti, their former King, I established over the people of Ashkelon ; the giving of tribute, a present to my lordship, I put upon him, and he bears my yoke. In the course of my campaign Beth-Dagon, Joppa, Benebarqa, 11 Azuru, the cities of Tsidqa, which had not quickly thrown themselves at my feet, I be- sieged, I took, I carried away their spoil. The governors, chiefs, and people of Ekron who had cast Padi, their King according to Assyrian right and oath, into iron chains, and had, in hostile manner, given him to Heze- kiah of Judah he shut him up in prison feared in their hearts. The kings of Egypt called forth the archers, chariots, and horses of the King of Melukhkhi, a force without num- ber, and came to their help ; before the city of Eltekeh they arranged their battle array, appealing to their weapons. With the help of Ashur, my lord, I fought with them and accom- plished their defeat. The chief of the chariots and the sons of the King of Egypt and the chief of the chariots of the M "The land of the Hittites" had now become a generic title, signify- ing Syria generally. The Hittite kingdoms at Carehemish and elsewhere had now ceased to exist. 11 The Beni-berak of Josh. xix. 45. KING SENNACHERIB 25 King of Melukhkhi my hands took alive in the fight. Eltekeh and Timnath 12 I besieged, I took, and carried away their spoil. To the city of Ekron I went ; the governors and princes, who had committed a transgression, I killed and bound their corpses on poles around the city. The inhabitants of the city who had committed sin and evil I counted as spoil; to the rest of them who had committed no sin and wrong, who had no guilt, I spoke peace. Padi, their King, I brought forth from the city of Jerusalem; upon the throne of lord- ship over them I placed him. The tribute of my lordship I laid upon him. But Hezekiah, of Judah, who had not submitted to my yoke, I besieged 46 of his strong cities, fortresses, and small cities of their environs, without number, and by casting down the walls and advancing the engines, by an assault of the light- armed soldiers, by breaches, by striking, and by axes I took them; 200,150 men, young and old, male and female, horses, mules, asses, camels, oxen, and sheep witihout number I brought out from them, I counted them as spoil. Hezekiah himself I shut up like a caged bird in Jerusalem, his royal city; the walls I fortified against him, and whosoever came out of the gates of the city I turned back. His cities, which I had plundered, I divided from his land and gave them to Mitinti, King of Ashdod, to Padi, King of Ekron, and to Tsil-Bal, King of Gaza, and thus diminished his territory. To the former tribute, paid yearly, I added the tribute of alliance of my lordship, and laid that upon him. Hezekiah himself was overwhelmed by the fear of the brightness of my lordship ; the Arabians and his other faith- ful warriors whom, as a defense for Jerusalem, his royal city, he had brought in, fell into fear. With 30 talents of gold and 800 talents of silver, precious stones, gukhli dag- gassi, large lapis lazuli, couches of ivory, thrones of ivory, ivory, usu wood, boxwood of every kind, a heavy treasure, and his daughters, his women of the palace, the young men and young women, to Nineveh, the city of my lordship, I caused to be brought after me, and he sent his ambassadors to give tribute and to pay homage. "See Gen. xxxviii. 12 j Josh. xv. 10; Judg. xiv. 1, etc. The place is now called Tibneh, 26 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY In my fourth campaign Ashur my lord gave me confidence. I summoned my masses of troops ; to the land of Bit-Yakin 13 I made them march. In the course of my campaign I accom- plished at Bittutu the overthrow of Shuzub, the Chaldean, who dwelt in the marsh land. He was overcome by the fear of my battle-line, he lost heart, like a bird he fled alone, his trace was seen no more. I turned about, to the land of Bit- Yakin I took the road. Marduk-baladan, whose overthrow, in the course of my first campaign, I had accomplished and his power dispersed, feared the war-cry of my powerful arms and the advance of my strong battle-line, and the gods who ruled his land he moved in their shrines, on ships he embarked them; to the city of Nagittu, in the swamps, by the sea-coast, he fled like a bird. His brothers, the seed of his fathers, whom he left by the sea, together with the remaining people of this land, from Bit-Yakin, marsh and meadow-land, I brought them out, counted them slaves. I returned and destroyed his cities; I wasted them, and made them like plowed land. Upon his confederate, the King of Elam, I poured out fury. On my return march I made Asur-nadin-sum, my first-born son, the scion of my knees, sit upon the throne of his lordship and the broad land of Sumer and Akkad I made subject to him. In my fifth campaign the men of Tumurri, Sarum, Isama, Kibsu, Khalbada, Qua and Qana, whose dwellings, like the nest of the eagle the king of birds, were located upon the pinnacle of Nippur, 14 the steep mountain, had not yielded to my yoke. At the foot of mount Nippur I placed my camp, with my followers drawn up and my unrelenting warriors, I, like a strong wild ox, took the lead. Clefts, ravines, moun- tain torrents, difficult high floods in a chair I crossed, places impassable for the chair I went down on foot, like an ibex I climbed to the high peaks against them, wherever my knees had a resting-place, I sat down on a rock; waters of cold streams, for my thirst, I drank. Upon the peaks of wooded mountains I pursued them, I accomplished their destruction; 13 The capital of Marduk-baladan, in the marshes in the south of Baby- lonia. "Mount Taurus. KING SENNACHERIB 27 their cities I took. I took away their spoil, destroyed, wasted, and burned them with fire. I turned about and against Maniae, King of the city of TJkki, in the land of Daie, yet unconquered, I took the road. Into the unopened path, the steep roads before impassable mountains, before me had no one of the former kings inarched. At the foot of Anara and Uppa, powerful mountains, I placed my camp, and I, upon my chair, with my unrelenting war- riors, entered, with weariness, into their narrow passes. With difficulty I climbed the peaks of the steep mountains. Maniae saw the dust of my soldiers' feet, forsook Ukku, his royal city, and fled far away. I besieged and took Ukku. I took his spoil of all sorts, property and possessions; the treasure of his palace I brought out from it and counted as spoil, and 33 cities of the borders of his territory I took. People, asses, cattle and sheep I brought forth from them. I de- stroyed, wasted, and burned them with fire. In my sixth campaign, the remaining inhabitants of Bit- Yakin who had fled before my powerful arms, like wild asses, and had moved the gods, who rule their lands, in their shrines, and had crossed over the great sea of the setting sun, and had set their homes in Nagitu, of the land of Elam, therefore upon ships of the Hittites 15 I crossed the sea. Na- gitu, Nagitu-dibina, with Kilmu, Pillatu and the land of Khupapanu, districts of the land of Elam I took. The people of Bit-Yakin, with their gods, and the people of the King of Elam I took, and left behind no settler. In ships I brought them; over to the coast on this side I made them cross and take the road to Assyria. The cities of those districts I de- stroyed, wasted, burned with fire and made them heaps and plowed land. On my return Shuzub, of Babylon, who, through an attack on the land, had seized the lordship of Sumer and Akkad, in open battle I defeated, I took him alive with my own hand, in fetters and bands of iron I put him, and to Assyria I brought him. The King of Elam, who had helped him and marched to his aid, I overcame; his power I scattered, I broke down his army. In my seventh campaign Ashur my lord gave me confidence. "That is, Syrians. 28 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY To the land of Elam I marched. Bit-Khairi and Rasa, cities of the Assyrian territory which, in the reign of my fathers, the Elamites had torn away by force, in the course of my campaign I took, and seized their spoil. My royal warriors I took into them. To the territory of Assyria I returned them and gave them into the hands of the chief of Khaltsu dur- samiirtsiti. The cities of Bubi, Dunnisamas, Bit-risia, Bit- uklame, Duru, Danti-Sulai, Siliptu, Bit-asusi, Karmubasa, Bit-gissi, Bit-kappalani, Bit-imbia, Khamanu, Bit-arrabi, Burutu, Dintu-sa-Sulai, Dintusa-Turbititir, Kharriaslaki, Rabai, Rasu, Akkabarina, Tilukhuri, Khamranu, Naditu, with the cities at the entrance toward Bit-bunaki, Til-khumbi, Din- tu-sa-Dumean, Bit-ubia, Baltilisir, Tagallisir, Sanakidati, Masutu-saplitu, Sarkhuderi, Alum-sa-tarbit, Bit-akhiddina, Ilteuba, 34 powerful cities and the smaller cities in their environs without number, I besieged, took, and carried off their spoil, I destroyed, wasted, and burned them with fire. With the smoke of their burning, like a dark cloud I cov- ered the face of the broad heaven. When Kudur-Nakhundu, the Elamite, heard of the taking of his cities, fear overcame him. He made his remaining cities fortresses. He left Madakti, his royal city, and to Khaidala, which is among the far-away mountains, took his way. To Madakti, his royal city, I ordered the march. In the month Tebet, a great cold set in, the heaven poured down rain, rain upon rain and snow; streams and torrents from mountains I feared. I turned about and took the road to Nineveh. In those days, by command of Ashur my lord, Kudur-Nakhundi, the King of Elam, did not live three months. On a day not destined for him he died suddenly. After him Ummam-minanu, without judgment and intelli- gence, his younger brother, set himself on his throne. In my eighth campaign, after Suzub had been carried off, and the people of Babylon, evil devils had closed their city gates, their heart planned the making of a rebellion. Around Suzub, the Chaldean, the wicked, the base, who has no strength, a vassal under the control of the governor of Lak- hiru, the fugitive, the deserter, the bloodthirsty, they gath- ered and marched into the marsh-land and made a revolt. I surrounded them with an army and threatened his life. KING SENNACHERIB 29 On account of terror and distress he fled to Elam. As in- famy and wrong were around him he hastened from Elam and entered Babylon. The Babylonians illegitimately set him on the throne, and the lordship of Sumer and Akkad entrusted to him. The treasure-house of E-saggil they opened, and the gold and silver of Bel and Zarbanit, which they brought from their temples, they gave as a bribe to Umman-minanu, the King of Elam, who was without judgment and insight, saying to him : ' ' Assemble thy army, gather thy forces, hasten to Babylon, help us, our confidence art thou." He, the Elamite, whose cities, in the course of my former campaign against Elam I had taken, and turned into plow- land, took no thought, he received the bribe from them and assembled his soldiers and forces; his chariots and baggage- wagons he brought together, horses and mules he placed in spans. The lands of Parsuas, Anzan, Pasiru, Ellipi, lazan, Lagabra, Karzunu, Dumuqu, Sulai, Samunu, the son of Mar- duk-baladan, Bit-adini, Bit-amukkana, Bit-sillana, Bit-salu- dudakki, Lakhiru, the Puqudu, the Gambulum, the Khalatu, the Ruua, the Ubulum, the Malakhu, the Rapiqu, the Khin- daru, the Damunu, a great confederation, he called unto him. Their great throng took the road to Akkad and came to Baby- lon. Together with Suzub the Chaldean, King of Babylon, they made an alliance and united their forces, like a great swarm of locusts, on the surface of the earth ; together, they came to do battle against me. The dust of their feet was like a storm by which the wide heavens are covered with thick clouds. Before me in the city of Khaluli, on the banks of the Tigris, the line of battle was drawn up. Before me they stationed themselves, they brandished their arms. I prayed to Ashur, Sin, Shamash, Bel, Nabu, Nergal, Ishtar of Nineveh, Ishtar of Arbela, the gods of my confidence, to overcome my powerful enemy. My prayers they quickly heard, they came to my help. Like a lion I raged and put on my cuirass and with my helmet, sign of war, I covered my head. Into my high war-chariot, which wipes out the refrac- tory, with the fury of my heart I climbed quickly. The powerful bow, which Ashur had entrusted to me, I seized, the javelin which destroys life I seized with my hand. Against all the troops, evil enemies, oppressed, I roared like a lion, 30 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY like Ramman I raged. At the command of Ashur, the great lord, my lord, on flank and front, like the advance of a wild flood, upon the enemy I fell. With the confidence of Ashur, and the advance of my powerful line of battle, I struck their front and brought about their retreat. The hostile forces with arrow and lance I destroyed, through the mass of their corpses I cleared my way. Khumba-nudasa, chief of the King of Elam, a careful champion, who ruled his troops, in whom he had great con- fidence, him, together with his chief men, whose girdle-dagger was embossed with gold, and whose wrists were bound with double bracelets of shining gold, like fat steers, laid in chains, I quickly destroyed, and accomplished their defeat. Their necks I cut off. like lambs, their precious lives I cut through like a knot; like a heavy rain, their trophies and arms I scattered over the wide field. The chargers of my chariot swam in the masses of blood as in a river, crushing evil and bad ; blood and filth ran down its wheel. With the corpses of their warriors, as with herbs I filled the field. I cut off. their testicles. Their pudenda I tore from them like the seed of cucumbers. I cut off their hands. The bracelets of gold and silver, which were on their arms, I took off. With sharp swords I cut off their noses. The gold and silver girdle-dag- gers, which they carried, I took away. The rest of his offi- cers, and Nabu-sum-iskun, the son of Marduk-baladan, who feared my line of battle, but had gone with them, in the midst of the battle I seized them alive, with my hands. Their chariots with their horses, whose drivers, in the onset of bat- tle, had been killed, while they were left and went up and down by themselves, these I turned together. Until the fourth hour of the night it went on. Then I stopped their slaughter. Umman-minanu, King of Elam, together with the King of Babylon, the princes of Chaldea, who had helped them, the vehemence of my battle-line, like a bull overwhelmed them. They left their tents. To save their lives they trampled over the bodies of their soldiers and fled. Like young cap- tured birds they lost courage. With their urine they defiled their chariots and let fall their excrement. To pursue them I sent my chariots and horses after them. Their fugitives, KING SENNACHERIB 31 who had gone out to save their lives wherever they were overtaken, were thrown down by arms. In those days, after I had finished the palace adjoining the wall of Nineveh for a royal dwelling, and to the astonish- ment of all people had adorned it; the side building, for keeping in order the train, for the keeping of horses, and all sorts of things which the kings, my forefathers and fathers, had built, it had no foundation, its room was too small, the workmanship was not tasteful. In the course of time, its base had become weak, the part under ground had given way, and the upper part was in ruins. That palace I tore down completely. A great mass of building-material I took out of the ground. The surrounding part of the city I cut off and added to it. The place of the old palace I left. With earth from the river-bed I filled it up. The lower ground I raised 200 tipki above the level. In a favorable month on an auspicious day I built on this foundation according to the wisdom of my heart a palace of pilu stone and cedar-wood, in the style of the Hittites, and a great palace in the Assyrian style, which far exceeded the former in adaptation, size, and artistic excellence, through the work of the wise builders of my royal rule. Great cedar-beams from Khamanu, 16 a snow- capped mountain, I brought hither. The doors of liari wood I surrounded with a cover of gleaming bronze, and I put in the doors. With white pilu stones, which were found in the environs of Buladai, I made great bull colossi and placed them by the doors on the left and right. For the equipment of the black-headed men, for the receiving of horses, mules, calves, asses, chariots, bow-strings, quivers, bows and arrows, every sort of tool for war, the harness for horses and mules, which have great power when yoked, I made rooms and greatly enlarged them. I built that palace from foundation to roof and finished it. My inscription I brought into it. For future days, whoever among the kings, my succes- sors, whom Ashur and Ishtar shall call to rule over the land and people the prince may be, if this palace becomes old and ruined, who builds it anew may he preserve my inscription, anoint it with oil, offer sacrifices, return it to its place ; then will Ashur and Ishtar hear his prayer. Whoever alters my M Mount Amanus. 32 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY writing and name him may Ashur, the great lord, the father of gods, afflict like an enemy and take scepter and throne from him and destroy his rule. Dated the month Adar of the archonate of Bel-imurani, prefect of Carchemish. END OF SENNACHERIB'S INSCRIPTION able Greek x>r of man's effort irtimate in having a value to SOCRATES It WM ; many a h Beyond i:i.s tin * were .Miiar,? became his pupils. H we know SOCRATES THE POUNDER OF PHILOSOPHIC THOUGHT; THE FIRST GREAT TEACHER AND MARTYR OF THE EUROPEAN WORLD 469-399 B. C. (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) Socrates, the Athenian, was the earliest of tir se remarkable Greek philosophers whom our own age reveres as the originator of man's effort to understand his world. We are thus peculiarly fortunate in having Socrates' own estimate of his life, his doctrines and his own value to the world around him. His favorite command to his disciples, his favor- ite expression as to the aim of all philosophy, was, "Know thyself," a phrase which has become historic as the master word of his teaching. The Greek religious oracle once declared Socrates to be the wisest of men, but he interpreted the seeming praise most humbly by saying that it was true, for he alone among men realized that he really knew nothing. Like many a later philosopher, Socrates taught doctrines so far beyond his times that he was persecuted. At first, indeed, his instructions were eagerly sought. The ablest of the younger Athenians became his pupils. But many of these were of the aristocratic class and became involved in an effort to overthrow the Athenian democracy. Socrates was sus- pected of aiding or at least encouraging these plots, and at the age of seventy he was tried by tne people 's court as being a corrupter of the Athenian youth. He was adjudged guilty by a bare majority of the five hundred judges of the court, and was condemned to drink hemlock poison. This he did with quiet simplicity, declaring his continued obedi- ence to the State, and refusing the schemes of escapes urged upon him by his friends. His celebrated "Apology" which we here present was his defense before the court which condemned him. In it he reviewed his whole life to show what had been his real influence upon the Athenian youth. The "Apology" comes to us not from his own pen but from that of his favorite pupil, Plato, his successor as the leader of philosophy. Plato wrote among his own books what he tells us was his master's speech, and from allusions to it by other authors we know that the speech must really have been almost, if not exactly, as Plato has recorded it. The A. v. 13 33 34 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY "Apology" has generally been regarded as the most valuable piece of genuine autobiography preserved to us from before the time of Christ. THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES How you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing the speeches of my accusers, I cannot tell ; but I know that their persuasive words almost made me forget who I was, such was the effect of them; and yet they have hardly spoken a word of truth. But many as their falsehoods were, there was one of them which quite amazed me: I mean when they told you to be upon your guard, and not to let yourselves be deceived by the force of my eloquence. They ought to have been ashamed of saying this, because they were sure to be detected as soon as I opened my lips and displayed my deficiency ; they certainly did appear to be most shameless in saying this, unless by the force of eloquence they mean the force of truth ; for then I do indeed admit that I am eloquent. But in how different a way from theirs! "Well, as I was saying, they have hardly uttered a word, or not more than a word, of truth ; but you shall hear from me the whole truth : not, however, delivered after their manner, in a set oration duly ornamented with words and phrases. No, indeed! but I shall use the words and arguments which occur to me at the moment; for I am certain that this is right, and that at my time of life I ought not to be appearing before you, O men of Athens, in the character of a juvenile orator: let no one expect this of me. And I must beg of you to grant me one favor, which is this, If you hear me using the same words in my defense which I have been in the habit of using and which most of you may have heard in the agora [market place], and at the tables of the money-changers, or anywhere else, I would ask you not to be surprised at this, and not to interrupt me. For I am more than seventy years of age, and this is the first time that I have ever appeared in a court of law, and I am quite a stranger to the ways of the place ; and therefore I would have you regard me as if I were really a stranger, whom you would excuse if he spoke in his native tongue, and after the fashion of his country : that I think is not an unfair request. Never mind the manner, which may or may not be good; SOCRATES 35 but think only of the justice of my cause, and give heed to that : let the judge decide justly and the speaker speak truly. And first, I have to reply to the older charges and to my first accusers, and then I will go on to the later ones. For I have had many accusers, who accused me of old, and their false charges have continued during many years; and I am more afraid of them than of Anytus x and his associates, who are dangerous, too, in their own way. But far more danger- ous are these, who began when you were children, and took possession of your minds with their falsehoods, telling of one Socrates, a wise man, who speculated about the heaven above, and searched into the earth beneath, and made the worse appear the better cause. These are the accusers whom I dread ; for they are the circulators of this rumor, and their hearers are too apt to fancy that speculators of this sort do not believe in the gods. And they are many, and their charges against me are of ancient date, and they made them in days when you were impressible in childhood, or perhaps in youth and the cause when heard went by default, for there was none to answer. And hardest of all, their names I do not know and cannot tell ; unless in the chance case of a comic poet. 2 But the main body of these slanderers who from envy and malice have wrought upon you and there are some of them who are convinced themselves, and impart their convic- tions to others all these, I say, are most difficult to deal with ; for I cannot have them up here, and examine them, and there- fore I must simply fight with shadows in my own defense, and examine when there is no one who answers. I will ask you then to assume with me, as I was saying, that my opponents are of two kinds one recent, the other ancient; and I hope that you will see the propriety of my answering the latter first, for these accusations you heard long before the others, and much oftener. Well, then, I will make my defense, and I will endeavor ir The chief accuser of Socrates. He hated Socrates for having influ- enced his son to study philosophy. He is said to have gone into exile after the death of Socrates to escape the vengeance of the repentant people. * Aristophanes, twenty-five years before the trial of Socrates, wrote a comedy called The Clouds, in which he ridiculed the philosopher, repre- senting him as a visionary with his head in the clouds, oblivious of mundane affairs, and so misleading his followers. 36 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY in the short time which is allowed to do away with this evil opinion of me which you have held for such a long time ; and I hope that I may succeed, if this be well for you and me, and that my words may find favor with you. But I know that to accomplish this is not easy I quite see the nature of the task. Let the event be as God wills : in obedience to the law I make my defense. I will begin at the beginning, and ask what the accusation is which has given rise to this slander of me, and which has encouraged Meletus 3 to proceed against me. "What do the slanderers say ? They shall be my prosecutors, and I will sum up their words in an affidavit : ' ' Socrates is an evil-doer, and a curious person, who searches into things under the earth and in heaven, and he makes the worse appear the better cause; and he teaches the aforesaid doctrines to others." That is the nature of the accusation, and that is what you have seen yourselves in the comedy of Aristophanes, who has introduced a man whom he calls Socrates, going about and saying that he can walk in the air, and talking a deal of nonsense concerning matters of which I do not pretend to know either much or little not that I mean to say anything disparaging of any one who is a student of natural philosophy. I should be very sorry if Meletus could lay that to my charge. But the simple truth is, O Athenians, that I have nothing to do with studies. Very many of those here present are witnesses to the truth of this, and to them I appeal. Speak then, you who have heard me, and tell your neighbors whether any of you have ever known me hold forth in few words or in many upon matters of this sort. . . . You hear their answer. And from what they say of this you will be able to judge of the truth of the rest. As little foundation is there for the report that I am a teacher, and take money ; that is no more true than the other. Although, if a man is able to teach, I honor him for being paid. There is Gorgias of Leontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias of Elis, 4 who go the round of the cities, and are able to persuade the young men to leave their own citizens, * An obscure young tragic poet, who made the formal accusation against Socrates. He was the tool of Anytus and was stoned to death by the people in their revulsion of feeling after the death of Socrates. * Popular Sophists of the day. SOCRATES 37 by whom they might be taught for nothing, and come to them whom they not only pay, but are thankful if they may be allowed to pay them. There is actually a Parian philosopher 5 residing in Athens, of whom I have heard; and I came to hear of him in this way : I met a man who has spent a world of money on the Sophists, Callias the son of Hipponicus, and knowing that he had sons, I asked him: "Callias," I said, "if your two sons were foals or calves, there would be no diffi- culty in finding some one to put over them ; we should hire a trainer of horses, or a farmer probably, who would improve and perfect them in their own proper virtue and excellence ; but as they are human beings, whom are you thinking of placing over them ? Is there any one who understands human and political virtue? You must have thought about this as you have sons: is there any one?" "There is," he said. "Who is he?" said I, "and of what country? and what does he charge?" "Evenus the Parian," he replied; "he is the man, and his charge is five minse. ' ' 8 Happy is Evenus, I said to myself, if he really has this wisdom, and teaches at such a modest charge. 7 Had I the same, I should have been very proud and conceited; but the truth is that I have no knowledge of the kind, Athenians. I dare say that some one will ask the question, "Why is this, Socrates, and what is the origin of these accusations of you: for there must have been something strange which you have been doing? All this great fame and talk about you would never have arisen if you had been like other men : tell us, then, why this is, as we should be sorry to judge hastily of you." Now I regard this as a fair challenge, and I will endeavor to explain to you the origin of this name of "wise," and of this evil fame. Please to attend, then. And although some of you may think that I am joking, I declare that I will tell you the entire truth. Men of Athens, this reputation of mine has come of a certain sort of wisdom which I possess. If you ask me what kind of wisdom, I reply, such wisdom as is attainable by man, for to that extent I am inclined to believe that I am wise ; whereas the persons of whom I was speaking 8 Evenus of Faros, a poet, and rhetorician. "About eighty or ninety dollars. 7 Gorgias and Portagoras received as much as one hundred minae ($1600 to $1800). 38 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY have a superhuman wisdom, which I may fail to describe, because I have it not myself; and he who says that I have, speaks falsely, and is taking away my character. And here, O men of Athens, I must beg you not to interrupt me, even if I seem to say something extravagant. For the word which I will speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness who is worthy of credit, and will tell you about my wisdom whether I have any, and of what sort and that witness shall be the God of Delphi [Apollo], You must have known Chasrephon ; he was early a friend of mine, and also a friend of yours, for he shared in the exile of the people, 8 and re- turned with you. "Well, Chasrephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all his doings, and he went to Delphi and boldly asked the oracle to tell him whether as I was saying, I must beg you not to interrupt he asked the oracle to tell him whether there was any one wiser than I was, and the Pythian prophetess answered, that there was no man wiser. Chaere- phon is dead himself, but his brother, who is in court, will confirm the truth of this story. Why do I mention this ? Because I am going to explain to you why I have such an evil name. When I heard the answer, I said to myself, What can the god mean? and what is the interpretation of this riddle ? for I know that I have no wis- dom, small or great. What can he mean when he says that I am the wisest of men ? And yet he is a god and cannot lie ; that would be against his nature. After a long consideration,, I at last thought of a method of trying the question. I re- flected that if I could only find a man wiser than myself, then I might go to the god with a refutation of wisdom in my hand. I should say to him ' ' Here is a man who is wiser than I am ; but you said that I was the wisest." Accordingly I went to one who had the reputation of wisdom, and observed him his name I need not mention; he was a politician whom I selected for examination and the result was as follows: When I began to talk with him, I could not help thinking that he was not really wise, although he was thought wise by many, and wiser still by himself; and I went and tried 8 The Peloponnesian War (431-404 B. C.) was a conflict between Athens and Sparta in which Athens was defeated, and her most patriotic citizens sent into exile. SOCRATES 39 to explain to him that he thought himself wise, but was not really wise; and the consequence was that he hated me, and his enmity was shared by several who were present and heard me. So I left him, saying to myself, as I went away: Well, although I do not suppose that either of us knows anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is for he knows nothing, and thinks that he knows. I neither know nor think that I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem to have slightly the advantage of him. Then I went to another who had still higher philosophical pretensions, and my conclusion was exactly the same. I made another enemy of him, and of many others beside him. After this I went to one man after another, being not un- conscious of the enmity which I provoked, and I lamented and feared this: but necessity was laid upon me, the word of God, I thought, ought to be considered first. And I said to myself, Go I must to all who appear to know, and find out the meaning of the oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, by the dog 9 I swear ! for I must tell you the truth the re- sult of my mission was just this : I found that the men most in repute were all but the most foolish ; and that some inferior men were really wiser and better. I will tell you the tale of my wanderings and of the ' ' Herculean ' ' labors, as I may call them, which I endured only to find at last the oracle irrefut- able. When I left the politicians, I went to the poets ; tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. And there, I said to myself, you will be detected: now you will find out that you are more ignorant than they are. Accordingly, I took them some of the most elaborate passages in their own writings, and asked what was the meaning of them thinking that they would teach me something. Will you believe me? I am almost ashamed to speak of this, but still I must say that there is hardly a person present who would not have talked better about their poetry than they did themselves. That showed me in an in- stant that not by wisdom do poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration; they are like diviners or sooth- sayers who also say many fine things, but do not understand the meaning of them. And the poets appeared to me to be much in the same case ; and I further observed that upon the An oath, of possibly Egyptian origin, often used by Socrates. 40 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY strength of their poetry they believed themselves to be the wisest of men in other things in which they were not wise. So I departed, conceiving myself to be superior to them for the same reason that I was superior to the politicians. At last I went to the artisans, for I was conscious that I knew nothing at all, as I may say, and I was sure that they knew many fine things; and in this I was not mistaken, for they did know many things of which I was ignorant, and in this they certainly were wiser than I was. But I observed that even the good artisans fell into the same error as the poets; because they were good workmen they thought that they also knew all sorts of high matters, and this defect in them overshadowed their wisdom therefore I asked myself on behalf of the oracle, whether I would like to be as I was, neither having their knowledge nor their ignorance, or like them in both; and I made answer to myself and the oracle that I was better off as I was. This investigation has led to my having many enemies of the worst and most dangerous kind, and has given occasion also to many calumnies. And I am called wise, for my hear- ers always imagine that I myself possess the wisdom which I find wanting in others : but the truth is, men of Athens, that God only is wise ; and in this oracle he means to say that the wisdom of men is little or nothing : he is not speaking of Soc- rates, he is only using my name as an illustration, as if he said, He, men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth worth nothing. And so I go my way, obedient to the god, and make inquisition into the wisdom of any one, whether citizen or stranger, who appears to be wise ; and if he is not wise, then in vindication of the oracle I show him that he is not wise; and this occupation quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either to any public matter of interest or to any concern of my own, but I am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to the god. There is another thing: young men of the richer classes, who have not much to do, come about me of their own accord ; they like to hear the pretenders examined, and they often imi- tate me, and examine others themselves; there are plenty of persons, as they soon enough discover, who think that they know something, but really know little or nothing: and then SOCRATES 41 those who are examined by them instead of being angry with themselves are angry with me: This confounded Socrates, they say; this villainous misleader of youth! and then if somebody asks them, Why, what evil does he practice or teach ? they do not know, and cannot tell; but in order that they may not appear to be at a loss, they repeat the ready-made charges which are used against all philosophers about teach- ing things up in the clouds and under the earth, and having no gods, and making the worse appear the better cause ; for they do not like to confess that their pretence of knowledge has been detected which is the truth : and as they are numerous and ambitious and energetic, and are all in battle array and have persuasive tongues, they have filled your ears with their loud and inveterate calumnies. And this is the reason why my three accusers, Meletus and Anytus and Lycon, 10 have set upon me: Meletus, who has a quarrel with me on behalf of the poets ; Anytus, on behalf of the craftsmen ; Lycon, on behalf of the rhetoricians: and as I said at the beginning, I cannot expect to get rid of this mass of calumny all in a moment. And this, men of Athens, is the truth and the whole truth; I have concealed nothing, I have dissembled nothing. And yet, I know that this plainness of speech makes them hate me, and what is their hatred but a proof that I am speaking the truth? this is the occasion and reason of their slander of me, as you will find out either in this or in any future inquiry. I have said enough in my defense against the first class of my accusers; I turn to the second class who are headed by Meletus, that good and patriotic man, as he calls himself. And now I will try to defend myself against them : these new accusers must also have their affidavit read. What do they say? Something of this sort: That Socrates is a doer of evil, and corrupter of the youth, and he does not believe in the gods of the State, and has other new divinities of his own. That is the sort of charge ; and now let us examine the particular counts. He says that I am a doer of evil, who corrupt the youth ; but I say, men of Athens, that Meletus is a doer of evil, and the evil is that he makes a joke of a 10 A rhetorician and orator, afterward banished for his part in the prosecution of Socrates. 42 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY serious matter, and is too ready at bringing other men to trial from a pretended zeal and interest about matters in which, he really never had the smallest interest. And the truth of this I will endeavor to prove. [Socrates questions Meletus and forces him to confess that he himself is careless about the improvement of the youth. Then Socrates shows it is inconceivable that a man should intentionally injure those among whom he has to live. On Meletus charging that Socrates is an atheist, the philosopher shows the absurdity of charging a disbeliever in all gods with attempting to introduce new ones.] I have said enough in answer to the charge of Meletus: any elaborate defense is unnecessary: but as I was saying before, I certainly have many enemies, and this is what will be my destruction if I am destroyed ; of that I am certain ; not Meletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy and detraction of the world, which has been the death of many good men, and will probably be the death of many more; there is no danger of my being the last of them. Some one will say: And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of a course of life which is likely to bring you to an untimely end? To him I may fairly answer: There you are mis- taken : a man who is good for anything ought not to calculate the chance of living or dying; he ought only to consider whether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong acting the part of a good man or of a bad. Whereas, according to your view, the heroes who fell at Troy were not good for much, and the son of Thetis above all, who altogether despised 1 danger in comparison with disgrace; and when his goddess mother said to him, in his eagerness to slay Hector, that if he avenged his companion Patroclus, and slew Hector, he would die himself, "Fate," as she said, "waits upon you next after Hector ; " he, hearing this, utterly despised danger and death, and instead of fearing them, feared rather to live in dishonor, and not to avenge his friend. "Let me die next," he replies, "and be avenged of my enemy, rather than abide here by the beaked ships, a scorn and a burden of the earth." Had Achilles any thought of death and danger? For wherever a man's place is, whether the place which he has chosen or that in which he has been placed by a com- SOCRATES 43 mander, there lie ought to remain in the hour of danger; he should not think of death or of anything, but of disgrace. And this, men of Athens, is a true saying. Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens, if I who, when I was ordered by the generals whom you chose to command me at Potidasa and Amphipolis and Delium, re- mained where they placed me, like any other man, facing death, if, I say, now, when, as I conceive and imagine, God orders me to fulfill the philosopher's mission of searching into myself and other men, I were to desert my post through fear of death, or any other fear ; that would indeed be strange, and I might justly be arraigned in court for denying the existence of the gods, if I disobeyed the oracle because I was afraid of death: then I should be fancying that I was wise when I was not wise. For this fear of death is indeed the pretense of wisdom, and not real wisdom, being the appear- ance of knowing the unknown; since no one knows whether death, which they in their fear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is there not here conceit of knowledge, which is a disgraceful sort of ignorance ? And this is the point in which, as I might think, I am superior to men in general, and in which I might perhaps fancy myself wiser than other men, that whereas I know but little of the world below, 11 I do not suppose that I know: but I do know that injustice and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, are evil and dishonorable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible good rather than a certain evil. And therefore if you let me go now, and reject the counsels of Anytus, who said that if I were not put to death I ought not to have been prosecuted, and that if I escape now, your sons will all be utterly ruined by listening to my words, if you say to me, Socrates, this time we will not mind Anytus, and will let you off, but upon one condition, that you are not to inquire and speculate in this way any more, and that if you are caught doing this again you shall die, if this was the condition oil which you let me go, I should reply : Men of Athens, I honor and love you; but I shall obey God rather than you, and while I have life and strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching of philosophy, exhorting any one whom u Tartarus, the place of punishment for evil souls. 44 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY I meet after my manner, and convincing him, saying: O my friend, why do you, who are a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city of Athens, care so much about laying up the greatest amount of money and honor and reputation, and so little about wisdom and truth and the greatest im- provement of the soul, which you never regard or heed at all ? Are you not ashamed of this ? And if the person with whom I am arguing, says, Yes, but I do care : I do not depart or let him go at once ; I interrogate and examine and cross-examine him, and if I think that he has no virtue, but only says that he has, I reproach him with undervaluing the greater, and overvaluing the less. And this I should say to every one whom I meet, young and old, citizen and alien, but especially to the citizens, inasmuch as they are my brethren. For this is the command to God, as I would have you know ; and I be- lieve that to this day no greater good has ever happened in the State than my service to the God. For I do nothing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons or your properties, but first and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of the soul. I tell you that virtue is not given by money, but that from virtue come money and every other good of man, public as well as private. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which corrupts the youth, my influence is ruinous indeed. But if any one says that this is not my teaching, he is speaking an untruth. Wherefore, men of Athens, I say to you, do as Anytus bids or not as Anytus bids, and either acquit me or not; but whatever you do, know that I shall never alter my ways, not even if I have to die many times. Men of Athens, do not interrupt, but hear me; there was an agreement between us that you should hear me out. And I think that what I am going to say will do you good : for I have something more to say, at which you may be inclined to cry out; but I beg that you will not do this. I would have you know, that if you kill such a one as I am, you will injure yourselves more than you will injure me. Meletus and Any- tus will not injure me : they cannot ; for it is not in the nature of things that a bad man should injure a better than himself. I do not deny that he may, perhaps, kill him, or drive him into exile, or deprive him of civil rights ; and he may imagine, and SOCRATES 45 others may imagine, that he is doing him a great injury: but in that I do not agree with him ; for the evil of doing as Any- tus is doing of unjustly taking away another man's life is greater far. And now, Athenians, I am not going to argue for my own sake, as you may think, but for yours, that you may not sin against the God, or lightly reject his boon by con- demning me. For if you kill me you will not easily find another like me, who, if I may use such a ludicrous figure of speech, am a sort of gadfly, given to the State by the God; and the State is like a great and noble steed who is tardy in his motions owing to his very size, and requires to be stirred into life. I am that gladly which God has given the State, and all day long and in all places am always fastening upon you, arousing and persuading and reproaching you. And as you will not easily find another like me, I would advise you to spare me. I dare say that you may feel irritated at being suddenly awakened when you are. caught napping; and you may think that if you were to strike me dead as Anytus ad- vises, which you easily might, then you would sleep on for the remainder of your lives, unless God in his care of you gives you another gadfly. And that I am given to you by God is proved by this: that ix' I had been like other men, I should not have neglected all my own concerns, or patiently seen the neglect of them during all these years, and have been doing yours, coming to you individually, like a father or elder brother, exhorting you to regard virtue; this, I say, would not be like human nature. And had I gained anything, or if my exhortations had been paid, there would have been some sense in that: but now, as you will perceive, not even the impudence of my accusers dares to say that I have ever exacted or sought pay of any one: they have no witness of that. And I have a witness of the truth of what I say ; my poverty is a sufficient witness. Some one may wonder why I go about in private, giving advice and busying myself with the concerns of others, but do not venture to come forward in public and advise the State. I will tell you the reason of this. You have often heard me speak of an oracle or sign which comes to me, and is the divinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. 12 This j2 Socrates spoke frequently of this voice, calling it h?s daemon, but 46 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY sign I have had ever since I was a child. The sign is a voice which comes to me and always forbids me to do something which I am going to do, but never commands me to do any- thing, and this is what stands in the way of my being a poli- tician. And rightly, as I think. For I am certain, O men of Athens, that if I had engaged in politics, I should have per- ished long ago, and done no good either to you or to myself. And don't be offended at my telling you the truth: for the truth is, that no man who goes to war with you or any other multitude, honestly struggling against the commission of un- righteousness and wrong in the State, will save his life ; he who will really fight for the right, it he would live even for a little while, must have a private station and not a public one. I can give you as proofs of this, not words only, but deeds, which you value more than words. Let me tell you a passage of my own life, which will prove to you that I should never have yielded to injustice from any fear of death, and that if I had not yielded I should have died at once. I will tell you a story tasteless, perhaps, and commonplace, but nevertheless true. The only office of state which I ever held, men of Athens, was that of senator ; the tribe Antiochis, which is my tribe, had the presidency at the trial of the generals who had not taken up the bodies of the slain after the battle of Argi- nuse ; and you proposed to try them all together, which was illegal, as you all thought afterwards; but at the time I was the only one of the prytanes who was opposed to the illegality, and I gave my vote against you ; and when the orators threat- ened to impeach and arrest me, and have me taken away, and you called and shouted, I made up my mind that I would run the risk, having law and justice with me, rather than take part in your injustice because I feared imprisonment and death. This happened in the days of the democracy. But when the oligarchy of the Thirty 13 was in power, they sent for me and four others into the rotunda, and bade us bring Leon the Salaminian from Salamis, as they wanted to execute the wording is usually too vague to be even so clearly understood as here. The most common modern interpretation is that he meant the voice of conscience, though some scholars think that he believed himself to have a special individual spirit guiding him. M The oligarchical commission, dictated by Sparta, that ruled Athens after its subjugation in the Peloponnesian War. SOCRATES 47 him. This was a specimen of the sort of commands which they were always giving with the view of implicating as many as possible in their crimes; and then I showed, not in word only but in deed, that, if I may be allowed to use such an expression, I cared not a straw for death, and that my only fear was the fear of doing an unrighteous or unholy thing. For the strong arm of that oppressive power did not frighten me into doing wrong; and when we came out of the rotunda the other four went to Salamis and fetched Leon, but I went quietly home. For which I might have lost my life, had not the power of the Thirty shortly afterwards come to an end. And to this many will witness. Now do you really imagine that I could have survived all these years, if I had led a public life, supposing that like a good man I had always supported the right and had made justice, as I ought, the first thing ? No indeed, men of Athens, neither I nor any other. But I have been always the same in all my actions, public as well as private, and never have I yielded any base compliance to those who are slanderously termed my disciples, 14 or to any other. For the truth is that, I have no regular disciples : but if any one likes to come and hear me while I am pursuing my mission, whether he be young or old, he may freely come. Nor do I converse with those who pay only, and not with those who do not pay; but any one, whether he be rich or poor, may ask and answer me and listen to my words ; and whether he turns out to be a bad man or a good one, that cannot be justly laid to my charge, as I never taught him anything. And if any one says that he has ever learned or heard anything from me in private which all the world has not heard, I should like you to know that he is speaking an untruth. But I shall be asked, "Why do people delight in continually conversing with you ? I have told you already, Athenians, the whole truth about this: they like to hear the cross-examina- tion of the pretenders to wisdom ; there is amusement in this. And this is a duty which the God has imposed upon me, as I am assured by oracles, visions, and in every sort of way in which the will of divine power was ever signified to any one. 14 Chities, one of the Thirty Tyrants, and Alcibiades, who had in youth mingled with Socrates and his disciples. 48 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY This is true, Athenians; or, if not true, would be soon re- futed. For if I am really corrupting the youth, and have corrupted some of them already, those of them who have grown up and have become sensible that I gave them bad advice in the days of their youth should come forward as accusers and take their revenge; and if they do not like to come themselves, some of their relatives, fathers, brothers, or other kinsmen, should say what evil their families suffered at my hands. Now is their time. Many of them I see in the court. There is Crito, who is of the same age and of the same deme [township] with myself; and there is Critobulus his son, whom I also see. Then again there is Lysanias of Sphettus, who is the father of ^Eschines, he is present ; and also there is Antiphon of Cephisus, who is the father of Epigenes ; and there are the brothers of several who have associated with me. There is Nicostratus the son of Theosdotides, and the brother of Theodotus (now Theodotus himself is dead, and therefore he, at any rate, will not seek to stop him) ; and there is Para- lus the son of Demodocus, who had a brother Theages, and Adeimantus the son of Ariston, whose brother Plato is pres- ent; and ./Eantodorus, who is the brother of Apollodorus, whom I also see. I might mention a great many others, any of whom Meletus should have produced as witnesses in the course of his speech ; and let him still produce them, if he has forgotten ; I will make way for him. And let him say, if he has any testimony of the sort which he can produce. Nay, Athenians, the very opposite is the truth. For all these are ready to witness on behalf of the corrupter, of the destroyer of their kindred, as Meletus and Anytus call me ; not the cor- rupted youth only, there might have been a motive for that, but their uncorrupted elder relatives. Why should they too support me with their testimony? Why, indeed, except for the sake of truth and justice, and because they know that I am speaking the truth, and that Meletus is lying. Well, Athenians, this and the like of this is nearly all the defense which I have to offer. Yet a word more. Perhaps there may be some one who is offended at me, when he calls to mind how he himself on a similar, or even a less serious occasion, had recourse to prayers and supplications with many tears, and how he produced his children in court, which was a SOCRATES 49 moving spectacle, together with a posse of his relations and friends: whereas I, who am probably in danger of my life, will do none of these things. Perhaps this may come into his mind, and he may be set against me, and vote in anger be- cause he is displeased at this. Now if there be such a person among you, which I am far from affirming, I may fairly reply to him : My friend, I am a man, and like other men, a crea- ture of flesh and blood, and not of wood or stone, as Homer says ; and I have a family, yes, and sons, Athenians, three in number, one of whom is growing up, and the two others are still young; and yet I will not bring any of them hither in order to petition you for an acquittal. And why not? Not from any self-will or disregard of you. Whether I am or am not afraid of death is another question, of which I will not now speak. But my reason simply is, that I feel such conduct to be discreditable to myself, and you, and the whole State. One who has reached my years, and who has a name for wisdom, whether deserved or not, ought not to demean himself. At any rate, the world has decided that Socrates is in some way superior to other men. And if those among you who are said to be superior in wis- dom and courage, and any other virtue, demean themselves in this way, how shameful is their conduct! I have seen men of reputation, when they have been condemned, behaving in the strangest manner : they seemed to fancy that they were go- ing to suffer something dreadful if they died, and that they could be immortal if you only allowed them to live; and I think that they were a dishonor to the State, and that any stranger coming in would say of them chat the most eminent men of Athens, to whom the Athenians themselves give honor and command, are no better than women. And I say that these things ought not to be done by those of us who are of reputation; and if they are done, you ought not to permit them ; you ought rather to show that you are more inclined to condemn, not the man who is quiet, but the man who gets up a doleful scene, and makes the city ridiculous. But, setting aside the question of dishonor, there seems to be something wrong in petitioning a judge, and thus procur- ing an acquittal instead of informing and convincing him. For his duty is, not to make a present of justice, but to give A. v. i i 50 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY judgment ; and lie has sworn that he will judge according to the laws, and not according to his own good pleasure; and neither he nor we should get into the habit of perjuring our- selves there can be no piety in that. Do not then require me to do what I consider dishonorable and impious and wrong, especially now, when I am being tried for impiety on the indictment of Meletus. For if, men of Athens, by force of persuasion and entreaty, I could overpower your oaths, then I should be teaching you to believe that there are no gods, and convict myself, in my own defense, of not believing in them. But that is not the case ; for I do believe that there are gods, and in a far higher sense than that in which any of my accusers believe in them. And to you and to God I commit my cause, to be determined by you as is best for you and me. [Socrates is convicted. He then arises and speaks:] There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of Athens, at the vote of condemnation. I expected this, and am only surprised that the votes are so nearly equal; for I had thought that the majority against me would have been far larger ; but now, had thirty votes gone over to the other side, I should have been acquitted. And I may say that I have escaped Meletus. And I may say more; for without the assistance of Anytus and Lycon, he would not have had a fifth part of the votes, as the law requires, in which case he would have incurred a fine of a thousand drachmae [$160 to $180] , as is evident. And so he proposes death as the penalty. And what shall I propose on my part, 15 men of Athens ? Clearly that which is my due. And what is that which I ought to pay or to re- ceive? What shall be done to the man who has never had the wit to be idle during his whole life ; but has been careless ""In Athenian procedure, the penalty inflicted was determined by a separate vote of the Dikasts" (officers somewhat like our jurymen) "taken after the verdict of guilty. The accuser having named the pen- alty which he thought suitable, the accused party on his side named some lighter penalty upon himself; and between those two the Dikasts were called on to make their option no third proposition being admissi- ble. The prudence of an accused party always induced him to propose, even against himself, some measure of punishment which the Dikasts might be satisfied to accept, in preference to the heavier sentence invoked by his antagonist." Grote's History of Greece. SOCRATES 51 of what the many care about wealth, and family interests, and military offices, and speaking in the assembly, and magis- tracies, and plots, and parties. Reflecting that I was really too honest a man to follow in this way and live, I did not go where I could do no good to you or to myself; but where I could do the greatest good privately to every one of you, thither I went, and sought to persuade every man among you, that he must look to himself, and seek virtue and wisdom before he looks to his private interests, and look to the State before he looks to the interests of the State; and that this should be the order which he observes in all his actions and words. What shall be done to such a one? Doubtless some good thing, men of Athens, if he has his reward; and the good should be of a kind suitable to him. What would be a reward suitable to a poor man who is your bene- factor, who desires leisure that he may instruct you ? There can be no more fitting reAvard than maintenance in the prytaneum, 16 men of Athens, a reward which he deserves far more than the citizen who has won the prize at Olympia in the horse or chariot race, whether the chariots were drawn by two horses or by many. For I am in want, and he has enough; and he only gives you the appearance of happiness, and I give you the reality. And if I am to esti- mate the penalty justly, I say that maintenance in the pry- taneum is the just return. Perhaps you may think that I am braving you in saying this, as in what I said before about the tears and prayer. But that is not the case. I speak rather because I am convinced that I never intentionally wronged any one, although I can- not convince you of that for we have had a short conversa- tion only ; but if there were a law at Athens, such as there is in other cities, that a capital cause should not be decided in one day, then I believe I should have convinced you; but now the time is too short. I cannot in a moment refute great slanders; and, as I am convinced that I never wronged an- other, I will assuredly not wrong myself. I will not say of myself that I deserve any evil, or propose any penalty. Why 18 A public hotel wherein entertainment was furnished by the govern- ment to foreign ambassadorg and to citizens whom the State wished to honor. 52 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY should I ? Because I am afraid of the penalty of death which Meletus proposes? When I do not know whether death is a good or an evil, why should I propose a penalty which would certainly be an evil? Shall I say imprisonment? And why should I live in prison, and be the slave of the magistrates of the year of the eleven [police commissioners] ? Or shall the penalty be a fine, and imprisonment until the fine is paid? There is the same objection. I should have to lie in prison, for money I have none, and cannot pay. And if I say exile (and this may possibly be the penalty which you will affix), I must indeed be blinded by the love of life, if I were to con- sider that when you, who are my own citizens, cannot endure my discourses and words, and have found them so grievous and odious that you would fain have done with them, others are likely to endure me. No, indeed, men of Athens, that is not very likely. And what a life should I lead, at my age, wandering from city to city, living in ever-changing exile, and always being driven out ! For I am quite sure that into what- ever place I go, as here so also there, the young men will come to me ; and if I drive them away, their elders will drive me out at their desire: and if I let them come, their fathers and friends will drive me out for their sakes. Some one will say: Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold your tongue, and then you may go into a foreign city, and no one will interfere with you? Now I have great difficulty in making you understand my answer to this. For if I tell you that this would be a disobedience to a divine command, and therefore that I cannot hold my tongue, you will not believe that I am serious ; and if I say again that the greatest good of man is daily to converse about virtue, and all that concerning which you hear me examining myself and others, and that the life which is unexamined is not worth living that you are still less likely to believe. And yet what I say is true, although a thing of which it is hard for me to persuade you. Moreover, I am not accustomed to think that I de- serve any punishment. Had I money I might have proposed to give you what I had, and have been none the worse. But you see that I have none, and can only ask you to proportion the fine to my means. However, I think that I could afford a mina, and therefore I propose that penalty: Plato, Crito, SOCRATES 53 Critobulus, and Apollodorus, my friends here, bid me say thirty minae, and they will be the sureties. Well, then, say thirty minae, let that be the penalty; for that they will be ample security to you. Not much time will be gained, Athenians, in return for the evil name which you will get from the detractors of the city, who will say that you killed Socrates, a wise man; for they will call me wise even although I am not wise when they want to reproach you. If you had waited a little while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the course of nature. For I am far advanced in years, as you may perceive, and not far from death. I am speaking now only to those of you who have condemned me to death. And I have another thing to say to them: You think that I was convicted through defi- ciency of words I mean, that if I had thought fit to leave nothing undone, nothing unsaid, I might have gained an acquittal. Not so ; the deficiency which led to my conviction was not of words certainly not. But I had not the boldness or impudence or inclination to address you as you would have liked me to address you, weeping and wailing and lamenting, and saying and doing many things which you have been ac- customed to hear from others and which, as I say, are un- worthy of me. But I thought that I ought not to do anything common or mean in the hour of danger : nor do I now repent of the manner of my defense, and I would rather die having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live. For neither in war nor yet at law ought any man to use every way of escaping death. For often in battle there is no doubt that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers, he may escape death ; and in other dan- gers there are other ways of escaping death, if a man is will- ing to say and do anything. The difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in avoiding unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I am old and move slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster runner, who is unrighteousness, has overtaken them. And now I depart hence condemned by you to suffer the penalty of death, and they too go their ways condemned by the truth to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide by my award let them abide by 54 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY theirs. I suppose that these things may be regarded as fated, and I think that they are well. And now, men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you ; for I am about to die, and that is the hour in which men are gifted with prophetic power. And I proph- esy to you who are my murderers, that immediately after my death punishment far heavier than you have inflicted on me will surely await you. Me you have killed because you wanted to escape the accuser, and not to give an account of your lives. But that will not be as you suppose : far other- wise. For I say that there will be more accusers of you than there are now ; accusers whom hitherto I have restrained : and as they are younger they will be more severe with you, and you will be more offended at them. For if you think that by killing men you can avoid the accuser censuring your lives, you are mistaken ; that is not a way of escape which is either possible or honorable ; the easiest and the noblest way is not to be crushing others, but to be improving yourselves. This is the prophecy which I utter before my departure to the judges who have condemned me. Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk with you about this thing which has happened, while the magistrates are busy, and before I go to the place at which I must die. Stay then a while, for we may as well talk with one another while there is time. You are my friends, and I should like to show you the meaning of this event which has happened to me. my judges for you I may truly call judges I should like to tell you of a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the familiar oracle within me has constantly been in the habit of opposing me even about trifles, if I was going to make a slip or error about anything; and now as you see there has come upon me that which may be thought, and is generally believed to be, the last and worst evil. But the oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I was leaving my house and going out in the morning, or when I was going up into this court, or while I was speaking, at anything which I was going to say ; and yet I have often been stopped in the middle of a speech, but now in nothing I either said or did touching this matter has the oracle opposed me. What do I take to be the explanation of this ? I will tell you. I regard SOCRATES 55 this as a proof that what has happened to me is a good, and that those of us who think that death is an evil are in error. This is a great proof to me of what I am saying, for the customary sign would surely have opposed me had I been going to evil and not to good. Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great reason to hope that death is a good, for one of two things: either death is a state of nothingness and utter un- consciousness, or, as men say, there is a change and migra- tion of the soul from this world to another. Now if you sup- pose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed even by the sight of dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select the night in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare with this the other days and nights of his life, and then were to tell us how many days and nights he had passed in the course of his life better and more pleas- antly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a private man, but even the great king [of Persia] will not find many such days or nights, when compared with the others. Now if death is like this, I say that to die is gain ; for eternity is then only a single night. But if death is the journey to another place, and there, as men say, all the dead are, what good, my friends and judges, can be greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world below, he is de- livered from the professors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges who are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus and JEaeus and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were righteous in their own life, that pil- grimage will be worth making. What would not a man give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musseus and Hesiod and Homer ? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. I, too, shall have a wonderful interest in a place where I can converse with Palamedes, and Ajax the son of Telamon, and other heroes of old, who have suffered death through an unjust judgment; and there will be no small pleasures, as I think, in comparing my own sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall be able to continue my search into true and false knowledge; as in this world, so also in that; I shall find out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise, and is not. "What 56 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY would not a man give, judges, to be able to examine the leader of the great Trojan expedition; or Odysseus or Sisy- phus, or numberless others, men and women too! "What in- finite delight would there be in conversing with them and ask- ing them questions! For in that world they do not put a man to death for this ; certainly not. For besides being hap- pier in that world than in this, they will be immortal, if what is said is true. "Wherefore, judges, be of good cheer about death, and know this of a truth that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death. He and his are not neglected by the gods ; nor has my own approaching end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that to die and be released was bet- ter for me ; and therefore the oracle gave no sign. For which reason, also, I am not angry with my accusers or my con- demners; they have done me no harm, although neither of them meant to do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them. Still I have a favor to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I would ask you, my friends, to punish them; and I would have you trouble them, as I have troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or anything, more than about virtue ; or if they pretend to be something when they are really nothing, then reprove them, as I have reproved you, for not caring about that for which they ought to care, and thinking that they are something when they are really nothing. And if you do this, I and my sons will have received justice at your hands. The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways I to die, and you to live. Which is better God only knows. STOPHON ' * of 8oer f ffe may judge the 'B was a t untoer. and h< X H>1' I r.ophof ,:-*i. we may > w ai 57 XENOPHON A HERO OP THE NOBLEST TYPE IN ANCIENT GREECE 435-354 B. C. (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) Xenophon was one of the pupils of Socrates, and if we may judge the master by this particular disciple then was Socrates indeed a noble leader, for Xenophon stands as perhaps our finest example of all that was highest and most heroic in the Athenian aristocrat. Xenophon was a polished scholar, a thinker, clear, quick and practical, though not subtle in. philosophic speculation. He was also a valiant fighter, a bold adven- turer, and a high-souled gentleman. He wrote several books, among which by far the most popular has always been the ' ' Anabasis, ' ' a word which means ' ' a going up through the land." It is an account of an expedition in which he himself took part. Ten thousand Greeks enlisted to aid a Persian prince in an attempt to conquer the Persian throne. Their Persian employer was slain and the triumphant Persian king, sorely puzzled as to what to do with the ten thousand Greek invaders, pretended friendship for them and then ensnared and slew all their Greek generals. Throughout this first part of the expedition, this going up into the Persian land, Xenophon was a private volunteer, and he tells the story in a wholly impersonal manner with no mention of himself. In the sore extremity of the Greek soldiers, left without leaders fifteen hundred miles deep in an unknown land and encompassed by treacherous and terrible enemies, in this moment of their despair Xenophon assumed a leadership among them and was, if we may accept his picture, their mainstay throughout this celebrated "Retreat of the Ten Thousand." It was a march of exploration continuing over many months, a series of unending battles against nations ever new and strange, a stupendous struggle against every adverse force of nature. In this second part of his book, called the ' ' Katabasis ' ' or backward march, Xenophon is the chief figure. He speaks of himself in the third person and often disappears from sight while narrating the deeds of others. Yet a considerable portion of the "Katabasis" is obviously au- tobiographical, the true autobiography of a true hero, in an achievement of epic splendor. 57 58 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY THE "KATABASIS," OR AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SEC- TION OF XENOPHON'S " ANABASIS" WHAT the Greeks did in their march up the country with Cyrus, until the time of the battle, and what occurred after Cyrus was dead, when the Greeks set out to return with Tissaphernes in reliance on a truce, has been related in the preceding part of the work. After the generals were made prisoners, and such of the captains and soldiers as had accompanied them were put to death, the Greeks were in great perplexity, reflecting that they were not far from the king 's residence ; that there were around them, on all sides, many hostile nations and cities; that no one would any longer secure them opportunities of purchasing provisions; that they were distant from Greece not less than ten thousand stadia; that there was no one to guide them on the way; that impassable rivers would inter- cept them in the midst of their course; that the Barbarians who had gone up with Cyrus had deserted them; and that they were left utterly alone, having no cavalry to support them, so that it was certain, even if they defeated their ene- mies, that they would not kill a man of them, and that, if they were defeated, none of themselves would be left alive; reflecting, I say, on these circumstances, and being disheart- ened at them, few of them tasted food for that evening, few kindled fires, and many did not come to the place of arms during the night, but lay down to rest where they severally happened to be, unable to sleep for sorrow and longing for their country, their parents, their wives and children, whom they never expected to see again. There was in the army a certain Xenophon, an Athenian, who accompanied it neither in the character of general, nor captain, nor common soldier, but it had happened that Prox- enus, an old guest-friend of his, had sent for him from home, giving him a promise that, if he came, he would recommend him to the friendship of Cyrus, whom he considered, he said, as a greater object of regard than his own country. Xeno- phon, on reading the letter, consulted Socrates the Athenian, XENOPHON 59 as to the propriety of making the journey; and Socrates, fearing that if he attached himself to Cyrus it might prove a ground for accusation against him with his country, because Cyrus was thought to have zealously assisted the Lacedaemo- nians in their war with Athens, advised Xenophon to go to Delphi, and consult the god respecting the expedition. Xenophon, having gone thither accordingly, inquired of Apollo to which of the gods he should sacrifice and pray, in order most honorably and successfully to perform the journey which he contemplated, and, after prosperously accomplishing it, to return in safety. Apollo answered him that ' ' he should sacrifice to the gods to whom it was proper for him to sacri- fice. " When he returned, he repeated the oracle to Socrates, who, on hearing it, blamed him for not asking Apollo in the first place, whether it were better for him to go or stay at home ; whereas, having settled with himself that he would go, he only asked how he might best go; "but since you have," said he, "put the question thus, you must do what the god has directed." Xenophon, therefore, having sacrificed to the gods that Apollo commanded, set sail, and found Proxenus and Cyrus at Sardis, just setting out on their march up the country, and was presented to Cyrus. Proxenus desiring that he should remain with them, Cyrus joined in the same desire, and said that as soon as the expedition was ended, he would send him home again. The expedition was said to be intended against the Pisidians. Xenophon accordingly joined in the enterprise, being thus deceived, but not by Proxenus ; for he did not know that the movement was against the king, nor did any other of the Greeks, except Clearchus. When they arrived in Cilicia, however, it appeared manifest to every one that it was against the king that their force was directed; but, though they were afraid of the length of the journey, and unwilling to proceed, yet the greater part of them, out of respect both for one another and for Cyrus, continued to follow him ; of which number was Xenophon. When this perplexity occurred, Xenophon was distresed as well as the other Greeks, and unable to rest, but having at length got a little sleep, he had a dream, in which, in the midst of a thunder-storm, a bolt seemed to him to fall upon his father's house, and the house in consequence became 60 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY all in a blaze. Being greatly frightened, he immediately awoke, and considered his dream as in one respect favorable (inasmuch as, being in troubles and dangers, he seemed to be- hold a great light from Jupiter), but in another respect he was alarmed (because the dream appeared to him to be from Jupiter who was a king, and the fire to blaze all around him), lest he should be unable to escape from the king 's territories, but should be hemmed in on all sides by inextricable diffi- culties. What it betokens, however, to see such a dream, we may conjecture from the occurrences that happened after the dream. What immediately followed was this. As soon as he awoke, the thought that first occurred to him was, ' ' Why do I lie here? The night is passing away. With daylight it is probable that the enemy will come upon us; and if we once fall into the hands of the king, what is there to prevent us from being put to death with ignominy, after witnessing the most grievous sufferings among our comrades, and enduring every severity of torture ourselves? Yet no one concerts measures, or takes thought, for our defense, but we lie still, as if we were at liberty to enjoy repose. From what city, then, do I expect a leader to undertake our defense? What age am I waiting for to come to myself? Assuredly I shall never be older, if I give myself up to the enemy to-day." After these reflections he arose, and called together, in the first place, the captains that were under Proxenus. When they were assembled, he said, "For my part, cap- tains, I cannot sleep, nor, I should think, can you, nor can I lie still any longer, when I consider in what circumstances we are placed ; for it is plain that the enemy did not openly manifest hostility toward us, until they thought that they had judiciously arranged their plans; but on our side no one takes any thought how we may best maintain a contest with them. Yet if we prove remiss, and fall into the power of the king, what may we not expect to suffer from a man who cut off the head and hand of his own brother by the same mother and father, even after he was dead, and fixed them upon a stake? What may not we, I say, expect to suffer, who have no relative to take our part, and who have marched against him to make him a subject instead of a monarch, and XENOPHON 61 to put him to death if it should lie in our power? "Will he not proceed to every extremity, that by reducing us to the last degree of ignominious suffering, he may inspire all men with a dread of ever taking the field against him ? "We must, how- ever, try every expedient not to fall into his hands. For my- self, I never ceased, while the truce lasted, to consider our- selves as objects of pity, and to regard the king and his people as objects of envy, as I contemplated how extensive and valu- able a country they possessed, how great an abundance of provisions, how many slaves and cattle, and how vast a quan- tity of gold and raiment; while, on the other hand, when I reflected on the condition of our own soldiers, that we had no share in any of all these blessings, unless we bought it, and knew that few of us had any longer money to buy, and that our oaths restrained us from getting provisions otherwise than by buying, I sometimes, on taking all these circumstances into consideration, feared the continuance of peace more than I now fear war. But since they have put an end to peace, their own haughtiness, and our mistrust, seem likewise to be brought to an end; for the advantages which I have men- tioned lie now as prizes between us, for whichsoever of us shall prove the better men; and the gods are the judges of the contest, who, as is just, will be on our side; since the enemy have offended them by perjury, while we, though see- ing many good things to tempt us, have resolutely abstained from all of them through regard to our oaths; so that, as it seems to me, we may advance to the combat with much greater confidence than they can feel. We have bodies, moreover, better able than theirs to endure cold, and heat, and toil ; and we have, with the help of the gods, more resolute minds; while the enemy, if the gods, as before, grant us success, will be found more obnoxious to wounds and death x than we are. But possibly others of you entertain the same thoughts; let' us not, then, in the name of heaven, wait for others to come and exhort us to noble deeds, but let us be ourselves the first to excite others to exert their valor. Prove yourselves the bravest of the captains, and more worthy to lead than those who are now leaders. As for me, if you wish to take the start in the course, I am willing to follow you, or, if you appoint me 1 This refers to the great superiority of the Grecian armor. 62 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY to be a leader, I shall not make my youth an excuse, but shall think myself sufficiently mature to defend myself against harm." Thus spoke Xenophon; and the captains, on hearing his observations, all desired him to be their leader, except a certain Apollonides, who resembled a Boeotian in his manner of speaking ; this man said that ' ' whoever asserted they could gain safety by any other means than by obtaining, if he could, the king's consent to it, talked absurdly;" and at the same time began to enumerate the difficulties surrounding them. But Xenophon, interrupting him, said, "0 most wonderful of men ! you neither understand what you see, nor remember what you hear. Yet you were on the same spot with those here present, when the king, after Cyrus was dead, being in high spirits at the circumstance, sent to demand that we should deliver up our arms; and when we, refusing to deliver them up, and appearing in full armor, went and encamped over against him, what means did he not try, sending deputies, asking for a truce, and supplying us with provisions until he obtained a truce ? But when, on the other hand, our generals and captains went to confer with the Barbarians, as you now advise us to do, without their arms, and relying on the truce, were they not beaten, goaded, insulted, and are they not un- able, wretched men, to die, though, I should think, greatly longing for death? And do you, knowing all these occur- rences, say to those who exhort us to defend ourselves talk absurdly, and advise us to go again to try persuasion? To me, O captains, it seems that we should no longer admit this man into the same service with ourselves, but take from him his captaincy, and laying baggage on his back, make use of him in that capacity; for he disgraces both his own country and all Greece, inasmuch as, being a Greek, he is of such a character." Here Agasias of Stymphalus, proceeding to speak, said, ' ' But this man, assuredly, has nothing to do either with Boeotia or with Greece at all, for I have observed that he has both his ears bored, like a Lydian." Such indeed was the case ; and they accordingly expelled him. The rest, proceeding to the different divisions of the troops, called up the general wherever there was a general surviving, and the lieutenant-general where the general was dead, and XENOPHON 63 the captain wherever there was a captain surviving. When they were all come together, they sat down before the place where the arms were piled ; and the generals and captains as- sembled were about a hundred in all. The time when the meeting took place was about midnight. Hieronymus, a native of Elis, the oldest of all the captains that had served under Proxenus, was the first to speak, as follows: "It has seemed proper to us, O generals and cap- tains, on contemplating the present state of our affairs, to meet together ourselves, and to call upon you to join us, that we may determine, if we can, on some plan for our benefit. But do you, Xenophon, first represent to the assembly what you have already observed to us." Xenophon accordingly said, ' ' We are all aware that the king and Tissaphernes have made prisoners of as many of us as they could ; and it is evi- dent that they are forming designs against the rest of us, that they may put us to death if they can. But on our parts I think that every means should be adopted in order that we may not fall into the Barbarians ' hands, but rather that they, if we can accomplish it, may fall into ours. Be well assured then, that you, who have now met together in such numbers, have upon you a most important responsibility; for all the soldiers look to you, and, if they see you dispirited, they will themselves lose courage, but if both you yourselves appear well prepared to meet the enemy, and exhort others to be equally prepared, be certain that they will follow you, and strive to imitate you. Perhaps, too, it is right that you should show some superiority over them ; for you are their generals, their officers, and their captains, and, when there was peace, you enjoyed advantages over them in fortune and honor; and now, in consequence, when war arises, you ought to prove yourselves preeminent over the multitude, and to take the lead in forming plans for them, and, should it ever be neces- sary, in toiling for them. And, in the first place, I think that you will greatly benefit the army, if you take care that generals and captains be chosen, as soon as possible, in the room of those whom we have lost; for without commanders nothing honorable or advantageous can be achieved, I may say in one word, anywhere, but least of all in the field of bat- tle. Good order conduces to safety, but want of order has 64 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY already proved fatal to many. Again, when you have ap- pointed as many commanders as are requisite, I consider that if you were to assemble and encourage the rest of the soldiers, you would act very suitably to the occasion ; for you perhaps observe, as well as myself, how dejectedly they have now come to the place of arms, and how dejectedly they go upon guard, so that, while they are in such a condition, I know not for what service any one could employ them, whether required by night or by day. But if any one could change the direc- tion of their thoughts, so that they may not merely contem- plate what they are likely to suffer, but what they may be able to do, they will become much more eager for action ; for you are certain that it is neither numbers nor strength which gives the victory in war, but that whichsoever side advances on the enemy with the more resolute courage, their opponents, in general, cannot withstand their onset. I have also re- marked, fellow-soldiers, that such as are eager in the field to preserve their lives at any rate, for the most part perish wretchedly and ignominiously, while I see that such as reflect that death is to all men common and inevitable, and seek in battle only to fall with honor, more frequently, from whatever cause, arrive at old age, and live, while they live, with greater happiness. Being aware, then, of these facts, it behooves us, such are the circumstances in which we are placed, both to prove ourselves to be brave soldiers, and to exhort others to be so likewise." Having spoken thus, he stopped. After him Cheirisophus said, ' ' Till the present moment, Xenophon, I knew nothing of you, except having heard that you were an Athenian, but now I have to praise you both for what you say and what you do, and could wish that there were very many like you; for it would be a general good. And now," he added, "let us not delay, my fellow-soldiers, but proceed at once, you who want them, to choose commanders, and when you have elected them, come to the center of the camp, and bring those that are chosen ; and we will then call the rest of the soldiers together there. And let Tolmides the herald," said he, "come with us." As he said this, he rose up, that the necessary measures might not be delayed, but carried at once into execution. There were accordingly chosen commanders, Timasion, a Dardanian in the room of XENOPHON 65 Clearchus, Xanthicles an Achaean in that of Socrates, Cleanor an Arcadian in that of Agias, Philesius an Achaean in that of Menon, and Xenophon of Athens in that of Proxenus. ii WHEN the officers were chosen, and day was just dawning, they met in the center of the camp, and it was resolved to station sentinels at the outposts, and to call together the sol- diers. When the rest of the troops came up, Cheirisophus the Lacedsemonian rose first, and spoke as follows : ' ' Our present circumstances, fellow-soldiers, are fraught with difficulty, since we are deprived of such able generals, and captains, and soldiers, and since, also, the party of Ariaeus, who were for- merly our supporters, have deserted us; yet it behooves us to extricate ourselves from these difficulties as brave men, and not to lose courage, but to endeavor to save ourselves, if we can, by an honorable victory; but if we cannot do so, let us at least die with honor, and never, while we live, put ourselves into the power of the enemy; for I think that, in that case, we should endure such sufferings as I wish that the gods may inflict on our adversaries." Next stood up Xeno- phon, who had accoutered himself for war as splendidly as he could, thinking that if the gods should grant them victory, the finest equipment would be suitable to success, or that, if it were appointed for him to die, it would be well for him to adorn himself with his best armor, and in that dress to meet his end. He proceeded to speak thus : "Of the perjury and perfidy of the Barbarians Cleanor has just spoken, and you, I am sure, are well aware of it. If, then, we think of coming again to terms of friendship with them, we must of necessity feel much distrust on that head, when we see what our gen- erals have suffered, who, in reliance on their faith, put them- selves into their hands ; but if we propose to inflict on them vengeance with our swords for what they have done, and, for the future, to be at war with them at all points, we have, with the help of the gods, many fair hopes of safety. " As he was uttering these words, somebody sneezed, and the soldiers, hear- ing it, with one impulse paid their adoration to the god ; and Xenophon continued, "Since, soldiers, while we were speak- ing of safety, an omen from Jupiter the Preserver has ap- A. v. i 6 66 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY peared, it seems to me that we should vow to that god to offer sacrifices for our preservation on the spot where we first reach a friendly country ; and that we should vow, at the same time, to sacrifice to the other gods according to our ability. And to whomsoever this seems reasonable, let him hold up his hand." All held up their hands; and they then made their vows, and sang the pasan. When the ceremonies to the gods were duly performed, he recommenced thus: "It only re- mains for me to mention a particular which I consider to be of the greatest importance. You see that the enemy did not venture openly to commence war against us, until they had seized our generals, thinking that as long as we had com- manders, and were obedient to them, we should be in a condi- tion to gain the advantage over them in the field, but, on making prisoners of our generals, they expected that we should perish from want of direction and order. It is incumbent, therefore, on our present commanders to be far more vigilant than our former ones, and on those under command to be far more orderly, and more obedient to their officers, at present, than they were before. And if you were also to pass a resolu- tion, that, should any one be disobedient, whoever of you chances to light upon him, is to join with his officers in pun- ishing him, the enemy would by that means be most effectu- ally disappointed in their expectations, for, on the very day that such resolution is passed, they will see before them ten thousand Clearchuses instead of one, who will not allow a single soldier to play the coward. But it is now time for me to conclude my speech ; for in an instant, perhaps, the enemy will be upon us. Whosoever, therefore, thinks these sugges- tions reasonable, let him give his sanction to them at once, that they may be carried into execution. But if any other course, in any one 's opinion, be better than this, let him, even though he be a private soldier, boldly give us his sentiments ; for the safety, which we all seek, is a general concern of the greatest importance." Cheirisophus then said, "Should there be need of any other measure in addition to what Xenophon proposes, it will be in our power to bring it forward by and by ; what he has now suggested we ought, I think, to vote at once to be the best course that we can adopt ; and to whomsoever this seems XENOPHON 67 proper, let him hold up his hand ;" and they all held them up. Xenophon then, rising again, said, "Hear, soldiers, what appears to me to be necessary in addition to what I have laid before you. It is plain that we must march to some place from which we may get provisions ; and I hear that there are some good-looking villages not more than twenty stadia dis- tant; but I should not wonder if the enemy (like cowardly dogs that run after such as pass by them, and bite them if they can, but flee from those who pursue them), I should not wonder, I say, if the enemy were to follow close upon us when we begin to march. It will, perhaps, be the safer way for us to march, therefore, forming a hollow square of the heavy- armed troops, in order that the baggage and the large number of camp-followers may be in greater security within it; and if it be now settled who is to lead the square, and regulate the movements in front, who are to be on each flank, and who to have charge of the rear, we shall not have to consider of these things when the enemy approach, but may at once act according to what has been arranged. If, then, any one else sees anything better to recommend, let it be settled other- wise ; if not, let Cheirisophus lead, since he is also a Lacedae- monian; let two of the oldest generals take the command on each of the flanks ; and let Timasion and myself, the youngest of the officers, take charge, at least for the present, of the rear. After a time, when we have tried this arrangement, we will consider, as occasion may require, what may seem best to be done. If any one thinks of any better plan than this, let him speak." As nobody made any objection, he said, " Whosoever likes these proposals, let him hold up his hand." The pro- posals were approved. "And now," he added, "it belongs to you to go and carry into execution what has been decided upon ; and whosoever of you wishes to see his friends and rela- tions, let him prove himself a man of valor, for by no other means can he succeed in attaining that object; whoever of you desires to preserve his life, let him strive to conquer, for it is the part of conquerors to kill, but of the conquered to die ; and if any one of you covets spoil, let him endeavor to secure victory for us, for it is the privilege of victors at once to save their own property and to seize on that of the van- quished." 68 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY ra WHEN this speech was concluded, they rose up, and went off to burn their carriages and tents; of their superfluous bag- gage they divided among themselves such portions as any needed, and threw the rest into the fire. Having done this, they went to breakfast. While they were at their meal, Mithridates rode up to them with about thirty horsemen, and requesting the generals to come within hearing, spoke as fol- lows: "I was faithful to Cyrus, O men of Greece, as you yourselves know; I am now well disposed toward you; and I am living here under great apprehensions; if, therefore, I should find that you are concerting any safe scheme for your deliverance, I would come and join you, bringing with me all my followers. Let me know, therefore, what you have in con- templation, as one who is your friend and well-wisher, and who is willing to march along with you." The generals, after consulting together, resolved on returning the following answer; and Cheirisophus delivered it: "It is our deter- mination, if no one hinders us from returning home, to pro- ceed through the country with as little injury to it as possible ; but if any one opposes us on our march, to fight our way against him as vigorously as we can." Mithridates then en- deavored to convince them how impracticable it was to escape without the king's consent. But it was now concluded that he was insidiously sent; for one of the followers of Tissa- phernes was in attendance on him to insure his fidelity. In consequence, it was thought right by the generals to pass a resolution that the war should be such as to admit of no intercourse by heralds; for those that came tried to corrupt the soldiers, and succeeded in seducing one of the captains, Nicarchus an Arcadian, and he deserted in the night with about twenty men. Having then dined, and crossed the river Zabatus, they marched on in regular order, keeping the baggage-cattle and camp-followers in the center. But before they had gone far, Mithridates made his appearance again with about two hun- dred cavalry and about four hundred archers and slingers, very light and active troops. He advanced toward the Greeks as a friend, but when he came near, some of his men, XENOPHON 69 both horse and foot, suddenly discharged their arrows, and others used their slings, and wounded some of our men. The rear of the Greeks, indeed, was much harassed, and could do nothing in return; for the Cretan bowmen shot to a less distance than the Persians, and had also, as being lightly armed, sheltered themselves within the heavy troops ; and the javelin-men did not hurl far enough to reach the slingers. Upon this it seemed to Xenophon that it would be well to pursue them; and such of the heavy-armed and peltasts as happened to be with him in the rear, began to pursue, but could overtake in the pursuit not a single man of the enemy ; for the Greeks had no cavalry, 2 nor could their infantry, in a short distance overtake the infantry of the enemy, who took to flight when they were a long way off since it was impossi- ble for the Greeks to follow them to a great distance from the rest of the army. The Barbarian cavalry, too, inflicted wounds in their retreat, shooting backward as they rode, and however far the Greeks advanced in pursuit, so far were they obliged to retreat, fighting. Thus during the whole day they did not advance more than five-and-twenty stadia; however they arrived at the villages in the evening. Here again there was much dejection; and Cheirisophus and the oldest of the generals blamed Xenophon for pursuing the enemy apart from the main body, endangering himself, and yet being unable to hurt the assailants. Xenophon, hear- ing this charge, acknowledged that they blamed him justly, and that the result bore testimony in their favor. "But," said he, "I was under the necessity of pursuing, as I saw that we suffered great damage while remaining at our posts, and were unable to retaliate. But when we began to pursue," continued he, "the truth was as you say; for we were none the better able to injure the enemy, and we could not retreat without great difficulty. Thanks are due to the gods, there- fore, that the Barbarians did" not come upon us in great force, but only with a few troops, so that, while they did us no great harm, they showed us of what we stand in need : for at pres- ent the enemy shoot their arrows and sling their stones such "Cyrus's Greek auxiliaries for the expedition had consisted only of infantry; all his cavalry was either Asiatic or Thracian. The Thracian horse had deserted, and the Asiatic cavalry had gone over to Tissaphernes soon after the battle. 70 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY a distance, that neither can the Cretans return their shots, nor can those who throw with the hand reach them, and when we pursue them, we can not go after them any great distance from the main body, and in a short space, a foot-soldier, even if ever so swift, can not overtake another foot-soldier, start- ing at bow-shot distance. If, therefore, we would keep off the enemy, so that they may be unable to hurt us on our march, we must at once provide ourselves with slingers and cavalry. There are, I hear, some Rhodians in our army, the greater number of whom, they say, understand the use of the sling, while their weapon carries even double the distance of the Persian sling, which, as they sling with large stones, reach only a short distance, while the Rhodians know how to use leaden bullets. If, then, we ascertain which of them have slings, and give money to each of them for them; and pay money also to any one who is willing to plait more, and find some other privilege for him who consents to serve in the troop of slingers, possibly some will offer themselves who may be able to be of service to us. I see also that there are horses in the army, some in my possession, and some left by Clear- chus, besides many others taken from the enemy which are employed in carrying the baggage. If, then, we collect all these, and put ordinary baggage-cattle in their place, and equip the horses for riders, they will perhaps annoy the enemy in their flight." These suggestions were approved; and that very night there came forward slingers to the num- ber of two hundred. The next day, as many as fifty horse- men and horses were pronounced fit for service; leathern jackets and breastplates were furnished to them; and Lycius the son of Polystratus, an Athenian, was appointed captain. IV HAVING halted for that day, they went forward on the next, rising earlier in the morning than usual; for they had a ravine formed by a torrent to pass, at which they were afraid that the enemy would attack them while they were crossing. It was not till they had got over, however, that Mithridates again made his appearance, having now with him a thousand horse, and archers and slingers to the number of four thou- sand ; for he had solicited and obtained that number from XENOPHON 71 Tissaphernes, promising that, if he received them, he would deliver the Greeks into his hands; for he had conceived a contempt for them, because, in his previous attack on them, though he had but a small force with him, he had suffered no loss, and thought that he had caused them great annoyance. When the Greeks, having crossed, were distant about eight stadia from the ravine, Mithridates also passed over it with his force. Instructions had been issued to such of the peltasts and heavy-armed troops as were to pursue, and a charge had been given to the horsemen to pursue with bold- ness, as a sufficient force would follow to support them. When, therefore, Mithridates overtook them, and the slings and arrows began to take effect, a signal, was given to the Greeks with the trumpet, and those who had been ordered immediately hastened to charge the enemy, the cavalry rid- ing forward at the same time. The enemy, however, did not wait to receive their charge, but fled back to the ravine. In the pursuit several of the Barbarian foot were killed, and about eighteen of the horse were made prisoners in the defile. The Greeks, of their own impulse, mutilated the dead bodies, in order that the sight of them might be as horrible as possible to the enemy. The enemy, after faring thus, went off, and the Greeks, advancing the rest of the day without molestation, arrived at the river Tigris. Here was a large deserted city, the name of which was Larissa, and which the Medes had formerly inhabited. The breadth of its wall was five and twenty feet, and the height of it a hundred; its circuit was two parasangs. It was built of bricks made of clay, but there was under it a stone foundation, the height of twenty feet. . . . On the fourth day thereafter, the Barbarians, having gone forward in the night, occupied an elevated position on the right, on the route by which the Greeks were to pass; the brow of a mountain, beneath which was the descent into the plain. As soon as Cheirisophus saw that this eminence was pre-occupied, he sent for Xenophon from the rear, and ordered him to bring his peltasts and come to the front. Xenophon however did not bring the peltasts, (for he saw Tissaphernes, and all his force, in full view), but, riding up alone, asked, ''Why do you call me?" Cheirisophus replied, 72 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY "You may see; for the eminence above the descent has been pre-occupied against us, and it is impossible to pass, unless we cut off those who are on it. But why did you not bring the peltasts?" Xenophon replied that he did not think it right to leave the rear unguarded when the enemy were in sight. "But it is high time," he continued, "to consider how some of us may dislodge those men from the hill." Xenophon now noticed that the summit of the mountain was above their own army, and that there was a way from it to the hill where the enemy were, and exclaimed, "It is best for us, Cheiriso- phus, to hasten as quickly as possible to the summit, for if we gain this, those who are above our road will be unable to maintain their ground. But do you, if you please, remain with the army; I have a desire to go forward; or, if you prefer it, proceed on to the mountain, and I will stay here." "I leave you," replied Cheirisophus, "to choose which of the two you please." Xenophon, observing that he was the younger, decided on advancing, but requested Cheirisophus to send with him a detachment from the front, as it was too great a distance to bring one from the rear. Cheirisophus then sent with him the peltasts from the front ; and he took those that were in the middle of the square. Cheirisophus also ordered the three hundred that he held with him at the head of the square, consisting of picked men, to follow Xenophon. The party then marched forward with all possible speed. But the enemy on the heights, when they perceived that the Greeks were directing their course toward the summit, hurried forward also themselves to contend for the posses- sion of the summit. There was then great shouting from the Grecian army, cheering their men, and great shouting also from the troops of Tissaphernes, cheering on theirs. Xeno- phon, riding along on horseback, encouraged his party, say- ing, "Consider, soldiers, that you are now contending for Greece: that after a brief struggle now, we shall march the rest of the way without fighting, to join our children and our wives." Soterides, a Sicyonian, cried out, "We are not upon an equality, Xenophon; for you are carried on a horse, while I have hard work to carry my shield." Xeno- phon, on hearing this remark, leaped from his horse, pushed XENOPHON 73 Soterides from the ranks, took from him the shield, and marched on with it as fast as he was able. He happened however to have on his horseman's corslet, so that he was distressed. Yet he continued to exhort the men in front to lead on gently, and those behind, who followed with difficulty, to come up. But the rest of the soldiers beat and threw stones at Soterides, and reviled him till they obliged him to re- sume his shield and march in his place. Xenophon, remount- ing, led the way, as long as it was passable for his horse, on horseback, but when it became impassable, he left his horse behind, and hastened forward on foot. Thus they got the start of the enemy, and arrived first at the summit. . . . HENCE they proceeded three days' journey through a desert tract of country, a distance of fifteen parasangs, to the river Euphrates, and passed it without being wet higher than the middle. The sources of the river were said not to be far off. From hence they advanced three days' march, through much snow and a level plain, a distance of fifteen parasangs; the third day's march was extremely trouble- some, as the north wind blew full in their faces, completely parching up everything and benumbing the men. One of the augurs, in consequence, advised that they should sacrifice to the wind; and a sacrifice was accordingly offered; when the vehemence of the wind appeared to every one manifestly to abate. The depth of the snow was a fathom; so that many of the baggage cattle and slaves perished with about thirty of the soldiers. They continued to burn fires through the whole night, for there was plenty of wood at the place of encampment. But those who came up late could get no wood; those therefore who had arrived before, and had kindled fires, would not admit the late comers to the fire unless they gave them a share of the corn or other pro- visions that they had brought. Thus they shared with each other what they respectively had. In the places where the fires were made, as the snow melted, there were formed large pits that reached down to the ground; and here there was accordingly opportunity to measure the depth of the snow. From hence they marched through snow the whole of the 74 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY following day, and many of the men contracted the bulimia. 5 Xenophon, who commanded in the rear, finding in his way such of the men as had fallen down with it, knew not what disease it was. But as one of those acquainted with it, told him that they were evidently affected with bulimia, and that they would get up if they had something to eat, he went round among the baggage, and, wherever he saw anything eatable, he gave it out, and sent such as were able to run to distribute it among those diseased, who, as soon as they had eaten, rose up and continued their march. As they pro- ceeded, Cheirisophus came, just as it grew dark, to a village, and found, at a spring in front of the rampart, some women and girls belonging to the place fetching water. The women asked them who they were ; and the interpreter answered, in the Persian language, that they were people going from the king to the satrap. They replied that he was not there, but about a parasang off. However, as it was late, they went with the water-carriers within the rampart, to the head man of the village ; and here Cheirisophus, and as many of the troops as could come up, encamped; but of the rest, such as were unable to get to the end of the journey, spent the night on the way without food or fire; and some of the soldiers lost their lives on that occasion. Some of the enemy too, who had collected themselves into a body, pursued our rear, and seized any of the baggage-cattle that were unable to proceed, fighting with one another for the possession of them. Such of the soldiers, also, as had lost their sight from the effects of the snow, or had had their toes mortified by the cold, were left behind. It was found to be a relief to the eyes against the snow, if the soldiers kept something black before them on the march, and to the feet, if they kept constantly in motion, and allowed themselves no rest, and if they took off their shoes in the night ; but as to such as slept with their shoes on, the straps worked into their feet, and the soles were frozen about them; for when their old shoes had failed them, shoes of raw hides had been made * 'E$ov\i/j.la(rav.] Spelman quotes a description of the bulimia as "a disease in which the patient frequently craves for food, loses the use of his limbs, falls down, turns pale, feels his extremities become cold, his stomach oppressed, and his pulse feeble." Here, however, it seems to mean little more than a faintness from long fasting. XENOPHON 75 by the men themselves from the newly-skinned oxen. From such unavoidable sufferings, some of the soldiers were left behind, who, seeing a piece of ground of a black appearance, from the snow having disappeared there, conjectured that it must have melted; and it had in fact melted in the spot from the effect of a fountain, which was sending up vapor in a woody hollow close at hand. Turning aside thither, they sat down and refused to proceed further. Xenophon, who was with the rear-guard, as soon as he heard this, tried to prevail on them by every art and means not to be left be- hind, telling them, at the same time, that the enemy were collected, and pursuing them in great numbers. At last he grew angry; and they told him to kill them, as they were quite unable to go forward. He then thought it the best course to strike a terror, if possible, into the enemy that were behind, lest they should fall upon the exhausted soldiers. It was now dark, and the enemy were advancing with a great noise, quarreling about the booty that they had taken; when such of the rear-guard as were not disabled, started up, and rushed toward them, while the tired men, shouting as loud as they could, clashed their spears against their shields. The enemy, struck with alarm, threw themselves among the snow into the hollow, and no one of them afterward made themselves heard from any quarter. Xenophon, and those with him, telling the sick men that a party should come to their relief next day, proceeded on their march, but before they had gone four stadia, they found other soldiers resting by the way in the snow, and covered up with it, no guard being stationed over them. They roused them up, but they said that the head of the army was not moving forward. Xenophon, going past them, and send- ing on some of the ablest of the peltasts, ordered them to ascer- tain what it was that hindered their progress. They brought word that the whole army was in that manner taking rest. Xenophon and his men, therefore, stationing such a guard as they could, took up their quarters there without fire or supper. When it was near day, he sent the youngest of his men to the sick, telling them to rouse them and oblige them to proceed. At this juncture Cheirisophus sent some of his people from the village to see how the rear were faring. 76 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY The young men were rejoiced to see them, and gave them the sick to conduct to the camp, while they themselves went for- ward, and, before they had gone twenty stadia, found them- selves at the village in which Cheirisophus was quartered. When they came together, it was thought safe enough to lodge the troops up and down in the villages. Cheirisophus accordingly remained where he was, and the other officers, appropriating by lot the several villages that they had in sight, went to their respective quarters with their men. VI THEY finally advanced four days' journey, twenty parasangs, to a large, rich and populous city, called Gymnias, from which the governor of the country sent the Greeks a guide, to conduct them through a region at war with his own people. The guide, when he came, said that he would take them in five days to a place whence they should see the sea ; if not, he would consent to be put to death. When, as he proceeded, he entered the country of their enemies, he ex- horted them to burn and lay waste the lands ; whence it was evident that he had come for this very purpose, and not from any good will to the Greeks. On the fifth day they came to the mountain; and the name of it was Theches. When the men who were in the front had mounted the height, and looked down upon the sea, a great shout proceeded from them; and Xenophon and the rear-guard, on hearing it, thought that some new enemies were assailing the front, for in the rear, too, the people from the country that they had burned were following them, and the rear-guard, by placing an ambuscade, had killed some, and taken others prisoners, and had captured about twenty shields made of raw ox-hides with the hair on. But as the noise still increased, and drew nearer, and as those who came up from time to time kept running at full speed to join those who were continually shouting, the cries becoming louder as the men became more numerous, it appeared to Xenophon that it must be some- thing of very great moment. Mounting his horse, therefore, and taking with him Lycius and the cavalry, he hastened forward to give aid, when presently they heard the soldiers shouting, "The sea, the sea!" and cheering on one another. XENOPHON 77 They then all began to run, the rear-guard as well as the rest, and the baggage-cattle and horses were put to their speed; and when they had all arrived at the top, the men embraced one another, and their generals and captains, with tears in their eyes. Suddenly, whoever it was that suggested it, the soldiers brought stones, and raised a large mound, on which they laid a number of raw ox-hides, staves, and shields taken from the enemy. Soon after, the Greeks sent away the guide, giving him presents from the common stock, a horse, a silver cup, a Persian robe, and ten darics; but he showed most desire for the rings on their fingers, and ob- tained many of them from the soldiers. He then departed, having pointed out to them a village where they might take up their quarters, and the road by which they were to proceed. vn IT was soon afterward resolved that the generals should give an account of their conduct during the time past. Some brought accusations against Xenophon, alleging that they had been beaten by him; and made their charges on the ground that his conduct had been tyrannical. Xenophon, standing up, called upon him who had spoken first, to say where he had been beaten. He replied, "Where we were perishing with the cold, and where the greatest fall of snow was." Xenophon rejoined, "If, during such severe weather as you mention, when provisions were failing us, when we had not wine even to smell to, when many of us were exhausted with fatigue, and the enemy were close behind us, if, I say, I acted tyrannically at such a time, I acknowledge that I must have been more spiteful even than asses, in which they say that from spite fatigue is not produced. Tell us, how- ever, for what cause you were beaten. Did I ask you for anything, and beat you when you would not give it me? Or did I demand anything back from you, or was I fighting about any object of affection, or did I abuse you in a fit of intoxication?" As he said that there was nothing of this kind, Xenophon asked him whether he was one of the heavy- armed men? He answered, "No." Whether he was one of the peltasts? He said that he was not, but was a free-man, 78 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY set to drive a mule by his comrades. Xenophon now recognized him, and asked him, "Are you the man that was carrying the sick person?" "I certainly am," replied he, "for you compelled me to do so, and scattered about the baggage of my comrades." "The scattering," rejoined Xenophon, "was something in this way; I distributed it to others to carry, and directed them to bring it to me again; and, on receiving it, I restored it all safe to you, after you had produced the man that I gave you in charge. But hear," he continued, "how the affair happened; for it is worth your while. A man was left behind because he was no longer able to continue his march; I knew nothing of the man but that he was one of us; and I obliged you to carry him, that he might not perish; for, as I believe, the enemy were in pursuit of us." This the man acknowledged. "Then," said Xenophon, "after I had ordered you to go before, I soon overtook you, and found you, as I came up with the rear-guard, digging a pit for the purpose of burying the man ; when I stopped and commended you. But as the man, while we stood by, drew in his leg, all who were present cried out that he was alive; and you said, 'He may be as much alive as he likes, for I shall not carry him. ' Upon this I struck you; you say but the truth; for you seemed to me to have been aware that the man was alive." "What then," exclaimed the accuser, "did he the less die, after I had shown him to you?" ""We shall all die," rejoined Xenophon, "but must we for that reason be buried alive?" At this all the assembly cried out that Xenophon had not beaten him enough. He then called upon the rest to state on what account each of them had been struck. But as none of them stood for- ward, he said, "I acknowledge, fellow-soldiers, that I have beaten men for leaving their ranks; such men as were con- tent to be saved by our exertions, and, while we marched in order and fought where it was necessary, tried, by quitting their places, and hurrying on before us, to get plunder, and gain in that respect an advantage over us. Had we all acted in this way, we should all have perished. I also struck some, and forced them to march, who were giving way to in- action, unwilling to rise, and abandoning themselves to the XENOPHON 79 enemy; for I myself, when I was once waiting, during the excessive cold, for some of the men to pack up their baggage, and had sat for a considerable time, found that I could hardly get up and stretch my legs. Having therefore had experi- ence in my own person, whenever afterward I saw any other sitting down and indulging in sloth, I drove him on; for motion and manful exertion created a certain warmth and suppleness, but sitting and inaction, I observed, contributed to the congealing of the blood, and the mortification of the toes, which you know that many have suffered. Others, perhaps, who had loitered behind from indolence, and who hindered both you who were in front, and us who were in the rear, from advancing, I may have struck with my fist, that they might not be struck with the spear of the enemy. Those, therefore, who have thus been preserved, may now, if they have suffered anything from me contrary to justice, obtain redress ; but if they had fallen into the hands of the enemy, what injury could they have suffered of such magnitude, as that they would ever have claimed to get satisfaction for it ! My case, ' ' he proceeded, ' ' is plain ; for if I have punished any one for his good, I am willing to make such atonement as parents make to their children and masters to their scholars. Surgeons, too, cut and cauterize for the good of their patients. But if you imagine that I acted thus from a love of tyranny, consider that I have now, through the favor of the gods, more spirit than I had then, and am bolder now than I then was, and drink a greater quantity of wine, and yet strike no one; for I see you now in a calm; but when a storm rises, and a great sea sets in, do you not observe that the commander in the prow, even for a mere nod, is angry with those in the fore-part of the vessel, and the steersman angry with those in the stern, because, in such circumstances, even small mistakes are sufficient to ruin every- thing? Even you yourselves, however, have pronounced that I struck these men, on those occasions, with justice, for you stood by with swords, not voting-pebbles, in your hands, and might have taken their part if you had thought proper. But, by Jupiter, you neither took their part, nor joined with me in punishing the disorderly ; and you have in consequence, by letting them alone, given encouragement to the bad men 80 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY among them to grow audacious; for you will find, I think, if you will but examine, that those who were then the worst, are now the most audacious characters. Boiscus, for instance, the Thessalian boxer, strove earnestly, on pretense of sickness, not to carry his shield; and now, as I hear, he has robbed many of the people of Cotyora. If therefore you are wise, you will treat this man in a way, the reverse of that in which they treat dogs; for dogs, when they are spiteful, men tie up in the day, and let loose in the night; but him, if you exercise your judgment, you will tie up in the night, and let loose only by day. But I wonder," he added, "why, if I gave offense to any of you, you bear it in mind, and do not fail to speak of it, while, if I relieved any of you during the cold, or kept off any enemy from you, or sup- plied any of you, in any way, when sick and in want, no one makes mention of these services; nor, if I have com- mended any one for good conduct in any case, or have hon- ored any man, as far as I could, for valiant exertion, does any of you remember these occurrences. Yet is it more hon- orable, and just, and upright, and pleasing, to treasure in the memory good acts than bad." They accordingly rose up, and called to mind his services ; and the result was that things were settled satisfactorily. VIII THE troops stayed five days at Harmene; and as they con- sidered that they were now near Greece, it became an object with them, even more than before, to return home with some booty in their possession. And they thought that, if they made choice of one general, that single person would be better able to manage the army, whether by night or day, than it was managed under the existing government of several; so that if it should be necessary for them, in any case, to con- ceal their designs, they would be concealed more effectually, and if to anticipate the movements of the enemy, they would be less likely to be behind-hand; as there would then be no need of conferences, but whatever was determined by the one commander would be put in execution ; whereas the gen- erals had hitherto done everything by the vote of the ma- jority. While they were contemplating this scheme, they XENOPHON 81 turned their thoughts to Xenophon; and the captains came to him and said that the army was of this opinion, and each, expressing his good-will toward him, endeavored to induce him to undertake the command. Xenophon was in some de- gree inclined to listen to the proposal, when he reflected that, by this means, greater honor would fall to him, that his name would reach his friends and his country with greater glory, and that possibly he might also be the cause of some advan- tage to the army. Such considerations influenced him to de- sire to become commander-in-chief. But when, on the other hand, he remembered how uncertain it is to all men what the future will produce, and that, consequently, he would be in danger of losing the reputation which he had already ac- quired, he felt uncertain how to act. While he was perplexed as to his decision, it appeared to him that the best thing that he could do was to lay the matter before the gods; and having placed by the altar two victims,* he sacrificed to Jupiter the King, who had been pointed out to him as the god that he should consult, by the oracle at Delphi; and he thought that he had received from that god the dream which he saw, when he was first appointed to take charge of the army. He called to mind also, that when he was going from Ephesus to join Cyrus, an eagle cried on his right, in a sitting posture however, which, as the augur, who accompanied him, said, was an omen portending something great, above the fortunes of a private individual; foretelling what was honorable, but toilsome, since other birds attack the eagle chiefly when sitting; and he added that the omen was not at all indicative of gain, as the eagle mostly secured prey when flying. While he was sacrificing on the present occasion, the god clearly directed him not to seek any additional command, and not to accept it if they should elect him ; and this was the issue of the matter. The army however came together, and all suggested that one commander should be chosen ; and, as it was resolved to do so, they proposed Xenophon. As it seemed evident too that they would elect him, if any one should put it to the vote, he rose up and spoke as follows: "My fellow-soldiers, I am 4 Two victims were brought, that if favorable omens were not obtained from the first, the second might be used. A. V. 16 82 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY delighted, as I have the feelings of a man, at receiving honor from you, and am grateful for it, and pray that the gods may grant me to be the author of some advantage to you ; but that I should be preferred to be your leader, when a Lacedaemonian is present, appears likely to be of no advan- tage either to you or me ; on the contrary, it seems probable that if you should require assistance from them, you would on this very account be less likely to obtain it. I moreover think such a dignity by no means safe for me; for I see that the Lacedaemonians never ceased making war on my country until they made the whole people acknowledge that the Lacedaemonians were masters of them as well as of others ; 5 though, when they made this confession, they at once desisted from hostilities, and no longer besieged the city. If therefore, seeing this state of things, I should seem, where I have the power, to render their supremacy unin- fluential, I am apprehensive lest I should very soon be re- minded of my duty. As to your opinion, that there will be less faction among you under one commander than under many, be assured that, if you choose another, you will not find me factious ; for I consider that he who in war quarrels with his commander, quarrels with his own safety; whereas, if you should elect me, I should not wonder if you should find people show resentment against both you and myself." After he had thus spoken, far more persons than before rose up, and said that he ought to take upon him the com- mand. Agasias of Stymphalus said that it would be ridiculous if things should be in such a state, since the Lacedaemonians might then be enraged even if a party met to sup together did not choose a Lacedaemonian as president of their ban- quet. "If such be the case," added he, "it is not proper even for us, it would seem, to be captains, because we are Ar- cadians. ' ' Upon this the assembly showed by a murmur their opinion that Agasias had spoken well. Xenophon, seeing that there was need of something addi- tional on his part, came forward and said, "But, my fellow- soldiers, that you may be fully informed on this subject, 8 Alluding to the consequences of the Peloponnesian war, by which the supreme power over Greece fell into the hands of the Lacedaemo- nians. XENOPHON 83 I swear to you by all the gods and goddesses, that after I learned your inclination, I sought to ascertain by sacrifice whether it would be better for you to confer this command upon me, and for me to undertake it, or not ; and they gave me such manifest signs, by the victims, that even an untaught person 6 would have understood that I ought to decline the command." They in consequence chose Cheirisophus, who, when he was elected, stood forward and said, ''Be assured of this, my fellow-soldiers, that I should have made no factious opposition, if you had chosen another. However," added he, "you have done a service to Xenophon by not electing him, as Dexippus has recently been accusing him to Anaxibius, as far as he could, although I tried as much as possible to silence him. Dexippus also said that he thought Xenophon would rather be joined in command with Timasion, a Dardanian, over the army of Clearchus, than with himself, a Lacedaemonian. But," he continued, "since you have chosen me, I will endeavor, on my part, to do you all the service that I can. Prepare yourselves, accordingly, to sail to-morrow, if it be weather for sailing. Our course will be for Heraclea, and it is incumbent on you all to do your utmost to reach it. Of other matters we will consider when we have arrived there." IX WEIGHING anchor from hence the next day, they sailed with a fair wind along the coast for two days. In their course they saw the Beach of Jason, where the Argo is said to have been moored ; and the mouths of certain rivers, first that of the Thermodon, then that of the Iris, next that of the Halys, and finally that of the Parthenius. After sailing by the last, they arrived at Heraclea, a Greek city, a colony of Megara, situate in the territory of the Maryandyni. They came to anchor near the Acherusian Peninsula, where Her- cules is said to have gone down to bring up the dog Cerberus, and where they now show marks of his descent to the depth of more than two stadia. The people of Heraclea sent the Greeks, as tokens of hospitality, three thousand medimni A private person; a person who was not a professional sacrificer or augur. 84 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY of barley-meal, and two thousand ceramia of wine, with twenty oxen and a hundred sheep. Here a river named Lycus runs through the plain, in breadth about two hundred feet. The soldiers, assembling together, began to deliberate, with regard to the rest of the way, whether it was proper to proceed by land or sea, until they were beyond the Euxine. Lycon, an Achaean, rising up, said, ' ' I wonder at the generals, my fellow-soldiers, for not endeavoring to procure us money to buy provisions; for the presents received will not furnish subsistence to the army for three days; nor is there any place from whence we can get provisions as we proceed on our journey. It appears to me, therefore, that we ought to ask of the people of Heraclea not less than three thousand Cyzicene staters." Another exclaimed, "Not less than ten thousand," and proposed that, having chosen deputies, we should send them at once to the city, while we were sitting there, and hear what report they brought, and take measures accordingly. They then proposed, as deputies, first Chei- risophus, because he was general-in-chief, and others then named Xenophon; but both resolutely refused; for they concurred in opinion that they ought not to compel a Greek city, and one in friendship with them, to supply them with anything that the inhabitants did not offer of their own accord. As they showed themselves resolved, therefore, not to go, the army sent Lycon the Achaean, Callimachus a Parrhasian, and Agasias of Stymphalus; who, going to the town, informed the people of the resolutions just passed. It was said, too, that Lycon even threatened them with violence, if they did not comply with these demands. The Heracleans listened to them, and said that they would consider of the matter, and then immediately collected their property out of the fields, and conveyed the provisions exposed for sale into the city. At the same time the gates were shut, and armed men appeared upon the walls. In consequence the authors of these dissensions accused the generals of having defeated their plan ; and the Arcadians and Achseans began to hold meetings together, Callimachus the Parrhasian and Lycon the Achaean being mostly at their head. The remarks .among them were, that it was dis- XENOPHON 85 graceful that one Athenian, who had brought no force to the army, should have the command of Peloponnesians and Lace- daemonians; that they had the labor, and others the profit, although they themselves had secured the general safety; for that those who had accomplished this object were Arcadians and Achseans, and that the rest of the army was compara- tively nothing (and in reality more than half the army were Arcadians and Achaeans) ; and therefore these, they said, if they were wise, should unite together, and, choosing leaders for themselves, should proceed on their way separately, and endeavor to secure themselves something to their profit. To this proposal assent was given ; and whatever Arcadians and Achffians were with Cheirisophus, leaving him and Xenophon, united with the rest, and all chose ten captains of their own; and they appointed that these should carry into execu- tion whatever should be decided by the vote of the majority. The command of Cheirisophus over the whole army was thus ended on the sixth or seventh day after he had been elected. Xenophon was inclined to pursue his way in company with them, thinking that this method would be safer than for each to proceed separately. But Neon persuaded him to go by himself, as having heard from Cheirisophus that Cleander the governor of Byzantium had said that he would come with some galleys to the harbor of Calpe ; and he gave Xenophon this advice, therefore, in order that no one else might take advantage of this opportunity, but that they themselves only, and their own soldiers, might sail on board these galleys. As for Cheirisophus, who was both disheartened at what had oc- curred, and who from that time conceived a disgust at the army, he allowed Xenophon to act as he thought proper. Xenophon was also inclined to detach himself from the army altogether, and to sail away; but as he was sacrificing to Hercules the Conductor, and consulting him whether it would be better or more advisable to march in company with such of the soldiers as remained, or to take leave of them, the god signified by the victims that he should march with them. The army was thus divided into three bodies ; the Arcadians and Achseans, to the number of more than four thousand five hun- dred men, all heavy-armed; the heavy-armed with Cheiri- sophus, in number fourteen hundred, with seven hundred 86 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY peltasts, the Thracians of Clearclms; and seventeen hundred heavy-armed men, with three hundred peltasts, under Xeno- phon, who was the only one that had any cavalry, a hody of about forty horsemen. The Arcadians, having procured ships from the people of Heraclea, were the first to set sail with the view of getting as much booty as they could by making a sudden descent upon the Bithynians, and accordingly disembarked at the harbor of Calpe, somewhere about the middle of Thrace. Cheirisophus, proceeding straight from the city of Heraclea, marched through the territory belonging to it; but when he entered Thrace, he kept along near the sea, for he was then in ill-health. Xenophon, having obtained vessels, landed on the confines of Thrace and the region of Heraclea, and pur- sued his way through the inland parts. EACH of these three parties fared as follows. The Arcadians, disembarking by night at the port of Calpe, marched off to attack the nearest villages, lying about thirty stadia from the sea. As soon as it was light, each of the officers led his own division against a village; but against any village that appeared larger than the rest, they led two divisions together. They fixed also upon a hill on which they were all to re-assemble. As they fell upon the people unexpectedly, they seized a great number of slaves and surrounded several flocks of cattle. But the Thracians, 7 as fast as they escaped, collected them- selves into a body; and, as they were light armed, the num- ber that escaped, even from the very hands of the heavy- armed men, was great. As soon as they were collected, they proceeded, in the first place, to fall upon the division of Smi- cres, one of the Arcadian captains, who was marching away to the place agreed upon, and carrying with him considerable booty. For a while the Greeks defended themselves as they pursued their march, but, as they were crossing a ravine, the Thracians put them to the rout, and killed Smicres and all his party. Of another division of the ten captains, too, T The Asiatic or Bithynian Thracians, who inhabited the villages which the Arcadians had attacked. XENOPHON 87 that of Hegesander, they left only eight men alive, Hegesander himself being one of those that escaped. The other captains joined him at the appointed spot, some with difficulty, and others without any. The Thracians, however, in consequence of having met with this success, cheered on one another, and assembled in great spirits during the night. At day- break, numbers of horsemen and peltasts ranged themselves in a circle round the hill upon which the Greeks had en- camped; and as more came flocking to them, they attacked the heavy-armed men without danger, for the Greeks had neither archers, nor javelin-men, nor a single horseman, while the Thracians, running and riding up, hurled their darts among them, and when the Greeks offered to attack them, retreated with ease. Some attempted one part, and some another; and many of the assailed were wounded, but none of the assailants. The Greeks were in consequence unable to move from the spot, and at last the Thracians cut them off even from water. As their distress was great, they be- gan to speak of terms of surrender; and other points were agreed upon between them, but when the Greeks demanded hostages, the Thracians refused to give them; and upon this the treaty was stopped. Such were the fortunes of the Arcadians. Cheirisophus, meanwhile, advancing unmolested along the coast, arrived at the harbor of Calpe. As for Xenophon, while he was marching through the middle of the country, his horsemen riding on before him, fell in with some em- bassadors who were on their journey to some place. As they were conducted to Xenophon, he inquired of them whether they had anywhere heard of another Greek army. They gave him, in reply, an account of all that had occurred, say- ing that the Greeks were then besieged upon a hill, and that the whole force of the Thracians was collected round them. He therefore had these men strictly guarded, that they might act as guides wherever it might be necessary, and then, after stationing scouts, he called together his soldiers and ad- dressed them thus: "Soldiers, some of the Arcadians are killed, and others are besieged upon a hill; and I think that, if they are de- stroyed, there will be no hope of safety for us, the enemy 88 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY being so numerous and so daring. It seems best for us, therefore, to march to their relief with all possible speed, that, if they still survive, we may join with them in their strug- gle, and not, being left alone, meet danger alone. Let us for the present, then, pitch our camp, marching on, however, un- til it seems time to sup, and while we are on the march, let Timasion, with the horse, ride on before, but keeping us still in sight, and let him reconnoiter the country in front, that nothing may take us by surprise." He dispatched, at the same time, some of the most active of the light-armed men to the parts on either flank, and to the hills, that if they saw any- thing threatening in any quarter, they might give notice of it. He ordered them also to burn whatever combustible matter they met with; "for," said he, "we could not flee from hence to any place of refuge; since it is a long way to go back to Heraclea, and a long way to go over to Chrysopolis; and the enemy are close at hand. To the harbor of Calpe, indeed, where we suppose Cheirisophus to be, if he is safe, the dis- tance is but short; but even there, there are neither vessels in which we can sail from the place, nor subsistence, if we remain, even for a single day. Should those who are be- sieged, however, be left to perish, it will be less advantageous for us to face danger in conjunction with the troops of Chei- risophus only, than if the besieged are preserved, to unite all our forces, and struggle for our safety together. But we must go resolved in mind that we have now either to die gloriously, or achieve a most honorable exploit in the preservation of so many Greeks. Perhaps some divinity orders it thus, who wishes to humble those who spoke boastfully, as if they were superior to us in wisdom, and to render us, who com- mence all our proceedings by consulting the gods, more hon- ored than they are. You must follow, then, your leaders, and pay attention to them, that you may be ready to execute what they order." Having spoken thus, he led them forward. The cavalry, scattering themselves about as far as was safe, spread fire wherever they went, while the peltasts, marching abreast of them along the heights, burned whatever they found that was combustible, as did the main body also, if they met with anything left unburned by the others; so that the whole XENOPHON 89 country seemed to be on fire, and the Greek force to be very numerous. As soon as it was time, they mounted a hill and encamped, when they caught sight of the enemy's fires, which were distant about forty stadia; and they themselves then made as many fires as they could. But as soon as they had supped, orders were given to put out all the fires; and, having appointed sentinels, they went to sleep for the night. At dawn of day, after praying to the gods, and ar- ranging themselves for battle, they continued their march with as much haste as they could. Timasion and the cavalry, taking the guides with them, and riding on before the rest, found themselves, before they were aware, upon the hill where the Greeks had been besieged, but saw no troops, either of friends or enemies, but only some old men and women, and a few sheep and oxen that had been left behind; and this state of things they reported to Xenophon and the army. At first they wondered what could have happened ; but at length they learned from the people who were left that the Thracians had gone off at the close of the evening and the Greeks in the morning, but whither they did not know. Xenophon and his party, on hearing this account, packed up their baggage, after they had breakfasted, and pursued their journey, wishing, as soon as possible, to join the rest of the Greeks at the harbor of Calpe. As they proceeded, they perceived the track of the Arcadians and Achgeans on the way to Calpe; and when they met, they were pleased to see one another, and embraced like brothers. The Arcadians then asked Xenophon 's men why they had put out their fires, ' ' for we, ' ' said they, ' ' thought at first, when we saw no more fires, that you were coming to attack the enemy in the night; (and the enemy themselves, as they appeared to us, went off under this apprehension, for they disappeared about that time) ; but as you did not come, and the time passed by, we concluded that you, hearing of our situation, had been seized with alarm, and had retreated to the sea-coast ; and we determined not to be far behind you. Accordingly we also marched in this direction." 90 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY XI WHAT the Greeks did in their march up the country with Cyrus, until the battle was fought, what they experienced in their retreat, after Cyrus was dead, till they reached the Euxine sea, and how they fared, in their progress by sea and land, from the time that they arrived at the Euxine until they got beyond the mouth of it to Chrysopolis in Asia, has been related in the preceding part of the narrative. Pharnabazus, fearing that the army of the Greeks might make an irruption into his province, sent to Anaxibius the Spartan admiral, who was at Byzantium, and begged him to transport the army out of Asia, promising to do for him in re- turn whatever he might require of him. Anaxibius, accord- ingly, sent for the generals and captains of the troops to Byzantium, engaging that if they came over to him, pay should be given to the men. The rest of the officers said that they would give him an answer after they had considered of the matter ; but Xenophon told him that he was going to leave the army, and wanted to sail away. Anaxibius, however, re- quested him to come across with the rest, and then to take his departure. Xenophon therefore said that he would do so. In the meantime Seuthes the Thracian sent Medosades to Xenophon, requesting that general to join with him in using his efforts that the army might cross over, and saying that he should have no cause to repent of assisting him in that object. Xenophon replied, "The army will doubtless cross over; let him give nothing to me therefore, or to any one else, on that account. When it has crossed, I shall quit it ; so let him address himself to those who stay, and who may seem able to serve him in such a manner as may appear likely to be successful." Soon after the whole army of the Greeks crossed over to Byzantium. Anaxibius however gave them no pay, but made proclamation that the soldiers should take their arms and baggage, and go out of the city, signifying that he intended at once to send them away home, and to take their number. The soldiers were in consequence greatly troubled, because they had no money to get provisions for their journey, and packed up their baggage with reluctance. XENOPHON 91 Xenophon, who had become a guest-friend to Oleander the governor, went to take leave of him, with the intention of sailing away immediately. But Oleander said to him: "By no means do so, for, if you do, you will incur blame, since some people, indeed, already accuse you as the cause that the army proceeds out so slowly." Xenophon replied, "I am not the cause of this, but the soldiers, being in want of provisions, are for that reason, of themselves, reluctant to go out." "However I advise you," rejoinded Oleander, "to go out with them, as if you intended to accompany them, and when the army is clear of the city, then to quit it." "We will then go to Anaxibius," said Xenophon, "and further the proceedings." They accordingly went, and told him that such was their intention. He recommended that they should act in conformity with what they said, and that the troops should go out as soon as possible with their baggage packed up; desiring them to give notice, at the same time, that whoever should not be present at the review and num- bering of the army, would have himself to blame. The gen- erals then went out first, and the rest of the army fol- lowed them. They were now all out except a few, and Eteonicus was standing by the gates, ready to shut them, and thrust in the bar, as soon as they were all outside, when Anaxibius, sum- moning the generals and captains, said, "You may take provisions from the Thracian villages ; for there is plenty of barley and wheat, and other necessaries, in them ; and when you have supplied yourselves, proceed to the Chersonesus, and there Cyniscus will give you pay. ' ' Some of the soldiers that overheard this, or some one of the captains, communi- cated it to the army. The generals, meanwhile, inquired about Seuthes, whether he would prove hostile or friendly, and whether they must march over the Sacred Mountain, or round about through the middle of Thrace. But while they were talking of these matters, the soldiers, snatching up their arms, ran in haste to the gates, with a design to make their way back within the walls. Eteonicus, however, and those about him, when they saw the heavy-armed men running toward them, shut the gates, and thrust in the bar. The soldiers then knocked at the gates, and said that they 92 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY were treated most unjustly, in being shut out as a prey to the enemy, and declared that they would split the gates asunder, if the people did not open them of their own ac- cord. Some ran off to the sea, and got over into the city by the pier of the wall ; while others of them, who happened to be still in the town, when they perceived what was pass- ing at the gates, cut the bars in twain with their axes, and set the gates wide open. They then all rushed in. Xenophon, observing what was going on, and fearing lest the army should fall to plundering, and irreparable mis- chief be done not only to the city, but to himself and the men, ran and got within the gates along with the crowd. The people of Byzantium, at the same time, when they saw the army entering by force, fled from the market-place, some to the ships, and some to their houses, while others, who hap- pened to be within doors, ran out; some hauled down the galleys into the water, that they might save themselves in them ; and all believed themselves ruined, regarding the city as captured. Eteonicus fled to the citadel. Anaxibius, running down to the sea, sailed round to the same place in a fish- ing-boat, and immediately sent for men from the garrison at Chalcedon ; for those in the citadel did not appear sufficient to repel the Greeks. The soldiers, as soon as they saw Xenophon, ran up to him in great numbers, and cried, "You have now an oppor- tunity, O Xenophon, to become a great man. You are in possession of a city, you have galleys, you have money, you have this large number of men. Now, therefore, if you are inclined, you may benefit us, and we may make you a distin- guished man." Xenophon replied, "You say well, and I will act accordingly; but if you aim at this object, range your- selves under arms as quickly as possible," for he wished to quiet them, and not only gave these orders himself, but desired the other officers also to command the men to range them- selves under arms. As the men, too, began to march them- selves, the heavy-armed troops soon formed eight deep, and the peltasts ran to take their station on each wing. The ground, which was called the Thracian Area, was excellent for the arrangement of troops, being clear of houses, and level. When the arms were in their places, and the men somewhat XENOPHON 93 tranquilized, Xenophon called the soldiers round him, and spoke as follows: "That you are angry, soldiers, and think you have been treated strangely in being deceived, I am not at all surprised ; but if we gratify our resentment, and not only take revenge on the Lacedaemonians, who are here, for their imposition, but plunder the city which is not at all to blame, consider what will be the consequences; we shall be the declared enemies both of the Lacedaemonians and their allies. What will be the nature of a war with them, we may conjecture, as we have seen and remember what has recently occurred. We the Athenians entered upon the contest with the Lacedae- monians and their allies, with not less than three hundred gal- leys, some at sea and some in the docks, with a great sum of money in the Acropolis, and with a yearly revenue from our customs at home and our territory abroad, of not less than a thousand talents; but though we were masters of all the is- lands, were possessed of many cities in Asia, and many others in Europe, and of this very Byzantium where we now are, yet we were reduced in the war to such a condition as you all know. And what may we now expect to be our fate, when the Lacedaemonians and Achseans are in alliance; when the Athenians, and those who were then allied with them, have become an accession to the Spartan power ; when Tissaphernes, and all the other Barbarians on the sea-coast, are our enemies, and the king of Persia himself our greatest enemy, whom we went to despoil of his throne, and, if we could, to deprive of life ? When all these opponents are united against us, is there anybody so senseless as to think that we could get the superi- ority? Let us not, in the name of the gods, act like mad- men, and perish with disgrace, by becoming enemies to our country, and to our friends and relations! For our connec- tions are all in the cities that will make war upon us, and that will make war justly indeed, if, when we declined to possess ourselves of any Barbarian city, though we were superior in force, we should plunder the first Greek city at which we have arrived. For my own part, I pray that be- fore I see such an atrocity committed by you, I may be buried ten thousand fathoms under ground. I advise you, as you are Greeks, to endeavor to obtain justice by submitting to 94 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY those who are masters of the Greeks. Should you be unable to obtain it, however, we ought not, though wronged, to de- prive ourselves of all hope of returning to Greece. It appears to me, therefore, that we should now send deputies to Anaxi- bius, with this message: 'We came into the city with no design to commit violence, but, if we could, to obtain some services from you ; but, if we obtain none, we intend to show that we shall go out of it, not because we have been deceived, but because we are willing to obey you.' ' This proposal met with approbation; and they dispatched Hieronymus the Elean, Eurylochus the Arcadian, and Phile- sius the Achaean, to carry the message. They accordingly pro- ceeded to deliver it. But while the soldiers were still seated, Cceratades, 8 a Theban, came up to them; a man who was going about the country, not banished from Greece, but wanting to be a general, and offering his services wherever any city or people required a leader; and, as he came forward, he said that he was prepared to conduct them to that part of Thrace called the Delta, where they would find plenty of good things, and that, till they should arrive there, he would supply them with meat and drink in abundance. The soldiers listened to this offer, and heard, at the same time, the reply brought from Anaxibius, for he had sent an answer that * ' if they complied with his wishes, they should have no cause to repent ; and that he would report their conduct to the authorities at Sparta, and would contrive to do for them whatever service he could." The soldiers, in consequence, took Coeratades as their leader, and went out of the city, Coeratades engaging to come to the army next day with victims for sacrifice, an augur, and meat and drink for the troops. As soon as they were gone out, Anaxibius caused the gates to be shut, and proclamation made, that whoever of the soldiers should be found within, should be sold as a slave. Next day Coeratades came with the victims and the augur ; and twenty men followed him carrying barley-meal, and other twenty carrying wine ; three also with as large a load 8 He had been a commander of the Boeotians toward the end of the Peloponnesian war, and, at the surrender of Byzantium, fell into the hands of the Athenians, by whom he was carried prisoner to Athens, but contrived to escape. XENOPHON 95 as they could bear of olives; one with as much as he could carry of garlic, and another of onions. Having ordered these things to be laid down, as if for distribution, he proceeded to offer sacrifice. Xenophon, meanwhile, having sent for Oleander, urged him to obtain permission for him to enter the walls, and to sail away from Byzantium. When Oleander arrived, he said, "I am come, after having obtained the permission with ex- treme difficulty ; for Anaxibius says that it is not proper for the soldiers to be close to the walls, and Xenophon within; and that the Byzantines are split into factions, and at enmity one with another; yet he has desired you," he added, "to enter, if you intend to sail with him." Xenophon accord- ingly took leave of the soldiers, and went into the city with Oleander. Creratades, the first day, had no favorable omens from the sacrifice, and distributed nothing among the troops. The next day the victims were placed at the altar, and Creratades took his station with a chaplet on his head, as if intending to offer sacrifice; when Timasion the Dardanian, Neon the Asinaean, and Cleanor the Orchomenian, came forward and told Coeratades not to sacrifice, as he should not lead the army, unless he supplied it with provisions. He then ordered a distribution to be made. But as his supply fell far short of one day's subsistence for each of the soldiers, he went off, taking with him the victims, and renouncing the general- ship. xn FROM hence they sailed across to Lampsacus, when Euclides the augur, a native of Phlius, the son of Cleagoras, who wrote THE DREAMS IN THE LYCEUM, came to meet Xenophon. He congratulated Xenophon on having returned safe, and asked him how much gold he had. Xenophon assured him, with an oath, that he should not have enough for his expenses in traveling home, unless he sold his horse, and what he had about him. Euclides did not believe him. But after the peo- ple of Lampsacus had sent presents to Xenophon, and Xeno- phon was proceeding to sacrifice to Apollo, he made Euclides stand beside him at the time, who, on inspecting the victims, 96 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY said that he was now convinced he had no money. "But I observe," added he, "that even if money should ever be likely to come to you, there will be some obstacle, and, if no other, that you will be an obstacle to yourself." Xeno- phon assented to the justice of the observation. "Jupiter Meilichius, however," said Euclides, "is an obstacle in your way ; ' ' and then asked whether he had ever sacrificed to that god, "as I was accustomed," continued he, "to sacrifice and offer holocausts for you at home." Xenophon replied, that since he had left home he had not sacrificed to that deity. Euclides then advised him to sacrifice as he had been used to do, and said that it would be for his advantage. Next day, Xenophon, going on to Ophrynium, offered a sacrifice, burn- ing whole hogs after the custom of his country, and found the omens favorable. The same day Biton and Euclides came to bring pay for the army. These men were hospitably entertained by Xeno- phon, and having repurchased his horse, which he had sold at Lampsacus for fifty darics (as they suspected that he had parted with it from necessity, for they had heard that he was fond of the horse), they restored it to him, and would not receive from him the price of it. Hence they advanced through Troas, and, passing over Ida, came first to Antandrus; then, proceeding along by the sea, they arrived at the plain of Thebe in Lydia. Marching from hence through Atramyttium and Certorium, by Atar- neus, to the plain of the Caicus, they reached Pergamus in Mysia. Here Xenophon was hospitably received by Hellas the wife of Gongylus of Eretria, and mother of Gorgion and Gongylus. She told him that Asidates, a Persian, resided in the plain, and said that if he would attack him in the night with three hundred men, he might take him, with his wife and children, and his wealth, which was considerable. To guide him in the enterprise she sent her own cousin, and a man named Daphnagoras, whom she greatly esteemed; and Xenophon, having these with him, offered sacrifice. Basias, an augur from Elis, who was present, said that the omens were extremely favorable, and that the man might easily be captured. After supper, accordingly, he set out, taking with him such of the XENOPHON 97 captains as were most attached to him, and had constantly been his friends, in order that he might do them a service. Others also came to join the party, forcing themselves upon him, to the number of six hundred; but the captains sent them back, that they might not have to give them any portion of the booty, which they regarded as ready to their hands. When they came to the place, about midnight, the slaves that were about the castle, and the greater part of the cattle, escaped them, as they neglected these in order that they might capture Asidates himself and his riches. But as they were unable to take the building by assault (for it was high and large, and had battlements, and many brave men to de- fend it), they proceeded to dig a passage into it. The wall was eight bricks of earth thick; but a breach was made into it by day-break ; and the moment an opening appeared, some one from within pierced the thigh of the man that was nearest him through with an ox-spit; and afterwards, by shooting showers of arrows, they rendered it unsafe even to approach. As they uttered loud cries, too, and made signals with torches, Itabelius, with his force, came to their as- sistance, as well as some Assyrian heavy-armed men, and about eighty Hyrcanian cavalry, who were in the king's pay, from Comania ; and other troops, lightly armed, to the num- ber of eight hundred, with cavalry, some from Parthenium, and others from Apollonia and the neighboring parts. It was now time for the Greeks to consider how they should retreat ; and, taking what oxen and sheep were at hand, they drove them off, placing them with the slaves, within a hollow square, not so much because they were anxious about the booty, but lest, if they went off and left it, their retreat might appear like a flight, and the enemy might thus be ren- dered bolder, and their own men more dispirited; whereas they now retired as if resolved to defend their capture. But when Gongylus observed that the Greeks were but few, and those who hung upon their rear were numerous, he sallied forth himself, against the will of his mother, at the head of his own force, wishing to take a share in the action; Procles also, and Teuthranias, a descendant of Damaratus, came to his support from Halisarne. Xenophon and his party, as they were sorely harassed by the enemy 's arrows and slings, and as A. v. 17 98 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY they marched in a circle to hold their shields as a defense against the missiles, got with great difficulty across the river Caicus, nearly half of them being wounded. On this occasion Agasias the Stymphalian, one of the captains, was wounded after making head the whole time against the enemy. But they at last came off safe, with about two hundred slaves, and cattle enough for sacrifice. On the following day Xenophon offered sacrifice, and led out his whole force in the night, with a design to go as far as possible into Lydia, in order that the Persian might not be in fear from his proximity, but be thrown off his guard. But Asidates, hearing that Xenophon had again sacrificed with a view to an attack upon him, and that he would return with all his strength, went out to encamp in some villages lying close under the little town of Parthenium. Here Xenophon and his troop came round upon him, and captured himself, his wife and children, his horses, and all his property; and thus the omens of the first sacrifice were verified. They then marched back to Pergamus; and here Xeno- phon had no cause to complain of the god ; for the Lacedaemo- nians, the captains, the rest of the generals, and the soldiers, all agreed that he should receive select portions of the spoil, consisting of horses, oxen, and other things; so that he was now able even to serve a friend. Soon after, Thibron arrived and took charge of the army, and, uniting it with the rest of the Greek force, proceeded to make war upon Tissaphernes and Pharnabazus. The governors of the king's country, as much of it as we went through, were these : of Lydia, Artemas ; of Phrygia, Artacamas; of Lycaonia and Cappadocia, Mithridates ; of Cilicia, Syennesis ; of Pho3nicia and Arabia, Dernes ; of Syria and Assyria, Belesys; of Babylon, Rhoparas; of Media, Arbacas ; of the Phasiani and Hesperitae, Tiribazus (the Car- duchi, the Chalybes, the Chaldasans, the Macrones, the Col- chians, the Mossynoeci, the Ccetae, and the Tibareni, were independent nations) ; of Paphlagonia, Corylas ; of the Bithynians, Pharnabazus; and of the Thracians in Europe, Seuthes. The computation of the whole journey, the ascent and descent, was two hundred and fifteen days' march, one thou- XENOPHON 99 sand one hundred and fifty-five parasangs, thirty-four thou- sand six hundred and fifty stadia. The length of time oc- cupied in the ascent and descent was one year and three months. END OF THE "KATABASIS JTJLK JULIUS CESAR ) JULIUS CLESAR THE FOREMOST MAN OF THE ROMAN WORLD 100-44 B. C. (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) The writings of Julius Caesar have been so much referred to by later writers of autobiography, that they may almost be said to stand as the basis and foundation of literary self-study. This rank has been assigned to them by many critics; and so many autobiographical writers, especially military ones, have named Caesar's works as having inspired them to similar effort that a series like the present can scarcely pass Caesar by. Yet there is little that is genuinely autobiographical in his writings. He describes campaigns and countries in such a coldly impersonal light, referring always to himself as "Caesar, " that one gets hardly a single glimpse at the man behind the mask. This is particularly true in his "Commentaries on the Gallic Wars." In his other book of commentaries, the ' ' Civil War, ' ' he speaks with more warmth of personal feeling and more directness. The ' ' Civil War ' ' has therefore been selected for presentation here. It is rather fragmen- tary, the surviving portion breaking abruptly into the midst of Caesar's struggle with Pompey. Pompey had been master of the Eoman world before Caesar; and as the latter 's military strength and political fame grew with the conquest of Gaul, Pompey became jealous and suspicious. He endeavored to break Caesar's power, and finally compelled the Eoman Senate to command Caesar to surrender his devoted Gallic army. This would have left Caesar helpless in face of Pompey 's army. Caesar urged that both armies should be dismissed, or else that he and his rival should meet personally and come to some agreement of amity. The Tribunes or people's representatives in Eome upheld Caesar in this; but Pompey persisted in using his influence within the Eoman Senate so as to crush his rival. Caesar was declared by senatorial decree to be an enemy of the republic. What Cassar, the strongest, keenest man in all the Eoman world, then resolved upon and did, here follows in his own words. 101 102 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY CESAR'S " COMMENTARIES ON THE CIVIL WAR" WHEN Caesar heard of the actions of his enemies, he harangued his soldiers; he reminded them "of the wrongs done at all times by his enemies, and complained that Pompey had been alienated from him and led astray by them through envy and a malicious opposition to his glory, though he had always favored and promoted Pompey 's honor and dignity. He com- plained that an innovation had been introduced into the re- public, that the intercession of the tribunes, which had been restored a few years before by Sylla, was branded as a crime, and suppressed by force of arms ; that Sylla, who had stripped the tribunes of every other power, had, nevertheless, left the privilege of intercession unrestrained; that Pompey, who pretended to restore what they had lost, had taken away the privileges which they formerly had ; that whenever the senate decreed, 'that the magistrates should take care that the re- public sustained no injury' (by which words and decree the Roman people were obliged to repair to arms), it was only when pernicious laws were proposed; when the tribunes at- tempted violent measures; when the people seceded, and pos- sessed themselves of the temples and eminences of the city; (and these instances of former times, he showed them were expiated by the fate of Saturninus and the Gracchi) : that nothing of this kind was attempted now, nor even thought of: that no law was promulgated, no intrigue with the people going forward, no secession made; he exhorted them to defend from the malice of his enemies the reputation and honor of that general under whose command they had for nine years most successfully supported the state; fought many successful battles, and subdued all Gaul and Ger- many." The soldiers of the thirteenth legion, which was present (for in the beginning of the disturbances he had called it out, his other legions not having yet arrived), all cry out that they are ready to defend their general, and the tribunes of the commons, from all injuries. Having made himself acquainted with the disposition of his soldiers, Cassar set off with that legion to Ariminum, and there met the tribunes, who had fled to him for protection; he called his other legions from winter quarters, and ordered JULIUS C^SAR 103 them to follow him. Thither came Lucius Caesar, a young man, whose father was a lieutenant-general under Caesar. He, after concluding the rest of his speech, and stating for what purpose he had come, told Cassar that he had commands of a private nature for him from Pompey, that Pompey wished to clear himself to Cassar, lest he should impute those actions which he did for the republic, to a design of affronting him; that he had ever preferred the interest of the state to his own private connections; that Caesar, too, for his own honor, ought to sacrifice his desires and resentment to the public good, and not vent his anger so violently against his enemies, lest in his hope of injuring them, he should injure the republic. He spoke a few words to the same purport from himself, in addition to Pompey 's apology. Roscius, the praator, conferred with Cassar almost in the same words, and on the same subject, and declared that Pompey had em- powered him to do so. Though these things seemed to have no tendency toward redressing his injuries, yet having got proper persons by whom he could communicate his wishes to Pompey ; he re- quired of them both, that, as they had conveyed Pompey 's demands to him, they should not refuse to convey his demands to Pompey; if by so little trouble they could terminate a great dispute, and liberate all Italy from her fears. "That the honor of the republic had ever been his first object, and dearer to him than life; that he was chagrined, that the favor of the Roman people was wrested from him by the in- jurious reports of his enemies; that he was deprived of a half-year's command, and dragged back to the city, though the people had ordered that regard should be paid to his suit for the consulate at the next election, though he was not present ; that, however, he had patiently submitted to this loss of honor, for the sake of the republic; that when he wrote letters to the senate, requiring that all persons should resign the command of their armies, he did not obtain even that request; that levies were made throughout Italy; that the two legions which had been taken from him, under the pretense of the Parthian war, were kept at home, and that the state was in arms. To what did all these things tend, unless to his ruin? But, nevertheless, he was ready to con- 104 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY descend to any terms, and to endure everything for the sake of the republic. Let Pompey 1 go to his own province ; let them both disband their armies; let all persons in Italy lay down their arms; let all fears be removed from the city; let free elections, and the whole republic be resigned to the direction of the senate and Roman people. That these things might be the more easily performed, and conditions secured and confirmed by oath, either let Pompey come to Caesar, or allow Caesar to go to him ; it might be that all their disputes would be settled by an interview." Roscius and Lucius Caesar, having received this message, went to Capua, where they met the consuls and Pompey, and declared to them Caesar's terms. Having deliberated on the matter, they replied, and sent written proposals to him by the same persons, the purport of which was, that Caesar should return into Gaul, leave Ariminum, and disband his army: if he complied with this, that Pompey would go to Spain. In the meantime, until security was given that Cassar would perform his promises, that the consuls and Pompey would not give over their levies. It was not an equitable proposal, to require that Caesar should quit Ariminum and return to his province; but that Pompey should himself retain his province and the legions that belonged to another, and desire that Cassar 's army should be disbanded, while he himself was making new levies: and that he should merely promise to go to his province, with- out naming the day on which he would set out ; so that if he should not set out till after Caesar's consulate expired, yet he would not appear bound by any religious scruples about as- serting a falsehood. But his not granting time for a con- ference, nor promising to set out to meet him, made the ex- pectation of peace appear very hopeless. Caesar, therefore, sent Marcus Antonius, with five cohorts from Ariminum to Arretium; he himself stayed at Ariminum with two legions, 1 When Caesar and Pompey were reconciled, they and Crassus divided the provinces between them. Caesar got Hither and Further Gaul; Cras- sus, Parthia ; and Pompey, Spain and Africa. The others set out for their respective provinces. Pompey dispatched his lieutenants to manage his provinces, and remained himself in Italy with an army, which Caesar thought a great stretch of power, that he should command both his own provinces and Italy at the same time. JULIUS C^SAR 105 with the intention of raising levies there. He secured Pisaurus, Fanmn, and Ancona, with a cohort each. In the meantime, being informed that Thermus the praetor was in possession of Iguvium, with five cohorts, and was fortifying the town, but that the affections of all the in- habitants were very well inclined toward himself, he detached Curio with three cohorts, which he had at Ariminum and Pisaurus. Upon notice of his approach, Thermus, distrusting the affections of the townsmen, drew his cohorts out of it, and made his escape; his soldiers deserted him on the road, and returned home. Curio recovered Iguvium, with the cheerful concurrence of all the inhabitants. Caesar, having received an account of this, and relying on the affections of the municipal towns, drafted all the cohorts of the thirteenth legion from the garrison, and set out for Auximum, a town into which Attius had brought his cohorts, and of which he had taken possession, and from which he had sent senators round about the country of Picenum, to raise new levies. Upon news of Caesar's approach, the senate of Auximum went in a body to Attius Varus ; and told him that it was not a subject for them to determine upon: yet neither they, nor the rest of the freemen would suffer Caius Caesar, a general, who had merited so well of the republic, after performing such great achievements, to be excluded from their town and walls ; wherefore he ought to pay some regard to the opinion of posterity, and his own danger. Alarmed at this declara- tion, Attius Varus drew out of the town the garrison which he had introduced, and fled. A few of Caesar's front rank having pursued him, obliged him to halt, and when the battle began, Varus is deserted by his troops: some of them disperse to their homes, the rest come over to Caesar; and along with them, Lucius Pupius, the chief centurion, is taken prisoner and brought to Caesar. He had held the same rank before in Cneius Pompey's army. But Caesar applauded the soldiers of Attius, set Pupius at liberty, re- turned thanks to the people of Auximum, and promised to be grateful for their conduct. Intelligence of this being brought to Rome, so great a panic spread on a sudden that when Lentulus, the consul, came to open the treasury, to deliver money to Pompey by the 106 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY senate's decree, immediately on opening the hallowed door he fled from the city. For it was falsely rumored that Caesar was approaching, and that his cavalry were already at the gates. Marcellus, his colleague, followed him, and so did most of the magistrates. Cneius Pompey had left the city the day before, and was on his march to those legions which he had received from Caesar, and had disposed in winter quarters in Apulia. The levies were stopped within the city. No place on this side of Capua was thought secure. At Capua they first began to take courage and to rally, and determined to raise levies in the colonies, which had been sent thither by the Julian law: and Lentulus brought into the public market place the gladiators which Caesar main- tained there for the entertainment of the people, and con- firmed them in their liberty, and gave them horses and ordered them to attend him ; but afterward, being warned by his friends that this action was censured by the judg- ment of all, he distributed them among the slaves of the district of Campania, to keep guard there. Caesar, having moved forward from Auximum, traversed the whole country of Picenum. All the governors in these countries most cheerfully received him, and aided his army with every necessary. Ambassadors came to him even from Cingulum, a town which Labienus had laid out and built at his own expense, and offered most earnestly to comply with his orders. He demanded soldiers: they sent them. In the meantime, the twelfth legion came to join Caesar; with these two he marched to Asculum, the chief town of Picenum. Lentulus Spinther occupied that town with ten cohorts ; but, on being informed of Caesar's approach, he fled from the town, and, in attempting to bring off his cohorts with him, was deserted by a great part of his men. Being left on the road with a small number, he fell in with Vibullius Rufus, who was sent by Pompey into Picenum to confirm the peo- ple in their allegiance. Vibullius, being informed by him of the transactions of Picenum, takes his soldiers from him and dismisses him. He collects, likewise, from the neighbor- ing countries, as many cohorts as he can from Pompey 's new levies. Among them he meets with Ulcilles Hirrus fleeing from Camerinum, with six cohorts, which he had in JULIUS C^SAR 107 the garrison there; by a junction with which he made up thirteen cohorts. With them he marched by hasty journeys to Corfinium, to Domitius ^Enobarbus, and informed him that Caesar was advancing with two legions. Domitius had collected about twenty cohorts from Alba, and the Marsians, Pelignians, and neighboring states. Caesar, having recovered Asculum and driven out Lentulus, ordered the soldiers that had deserted from him to be sought out and a muster to be made; and, having delayed for one day there to provide corn, he marched to Corfinium. On his approach, five cohorts, sent by Domitius from the town, were breaking down a bridge which was over the river, at three miles' distance from it. An engagement taking place there with Caesar's advanced-guard, Domitius 's men were quickly beaten off from the bridge and retreated precipitately into the town. Caesar, having marched his legions over, halted before the town and encamped close by the walls. Domitius, upon observing this, sent messengers well ac- quainted with the country, encouraged by a promise of being amply rewarded, with dispatches to Pompey to Apulia, to beg and entreat him to come to his assistance. That Caesar could be easily inclosed by the two armies, through the narrowness of the country, and prevented from obtaining supplies: unless he did so, that he and upward of thirty cohorts, and a great number of senators and Roman knights, would be in extreme danger. In the meantime he en- couraged his troops, disposed engines on the walls, and as- signed to each man a particular part of the city to defend. In a speech to the soldiers he promised them lands out of his own estate; to every private soldier four acres, and a corresponding share to the centurions and veterans. In the meantime, word was brought to Caesar that the people of Sulmo, a town about seven miles distant from Corfinium, were ready to obey his orders, but were prevented by Quintus Lucretius, a senator, and Attius, a Pelignian, who were in possession of the town with a garrison of seven cohorts. He sent Marcus Antonius thither, with five cohorts of the eighth legion. The inhabitants, as soon as they saw our standards, threw open their gates, and all the people, both citizens and soldiers, went out to meet and welcome Antonius. 108 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY Lucretius and Attius leaped off the walls. Attius, being brought before Antonius, begged that he might be sent to Caesar. Antonius returned the same day on which he had set out with the cohorts and Attius. Caesar added these cohorts to his own army, and sent Attius away in safety. The three first days Caesar employed in fortifying his camp with strong works, in bringing in corn from the neighbor- ing free towns, and waiting for the rest of his forces. Within the three days the eighth legion came to him, and twenty-two cohorts of the new levies in Gaul, and about three hundred horse from the king of Noricum. On their arrival he made a second camp on another part of the town, and gave the command of it to Curio. He determined to surround the town with a rampart and turrets during the remainder of the time. Nearly at the time when the greatest part of the work was completed, all the messengers sent to Pompey returned. Having read Pompey 's letter, Domitius, concealing the truth, gave out in council that Pompey would speedily come to their assistance ; and encouraged them not to despond, but to provide everything necessary for the defense of the town. He held private conferences with a few of his most intimate friends, and determined on the design of fleeing. As Domitius 's countenance did not agree with his words, and he did everything with more confusion and fear than he had shown on the preceding days, and as he had several private meetings with his friends, contrary to his usual practice, in order to take their advice, and as he avoided all public councils and assemblies of the people, the truth could be no longer hid nor dissembled; for Pompey had written back in answer, "that he would not put matters to the last hazard; that Domitius had retreated into the town of Corfinium without either his advice or consent. There- fore, if any opportunity should offer, Domitius should come to him with the whole force." But the blockade and works round the town prevented his escape. Domitius 's design being noised abroad, the soldiers in Corfinium early in the evening began to mutiny, and held a conference with each other by their tribunes and centu- rions, and the most respectable among themselves : ' ' that they JULIUS OESAR 109 were besieged by Caesar ; that his works and fortifications were almost finished ; that their general, Domitius, on whose hopes and expectations they had confided, had thrown them off, and was meditating his own escape; that they ought to pro- vide for their own safety." At first the Marsians differed in opinion, and possessed themselves of that part of the town which they thought the strongest. And so violent a dispute arose between them, that they attempted to fight and decide it by arms. However, in a little time, by messengers sent from one side to the other, they were informed of Domitius 's meditated flight, of which they were previously ignorant. Therefore they all with one consent brought Domitius into public view, gathered round him, and guarded him ; and sent deputies out of their number to Caesar, to say that they were ready to throw open their gates, to do whatever he should order, and deliver up Domitius alive into his hands. Upon intelligence of these matters, though Caesar thought it of great consequence to become master of the town as soon as possible, and to transfer the cohorts to his own camp, lest any change should be wrought on their inclinations by bribes, encouragement, or fictitious messages, because in war great events are often brought about by trifling circum- stances; yet, dreading lest the town should be plundered by the soldiers entering into it, and taking advantage of the darkness of the night, he commended the persons who came to him, and sent them back to the town, and ordered the gates and walls to be secured. He disposed his soldiers on the works which he had begun, not at certain intervals, as was his practice before, but in one continued range of senti- nels and stations, so that they touched each other, and formed a circle round the whole fortification; he ordered the tribunes and general officers to ride round ; and exhorted them not only to be on their guard against sallies from the town, but also to watch that no single person should get out privately. Nor was any man so negligent or drowsy as to sleep that night. To so great height was their ex- pectation raised, that they were carried away, heart and soul, each to different objects, what would become of the Cor- finians, what of Domitius, what of Lentulus, what of the rest; what event would be the consequence of another. 110 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY About the fourth watch, Lentulus Spinther said to our sentinels and guards from the walls, that he desired to have an interview with Caesar, if permission were given him. Hav- ing obtained it, he was escorted out of town; nor did the soldiers of Domitius leave him till they brought him into Caesar's presence. He pleaded with Caesar for his life, and entreated him to spare him, and reminded him of their former friendship; and acknowledged that Caesar's favors to him were very great; in that through his interest he had been admitted into the college of priests; in that after his praetor- ship he had been appointed to the government of Spain; in that he had been assisted by him in his suit for the con- sulate. Caesar interrupted him in his speech, and told him, "that he had not left his province to do mischief to any man, but to protect himself from the injuries of his enemies ; to restore to their dignity the tribunes of the people who had been driven out of the city on his account, and to assert his own liberty, and that of the Roman people, who were oppressed by a few factious men." Encouraged by this ad- dress, Lentulus begged leave to return to the town, that the security which he had obtained for himself might be an en- couragement to the rest to hope for theirs ; saying that some were so terrified that they were induced to make desperate attempts on their own lives. Leave being granted him, he departed. When day appeared, Caesar ordered all the senators and their children, the tribunes of the soldiers, and the Roman knights to be brought before him. Among the persons of senatorial rank were Lucius Domitius, Publius Lentulus Spinther, Lucius Vibullius Rufus, Sextus Quintilius Varus, the quaestor, and Lucius Rubrius, besides the son of Domitius, and several other young men, and a great number of Roman knights and burgesses, whom Domitius had summoned from the municipal towns. When they were brought before him he protected them from the insolence and taunts of the soldiers ; told them in few words that they had not made him a grate- ful return, on their part, for his very extraordinary kindness to them, and dismissed them all in safety. Sixty sestertia, which Domitius had brought with him and lodged in the public treasury, being brought to Caesar by the magistrates JULIUS CJESAR 111 of Corfinium, he gave them back to Domitius, that he might not appear more moderate with respect to the life of men than in money matters, though he knew that it was public money, and had been given by Pompey to pay his army. He ordered Domitius 's soldiers to take the oath to himself, and that day decamped and performed the regular march. 2 He stayed only seven days before Corfinium, and marched into Apulia through the country of the Marrucinians, Frentanians and Larinates. Pompey, being informed of what had passed at Cor- finium, marches from Luceria to Canusium, and thence to Brundusium. 3 He orders all the forces raised everywhere by the new levies to repair to him. He gives arms to the slaves that attended the flocks, and appoints horses for them. Of these he made up about three hundred horse. Lucius, the praetor, fled from Alba, with six cohorts: Rutilus Lupus, the prsetor, from Tarracina, with three. These hav- ing described Caesar's cavalry at a distance, which were com- manded by Bivius Curius, and having deserted the praetor, carried their colors to Curius and went over to him. In like manner, during the rest of his march, several cohorts fell in with the main body of Caasar's army, others with his horse. Cneius Magius, from Cremona, engineer-general to Pompey, was taken prisoner on the road and brought to Caesar, but sent back by him to Pompey with this message: "As hitherto he had not been allowed an interview, and was now on his march to him at Brundusium, that it deeply con- cerned the commonwealth and general safety that he should have an interview with Pompey ; and that the same advantage could not be gained at a great distance when the proposals were conveyed to them by others, as if terms were argued by them both in person." Having delivered this message he marched to Brundusium with six legions, four of them veterans: the rest those which he had raised in the late levy and completed on his march, for he had sent all Domitius 's cohorts immediately from Corfinium to Sicily. He discovered that the consuls were gone to Dyrrachium with a considerable part of the army, 3 The regular march was about twenty Koman miles. 3 Brundusium, modern Brindisi, a city of Calabria, in the south of Italy. 112 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY and that Pompey remained at Brundusium with twenty cohorts; but could not find out, for a certainty, whether Pompey stayed behind to keep possession of Brundusium, that he might the more easily command the whole Adriatic sea, with the extremities of Italy and the coast of Greece, and be able to conduct the war on either side of it, or whether he remained there for want of shipping; and, being afraid that Pompey would come to the conclusion that he ought not to relinquish Italy, he determined to deprive him of the means of communication afforded by the harbor of Brundusium. The plan of his work was as follows : "Where the mouth of the port was narrowest he threw up a mole of earth on either side, because in these places the sea was shallow. Having gone out so far that the mole could not be continued in the deep water, he fixed double floats, thirty feet on either side, before the mole. These he fastened with four anchors at the four corners, that they might not be carried away by the waves. Having completed and secured them, he then joined to them other floats of equal size. These he covered over with earth and mold, that he might not be prevented from access to them to defend them, and in the front and on both sides he protected them with a parapet of wicker work; and on every fourth one raised a turret, two stories high, to secure them the better from being at- tacked by the shipping and set on fire. To counteract this, Pompey fitted out large merchant ships, which he found in the harbor of Brundusium: on them he erected turrets three stories high, and, having furnished them with several engines and all sorts of weapons, drove them among Caesar's works, to break through the floats and in- terrupt the works ; thus there happened skirmishes every day at a distance with slings, arrows, and other weapons. Caesar conducted matters as if he thought that the hopes of peace were not yet to be given up. And though he was very much surprised that Magius, whom he had sent to Pompey with a message, was not sent back to him; and though his at- tempting a reconciliation often retarded the vigorous prosecu- tion of his plans, yet he thought that he ought by all means to persevere in the same line of conduct. He therefore sent Caninius Rebilus to have an interview with Scribonius Libo, JULIUS CAESAR US his intimate friend and relation. He charges him to exhort Libo to effect a peace, but, above all things, requires that he should be admitted to an interview with Pompey. He declared that he had great hopes, if that were allowed him, that the consequence would be that both parties would lay down their arms on equal terms; that a great share of the glory and reputation of that event would redound to Libo, if, through his advice and agency, hostilities should be ended. Libo, having parted from the conference with Caninius, went to Pompey, and, shortly after, returned with answer that, as the consuls were absent, no treaty of composition could be engaged in without them. Caesar therefore thought it time at length to give over the attempt which he had often made in vain, and act with energy in the war. When Caesar's works were nearly half finished, and after nine days were spent in them, the ships which had conveyed the first division of the army to Dyrrachium being sent back by the consuls, returned to Brundusium. Pompey, either frightened at Cassar 's works or determined from the beginning to quit Italy, began to prepare for his departure on the ar- rival of the ships ; and the more effectually to retard Caesar 's attack, lest his soldiers should force their way into the town at the moment of his departure, he stopped up the gates, built walls across the streets and avenues, sunk trenches across the ways, and in them fixed palisadoes and sharp stakes, which he made level with the ground by means of hurdles and clay. But he barricaded with large beams fastened in the ground and sharpened at the ends two pas- sages and roads without the walls, which led to the port. After making these arrangements, he ordered his soldiers to go on board without noise, and disposed here and there, on the wall and turrets, some light-armed veterans, archers and slingers. These he designed to call off by a certain signal, when all the soldiers were embarked, and left row-galleys for them in a secure place. The people of Brundusium, irritated by the insolence of Pompey 's soldiers, and the insults received from Pompey himself, were in favor of Caasar's party. Therefore, as soon as they were aware of Pompey 's departure, while his men were running up and down, and busied about their voyage, A. v. i s LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY they made signs from the tops of the houses: Caesar, being apprised of the design by them, ordered scaling-ladders to be got ready, and his men to take arms, that he might not lose any opportunity of coming to an action. Pompey weighed anchor at nightfall. The soldiers who had been posted on the wall to guard it, were called off by the signal which had been agreed on, and knowing the roads, ran down to the ships. Caesar's soldiers fixed their ladders and scaled the walls: but being cautioned by the people to beware of the hidden stakes and covered trenches, they halted, and being conducted by the inhabitants by a long circuit, they reached the port, and captured with their long boats and small craft two of Pom- pey 's ships, full of soldiers, which had struck against Caesar's moles. Though Caesar highly approved of collecting a fleet, and crossing the sea, and pursuing Pompey before he could strengthen himself with his transmarine auxiliaries, with the hope of bringing the war to a conclusion, yet he dreaded the delay and length of time necessary to effect it : because Pom- pey, by collecting all his ships, had deprived him of the means of pursuing him at present. The only resource left to Caesar, was to wait for a fleet from the distant regions of Gaul, Picenum, and the straits of Gibraltar. But this, on account of the season of the year, appeared tedious and troublesome. He was unwilling that; in the meantime, the veteran army, and the two Spains, one of which was bound to Pompey by the strongest obligations, should be confirmed in his interest ; that auxiliaries and cavalry should be provided, and Gaul and Italy reduced in his absence. Therefore, for the present, he relinquished all intention of pursuing Pompey, and resolved to march to Spain, and com- manded the magistrates of the free towns to procure him ships, and to have them conveyed to Brundusium. He de- tached Valerius, his lieutenant, with one legion to Sardinia ; Curio, the propraetor, to Sicily with three legions ; and ordered him, when he had recovered Sicily, to immediately transport his army to Africa. Marcus Cotta was at this time governor of Sardinia : Marcus Cato, 4 of Sicily : and Tubero, by the lots, 4 Marcus Cato, better known by the name of Cato of Utica, was one of the most determined enemies of Caesar. He continued the struggle until JULIUS CAESAR 115 should have had the government of Africa. The Caralitani, 6 as soon as they heard that Valerius was sent against them, even hefore he left Italy, of their own accord drove Cotta out of the town; who, terrified because he understood that the whole province was combined [against him], fled from Sar- dinia to Africa. Cato was in Sicily, repairing the old ships of war, and demanding new ones from the states, and these things he performed with great zeal. He was raising levies of Eoman citizens, among the Lucani and Brutii, by his lieu- tenants, and exacting a certain quota of horse and foot from the states of Sicily. When these things were nearly com- pleted, being informed of Curio's approach, he made a com- plaint that he was abandoned and betrayed by Pompey, who had undertaken an unnecessary war, without making any preparation, and when questioned by him and other members in the senate, had assured them that everything was ready and provided for the war. After having made these com- plaints in a public assembly, he fled from his province. When these affairs were dispatched, Caesar, that there might be an intermission from labor for the rest of the season, drew off his soldiers to the nearest municipal towns, and set off in person for Rome. Having assembled the senate, he reminded them of the injustice of his enemies; and told them, "that he aimed at no extraordinary honor, but had waited for the time appointed by law, 6 for standing candidate for the consulate, being contented with what was allowed to every citizen. That a bill had been carried by the ten tribunes of the people (not- withstanding the resistance of his enemies, and a very violent opposition from Cato, who in his usual manner, consumed the day by a tedious harangue) that he should be allowed to stand candidate, though absent, even in the consulship of Pompey ; and if the latter disapproved of the bill, why did he affairs became desperate, and then committed suicide in Utica, a town of Africa. Cato the elder, surnamed the Censor, was the first distinguished man of the name. Livy remarked of him, that his talents were so great and so versatile, that he could have raised himself to the highest honors of any state in which he might have been born. He was a most deadly foe to Carthage, and concluded every debate in the senate with the well- known words, ' ' delenda est Carthago. ' ' 8 The inhabitants of Carales, now Cagliari, the modern capital of Sar- dinia, in the south of the island. It was built by the Carthaginians. Ten years had elapsed since his former consulate. 116 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY allow it to pass? if he approved of it, why should he debar him [Caesar] from the people's favor? He made mention of his own patience, in that he had freely proposed that all armies should be disbanded, by which he himself would suffer the loss both of dignity and honor. He urged the virulence of his enemies, who refused to comply with what they required from others, and had rather that all things should be thrown into confusion, than that they should lose their power and their armies. He expatiated on their injustice, in taking away his legions : their cruelty and insolence in abridging the priv- ileges of the tribunes; the proposals he had made, and his entreaties of an interview which had been refused him. For which reasons, he begged and desired that they would under- take the management of the republic, and unite with him in the administration of it. But if through fear they declined it, he would not be a burden to them, but take the management of it on himself. That deputies ought to be sent to Pompey, to propose a reconciliation ; as he did not regard what Pom- pey had lately asserted in the senate, that authority was acknowledged to be vested in those persons to whom ambassa- dors were sent, and fear implied in those that sent them. That these were the sentiments of low, weak minds: that for his part, as he had made it his study to surpass others in glory, so he was desirous of excelling them in justice and equity. ' ' The senate approved of sending deputies, but none could be found fit to execute the commission: for every person, from his own private fears, declined the office. For Pompey, on leaving the city, had declared in the open senate, that he would hold in the same degree of estimation those who stayed in Rome and those in Caesar's camp. Thus three days were wasted in disputes and excuses. Besides, Lucius Metellus, one of the tribunes, was suborned by Caesar's enemies, to prevent this, and to embarrass 7 everything else which Caesar should 7 Before Caesar left the city, he took out of the treasury a large sum of money, deposited there as a fund to defray the expenses of any war that might arise from the Gauls, of whom the Komans had a peculiar horror, alleging that, as he conquered the Gauls, there was no use for it. Metellua attempted to prevent him, but he drew his sword in an attitude of menace, saying, ' ' Young man, it is as easy to do this as to say it. ' ' The money was soon expended, as Caesar, not long after, was obliged to borrow money from his officers to pay his soldiers. JULIUS C^SAR 117 propose. Caesar having discovered his intention, after spend- ing several days to no purpose, left the city, in order that he might not lose any more time, and went to Transalpine Gaul, without effecting what he had intended. [The narrative moves along in a leisurely fashion till it comes to the final battle and overthrow of Pompey, which took place at Pharsalia in western Asia.] When Caesar thought he had sufficiently sounded the dis- position of his troops, he thought that he ought to try whether Pompey had any intention or inclination to come to a battle. Accordingly he led his troops out of the camp, and ranged them in order of battle, at first on their own ground, and at a small distance from Pompey 's camp: but afterward for sev- eral days in succession, he advanced from his own camp, and led them up to the hills on which Pompey 's troops were posted, which conduct inspired his army every day with fresh courage. However he adhered to his former purpose respect- ing his cavalry, for as he was by many degrees inferior in number, he selected the youngest and most active of the ad- vanced guard, and desired them to fight intermixed with the horse, and they by constant practice acquired experience in this kind of battle. By these means it was brought to pass that a thousand of his horse would dare even on open ground, to stand against seven thousand of Pompey 's, if occasion required, and would not be much terrified by their number. For even on one of those days he was successful in a cavalry action, and killed one of the two Allobrogians, who had de- serted to Pompey, as we before observed, and several others. Pompey, because he was encamped on a hill, drew up his army at the very foot of it, ever in expectation, as may be conjectured, that Caesar Would expose himself to this disad- vantageous situation. Caasar, seeing no likelihood of being able to bring Pompey to an action, judged it the most expedi- ent method of conducting the war, to decamp from that post and to be always in motion : with this hope, that by shifting his camp and removing from place to place, he might be more conveniently supplied with corn, and also, that by being in motion he might get some opportunity of forcing them to battle, and might by constant marches harass Pompey 's army, which was not accustomed to fatigue. These matters being 118 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY settled, when the signal for marching was given, and the tents struck, it was observed that shortly before, contrary to his daily practice, Pompey's army had advanced further than usual from his intrenchments, so that it appeared possible to come to an action on equal ground. Then Cassar addressed himself to his soldiers, when they were at the gates of the camp, ready to march out. "We must defer," says he, "our march at present, and set our thoughts on battle, which has been our constant wish ; let us then meet the foe with resolute souls. We shall not hereafter easily find such an oppor- tunity." He immediately marched out at the head of his troops. Pompey also, as was afterward known, at the unanimous solicitation of his friends, had determined to try the fate of a battle. For he had even declared in council a few days be- fore that, before the battalions came to battle, Caesar's army would be put to the rout. When most people expressed their surprise at it, "I know," says he, "that I promise a thing almost incredible ; but hear the plan on which I proceed, that you may march to battle with more confidence and resolution. I have persuaded our cavalry, and they have engaged to exe- cute it, as soon as the two armies have met, to attack Cassar's right wing on the flank, and inclosing their army on the rear, throw them into disorder, and put them to the rout, before we shall throw a weapon against the enemy. By this means we shall put an end to the war, without endangering the legions, and almost without a blow. Nor is this a difficult matter, as we far outnumber them in cavalry." At the same time he gave them notice to be ready for battle on the day following, and since the opportunity which they had so often wished for was now arrived, not to disappoint the opinion generally entertained of their experience and valor. After him Labienus spoke, as well to express his contempt of Cassar 's forces, as to extol Pompey 's scheme with the high- est encomiums. "Think not, Pompey," says he, "that this is the army which conquered Gaul and Germany ; I was present at all those battles, and do not speak at random on a subject to which I am a stranger : a very small part of that army now remains, great numbers lost their lives, as must necessarily happen in so many battles, many fell victims to the autumnal JULIUS CJESAR 119 pestilence in Italy, many returned home, and many were left behind on the continent. Have you not heard that the cohorts at Brundusium are composed of invalids? The forces which you now behold, have been recruited by levies lately made in Hither Spain, and the greater part from the colonies beyond the Po ; moreover, the flower of the forces perished in the two engagements at Dyrrachium. " Having so said, he took an oath, never to return to his camp unless victorious; and he encouraged the rest to do the like. Pompey applauded his proposal, and took the same oath ; nor did any person present hesitate to take it. After this had passed in the council they broke up full of hopes and joy, and in imagination anticipated victory ; because they thought that in a matter of such impor- tance, no groundless assertion could be made by a general of such experience. When Cassar had approached near Pompey 's camp, he ob- served that his army was drawn up in the following manner : On the left wing were the two legions, delivered over by Caesar at the beginning of the disputes in compliance with the senate's decree, one of which was called the first, the other the third. Here Pompey commanded in person. Scipio with the Syrian legions commanded the center. The Cilician legion in conjunction with the Spanish cohorts, which we said were brought over by Afranius, were disposed on the right wing. These Pompey considered his steadiest troops. The rest he had interspersed between the center and the wing, and he had a hundred and ten complete cohorts ; these amounted to forty- five thousand men. He had besides two cohorts of volunteers, who having received favors from him in former wars, flocked to his standard : these were dispersed through his whole army. The seven remaining cohorts he had disposed to protect his camp, and the neighboring forts. His right wing was secured by a river with steep banks; for which reason he placed all his cavalry, archers, and slingers, on his left wing. Caesar, observing his former custom, had placed the tenth legion on the right, the ninth on the left, although it was very much weakened by the battles at Dyrrachium. He placed the eighth legion so close to the ninth, as to almost make one of the two, and ordered them to support one another. He drew up on the field eighty cohorts, making a total of twenty- 120 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY two thousand men. He left two cohorts to guard the camp. He gave the command of the left wing to Antonius, of the right to P. Sulla, and of the center to Cn. Domitius : he himself took his post opposite Pompey. At the same time, fearing, from the disposition of the enemy which we have previously mentioned, lest his right wing might be surrounded by their numerous cavalry, he rapidly drafted a single cohort from each of the legions composing the third line, formed of them a fourth line, and opposed them to Pompey 's cavalry, and, acquainting them with his wishes, admonished them that the success of that day depended on their courage. At the same time he ordered the third line, and the entire army not to charge without his command: that he would give the signal whenever he wished them to do so. When he was exhorting his army to battle, according to the military custom, and spoke to them of the favors that they had constantly received from him, he took especial care to remind them "that he could call his soldiers to witness the earnestness with which he had sought peace, the efforts that he had made by Vatinius to gain a conference [with Labie- nus], and likewise by Claudius to treat with Scipio, in what manner he had exerted himself at Oricum, to gain permission from Libo to send ambassadors; that he had been always re- luctant to shed the blood of his soldiers, and did not wish to deprive the republic of one or other of her armies." After delivering this speech, he gave by a trumpet the signal to his soldiers, who were eagerly demanding it, and were very im- patient for the onset. There was in Caesar's army, a volunteer of the name of Crastinus, who the year before had been first centurion of the tenth legion, a man of preeminent bravery. He, when the signal was given, says, ' ' Follow me, my old comrades, and display such exertions in behalf of your general as you have determined to do : this is our last battle, and when it shall be won, he will recover his dignity, and we our liberty. ' ' At the same time he looked back to Csesar, and said, "General, I will act in such a manner to-day, that you will feel grateful to me living or dead." After uttering these words he charged first on the right wing, and about one hundred and twenty chosen volunteers of the same century followed. JULIUS CAESAR There was so much space left between the two lines, as sufficed for the onset of the hostile armies: but Pompey had ordered his soldiers to await Cassar's attack, and not to ad- vance from their position, or suffer their line to be put into disorder. And he is said to have done this by the advice of Caius Triarius, that the impetuosity of the charge of Caesar's soldiers might be checked, and their line broken, and that Pompey 's troops remaining in their ranks, might attack them while in disorder ; and he thought that the javelins would fall with less force if the soldiers were kept in their ground, than if they met them in their course ; at the same time he trusted that Cgesar's soldiers, after running over double the usual ground, would become weary and exhausted by the fatigue. But to me Pompey seems to have acted without sufficient reason: for there is a certain impetuosity of spirit and an alacrity implanted by nature in the hearts of all men, which is inflamed by a desire to meet the foe. This a general should endeavor not to repress, but to increase; nor was it a vain institution of our ancestors, that the trumpets should sound on all sides, and a general shout be raised; by which they imagined that the enemy were struck with terror, and their own army inspired with courage. But our men, when the signal was given, rushed forward with their javelins ready to be launched, but perceiving that Pompey 's men did not run to meet their charge, having ac- quired experience by custom, and being practiced in former battles, they of their own accord repressed their speed, and halted almost midway, that they might not come up with the enemy when their strength was exhausted, and after a short respite they again renewed their course, and threw their jave- lins, and instantly drew their swords, as Caesar had ordered them. Nor did Pompey 's men fail in this crisis, for they received our javelins, stood our charge, and maintained their ranks; and having launched their javelins, had recourse to their swords. At the same time Pompey 's horse, according to their orders, rushed out at once from his left wing, and his whole host of archers poured after them. Our cavalry did not withstand their charge: but gave ground a little, upon which Pompey 's horse pressed them more vigorously, and began to file off in troops, and flank our army. When Caesar 122 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY perceived this, he gave the signal to his fourth line, which he had formed of the six cohorts. They instantly rushed forward and charged Pompey's horse with such fury, that not a man of them stood ; but all wheeling about, not only quitted their post, but galloped forward to seek a refuge in the highest mountains. By their retreat the archers and slingers, being left destitute and defenseless, were all cut to pieces. The cohorts, pursuing their success, wheeled about upon Pompey's left wing, while his infantry still continued to make battle, and attacked them in the rear. At the same time Caesar ordered his third line to advance, which till then had not been engaged, but had kept their post. Thus, new and fresh troops having come to the as- sistance of the fatigued, and others having made an attack on their rear, Pompey's men were not able to maintain their ground, but all fled, 8 nor was Caesar deceived in his opinion, that the victory, as he had declared in his speech to his sol- diers, must have its beginning from those six cohorts, which he had placed as a fourth line to oppose the horse. For by them the cavalry were routed ; by them the archers and sling- ers were cut to pieces; by them the left wing of Pompey's army was surrounded, and obliged to be the first to flee. But when Pompey saw his cavalry routed, and that part of his army on which he reposed his greatest hopes thrown into confusion, despairing of the rest, he quitted the field, and retreated straightway on horseback to his camp, and calling to the centurions, whom he had placed to guard the praetorian gate, with a loud voice, that the soldiers might hear: "Secure the camp," says he, "defend it with diligence, if any danger should threaten it; I will visit the other gates, and encourage the guards of the camp." Having thus said, he retired into his tent in utter despair, yet anxiously waiting the issue. Caesar having forced the Pompeians to flee into their intrenchment, and thinking that he ought not to allow them any respite to recover from their fright, exhorted his soldiers to take advantage of fortune's kindness, and to attack the camp. Though they were fatigued by the intense heat, for 8 Historians state that Caesar on this occasion advised his soldiers to aim at the faces of Pompey's cavalry, who, being composed principally of the young noblemen of Borne, dreaded a scar in the face more than death itself. JULIUS CAESAR 123 the battle had continued till mid-day, yet, being prepared to undergo any labor, they cheerfully obeyed his command. The camp was bravely defended by the cohorts which had been left to guard it, but with much more spirit by the Thracians and foreign auxiliaries. For the soldiers who had fled for refuge to it from the field of battle, affrighted and exhausted by fatigue, having thrown away their arms and military stand- ards, had their thoughts more engaged on their further escape than on the defense of the camp. Nor could the troops who were posted on the battlements, long withstand the immense number of our darts, but fainting under their wounds, quitted the place, and under the conduct of their centurions and tribunes, fled, without stopping, to the high mountains which joined the camp. In Pompey's camp you might see arbors in which tables were laid, a large quantity of plate set out, the floors of the tents covered with fresh sods, the tents of Lucius Lentulus and others shaded with ivy, and many other things which were proofs of excessive luxury, and a confidence of victory, so that it might readily be inferred that they had no apprehen- sions of the issue of the day, as they indulged themselves in unnecessary pleasures, and yet upbraided with luxury Caesar 's army, distressed and suffering troops, who had always been in want of common necessaries. Pompey, as soon as our men had forced the trenches, mounting his horse, and stripping off his general's habit, went hastily out of the back gate of the camp, and galloped with all speed to Larissa. Nor did he stop there, but with the same dispatch, collecting a few of his flying troops, and halting neither day nor night, he arrived at the seaside, attended by only thirty horse, and went on board a victualing bark, often complaining, as we have been told, that he had been so deceived in his expectation, that he was almost persuaded that he had been betrayed by those from whom he had expected victory, as they began the fight. Caesar having possessed himself of Pompey's camp, urged his soldiers not to be too intent on plunder, and lose the op- portunity of completing their conquest. Having obtained their consent, he began to draw lines round the mountain. The Pompeians distrusting the position, as there was no water on the mountain, abandoned it, and all began to retreat to- LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY ward Larissa; which Caesar perceiving, divided his troops, and ordering part of his legions to remain in Pompey 's camp, sent back a part of his own camp, and taking four legions with him, went by a shorter road to intercept the enemy: and having marched six miles, drew up his army. But the Pom- peians observing this, took post on a mountain, whose foot was washed by a river. Caesar having encouraged his troops, though they were greatly exhausted by incessant labor the whole day, and night was now approaching, by throwing up works cut off the communication between the river and the mountain, that the enemy might not get water in the night. As soon as the work was finished, they sent ambassadors to treat about a capitulation. A few senators who had espoused that party, made their escape by night. At break of day, Caesar ordered all those who had taken post on the mountain, to come down from the higher grounds into the plain, and pile their arms. When they did this without refusal, and with outstretched arms, prostrating themselves on the ground, with tears, implored his mercy : he comforted them and bade them rise, and having spoken a few words of his own clemency to alleviate their fears, he par- doned them all, and gave orders to his soldiers, that no injury should be done to them, and nothing taken from them. Hav- ing used this diligence, he ordered the legions in his camp to come and meet him, and those which were with him to take their turn of rest, and go back to the camp : and the same day went to Larissa. In that battle, no more than two hundred privates were missing, but Caesar lost about thirty centurions, valiant offi- cers. Crastinus, also, of whom mention was made before, fighting most courageously, lost his life by the wound of a sword in the mouth; nor was that false which he declared when marching to battle: for Caesar entertained the highest opinion of his behavior in that battle, and thought him highly deserving of his approbation. Of Pompey 's army, there fell about fifteen thousand ; but upwards of twenty-four thousand were made prisoners: for even the cohorts which were sta- tioned in the forts, surrendered to Sylla. Several others took shelter in the neighboring states. One hundred and eighty stands of colors, and nine eagles, were brought to Caesar. JULIUS (LESAR 125 THE OVERTHROW OF THE GALLIC NATION OP THE NERVII, 1 FROM COMMENTARIES ON THE GALLIC WARS" THE Nervii, from early times, because they were weak in cavalry, (for not even at this time do they attend to it, but accomplish by their infantry whatever they can,) in order that they might the more easily obstruct the cavalry of their neighbors if they came upon them for the purpose of plunder- ing, cut young trees, and bent them by means of their numer- ous branches extending on to the sides, and the quick-briars and thorns springing up between them, they made these hedges present a fortification like a wall, through which it was not only impossible to enter, but even to penetrate with the eye. Since [therefore] the march of our army would be obstructed by these things, the Nervii thought that the chance ought not to be neglected by them. The nature of the ground which our men had chosen for their camp was this : A hill, declining evenly from the top, extending to the river Sambre : from this river there arose a second hill of like ascent, on the other side and opposite to the former, and open for about 200 paces at the lower part, but in the upper part, woody, so much so that it was not easy to see through it into the interior. Within these woods the enemy kept themselves in concealment ; a few troops of horse-soldiers appeared on the open ground, along the river. The depth of the river was about three feet. Caesar, having sent his cavalry on before, followed close after them with all his forces ; but the plan and order of the march was different from that which had been reported to the Nervii. For as he was approaching the enemy, Caesar, according to his custom, led on as the van six legions unen- cumbered by baggage; behind them he had placed the bag- gage-trains of the whole army; then the two legions which had been last raised closed the rear, and were a guard for the baggage train. Our horse, with the slingers and archers, having passed the river, commenced action with the cavalry of the enemy. While they from time to time betook themselves 1 This description has been here added as being perhaps Caesar 's most desperate battle and one in which he describes himself as taking a vig- orous personal part. 126 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY into the woods to their companions, and again made an as- sault out of the wood upon our men, who did not dare to follow them in their retreat further than the limit to which the plain and open parts extended, in the meantime the six legions which had arrived first, having measured out the work, began to fortify the camp. When the first part of the bag- gage train of our army was seen by those who lay hid in the woods, which had been agreed on among them as the time for commencing action, as soon as they had arranged their line of battle and formed their ranks within the woods, and had encouraged one another, they rushed out suddenly with all their forces and made an attack upon our horse. The latter being easily routed and thrown into confusion, the Nervii ran down to the river with such incredible speed that they seemed to be in the woods, the river, and close upon us almost at the same time. And with the same speed they hastened up the hill to our camp, and to those who were employed in the works. Caesar had everything to do at one time : the standard to be displayed, which was the sign when it was necessary to run to arms; the signal to be given by the trumpet; the soldiers to be called off from the works ; those who had proceeded some distance for the purpose of seeking materials for the rampart, to be summoned ; the order of battle to be formed ; the soldiers to be encouraged; the watchword to be given. A great part of these arrangements was prevented by the shortness of time and the sudden approach and charge of the enemy. Under these difficulties two things proved of advantage; first the skill and experience of the soldiers, because, having been trained by former engagements, they could suggest to them- selves what ought to be done, as conveniently as receive in- formation from others; and secondly that Caesar had forbid- den his several lieutenants to depart from the works and their respective legions, before the camp was fortified. These, on account of the near approach and the speed of the enemy, did not then wait for any command from Caesar, but of themselves executed whatever appeared proper. Caesar, having given the necessary orders, hastened to and fro into whatever quarter fortune carried him, to animate the troops, and came to the tenth legion. Having encouraged the JULIUS C.ESAR . 127 soldiers with no further speech than that "they should keep up the remembrance of their wonted valor, and not be con- fused in mind, but valiantly sustain the assault of the en- emy;" as the latter were not further from them than the distance to which a dart could be cast, he gave the signal for commencing battle. And having gone to another quarter for the purpose of encouraging [the soldiers] , he finds them fight- ing. Such was the shortness of the time, and so determined was the mind of the enemy on fighting, that time was wanting not only for affixing the military insignia, 2 but even for put- ting on the helmets 3 and drawing off the covers from the shields. 4 To whatever part any one by chance came from the works (in which he had been employed), and whatever standards he saw first, at these he stood, lest in seeking his own company he should lose the time for fighting. The army having been marshaled, rather as the nature of the ground and the declivity of the hill and the exigency of the time, than as the method and order of military matters required ; while the legions in the different places were with- standing the enemy, some in one quarter, some in another, and the view was obstructed by the very thick hedges inter- vening, as we have before remarked, neither could proper reserves be posted, nor could the necessary measures be taken in each part, nor could all the commands be issued by one person. Therefore, in such an unfavorable state of affairs, various events of fortune followed. The soldiers of the ninth and tenth legions, as they had been stationed on the left part of the army, casting their weapons, speedily drove the Atrebates (for that division had been opposed to them,) who were breathless with running and fatigue, and worn out with wounds, from the higher ground into the river; and following them as they were en- deavoring to pass it, slew with their swords a great part of '"Insignia" here means those ornaments and badges of distinction worn by the Koman soldiers: probably it here refers especially to the devices upon the helmets. 8 it was the practice of the Koman soldiers when on the march not to wear their helmets, but to carry them slung over their backs, or chests. *As the shields of the soldiers, even at that period, were embellished with curious and expensive ornaments, they kept them, when either in camp or on the march, covered with leather, as a defense against the dust or rain. 128 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY them while impeded therein. They themselves did not hesi- tate to pass the river; and having advanced to a disadvanta- geous place, when the battle was renewed, they nevertheless again put to flight the enemy, who had returned and were opposing them. In like manner, in another quarter two dif- ferent legions, the eleventh and the eighth, having routed the Veromandui, with whom they had engaged, were fighting from the higher ground upon the very banks of the river. But, almost the whole camp on the front and on the left side being then exposed, since the twelfth legion was posted in the right wing, and the seventh at no great distance from it, all the Nervii, in a very close body, with Boduognatus, who held the chief command, as their leader, hastened toward that place; and part of them began to surround the legions on their unprotected flank, part to make for the highest point of the encampment. At the same time our horsemen, and light-armed infantry, who had been with those, who, as I have related, were routed by the first assault of the enemy, as they were betaking them- selves into the camp, met the enemy face to face, and again sought flight into another quarter; and the camp-followers 5 who from the Decuman Gate, 6 and from the highest ridge of the hill had seen our men pass the river as victors, when, after going out for the purposes of plundering, they looked back and saw the enemy parading in our camp, committed themselves precipitately to flight ; at the same time there arose the cry and shout of those who came with the baggage-train : and they (affrighted), were carried some one way, some an- other. By all these circumstances the cavalry of the Treviri were much alarmed, (whose reputation for courage is ex- traordinary among the Gauls, and who had come to Caesar, being sent by their state as auxiliaries), and, when they saw our camp filled with a large number of the enemy, the legions hard pressed and almost held surrounded, the camp-retainers, horsemen, slingers, and Numidians fleeing on all sides divided 'These calones, it is generally supposed, were slaves. From continual attendance upon the army they arrived at a considerable degree of skill in military matters. 6 The Eoman camp had four gates: "porta prcetoria," nearest to the enemy; "porta Decumana," opposite to that, and thus furthest from them ; ' ' porta principalis dextra, ' ' and ' ' porta principalis sinistra, ' ' JULIUS CAESAR 129 and scattered, they, despairing of our affairs, hastened home, and related to their state that the Romans were routed and conquered, [and] that the enemy were in possession of their camp and baggage-train. Caesar proceeded, after encouraging the tenth legion, to the right wing; where he perceived that his men were hard pressed, and that in consequence of the standards of the twelfth legion being collected together in one place, the crowded soldiers were a hindrance to themselves in the fight ; that all the centurions of the fourth cohort were slain, and the standard-bearer killed, the standard 7 itself lost, almost all the centurions of the other cohorts either wounded or slain and among them the chief centurion of the legion P. Sextius Baculus, a very valiant man, who was so exhausted by many and severe wounds, that he was already unable to support himself; he likewise perceived that the rest were slackening their efforts, and that some, deserted by those in the rear, were retiring from the battle and avoiding the weapons ; that the enemy on the other hand though advancing from the lower ground, were not relaxing in front, and were at the same time pressing hard on both flanks; he also perceived that the affair was at a crisis, and that there was not any reserve which could be brought up ; having therefore snatched a shield from one of the soldiers in the rear (for he himself had come without a shield), he advanced to the front of the line, and addressing the centurions by name, and encouraging the rest of the soldiers, he ordered them to carry forward the standards, and extend the companies, that they might the more easily use their swords. On his arrival, as hope was brought to the soldiers and their courage restored, while every one for his own part, in the sight of his general, desired to exert his utmost energy, the impetuosity of the enemy was a little checked. Caesar, when he perceived that the seventh legion, which stood close by him, was also hard pressed by the enemy, di- rected the tribunes of the soldiers to effect a junction of the legions gradually, and make their charge upon the enemy with a double front; which having been done, since they 7 Besides the aquila or standard of the legion, there were the subordi- nate standards of the cohorts and the manipuli. A. V. 19 130 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY brought assistance the one to the other, nor feared lest their rear should be surrounded by the enemy, they began to stand their ground more boldly, and to fight more courageously. In the meantime, the soldiers of the two legions which had been in the rear of the army, as a guard for the baggage-train, upon the battle being reported to them, quickened their pace, and were seen by the enemy on the top of the hill ; and Titus Labienus, having gained possession of the camp of the enemy, and observed from the higher ground what was going on in our camp, sent the tenth legion as a relief to our men, who, when they had learned from the flight of the horse and the sutlers in what position the affair was, and in how great danger the camp and the legion and the commander were in- volved, left undone nothing which tended to dispatch. By their arrival, so great a change of matters was made, that our men, even those who had fallen down exhausted with wounds, leaned on their shields, and renewed the fight: then the camp-retainers, though unarmed, seeing the enemy com- pletely dismayed, attacked them though armed ; the horsemen too, that they might by their valor blot the disgrace of their flight, thrust themselves before the legionary soldiers in all parts of the battle. But the enemy, even in the last hope of safety, displayed such great courage, that when the foremost of them had fallen, the next stood upon them prostrate, and fought from their bodies; when these were overthrown, and their corpses heaped up together, those who survived cast their weapons against our men thence, as from a mound, and returned our darts which had fallen short between the armies ; so that it ought not to be concluded, that men of such great courage had injudiciously dared to pass a very broad river, ascend very high banks, and come up to a very disadvanta- geous place ; since their greatness of spirit had rendered these actions easy, although in themselves very difficult. This battle being ended, and the nation and name of the Nervii being almost reduced to annihilation, their old men, who together with all the boys and women were found to have been collected together in the fenny places and marshes, on this battle having been reported to them, since they were convinced that nothing was an obstacle to the conquerors, and nothing safe to the conquered, sent ambassadors to Caesar JULIUS CAESAR 131 by the consent of all who remained, and surrendered them- selves to him ; and in recounting the calamity of their state, said that their senators were reduced from 600 to three ; that from 60,000 men they were reduced to scarcely 500 who could bear arms; whom Caesar, that he might appear to use com- passion toward the wretched and the suppliant, most carefully spared ; and ordered them to enjoy their own territories and towns, and commanded their neighbors that they should re- strain themselves and their dependents from offering injury or outrage to them. Much about the same time, Cassius arrived in Sicily with a fleet of Syrians, Phoenicians, and Cicilians: and as Caesar's fleet was divided into two parts, Publius Sulpicius the praetor commanding one division at Vibo near the straifs, Pomponius the other at Messana, Cassius got into Messana with his fleet, before Pomponius had notice of his arrival, and having found him in disorder, without guards or discipline, and the wind being high and favorable, he filled several transports with fir, pitch, and tow, and other combustibles, sent them against Pomponius 's fleet, and set fire to all his ships, thirty-five in number, twenty of which were armed with beaks : and this action struck such terror that though there was a legion in garrison at Messana, the town with difficulty held out, and had not the news of Caesar's victory been brought at that instant by the horse stationed along the coast, it was generally imagined that it would have been lost, but the town was main- tained till the news arrived very opportunely: and Cassius set sail from thence to attack Sulpicius 's fleet at Vibo, and our ships being moored to the land, to strike the same terror, he acted in the same manner as before. The wind being favorable, he sent into the port about forty ships provided with combustibles, and the flame catching on both sides, five ships were burned to ashes. And when the fire began to spread wider by the violence of the wind, the soldiers of the veteran legions, who had been left to guard the fleet, be- ing considered as invalids, could not endure the disgrace, but of themselves went on board the ships and weighed anchor, and having attacked Cassius 's fleet, captured two five-banked galleys, in one of which was Cassius himself; but he made his escape by taking to a boat. Two three-banked galleys 132 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY were taken besides. Intelligence was shortly after received of the action in Thessaly, so well authenticated, that the Pom- peians themselves gave credit to it; for they had hitherto believed it a fiction of Caesar's lieutenants and friends. Upon which intelligence Cassius departed with his fleet from that coast. Caesar thought he ought to postpone all business and pur- sue Pompey, whithersoever he should retreat; that he might not be able to provide fresh forces, and renew the war; he therefore marched on every day, as far as his cavalry were able to advance, and ordered one legion to follow him by shorter journeys. A proclamation was issued by Pompey at Amphipolis, that all the young men of that province, Grecians and Roman citizens, should take the military oath; but whether he issued it with an intention of preventing suspicion, and to conceal as long as possible his design of fleeing further, or to endeavor to keep possession of Macedonia by new levies, if nobody pursued him, it is impossible to judge. He lay at anchor one night, and calling together his friends in Amphip- olis, and collecting a sum of money for his necessary ex- penses, upon advice of Caesar's approach, set sail from that place, and arrived in a few days at Mitylene. Here he was detained two days, and having added a few galleys to his fleet he went to Cilicia, and thence to Cyprus. There he is in- formed that, by the consent of all the inhabitants of Antioch 8 and Roman citizens who traded there, the castle had been seized to shut him out of the town; and that messengers had been dispatched to all those who were reported to have taken refuge in the neighboring states, that they should not come to Antioch ; that if they did, that it would be attended with imminent danger to their lives. The same thing hap- pened to Lucius Lentulus, who had been consul the year be- fore, and to Publius Lentulus a consular senator, and to sev- 8 Antiochia, or Antioch, now called Antakia, was founded by Seleucus Nicanor, who named it after his father. It was not only the capital of Syria, but of all Asia, and was once the third city in the world for beauty, size, and population; it was the royal seat of the Syrian kings, and after the Eoman conquest became the ordinary residence of the prefect, or governor of the eastern provinces. It was here that the disciples of Christ first received the name of Christians, A.D. 39, having been before commonly called Nazarenes and Galilaeans; it was the birth- place of St. Luke, the evangelist. JULIUS CAESAR 133 eral others at Rhodes, who having followed Pompey in his flight, and arrived at the island, were not admitted into the town or port; and having received a message to leave that neighborhood, set sail much against their will ; for the rumor of Caesar's approach had now reached those states. Pompey, being informed of these proceedings, laid aside his design of going to Syria, and having taken the public money from the farmers of the revenue, and borrowed more from some private friends, and having put on board his ships a large quantity of brass for military purposes, and two thousand armed men, whom he partly selected from the slaves of the tax farmers, and party collected from the merchants, and such persons as each of his friends thought fit on this occasion, he sailed for Pelusium. It happened that king Ptolemy, a minor, was there with a considerable army, en- gaged in war, with his sister Cleopatra, whom a few months before, by the assistance of his relations and friends, he had expelled from the kingdom ; and her camp lay at a small dis- tance from his. To him Pompey applied to be permitted to take refuge in Alexandria, and to be protected in his calamity by his powerful assistance, in consideration of the friendship and amity which had subsisted between his father and him. But Pompey 's deputies having executed their commission, began to converse with less restraint with the king's troops, and to advise them to act with friendship to Pompey, and not to think meanly of his bad fortune. In Ptolemy's army were several of Pompey 's soldiers, of whom Gabinius had received the command in Syria, and had brought them over to Alexandria, and at the conclusion of the war had left with Ptolemy the father of the young king. The king's friends, who were regents of the kingdom dur- ing the minority, being informed of these things, either in- duced by fear, as they afterward declared, lest Pompey should corrupt the king's army, and seize on Alexandria and Egypt; or despising his bad fortune, as in adversity friends com- monly change to enemies, in public gave a favorable answer to his deputies, and desired him to come to the king; but, secretly laid a plot against him, and dispatched Achillas, captain of the king's guards, a man of singular boldness, and Lucius Septimius a military tribune to assassinate him. Be- 134 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY ing kindly addressed by them, and deluded by an acquaint- ance with Septimius, because in the war with the pirates the latter had commanded a company under him, he embarked in a small boat with a few attendants, and was there mur- dered by Achillas and Septimius. In like manner, Lucius Lentulus was seized by the king's order, and put to death in prison. When Caesar arrived in Asia, he found that Titus Ampius had attempted to remove the money from the temple of Diana at Ephesus ; and for this purpose had convened all the sena- tors in the province that he might have them to attest the sum, but was interrupted by Caesar's arrival, and had made his escape. Thus, on two occasions, Cassar saved the money of Ephesus. It was also remarked at Elis, in the temple of Minerva, upon calculating and enumerating the days, that on the very day on which Csesar had gained his battle, the image of Victory which was placed before Minerva, and faced her statue, turned about toward the portal and entrance of the temple; and the same day, at Antioch in Syria, such a shout of an army and sound of trumpets was twice heard that the citizens ran in arms to the walls. The same thing happened at Ptolemais; a sound of drums too was heard at Pergamus, in the private and retired parts of the temple, in- to which none but the priests are allowed admission, and which the Greeks call Adyta (the inaccessible), and likewise at Tralles, in the temple of Victory, in which there stood a statue consecrated to Caesar; a palm-tree at that time was shown that had sprouted up from the pavement, through the joints of the stones, and shot up above the roof. After a few days' delay in Asia, Cassar, having heard that Pompey had been seen in Cyprus, and conjecturing that he had directed his course into Egypt, on account of his connec- tion with that kingdom, 9 set out for Alexandria with two legions (one of which he ordered to follow him from Thessaly, the other he called in from Achaia, from Fufius, the lieuten- ant general), and with eight hundred horse, ten ships of war from Rhodes, and a few from Asia. These legions amounted but to three thousand two hundred men; the rest, disabled by wounds received in various battles, by fatigue and the "He had been appointed by the senate, guardian to the young king. JULIUS C^SAR 135 length of their march, could not follow him. But Cassar, relying on the fame of his exploits, did not hesitate to set forward with a feeble force, and thought that he would be secure in any place. At Alexandria he was informed of the death of Pompey: and at his landing there, heard a cry among the soldiers whom the king had left to garrison the town, and saw a crowd gathering toward him, because the fasces were carried before him ; for this the whole multitude thought an infringement of the king's dignity. Though this tumult was appeased, frequent disturbances were raised for several days successively, by crowds of the populace, and a great many of his soldiers were killed in all parts of the city. Having observed this, he ordered other legions to be brought to him from Asia, which he had made up out of Pompey 's soldiers; for he was himself detained against his will, by the etesian winds, which are totally unfavorable to persons on a voyage from Alexandria. In the meantime, con- sidering that the disputes of the princes belonged to the juris- diction of the Roman people, and of him as consul, and that it was a duty more incumbent on him, as in his former con- sulate a league had been made with Ptolemy the late king, under sanction both of a law and a decree of the senate, he signified that it was his pleasure that king Ptolemy, and his sister Cleopatra, should disband their armies, and decide their disputes in his presence by justice, rather than by the sword. A eunuch named Pothinus, the boy's tutor, was regent of the kingdom on account of his youthfulness. 10 He at first began to complain among his friends, and to express his in- dignation, that the king should be summoned to plead his cause : but afterward, having prevailed on some of those whom he had made acquainted with his views to join him, he se- cretly called the army away from Pelusium to Alexandria, and appointed Achillas, already spoken of, commander-in- chief of the forces. Him he encouraged and animated by promises both in his own and the king's name, and instructed him both by letters and messages how he should act. By the will of Ptolemy the father, the elder of his two sons and the more advanced in years of his two daughters were declared his 10 We learn from Appian that the young king was thirteen years old at this time. 136 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY heirs, and for the more effectual performance of his inten- tion, in the same will he conjured the Roman people by all the gods, and by the league which he had entered into at Rome, to see his will executed. One of the copies of his will was conveyed to Rome by his embassadors to be deposited in the treasury, but the public troubles preventing it, it was lodged with Pompey: another was left sealed up, and kept at Alexandria. While these things were debated before Csesar, and he was very anxious to settle royal disputes as a common friend and arbitrator; news was brought on a sudden that the king's army and all his cavalry, were on their march to Alexandria. Cesar's forces were by no means so strong that he could trust to them, if he had occasion to hazard a battle without the town. His only resource was to keep within the town in the most convenient places, and get information of Achillas 's designs. However he ordered his soldiers to repair to their arms; and advised the king to send some of his friends, who had the greatest influence, as deputies to Achillas, and to signify his royal pleasure. Dioscorides and Serapion, the persons sent by him, who had both been em- bassadors at Rome, and had been in great esteem with Ptolemy the father, went to Achillas. But as soon as they appeared in his presence, without hearing them, or learning the occasion of their coming, he ordered them to be seized and put to death. One of them, after receiving a wound, was taken up and carried off by his attendants as dead : the other was killed on the spot. Upon this, Ctesar took care to secure the king's person, both supposing that the king's name would have a great influence with his subjects, and to give the war the appearance of the scheme of a few desperate men, rather than of having been begun by the king's consent. The forces under Achillas did not seem despicable, either for number, spirit or military experience; for he had twenty thousand men under arms. They consisted partly of Gabinius's soldiers, who were now become habituated to the licentious mode of living at Alexandria, and had forgotten the name and discipline of the Roman people, and had mar- ried wives there, by whom the greatest part of them had children. To these was added a collection of highwaymen. JULIUS CAESAR 137 and freebooters, from Syria, and the province of Cilicia, and the adjacent countries. Besides several convicts and trans- ports had been collected: for at Alexandria all our runaway slaves were sure of finding protection for their persons on the condition that they should give in their names, and enlist as soldiers: and if any of them was apprehended by his master, he was rescued by a crowd of his fellow soldiers, who being involved in the same guilt, repelled, at the hazard of their lives, every violence offered to any of their body. These by a prescriptive privilege of the Alexandrian army, used to demand the king's favorites to be put to death, pillage the properties of the rich to increase their pay, invest the king's palace, banish some from the kingdom, and recall others from exile. Besides these, there were two thousand horse, who had acquired the skill of veterans by being in several wars in Alex- andria. These had restored Ptolemy the father to his king- dom, had killed Bibulus's two sons; and had been engaged in war with the Egyptians ; such was their experience in mili- tary affairs. Full of confidence in his troops, and despising the small number of Caesar's soldiers, Achillas seized Alexandria, ex- cept that part of the town which Caesar occupied with his troops. At first he attempted to force the palace ; but Caesar had disposed his cohorts through the streets, and repelled his attack. At the same time there was an action at the port: where the contest was maintained with the greatest obsti- nacy. 11 For the forces were divided, and the fight main- tained in several streets at once, and the enemy endeavored to seize with a strong party the ships of war ; of which fifty had been sent to Pompey's assistance, but after the battle in Thessaly, had returned home. They were all of either three or five banks of oars, well equipped and appointed with every necessary for a voyage. Besides these, there were twenty-two vessels with decks, which were usually kept at Alexandria, to guard the port. If they made themselves mas- ters of these, Caesar being deprived of his fleet, they would have the command of the port and whole sea, and could pre- vent him from procuring provisions and auxiliaries. Accord- 11 Otherwise thus, "and that action was productive of by far the greatest danger." 138 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY ingly that spirit was displayed, which ought to be displayed when the one party saw that a speedy victory depended on the issue, and the other their safety. But Caasar gained the day, and set fire to all those ships, and to others which were in the docks, because he could not guard so many places with so small a force ; and immediately he conveyed some troops to the Pharos by his ships. The Pharos is a tower on an island, of prodigious height, built with amazing works, and takes its name from the island. This island lying over against Alexandria, forms a harbor; but on the upper side it is connected with the town by a narrow way eight hundred paces in length, made by piles sunk in the sea, and by a bridge. In this island some of the Egyptians have houses, and a village as large as a town ; and whatever ships from any quarter, either through mistaking the channel, or by the storm, have been driven from their course upon the coast, they constantly plunder like pirates. And without the consent of those who are masters of the Pharos, no vessels can enter the harbor, on account of its narrowness. Caesar being greatly alarmed on this account, while the enemy were engaged in battle, landed his soldiers, seized the Pharos, and placed a garrison in it. By this means he gained this point, that he could be supplied with- out danger with corn, and auxiliaries; for he sent to all the neighboring countries, to demand supplies. In other parts of the town, they fought so obstinately, that they quitted the field with equal advantage, and neither were beaten (in con- sequence of the narrowness of the passes) ; and a few being killed on both sides, Caesar secured the most necessary posts, and fortified them in the night. In this quarter of the town was a wing of the king's palace, in which Caesar was lodged on his first arrival, and a theater adjoining the house which served as a citadel, and commanded an avenue to the ports and other docks. These fortifications he increased during the succeeding days, that he might have them before him as a rampart, and not be obliged to fight against his will. In the meantime Ptolemy 's younger daughter, hoping the throne would become vacant, made her escape from the palace to Achillas, and assisted him in prosecuting the war. But they soon quarreled about the command, which circumstance en- JULIUS CvESAR 139 larged the presents to the soldiers, for each endeavored by great sacrifices to secure their affection. While the enemy was thus employed, Pothinus, tutor to the young king, and regent of the kingdom, who was in Caesar's part of the town, sent messengers to Achillas, and encouraged him not to de- sist from his enterprise, nor to despair of success; but his messengers being discovered and apprehended, he was put to death by Caesar. Such was the commencement of the Alex- andrian war. END OF THE COMMENTARIES ON THE CIVIL WAR . AUGUSTUS C/ESAR >wn by bus is Octavian, was n; but by much the 11 Bi ; Mis own i . :f legislator ; iay, Augustus < i< AUGUSTUS THE FIRST EMPEROR OF ROME 63 B. C.-14 A. D. (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus is more commonly known by his title of Augustus, which means the ' ' august " or " consecrated ' ' Caesar. He was the grandnephew of Julius Csesar and as such became his adopted son and heir. The young heir, at first publicly known as Octavian, was only nineteen years old when the mighty Julius was slain; but by much shrewdness and cautious wisdom Octavian gradually got the upper hand of all the foes of his uncle and all his own rivals. Brutus, Cassius, Cicero and Mark Antony, each in turn perished in opposing him. The Roman populace which had been devoted to Julius Caesar finally became even more devoted to Octavian, and bestowed on him for life the author- ity of one office after another, until he united in his own person all the powers of chief priest, chief general, chief legislator and chief ' ' tribune ' ' or guardian of the people 's rights. This complete and uni- versal mastership over all the world of his day, Augustus exercised wisely and with splendid self-control. As he himself records, the Eoman temple of the wargod was first closed by him, that is, he held the whole known world in a submissive peace. Shortly before his death Augustus, somewhat in the spirit of the old Babylonian and Assyrian kings, prepared a public statement of all his achievements. The contrast of his record to that of the Assyrians is, however, very striking. Augustus proclaims his gentleness and justice and generosity; they had proclaimed only their ferocity and supreme power. This official statement by Augustus was inscribed upon a monument in Eome and copies of it were set up in other cities. All of these records were supposed to have perished in the destruction of the Eoman civilization. Eecently, however, a surviving copy was discovered on the wall of a temple in the Asiatic city of Ancyra. This "Monumentum Ancyranum, " as it was promptly named, aroused intense interest through all the learned world. Careful copies of the inscription were brought 141 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY to Europe and carefully studied. Thus the official autobiography of this mightiest of Roman rulers, his own estimate of his own great career, has been recovered and is given here. Its wording is stiff and dry and somewhat pompous, representing Augustus to have been all right and his opponents all wrong in every controversy. Yet its very narrowness, its simple striving for approval, is in a way pathetically typical of the emperor himself, of the man of whom the story is told that when ap- proaching death, he had himself carefully dressed and rose upright, saying to his attendants, "Have I played my part well in life? If so applaud me now." THE "MONUMENTUM ANCYRANUM" OR INSCRIPTION OF AUGUS- TUS AT ANCYRA 1 BELOW is a copy of the deeds of the divine Augustus, by which he subjected the whole world to the dominion of the Roman people, and of the amounts which he expended upon the commonwealth and the Roman people, as engraved upon two brazen columns which are set up at Rome. IN my twentieth year, acting upon my own judgment and at my own expense, I raised an army by means of which I re- stored to liberty the commonwealth which had been oppressed by the tyranny of a faction. 2 On account of this the senate by laudatory decrees admitted me to its order, 3 in the consul- ship of Gaius Pansa and Aulus Hirtius, and at the same time gave me consular rank in the expression of opinion ; and gave me the imperium. It also voted that I as propraetor, together with the consuls, should see to it that the commonwealth suf- fered no harm. 4 In the same year, moreover, when both con- suls had perished in war, the people made me consul, and triumvir for organizing the commonwealth. 1 Reprinted by permission of the University of Pennsylvania, from the historical publications of the University. 2 Such a statement is part of Augustus ' scheme to pose as a restorer of the old order. He makes Brutus, Cassius, Pompey and Antony public enemies. * Cicero says ' ' the senate voted that Gaius Caesar, son of Gaius, pontiff, should be a senator, and hold praetorian rank in speaking." * The formula by which in emergencies, extraordinary powers were given to the ordinary magistrates. AUGUSTUS CAESAR 143 n THOSE who killed my father I drove into exile by lawful judgments, avenging their crime, and afterwards, when they waged war against the commonwealth, I twice defeated them in battle. in I UNDERTOOK civil and foreign wars by land and sea through- out the whole world, and as victor I showed mercy to all sur- viving citizens. Foreign peoples, who could be pardoned with safety, I preferred to preserve rather than to destroy. About five hundred thousand Roman citizens took the military oath of allegiance to me. Of these I have settled in colonies or sent back to their municipia, upon the expiration of their terms of service, somewhat over three hundred thousand, and to all these I have given lands purchased by me, or money for farms, out of my own means. I have captured six hundred ships, besides those which were smaller than triremes. IV TWICE I have triumphed in the ovation, 5 and three times in the curule triumph, 6 and I have been twenty-one times saluted as imperator. 7 After that, when the senate decreed me many triumphs, I declined them. Likewise I often deposited the laurels in the Capitol in fulfillment of vows which I had also made in battle. On account of enterprises brought to a suc- cessful issue on land and sea by me, or by my lieutenants under my auspices, the senate fifty-five times decreed that there should be a thanksgiving to the immortal gods. The number of days, moreover, on which thanksgiving was ren- dered in accordance with the decree of the senate was eight hundred and ninety. In my triumphs there have been led 6 The ovation was the lesser triumph. The general entered the city clad as an ordinary magistrate, and on foot, or as here on horseback, decked with myrtle. 8 In the curule triumph, for important victories, the general was vested in purple, and rode in a four-horse chariot, preceded by the fasces. 7 The acclamation as imperator, on account of success in war, must be carefully distinguished from the title used as a prefix to the name and as a mark of perpetual authority. The title imperator was regularly and permanently assumed at the beginning of each reign, after that of Augustus. To him it was formally assigned by the senate. 144 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY before my chariot nine kings, or children of kings. When I wrote these words I had been thirteen times consul, and was in the thirty-seventh year of the tribunitial power. THE dictatorship which was offered to me by the people and the senate, both when I was absent and when I was present, in the consulship of Marcus Marcellus and Lucius Arruntius, I did not accept. At a time of the greatest dearth of grain I did not refuse the charge of the food supply, which I so administered that in a few days, at my own expense, I freed the whole people from the anxiety and danger in which they then were. The annual and perpetual consulship offered to me at that time I did not accept. VI DURING the consulship of Marcus Vinucius and Quintus Lu- cretius, and afterwards in that of Publius and Cngeus Lentu- lus, and a third time in that of Paullus Fabius Maximus and Quintus Tubero, by the consent of the senate and the Roman people I was voted the sole charge of the laws and of morals, with the fullest power ; but I accepted the proffer of no office which was contrary to the customs of the country. The meas- ures of which the senate at that time wished me to take charge, I accomplished in virtue of my possession of the tribunitial power. In this office I five times associated with myself a colleague, with the consent of the senate. VII FOR ten years in succession I was one of the triumvirs for organizing the commonwealth. Up to that day on which I write these words I have been princeps of the senate through forty years. I have been pontifex maMmus, augur, a member of the quindecemviral college of the sacred rites, of the septemviral college of the banquets, an Arval Brother, a mem- ber of the Titian sodality, and a fetial. vm IN my fifth consulship, by order of the people and the senate, I increased the number of the patricians. Three times I have AUGUSTUS CAESAR 145 revised the list of the senate. 8 In my sixth consulship, with Marcus Agrippa as colleague, I made a census of the people. I performed the lustration after forty-one years. In this lustration the number of Roman citizens was four million and sixty-three thousand. Again assuming the consular power in the consulship of Gaius Censorinus and Gaius Asinius, I alone performed the lustration. At this census the number of Roman citizens was four million, two hundred and thirty thousand. A third time, assuming the consular power in the consulship of Sextus Pompeius and Sextus Appuleius, with Tiberius Cassar as colleague, I performed the lustration. At this lustration the number of Roman citizens was four million, nine hundred and thirty-seven thousand. By new legislation I have restored many customs of our ancestors which had now begun to fall into disuse, and I have myself also com- mitted to posterity many examples worthy of imitation. IX THE senate decreed that every fifth year vows for my good health should be performed by the consuls and the priests. In accordance with these vows games have been often cele- brated during my lifetime, sometimes by the four chief col- leges, sometimes by the consuls. In private, also, and as municipalities, the whole body of citizens have constantly sacrificed at every shrine for my good health. BY a decree of the senate my name has been included in the Salian hymn, and it has been enacted by law that I should be sacrosanct, and that as long as I live I should be invested with the tribunitial power. I refused to be made pontifex maximus in the place of a colleague still living, when the people ten- 8 During most of the republican history the senate numbered, ideally, three hundred. In Cicero's time it had over four hundred members. Julius Caesar raised it tc about nine hundred. Suet. Aug., 35, says: "By two separate scrutinies he (Augustus) reduced to their former number and splendor the senate, \vhich had been swamped by a disorderly crowd; for they were now more than a thousand, and some of them very mean porsons, who, after Caesar's death, had been chosen by dint of interest and bribery, so that they had the name of Orcini among the people." They were also called Charonites, because they owed their elevation to the last will of Csesar, who had gone into Orcus to Charon. A. V. 110 146 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY dered me that priesthood which my father held. I accepted that office after several years, when he was dead who had seized it during a time of civil disturbance ; and at the comitia for my election, during the consulship of Publius Sulpicius and Gaius Valgius, so great a multitude assembled as, it is said, had never before been in Rome. XI CLOSE to the temples of Honor and Virtue, near the Capena gate, the senate consecrated in honor of my return an altar to Fortune the Restorer, and upon this altar it ordered that the pontifices and the Vestal virgins should offer sacrifice yearly on the anniversary of the day on which I returned into the city from Syria, in the consulship of Quintus Lucretius and Marcus Vinucius, and it called the day the Augustalia, from our cognomen. XII BY a decree of the senate at the same time a part of the praetors and tribunes of the people with the consul Quintus Lucretius and leading citizens were sent into Campania to meet me, an honor which up to this time has been decreed to no one but me. When I returned from Spain and Gaul after successfully arranging the affairs of those provinces, in the consulship of Tiberius Nero and Publius Quintilius, the senate voted that in honor of my return an altar of the Augustan Peace should be consecrated in the Campus Martius, and upon this altar it ordered the magistrates and priests and vestal virgins to offer sacrifices on each anniversary. Xin JANUS QUIBINUS, which it was the purpose of our fathers to close when there was peace won by victory 9 throughout the whole empire of the Roman people on land and sea, and which, before I was born, from the foundation of the city, was reported to have been closed twice in all, the senate three times ordered to be closed while I was princeps. " The exact conditions necessary for the closing of the temple, viz., "peace won by victories," were first made known in 1882 by this per- fected text of Bes Gestce. AUGUSTUS CAESAR 147 xw MY sons, the Caesars Gaius and Lucius, whom fortune snatched from me in their youth, the senate and Roman people, in order to do me honor, designated as consuls in the fifteenth year of each, with the intention that they should enter upon that magistracy after five years. And the senate decreed that from the day in which they were introduced into the forum they should share in the public counsels. Moreover the whole body of the Eoman knights gave them the title, principes of the youth, and gave to each a silver buckler and spear. xv To each man of the Roman plebs I paid three hundred sesterces in accordance with the last will of my father ; 10 and in my own name, when consul for the fifth time, I gave four hundred sesterces from the spoils of the wars; again, more- over, in my tenth consulship I gave from my own estate four hundred sesterces to each man by way of congiarium; and in my eleventh consulship I twelve times made distributions of food, buying grain at my own expense; and in the twelfth year of my tribunitial power I three times gave four hundred sesterces to each man. These my donations have never been made to less than two hundred and fifty thousand men. In my twelfth consulship and the eighteenth year of my tribu- nitial power I gave to three hundred and twenty thousand of the city plebs sixty denarii apiece. In the colonies of my soldiers, when consul for the fifth time, I gave to each man a thousand sesterces from the spoils; about a hundred and twenty thousand men in the colonies received that triumphal donation. "When consul for the thirteenth time I gave sixty denarii to the plebs who were at that time receiving public grain ; these men were a little more than two hundred thou- sand in number. XVI FOR the lands which in my fourth consulship, and afterwards in the consulship of Marcus Crassus and Cnseus Lentulus, the augur, I assigned to soldiers, I paid money to the municipia. 10 "He (Cassar) bequeathed to the Eoman people Ms gardens near the Tiber, and three hundred sesterces to each man." 148 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY The sum which I paid for Italian farms was about six hun- dred million sesterces, and that for lands in the provinces was about two hundred and sixty millions. Of all those who have established colonies of soldiers in Italy or in the prov- inces I am the first and only one within the memory of my age, to do this. And afterward in the consulship of Tiberius Nero and Cnaeus Piso, and also in that of Gaius Antistius and Decimus Lgelius, and in that of Gaius Calvisius and Lucius Pasienus, and in that of Lucius Lentulus and Marcus Messala, and in that of Lucius Caninius and Quintus Fabri- cius, I gave gratuities in money to the soldiers whom I sent back to their municipia at the expiration of their terms of service, and for this purpose I freely spent four hundred million sesterces. XVII FOUR times I have aided the public treasury from my own means, to such extent that I have furnished to those in charge of the treasury one hundred and fifty million sesterces. And in the consulship of Marcus Lepidus and Lucius Arruntius I paid into the military treasury which was established by my advice that from it gratuities might be given to soldiers who had served a term of twenty or more years, one hundred and seventy million sesterces from my own estate. xvm BEGINNING with that year in which Cnaeus and Publius Len- tulus were consuls, when the imposts failed, I furnished aid sometimes to a hundred thousand men, and sometimes to more, by supplying grain or money for the tribute from my own land and property. I CONSTRUCTED the Curia, and the Chalcidicum adjacent thereto, the temple of Apollo on the Palatine, with its porti- coes, the temple of the divine Julius, the Lupercal, the portico to the Circus of Flaminius, which I allowed to bear the name, Portico Octavia, from his name who constructed the earlier one in the same place; the Pulvinar at the Circus Maximus, the temples of Jupiter the Vanquisher and Jupiter the Thun- derer, on the Capitol, the temple of Quirinus, the temples of AUGUSTUS C^SAR 149 Minerva and Juno Kegina and of Jupiter Libertas, on the Aventine, the temple of the Lares on the highest point of the Via Sacra, the temple of the divine Penates on the Velian hill, the temple of Youth, and the temple of the Great Mother on the Palatine. XX THE Capitol and the Pompeian theater have been restored by me at enormous expense for each work, without any inscrip- tion of my name. Aqueducts which were crumbling in many places by reason of age I have restored, and I have doubled the water which bears the name Marcian by turning a new spring into its course. The Forum Julium and the basilica which was between the temple of Castor and the temple of Saturn, works begun and almost completed by my father, I have finished ; and when that same basilica was consumed by fire, I began its reconstruction on an enlarged site, inscribing it with the names of my sons ; and if I do not live to complete it, I have given orders that it be completed by my heirs. In accordance with a decree of the senate, while consul for the sixth time, I have restored eighty-two temples of the gods, passing over none which was at that time in need of repair. In my seventh consulship I reconstructed the Flaminian way from the city to Ariminum, and all the bridges except the Mulvian and Minucian. XXI UPON private ground I have built with the spoils of war the temple of Mars the Avenger, and the Augustan Forum. Be- side the temple of Apollo, I built upon ground, bought for the most part at my own expense, a theater, to bear the name of Marcellus, my son-in-law. From the spoils of war I have con- secrated gifts in the Capitol, and in the temple of the divine Julius, and in the temple of Apollo, and in the temple of Vesta, and in the temple of Mars the Avenger; these gifts have cost me about a hundred million sesterces. In my fifth consulship I remitted to the municipia and Italian colonies the thirty-five thousand pounds given me as coronary gold on the occasion of my triumphs, and thereafter, as often as I was proclaimed imperator, I did not accept the coronary gold which the municipia and colonies kindly voted to me. 150 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY xxn THREE times in my own name, and five times in that of my sons or grandsons, I have given gladiatorial exhibitions; in these exhibitions about ten thousand men have fought. Twice in my own name, and three times in that of my grandson, I have offered the people the spectacle of athletes gathered from all quarters. I have celebrated games four times in my own name, and twenty-three times in the turns of other mag- istrates. In behalf of the college of quindecemvirs, I, as master of the college, with my colleague Agrippa, celebrated the Secular Games in the consulship of Gaius Furnius and Gaius Silanus. "When consul for the thirteenth time, I first celebrated the Martial games, which since that time the con- suls have given in successive years. Twenty-six times in my own name, or in that of my sons and grandsons, I have given hunts of African wild beasts in the circus, the forum, the amphitheaters, and about thirty-five hundred beasts have been killed. xxm I GAVE the people the spectacle of a naval battle beyond the Tiber, where now is the grove of the Caesars. 11 For this pur- pose an excavation was made eighteen hundred feet long and twelve hundred wide. In this contest thirty beaked ships, triremes or biremes, were engaged, besides more of smaller size. About three thousand men fought in these vessels in addition to the rowers. XXIV IN the temples of all the cities of the province of Asia, I, as victor, replaced the ornaments of which he with whom I was at war had taken private possession when he despoiled the temples. Silver statues of me, on foot, on horseback and in quadrigas, which stood in the city to the number of about eighty, I removed, and out of their money value, I placed 11 Velleius writes: "The divine Augustus in the year when he was con- sul with Gallus Caninius sated the minds and the eyes of the Komau people at the dedication of the temple of Mars with the most magnificent gladiatorial shows and naval battles." Dio says that traces of the excavation could be seen in his time (c. 200 A. JD.), and that the fight represented a battle of Athenians and Persians, in which the former were victorious. AUGUSTUS CLESAR 151 golden gifts in the temple of Apollo in my own name, and in the names of those who had offered me the honor of the statues. xxv I HAVE freed the sea from pirates. In that war with the slaves I delivered to their masters for punishment about thirty thousand slaves who had fled from their masters and taken up arms against the state. 12 The whole of Italy voluntarily took the oath of allegiance to me, and demanded me as leader in that war in which I conquered at Actium. The provinces of Gaul, Spain, Africa, Sicily and Sardinia swore the same al- legiance to me. There were more than seven hundred senators who at that time fought under my standards, and among these, up to the day on which these words are written, eighty- three have either before or since been made consuls, and about one hundred and seventy have been made priests. XXVI I HAVE extended the boundaries of all the provinces of the Roman people which were bordered by nations not yet sub- jected to our sway. I have reduced to a state of peace the Gallic and Spanish provinces, and Germany, the lands in- closed by the ocean from Gades to the mouth of the Elbe. The Alps from the region nearest the Adriatic as far as the Tuscan Sea I have brought into a state of peace, without wag- ing an unjust war upon any people. My fleet has navigated the ocean from the mouth of the Rhine as far as the boun- daries of the Cimbri, where before that time no Roman had ever penetrated by land or sea ; and the Cimbri and Charydes and Semnones and other German peoples of that section, by means of legates, sought my friendship and that of the Roman people. By my command and under my auspices two armies at almost the same time have been led into Ethiopia and into Arabia, which is called "the Happy," and very many of the enemy of both peoples have fallen in battle, and many towns have been captured. Into Ethiopia the advance was as far as Nabata, which is next to Meroe. In Arabia the army pene- trated as far as the confines of the Sabaei, to the town Mariba. " The allusion is to Sextus Pompeius, whose fleets, manned largely by slaves, cut off the grain ships on their way to Kome. 152 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY xxvn I HAVE added Egypt to the empire of the Roman people. Of greater Armenia, when its king Artaxes was killed I could have made a province, but I preferred, after the example of our fathers, to deliver that kingdom to Tigranes, the son of king Artavasdes, and grandson of king Tigranes; and this I did through Tiberius Nero, who was then my son-in-law. And afterwards, when the same people became turbulent and rebellious, they were subdued by Gaius, my son, and I gave the sovereignty over them to king Ariobarzanes, the son of Artabazes, king of the Medes, and after his death to his son Artavasdes. "When he was killed I sent into that kingdom Tigranes, who was sprung from the royal house of the Ar- menians. I recovered all the provinces across the Adriatic Sea, which extend toward the east, and Cyrenaica, at that time for the most part in the possession of kings, together with Sicily and Sardinia, which had been engaged in a servile war. xxvm I HAVE established colonies of soldiers in Africa, Sicily, Mace- donia, the two Spains, Achaia, Asia, Syria, Gallia Narbonensis and Pisidia. Italy also has twenty-eight colonies established under my auspices, which within my lifetime have become very famous and populous. XXIX I HAVE recovered from Spain and Gaul, and from the Dal- matians, after conquering the enemy, many military standards which had been lost by other leaders. I have compelled the Parthians to give up to me the spoils and standards of three Roman armies, and as suppliants to seek the friendship of the Roman people. Those standards, moreover, I have de- posited in the sanctuary which is in the temple of Mars the Avenger. xxx THE Pannonian peoples, whom before I became princeps, no army of the Roman people had ever attacked, were defeated by Tiberius Nero, at that time my son-in-law and legate ; and I brought them under subjection to the empire of the Roman AUGUSTUS CAESAR 153 people, and extended the boundaries of Illyricum to the bank of the river Danube. When an army of the Dacians crossed this river, it was defeated and destroyed, and afterwards my army, led across the Danube, compelled the Dacian people to submit to the sway of the Roman people. XXXI EMBASSIES have been many times sent to me from the kings of India, a thing never before seen in the case of any ruler of the Romans. Our friendship has been sought by means of am- bassadors by the Bastarnae and the Scythians, and by the kings of the Sarmatae, who are on either side of the Tanais, and by the kings of the Albani, the Hiberi, and the Medes. XXXII To me have betaken themselves as suppliants the kings of the Parthians, Tiridates, and later, Phraates, the son of king Phraates; of the Medes, Artavasdes; of the Adiabeni, Ar- taxares; of the Britons, Dumnobellaunus and Tim ; of the Sicambri, Maelo; and of the Marcomanian Suevi, rus. Phraates, king of the Parthians, son of Orodes, sent all his children and grandchildren into Italy to me, not because he had been conquered in war, but rather seeking our friend- ship by means of his children as pledges. Since I have been princeps very many other races have made proof of the good faith of the Roman people, who never before had had any interchange of embassies and friendship with the Roman people. XXXIII FROM me the peoples of the Parthians and of the Medes have received the kings they asked for through ambassadors, the chief men of those peoples : the Parthians, Vonones, the son of king Phraates, and grandson of king Orodes; the Medes, Ariobarzanes, the son of king Artavasdes, and grandson of king Ariobarzanes. xxxiv IN my sixth and seventh consulships, when I had put an end to the civil wars, after having obtained complete control of 154 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY affairs by universal consent, I transferred the commonwealth from my own dominion to the authority of the senate and Roman people. In return for this favor on my part I received by decree of the senate the title Augustus, the door-posts of my house were publicly decked with laurels, a civic crown was fixed above my door, and in the Julian Curia was placed a golden shield, which, by its inscription, bore witness that it was given to me by the senate and Roman people on account of my valor, clemency, justice and piety. After that time I excelled all others in dignity, but of power I held no more than those also held who were my colleagues in any mag- istracy. xxxv WHILE I was consul for the thirteenth time the senate and the equestrian order and the entire Roman people gave me the title of father of the fatherland, and decreed that it should be inscribed upon the vestibule of my house and in the Curia, and in the Augustan Forum beneath the quadriga which had been, by decree of the senate, set up in my honor. When I wrote these words I was in my seventy-sixth year. END OF THE INSCRIPTION OF AUGUSTUS - JOSEPH GENERAL AN!) BKBOBL AGAINST ROME ->BI t was one of the IM- J, ** I, MM) He tella us that be mn- FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS Jews in their great year 66, was partly t emperor,. Vespasian, ion of Jerusalem by kd and captured by md of big captor by all events, Jo- h to miti- Jflephus wrote sev- le year 90, both in Hebrew awd fying himself Itomang. >9k become* what we would to-.i- ?use'' or "jx 'ader may well doubt w r 't or r oeephttB 1 as ate of both Jews and Romans as the sore beset >ure osty there is howr-- ;. and able man; the !:: * : n-t hi* >>--*- " .1 portrait of a human *; : wu any it >F 1 is an indication oi 165 JOSEPHUS THE ABLE JEWISH GENERAL AND REBEL AGAINST ROME 37-100 A. D. (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) Flavius Josephua was one of the leaders of the Jews in their great revolt against Rome. This uprising began in the year 66, was partly crushed in 67 by the Roman general, and afterward emperor, Vespasian, and was completely ended in 70 with the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus. Josephus after valiant fighting was defeated and captured by Vespasian in 67. He tells us that he made a friend of his captor by predicting that Vespasian would become emperor. At all events, Jo- sephus was spared and befriended by the Romans and did much to miti- gate their severity toward his unhappy countrymen. In the years that followed the Jewish overthrow, Josephus wrote sev- eral books, including a patriotic ' ' History of the Jews, ' ' which tells somewhat of his own fighting and capture, and also his celebrated ' ' Auto- biography. ' ' The latter he wrote about the year 90, both in Hebrew and in Greek, seeking to defend his own career, justifying himself to his countrymen and at the same time excusing himself to the Romans. With this double purpose in view his book becomes what we would to-day call a "defense" or "apology," and a reader may well doubt whether the every act and thought of Josephus was really as high-minded and as considerate of both Jews and Romans as the sore beset author pictures it. Of his general patriotism and honesty there is however no doubt at all. Josephus was a remarkable and able man; and a comparison with the earlier works in our volume will convince the reader that his book comes nearer to being "a portrait of a human soul" than any one of the self -narratives that preceded it. THE DEFENSE OF FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS THE family from which I am derived is not an ignoble one, but hath descended all along from the priests ; and as nobility among several people is of a different origin, so with us to be of the sacerdotal dignity, is an indication of the splendor of 155 156 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY a family. Now, I am not only sprung from a sacerdotal fam- ily in general, but from the first of the twenty-four courses; and as among us there is not only a considerable difference between one family of each course and another, I am of the chief family of that first course also; nay, further, by my mother I am of the royal blood ; for the children of Asmoneus, from whom that family was derived, had both the office of the high priesthood and the dignity of a king for a long time to- gether. I will accordingly set down my progenitors in order. My grandfather's father was named Simon, with the addition of Psellus : he lived at the same time with that son of Simon the high priest, who first of all the high priests was named Hyrcanus. This Simon Psellus had nine sons, one of whom was Matthias, called Ephlias: he married the daughter of Jonathan the high priest ; which Jonathan was the first of the sons of Asmoneus, who was high priest, and was the brother of Simon the high priest also. This Matthias had a son called Matthias Curtus, and that in the first year of the government of Hyrcanus: his son's name was Joseph, born in the ninth year of the reign of Alexandra: his son Matthias was born in the tenth year of the reign of Archelaus ; as was I born to Matthias in the first year of the reign of Caius Csesar. I have three sons : Hyrcanus, the eldest, was born in the fourth year of the reign of Vespasian, as was Justus born in the seventh, and Agrippa in the ninth. Thus have I set down the geneal- ogy of my family as I have found it described in the public records, and so bid adieu to those who calumniate me, [as of a lower origin] . Now, my father Matthias was not only eminent on account of his nobility, but had a higher commendation on account of his righteousness; and was in great reputation in Jerusalem, the greatest city we have. I was myself brought up with my brother, whose name was Matthias, for he was my own brother, by both father and mother; and I made mighty proficiency in the improvements of my learning, and appeared to have both a great memory and understanding. Moreover, when I was a child, and about fourteen years of age, I was com- mended by all for the love I had to learning ; on which account the high priests and principal men of the city came then fre- quently to me together, in order to know my opinion about JOSEPHUS 157 the accurate understanding of points of the law ; and when I was about sixteen years old, I had a mind to make trial of the several sects that were among us. These sects are three : The first is that of the Pharisees, the second that of the Sad- ducees, and the third that of the Essens, as we have frequently told you ; for I thought that by this means I might choose the best, if I were once acquainted with them all; so I con- tented myself with hard fare, and underwent great difficulties, and went through them all. Nor did I content myself with these trials only; but when I was informed that one, whose name was Banus, lived in the desert, and used no other cloth- ing than grew upon trees, and had no other food than what grew of its own accord, and bathed himself in cold water frequently, both night and day, in order to preserve his chastity, I imitated him in those things, and continued with him three years. So when I had accomplished my desires, I returned back to the city, being now nineteen years old, and began to conduct myself according to the rules of the sect of the Pharisees, which is of kin to the sect of the Stoics, as the Greeks call them. But when I was in the twenty-sixth year of my age, it hap- pened that I took a voyage to Rome ; and this on the occasion which I shall now describe. At the time when Felix was proc- urator of Judea, there were certain priests of my acquaint- ance, and very excellent persons they were, whom on a small and trifling occasion he had put into bonds, and sent to Rome to plead their cause before Cassar. These I was desirous to procure deliverance for; and that especially because I was informed that they were not unmindful of piety towards God, even under their afflictions, but supported themselves with figs and nuts. Accordingly, I came to Rome, though it were through a great number of hazards, by sea ; for, as our ship was drowned in the Adriatic Sea, we that were in it, being about six hundred in number, swam for our lives all the night ; when, upon the first appearance of the day, and upon our sight of a ship of Gyrene, I and some others, eighty in all, by God's providence, survived the rest, and were taken up into the other ship: and when I had thus escaped, and was come to Dicearchia, which the Italians call Puteoli, I became ac- quainted with Aliturius, an actor of plays, and much beloved 158 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY by Nero, but a Jew by birth ; and through his interest became known to Poppea, Caesar's wife ; and took care, as soon as pos- sible, to entreat her to procure that the priests might be set at liberty ; and when, besides this favor, I had obtained many presents from Poppea, I returned home again. And now I perceived innovations were already begun, and that there were a great many very much elevated in hopes of a revolt from the Romans. I therefore endeavored to put a stop to these tumultuous persons, and persuaded them to change their minds ; and laid before their eyes against whom it was that they were going to fight, and told them that they were inferior to the Romans not only in martial skill but also in good fortune, and desired them not rashly, and after the most foolish manner, to bring on the dangers of the most ter- rible mischiefs upon their country, upon their families, and upon themselves. And this I said with vehement exhortation, because I foresaw that the end of such a war would be most unfortunate to us. But I could not persuade them; for the madness of desperate men was quite too hard for me in spite of my efforts. I was then afraid, lest, by inculcating these things so often, I should incur their hatred and their suspicions, as if I were of our enemies' party, and should run into the danger of being seized by them and slain, since they were already pos- sessed of Antonia, which was the citadel ; so I retired into the inner court of the temple ; yet did I go out of the temple again after Manahem and the principal of the band of robbers were put to death, when I abode among the high priests and the chief of the Pharisees ; but no small fear seized upon us when we saw the people in arms, while we ourselves knew not what we should do, and were not able to restrain the seditious. However, as the danger was directly upon us, we pretended that we were of the same opinion with them ; but only advised them to be quiet for the present and to let the enemy go away, still hoping that Gessius [Floras] would not be long ere he came, and that with great forces, and so put an end to these seditious proceedings. But, upon his coming and fighting, he was beaten, and a great many of those that were with him fell; and this dis- grace which Gessius received, became the calamity of our JOSEPHUS 159 whole nation ; for those that were fond of the war were so far elevated with this success that they had hopes of finally con- quering the Romans. Of which war another occasion was ministered; which was this: Those that dwelt in the neigh- boring cities of Syria seized upon such Jews as dwelt among them, with their wives and children, and slew them, when they had not the least occasion of complaint against them; for they did neither attempt any innovation or revolt from the Romans, nor had they given any marks of hatred or treacherous designs towards the Syrians; but what was done by the inhabitants of Scythopolis was the most impious and the most highly criminal of all; for when the Jews, their enemies, came upon them from without, they forced the Jews that were among them to bear arms against their own coun- trymen, which it is unlawful for us to do; and when, by their assistance, they had joined battle with those who at- tacked them, and had beaten them, after that victory they forgot the assurances they had given these their fellow-citizens and confederates, and slew them all, being in number many ten thousands, [13,000.] The like miseries were undergone by those Jews that were the inhabitants of Damascus; but we have given a more accurate account of these things in the books of the Jewish war. I only mention them now, because I would demonstrate to my readers that the Jews' war with the Romans was not voluntary, but that, for the main, they were forced by necessity to enter into it. So when Gessius had been beaten, as we have said already, the principal men of Jerusalem, seeing that the robbers and innovators had arms in great plenty, and fearing lest they, while they were unprovided with arms, should be in subjec- tion to their enemies which also came to be the case after- ward and, being informed that all Galilee had not yet re- volted from the Romans, but that some part of it was still quiet, they sent me and two others of the priests, who were men of excellent characters, Joazar and Judas, in order to persuade the ill men there to lay down their arms, and to teach them this lesson, That it were better to have those arms reserved for the most courageous men that the nation had, [than to be kept there,] for that it had been resolved, That those our best men should always have their arms ready 160 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY against futurity, but still so that they should wait to see what the Romans would do. When I had therefore received these instructions, I came into Galilee, and found the people of Sepphoris in no small agony about their country, by reason that the Galileans had resolved to plunder it, on account of the friendship they had with the Romans; and because they had given their right hand, and made a league with Cestius Gallus, the president of Syria : but I delivered them all out of the fear they were in, and persuaded the multitude to deal kindly with them, and permitted them to send to those that were their own hostages with Gessius to Dora, which is a city of Pho3nicia, as often as they pleased; though I still found the inhabitants of Ti- berias ready to take arms. Now, as soon as I was come into Galilee, and had learned the state of things by the information of such as told me of them, I wrote to the sanhedrim at Jerusalem about them, and required their direction what I should do. Their direction was, that I should continue there, and that, if my fellow- legates were willing, I should join with them in the care of Galilee. But those my fellow-legates, having gotten great riches from those tithes which as priests were their dues, and were given to them, determined to return to their own country. Yet when I desired them to stay so long, that we might first settle the public affairs, they complied with me. So I removed, together with them, from the city of Sepphoris, and came to a certain village called Bethmaus, four furlongs distant from Tiberias; and thence I sent messengers to the senate of Tiberias, and desired that the principal men of the city would come to me : and when they were come, Justus himself being also with them, I told them that I was sent to them by the people of Jerusalem as a legate, together with these other priests, in order to persuade them to demolish that house which Herod the tetrarch had built there, and which had the figures of living creatures in it, although our laws have forbidden us to make any such figures; and I desired that they would give us leave so to do immediately. But for a good while Capellus and the principal men belonging to the city would not give us leave, but were at length entirely overcome by us, and were induced to be of our opinion. So JOSEPHUS 161 Jesus, 1 the son of Sapphias, one of those whom we have already mentioned as the leader of a seditious tumult of mar- iners and poor people, prevented us, and took with him certain Galileans, and set the entire palace on fire, and thought he should get a great deal of money thereby, because he saw some of the roofs gilt with gold. They also plundered a great deal of the furniture, which was done without our approba- tion ; for, after we had discoursed with Capellus and the prin- cipal men of the city, we departed from Bethmaus, and went into Upper Galilee. But Jesus and his party slew all the Greeks that were inhabitants of Tiberias, and as many others as were their enemies before the war began. When I understood this state of things, I was greatly provoked, and went down to Tiberias, and took all the care I could of the royal furniture, to recover all that could be recovered from such as had plundered it. They consisted of candlesticks made of Corinthian brass, and of royal tables, and of a great quantity of uncoined silver; and I resolved to preserve whatsoever came to my hand for the king. So I sent for ten of the principal men of the senate, and for Capel- lus, the son of Antyllus, and committed the furniture to them, with this charge, that they should part with it to nobody else but to myself. From thence, I and my fellow-legates went to Gischala, to John, as desirous to know his intentions, and soon saw that he was for innovations, and had a mind to the principality, for he desired me to give him authority to carry off that corn which belonged to Caesar, and lay in the villages of Upper Galilee ; and he pretended that he would expend what it came to in building the walls of his own city. But when I perceived what he endeavored at, and what he had in his mind, I said I would not permit him so to do; for that I thought either to keep it for the Eomans or for myself, now I was intrusted with the public affairs there by the people of Jerusalem: but, when he was not able to prevail with me, he betook himself to my fellow-legates; for they had no sagacity in providing for futurity, and were very ready to take bribes: so he corrupted them with money to decree that all that corn which was within his province should 1 Jesus was not an uncommon name among the Jews. This man has no relation with the Christ. A. V. 111 162 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY be delivered to him; while I, who was but one, was outvoted by two, and held my tongue. Then did John introduce an- other cunning contrivance of his ; for he said that those Jews who inhabited Caesarea Philippi, and were shut up by the order of the king's deputy there, had sent to him to desire him that, since they had no oil that was pure for their use, he would provide a sufficient quantity of such oil for them, lest they should be forced to make use of oil that came from the Greeks, and thereby transgress their own laws. Now this was said by John, not out of his regard to religion, but out of his most flagrant desire of gain; for he knew that two sectaries were sold with them of Csesarea for one drachma; but that at Gischala fourscore sectaries were sold for four sectaries: so he gave order that all the oil which was there should be carried away, as having my permission for so doing; which yet I did not grant him voluntarily, but only out of fear of the multitude, since, if I had forbidden him, I should have been stoned by them. When I had therefore permitted this to be done by John, he gained vast sums of money by this his knavery. But when I had dismissed my fellow-legates, and sent them back to Jerusalem, I took care to have arms provided, and the cities fortified; and when I had sent for the most hardy among the robbers, I saw that it was not in my power to take their arms from them ; but I persuaded the multitude to allow them money as pay, and told them it was better for them to give them a little willingly rather than to [be forced to] overlook them when they plundered their goods from them. And when I had obliged them to take an oath not to come into that country, unless they were invited to come, or else when they had not their pay given them, I dismissed them, and charged them neither to make an expedition against the Romans, nor against those their neighbors that lay round about them; for my first care was to keep Galilee in peace. So I was willing to have the principal of the Galileans, in all seventy, as hostages for their fidelity, but still under the notion of friendship. Accordingly, I made them my friends and companions as I journeyed, and set them to judge causes ; and with their approbation it was that I gave my sentences, while I endeavored not to mistake what justice required, and JOSEPHUS 163 to keep my hands clear of all bribery in those determinations. I was now about the thirtieth year of my age; in which time of life it is a hard thing for any one to escape the cal- umnies of the envious, although he restrain himself from ful- filling any unlawful desires, especially where a person is in great authority. Yet did I preserve every woman free from injuries ; and as to what presents were offered me, I despised them, as not standing in need of them; nor indeed would I take those tithes, which were due to me as a priest, from those that brought them. Yet do I confess, that I took part of the spoils of those Syrians which inhabited the cities that adjoined to us, when I had conquered them, and that I sent them to my kindred at Jerusalem; although, when I twice took Sepphoris by force, and Tiberias four times, and Gadara once, and when I had subdued and taken John, who often laid treacherous snares for me, I did not punish [with death] either him or any of the people fore-named, as the progress of this discourse will show. And on this account, I suppose, it was that God, who is never unacquainted with those that do as they ought to do, delivered me still out of the hands of these my enemies, and afterwards preserved me when I fell into those many dangers which I shall relate hereafter. Now the multitude of the Galileans had that great kindness for me, and fidelity to me, that when their cities were taken by force, and their wives and children carried into slavery, they did not so deeply lament for their own calamities, as they were solicitous for my preservation. But when John saw this, he envied me, and wrote to me, desiring that I would give him leave to come down, and make use of the hot baths of Tiberias for the recovery of the health of his body. Ac- cordingly, I did not hinder him, as having no suspicion of any wicked designs of his; and I wrote to those to whom I had committed the administration of the affairs of Tiberias by name, that they should provide a lodging for John, and for such as should come with him, and should procure him what necessaries soever he should stand in need of. Now at this time my abode was in a village of Galilee, which is named Cana. But when John was come to the city of Tiberias, he per- suaded the men to revolt from their fidelity to me, and to 164 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY adhere to him; and many of them gladly received that invi- tation of his, as ever fond of innovations, and by nature dis- posed to changes, and delighting in seditions; but they were chiefly Justus and his father Pistus that were earnest for their revolt from me, and their adherence to John. But I came upon them, and prevented them; for a messenger had come to me from Silas, whom I had made governor of Tibe- rias, as I have said already, and had told me of the inclina- tions of the people of Tiberias, and advised me to make haste thither; for that if I made any delay, the city would come under another jurisdiction. Upon the receipt of this letter of Silas, I took two hundred men along with me, and traveled all night, having sent before a messenger to let the people of Tiberias know that I was coming to them. When I came near to the city, which was early in the morning, the multi- tude came out to meet me, and John came with them, and saluted me, but in a most disturbed manner, as being afraid that my coming was to call him to an account for what I was now sensible he was doing. So he, in great haste, went to his lodging. But when I was in the open place of the city, having dismissed the guards I had about me, excepting one, and ten armed men that were with him, I attempted to make a speech to the multitude of the people of Tiberias ; and standing on a certain elevated place, I entreated them not to be so hasty in their revolt ; for that such a change in their behavior would be to their reproach, and that they would then justly be sus- pected by those that should be their governors hereafter, as if they were not likely to be faithful to them neither. But before I had spoken all I designed, I heard one of my own domestics bidding me come down ; for that it was not a proper time to take care of retaining the good-will of the people of Tiberias, but to provide for my own safety, and escape my enemies there ; for John had chosen the most trusty of those armed men that were about him out of those thousand that he had with him, and had given them orders, when he sent them to kill me, having learned that I was alone, excepting some of my domestics. So those that were sent came, as they were ordered, and they had executed what they came about, had I not leaped down from the elevation I stood on, and with one of my guards, whose name was James, been carried [out JOSEPHUS 165 of the crowd] upon the back of one Herod of Tiberias, and gnided by him down to the lake, where I seized a ship, and got into it, and escaped my enemies unexpectedly, and came to Taricheae. Now, as soon as the inhabitants of that city understood the perfidiousness of the people of Tiberias, they were greatly provoked at them. So they snatched up their arms, and de- sired me to be their leader against them; for they said they would avenge their commander's cause upon them. They also carried the report of what had been done to me to all the Galileans, and eagerly endeavored to irritate them against the people of Tiberias, and desired that vast numbers of them would get together, and come to them, that they might act in concert with their commander, what should be deter- mined as fit to be done. Accordingly, the Galileans came to me in great numbers, from all parts, with their weapons, and besought me to assault Tiberias, to take it by force, and to demolish it, till it lay even with the ground, and then to make slaves of its inhabitants, with their wives and children. Those that were Josephus's friends also, and had escaped out of Tiberias, gave him the same advice. But I did not comply with them, thinking it a terrible thing to begin a civil war among them; for I thought that this contention ought not to proceed further than words; nay, I told them that it was not for their own advantage to do what they would have me to do, while the Romans expected no other than that we should destroy one another by our mutual seditions ; and by saying this, I put a stop to the anger of the Galileans. But now John was afraid for himself, since his treachery had proved unsuccessful ; so he took the armed men that were about him, and removed from Tiberias to Gischala, and wrote to me to apologize for himself concerning what had been done, as if it had been done without his approbation ; and desired me to have no suspicion of him to his disadvantage. He also added oaths and certain horrible curses upon himself, and supposed he should be thereby believed in the points he wrote about to me. But now another great number of the Galileans came to- gether again with their weapons, as knowing the man, how wicked and how sadly perjured he was, and desired me to lead 166 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY them against him, and promised me that they would utterly destroy both him and Gischala. Hereupon I professed that I was obliged to them for their readiness to serve me ; and that I would more than requite their good-will to me. However, I entreated them to restrain themselves ; and begged of them to give me leave to do what I intended, which was to put an end to these troubles without bloodshed ; and when I had pre- vailed with the multitude of the Galileans to let me do so, I came to Sepphoris. But the inhabitants of this city having determined to continue in their allegiance to the Romans, were afraid of my coming to them; and tried, by putting me upon another action, to divert me, that they might be freed from the terror they were in. Accordingly they sent to Jesus, the captain of those robbers who were in the confines of Ptolemais, and prom- ised to give him a great deal of money, if he would come with those forces he had with him, which were in number eight hundred, and fight with us. Accordingly he complied with what they desired, upon the promises they had made him, and was desirous to fall upon us when we were unprepared for him, and knew nothing of his coming beforehand : so he sent to me, and desired that I would give him leave to come and salute me. When I had given him that leave, which I did without the least knowledge of his treacherous intentions be- forehand, he took his band of robbers, and made haste to come to me. Yet did not this knavery succeed well at last ; for, as he was already nearly approaching, one of those with him deserted him, and came to me, and told me what he had undertaken to do. When I was informed of this, I went into the market-place, and pretended to know nothing of his treach- erous purpose. I took with me many Galileans that were armed, as also some of those of Tiberias; and when I had given orders that all the roads should be carefully guarded, I charged the keepers of the gates, to give admittance to none but Jesus, when he came, with the principal of his men, and to exclude the rest; and in case they aimed to force them- selves in, to use stripes [in order to repel them.] Accord- ingly, those that had received such a charge did as they were bidden, and Jesus came in with a few others ; and when I had ordered him to throw down his arms immediately, and told JOSEPHUS 167 him, that if he refused so to do, he was a dead man, he seeing armed men standing all round about him, was terrified, and complied ; and as for those of his followers that were excluded, when they were informed that he was seized, they ran away. I then called Jesus to me by himself, and told him, that "I was not a stranger to that treacherous design he had against me, nor was I ignorant by whom he was sent for ; that, how- ever, I would forgive him what he had done already, if he would repent of it, and be faithful to me hereafter." And thus, upon his promise to do all that I desired, I let him go, and gave him leave to get those whom he had formerly had with him, together again. But I threatened the inhabitants of Sepphoris, that, if they would not leave off their ungrateful treatment of me, I would punish them sufficiently. At this time it was that two great men, who were under the jurisdiction of the king [Agrippa,] came to me out of the region of Trachonitis, bringing their horses and their arms, and carrying with them their money also; and when the Jews would force them to be circumcised, if they would stay among them, I would not permit them to have any force put upon them, but said to them, "Every one ought to worship God according to his own inclinations, and not to be con- strained by force; and that these men, who had fled to us for protection, ought not to be so treated as to repent of their coming hither." And when I had pacified the multi- tude, I provided for the men that were come to us whatso- ever it was they wanted, according to their usual way of living, and that in great plenty also. Now King Agrippa sent an army to make themselves masters of the citadel of Gamala, and over it Equiculus Modius; but the forces that were sent were not enow to en- compass the citadel quite round, but lay before it in the open places, and besieged it. But when Ebutius the decurion, who was intrusted with the government of the great plain, heard that I was at Simonias, a village situated in the con- fines of Galilee, and was distant from him sixty furlongs, he took a hundred horsemen that were with him by night, and a certain number of footmen, about two hundred, and brought the inhabitants of the city Gibea along with him as auxiliaries, and marched in the night, and came to the 168 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY village where I abode. Upon this I pitched my camp over against him, which had a great number of forces in it ; but Ebutius tried to draw us down into the plain, as greatly depending upon his horsemen ; but we would not come down ; for when I was satisfied of the advantage that his horse would have if we came down into the plain, while we were all footmen, I resolved to join battle with the enemy where I was. Now Ebutius and his party made a courageous op- position for some time : but when he saw that his horse were useless to him in that place, he retired back to the city Gibea, having lost three of his men in the fight. So I followed him directly with two thousand armed men; and when I was at the city Besara, that lay in the confines of Ptolernais, but twenty furlongs from Gibea, where Ebutius abode, I placed my armed men on the outside of the village, and gave orders that they should guard the passes with great care, that the enemy might not disturb us until we should have carried off the corn, a great quantity of which lay there : it belonged to Bernice the queen, and had been gathered together out of the neighboring villages into Besara: so I loaded my camels and asses, a great number of which I had brought along with me, and sent the corn into Galilee. When I had done this, I offered Ebutius battle; but when he would not accept of the offer, for he was terrified at our readiness and courage, I altered my route, and marched towards Neopolitanus, because I had heard that the country about Tiberias was laid waste by him. This Neopolitanus was captain of a troop of horse, and had the custody of Scy- thopolis intrusted to his care by the enemy; and when I had hindered him from doing any further mischief to Tiberias, I set myself to make provision for the affairs of Galilee. But when John, the son of Levi, who, as we before told you, abode at Gischala, was informed how all things had suc- ceeded to my mind, and that I was much in favor with those that were under me, as also that the enemy were greatly afraid of me, he was not pleased with it, as thinking my prosperity tended to his ruin. So he took up a bitter envy and enmity against me; and hoping that, if he could in- flame those that were under me to hate me, he should put JOSEPHUS 169 an end to the prosperity I was in, he tried to persuade the inhabitants of Tiberias and of Sepphoris, (and for those of Gabara he supposed they would be also of the same mind as the others,) which were the greatest cities of Galilee, to revolt from their subjection to me, and to be of his party; and told them that he would command them better than I did. As for the people of Sepphoris, who belonged to neither of us, because they had chosen to be in subjection to the Komans, they did not comply with his proposal; and for those of Tiberias, they did not indeed so far comply as to make a revolt from under me, but they agreed to be his friends, while the inhabitants of Gabara did go over to John; and it was Simon that persuaded them so to do, one who was both the principal man in the city, and a particular friend and companion of John. It is true, these did not openly own the making a revolt, because they were in great fear of the Galileans, and had frequent experience of the good-will they bore to me; yet did they privately watch for a proper opportunity to lay snares for me; and indeed I thereby came into the greatest danger on the occasion fol- lowing. There were some bold young men of the village of Dabaritta, who observed that the wife of Ptolemy, the king's procurator, was to make a progress over the great plain with a mighty attendance, and with some horsemen that fol- lowed as a guard to them, and this out of a country that was subject to the king and queen, into the jurisdiction of the Romans; and fell upon them on a sudden, and obliged the wife of Ptolemy to fly away, and plundered all the carriages. They also came to me to Tarichese, with four mules' loading of garments, and other furniture; and the weight of the silver they brought was not small; and there were five hun- dred pieces of gold also. Now I had a mind to preserve these spoils for Ptolemy, who was my countryman; and it is prohibited by our laws even to spoil our enemies; so I said to those that brought these spoils, that they ought to be kept, in order to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem with them when they came to be sold ; but the young men took it very ill that they did not receive a part of those spoils for themselves, as they expected to have done; so they went 170 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY among the villages in the neighborhood of Tiberias, and told the people that I was going to betray their country to the Romans, and that I used deceitful language to them when I said that what had been thus gotten by rapine should be kept for the rebuilding of the walls of the city of Jerusalem ; although I had resolved to restore these spoils again to their former owner; and indeed they were herein not mistaken as to my intentions; and when I had gotten clear of them, I sent for two of the principal men, Dassion, and Janneus the son of Levi, persons that were among the chief friends of the king, and commanded them to take the furniture that had been plundered, and to send it to him; and I threatened that I would order them to be put to death by way of punishment, if they discovered this my command to any other person. Now, when all Galilee was filled with this rumor, that their country was about to be betrayed by me to the Ro- mans, and when all men were exasperated against me, and ready to bring me to punishment, the inhabitants of Taricheae did also themselves suppose that what the young men said was true, and persuaded my guards and armed men to leave me when I was asleep, and to come presently to the hippodrome, in order there to take counsel against me their commander; and when they had prevailed with them, and they were gotten together, they found there a great company assembled already, who all joined in one clamor, to bring the man who was so wicked to them as to betray them, to his due punishment; and it was Jesus, the son of Sapphias, who principally set them on. He was ruler in Tiberias, a wicked man, and naturally disposed to make disturbances in matters of consequence; a seditious person he was indeed, and an innovator beyond everybody else. He then took the laws of Moses into his hands, and came into the midst of the people, and said, "0 my fellow-citizens! if you are not disposed to hate Josephus on your own ac- count, have regard, however, to these laws of your country, which your commander-in-chief is going to betray; hate him therefore on both these accounts, and bring the man who hath acted thus insolently to his deserved punishment." When he had said this, and the multitude had openly ap- JOSEPHUS 171 plauded him for what he had said, he took some of the armed men, and made haste away to the house in which I lodged, as if he would kill me immediately, while I was wholly in- sensible of all till this disturbance happened; and by reason of the pains I had been taking, was fallen fast asleep; but Simon, who was intrusted with the care of my body, and was the only person that stayed with me, and saw the violent incursion the citizens made upon me, awaked me, and told me of the danger I was in, and desired me to let him kill me, that I might die bravely and like a general, before my enemies came in and forced me [to kill myself,] or killed me themselves. Thus did he discourse to me; but I committed the care of my life to God, and made haste to go out to the multitude. Accordingly, I put on a black garment, and hung my sword at my neck, and went by such a different way to the hippodrome, wherein I thought none of my adversaries would meet me; so I appeared among them on the sudden, and fell down flat on the earth, and bedewed the ground with my tears: then I seemed to them an object of compas- sion ; and when I perceived the change that was made in the multitude, I tried to divide their opinions before the armed men should return from my house; so I granted them that I had been as wicked as they supposed me to be; but still I entreated them to let me first inform them for what use I had kept that money which arose from the plunder, and that they might then kill me, if they pleased: and, upon the multitude 's ordering me to speak, the armed men came upon me, and when they saw me, they ran to kill me; but when the multitude bade them hold their hands, they complied; and expected that as soon as I should own to them that I kept the money for the king, it would be looked on as a confession of my treason, and they should then be allowed to kill me. When, therefore, silence was made by the whole multitude, I spake thus to them : ' ' my countrymen ! I refuse not to die, if justice so require. However, I am desirous to tell you the truth of this matter before I die ; for as I know that this city of yours [Taricheae] was a city of great hospitality, and filled with abundance of such men as have left their own countries, and are come hither to be partakers of your 172 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY fortune, whatever it be, I had a mind to build walls about it, out of this money, for which you are so angry with me, while yet it was to be expended in building your own walls. ' ' Upon my saying this, the people of Taricheae and the strangers cried out, that "they gave me thanks; and desired me to be of good courage," although the Galileans and the people of Tiberias continued in their wrath against me, in- somuch that there arose a tumult among them, while some threatened to kill me, and some bade me not to regard them: but when I promised them that I would build them walls at Tiberias, and at other cities that wanted them, they gave credit to what I promised, and returned every one to his own home. So I escaped the forementioned danger, beyond all my hopes, and returned to my own house, ac- companied with my friends, and twenty armed men also. However, these robbers and other authors of this tumult, who were afraid on their own account, lest I should punish them for what they had done, took six hundred armed men, and came to the house where I abode, in order to set it on fire. When this their insult was told me, I thought it in- decent for me to run away, and I resolved to expose myself to danger, and to act with some boldness; so I gave order to shut the doors, and went up into an upper room, and desired that they would send in some of their men to receive the money, [from the spoils;] for I told them they would then have no occasion to be angry with me; and when they had sent in one of the boldest of them all, I had him whipped severely; and I commanded that one of his hands should be cut off and hung about his neck ; and in this case was he put out to those that sent him. At which pro- cedure of mine they were greatly affrighted, and in no small consternation, and were afraid that they should themselves be served in like manner if they stayed there ; for they sup- posed that I had in the house more armed men than they had themselves: so they ran away immediately, while I, by the use of this stratagem, escaped this their second treacherous design against me. . . . But the hatred that John, the son of Levi, bore to me, grew now more violent, while he could not bear my prosperity with patience. So he proposed to himself, by all means pos- JOSEPHUS 173 sible, to make away with me ; and built the walls of Gischala, which was the place of his nativity. He then sent his brother Simon, and Jonathan, the son of Sisenna, and about a hun- dred armed men, to Jerusalem, to Simon, the son of Gamaliel, in order to persuade him to induce the commonalty of Jeru- salem to take from me the government over the Galileans, and to give their suffrages for conferring that authority upon him. This Simon was of the city of Jerusalem, and of a very noble family, of the sect of the Pharisees, which are supposed to excel others in the accurate knowledge of the laws of their country. He was a man of great wisdom and reason, and capable of restoring public affairs by his pru- dence, when they were in an ill posture. He was also an old friend and companion of John ; but at that time he had a difference with me. When therefore he had received such an exhortation, he persuaded the high priests, Ananus, and Jesus the son of Gamala, and some others of the same seditious faction, to cut me down, now I was growing so great, and not to overlook me while I was aggrandizing my- self to the height of glory ; and he said that it would be for the advantage of the Galileans if I were deprived of my gov- ernment there. Ananus also, and his friends, desired them to make no delay about the matter, lest I should get the knowledge of what was doing too soon, and should come and make an assault upon the city with a great army. This was the counsel of Simon: but Ananus the high priest demon- strated to them that this was not an easy thing to be done, because many of the high priests and of the rulers of the people, bore witness that I had acted like an excellent gen- eral, and that it was the work of ill men to accuse one against whom they had nothing to say. When Simon heard Ananus say this, he desired that the messengers would conceal the thing, and not let it come among many: for that he would take care to have Josephus removed out of Galilee very quickly. So he called for John's brother, [Simon,] and charged him that they should send presents to Ananus and his friends: for, as he said, they might probably by that means persuade them to change their minds. And indeed Simon did at length thus compass what he aimed at; for Ananus, and those with him, being cor- 174 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY rupted by bribes, agreed to expel me out of Galilee, without making the rest of the citizens acquainted with what they were doing. Accordingly, they resolved to send men of dis- tinction as to their families, and of distinction as to their learning also. Two of these were of the populace, Jonathan and Ananias, by sect Pharisees; while the third, Jozar, was of the stock of the priests, and a Pharisee also; and Simon, the last of them, was of the youngest of the high priests. These had it given them in charge, that, when they were come to the multitude of the Galileans, they should ask them what was the reason of their love to me? and if they said that it was because I was born at Jerusalem, that they should reply, that they four were all born at the same place; and if they should say, it was because I was well versed in their law, they should reply, that neither were they unacquainted with the practices of their country; but if, besides these, they should say they loved me because I was a priest, they should reply, that two of these were priests also. Now, when they had given Jonathan and his companions these instructions, they gave them forty thousand [drachmae] out of the public money : but when they heard that there was a certain Galilean that then sojourned at Jerusalem, whose name was Jesus, who had about him a band of six hundred armed men, they sent for him, and gave him three months' pay, and gave him orders to follow Jonathan and his com- panions, and be obedient to them. They also gave money to three hundred men that were citizens of Jerusalem to main- tain them all, and ordered them also to follow the ambas- sadors; and when they had complied, and were gotten ready for the march, Jonathan and his companions went out with them, having along with them John's brother and a hundred armed men. The charge that was given them by those that sent them was this: That if I would voluntarily lay down my arms, they should send me alive to the city of Jerusalem ; but that, in case I opposed them, they should kill me, and fear nothing; for that it was their command for them so to do. They also wrote to John to make all ready for fighting me, and gave orders to the inhabitants of Sepphoris, and Gabara, and Tiberias, to send auxiliaries to John. Now, as my father wrote me an account of this, (for Jesus JOSEPHUS 175 the son of Gamala, who was present in that council, a friend and companion of mine, told him of it,) I was very much troubled, as discovering thereby that my fellow-citizens proved so ungrateful to me, as, out of envy, to give order that I should be slain; my father earnestly pressed me also in his letter to come to him, for that he longed to see his son before he died. I informed my friends of these things, and that in three days' time I should leave the country and go home. Upon hearing this, they were all very sorry, and desired me, with tears in their eyes, not to leave them to be destroyed ; for so they thought they should be, if I were de- prived of the command over them: but as I did not grant their request, but was taking care of my own safety, the Galileans, out of their dread of the consequence of my de- parture, that they should then be at the mercy of the robbers, sent messengers over all Galilee to inform them of my resolu- tion to leave them. Whereupon, as soon as they heard it, they got together in great numbers, from all parts, with their wives and children; and this they did, as it appeared to me, not more out of their affection to me, than out of their fear on their own account ; for, while I stayed with them, they sup- posed that they should suffer no harm. So they all came into the great plain, wherein I lived, the name of which was Asochis. But wonderful it was what a dream I saw that very night ; for when I had betaken myself to my bed, as grieved and disturbed at the news that had been written to me, it seemed to me, that a certain person stood by me, and said, "O Josephus ! leave off to afflict thy soul, and put away all fear ; for what now grieves thee will render thee very considerable, and in all respects most happy; for thou shalt get over not only these difficulties, but many others, with great success. However, be not cast down, but remember that thou art to fight with the Romans." When I had seen this dream, I got up with an intention of going down to the plain. Now, when the whole multitude of the Galileans, among whom were the women and children, saw me, they threw themselves down upon their faces, and, with tears in their eyes, be- sought me not to leave them exposed to their enemies, nor to go away and permit their country to be injured by them; 176 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY but, when I did not comply with their entreaties, they com- pelled me to take an oath, that I would stay with them : they also cast abundance of reproaches upon the people of Jeru- salem, that they would not let their country enjoy peace. When I heard this, and saw what sorrow the people were in, I was moved with compassion to them, and thought it became me to undergo the most manifest hazards for the sake of so great a multitude; so I let them know I would stay with them; and when I had given order that five thou- sand of them should come to me armed, and with provisions for their maintenance, I sent the rest away to their own homes ; and, when those five thousand were come, I took them, together with three thousand of the soldiers that were with me before, and eighty horsemen, and marched to the village of Chabolo, situated in the confines of Ptolemais, and there kept my forces together, pretending to get ready to fight with Placidus, who was come with two cohorts of footmen, and one troop of horsemen; and was sent thither by Cestius Gallus to burn those villages of Galilee that were near Ptolemais. Upon whose casting up a bank before the city Ptolemais, I also pitched my camp at about the distance of sixty furlongs from that village; and now we frequently brought out our forces as if we would fight, but proceeded no further than skirmishes at a distance ; for when Placidus per- ceived that I was earnest to come to a battle, he was afraid, and avoided it ; yet did he not remove from the neighborhood of Ptolemais. About this time it was that Jonathan and his fellow-legates came. They were sent, as we have said already, by Simon, and Ananus the high priest ; and Jonathan contrived how he might catch me by treachery, for he durst not make any at- tempt upon me openly. So he wrote me the following epistle: "Jonathan and those that are with him, and are sent by the people of Jerusalem to Josephus, send greeting. We are sent by the principal men of Jerusalem, who have heard that John of Gischala hath laid many snares for thee, to rebuke him, and to exhort him to be subject to thee here- after. We are also desirous to consult with thee about our common concerns, and what is fit to be done. We, therefore, desire thee to come to us quickly, and to bring only a few JOSEPHUS 177 men with thee; for this village will not contain a great number of soldiers." Thus it was that they wrote, as ex- pecting one of these two things; either that I should come without armed men, and then they should have me wholly in their power ; or if I came with a great number, they should judge me to be a public enemy. Now it was a horse- man who brought the letter, a man at other times bold, and one that had served in the army under the king. It was the second hour of the night that he came, when I was feast- ing with my friends and the principal of the Galileans. This man, upon my servant's telling me that a certain horseman of the Jewish nation was come, was called in at my com- mand, but did not so much as salute me at all, but held out a letter, and said, "This letter is sent thee by those that are come from Jerusalem; do thou write an answer to it quickly, for I am obliged to return to them very soon." Now my guests could not but wonder at the boldness of the soldier; but I desired him to sit down and sup with us; but when he refused so to do, I held the letter in my hands as I received it, and fell a-talking with my guests about other matters; but a few hours afterwards, I got up, and when I had dismissed the rest to go to their beds, I bid only four of my intimate friends to stay ; and ordered my servant to get some wine ready. I also opened the letter so that nobody could perceive it; and understanding thereby pres- ently the purport of the writing, I sealed it up again, and appeared as if I had not yet read it, but only held it in my hands. I ordered twenty drachmas should be given to the soldier for the charges of his journey; and when he took the money, and said that he thanked me for it, I perceived that he loved money, and that he was to be caught chiefly by that means; and I said to him, "If thou wilt but drink with us, thou shalt have a drachma for every glass thou drinkest. ' ' So he gladly embraced this proposal, and drank a great deal of wine, in order to get the more money, and was so drunk, that at last he could not keep the secrets he was intrusted with, but discovered them without my putting questions to him, viz., That a treacherous design was contrived against me; and that I was doomed to die by those that sent him. When I heard this, I wrote back this answer: "Josephus A. v. 112 178 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY to Jonathan, and those that are with him, sendeth greeting. Upon the information that you are come in health into Galilee, I rejoice, and this especially, because I can now resign the care of public affairs here into your hands, and return into my native country, which is what I have desired to do a great while; and I confess I ought not only to come to you as far as Xaloth, but further, and this without your com- mands: but I desire you to excuse me, because I cannot do it now, since I watch the motions of Placidus, who hath a mind to go up into Galilee ; and this I do here at Chabolo. Do you, therefore, on the receipt of this epistle, come hither to me. Fare you well. ' ' When I had written thus, and given the letter to be car- ried by the soldier, I sent along with him thirty of the Galileans of the best characters, and gave them instructions to salute those ambassadors, but to say nothing else to them. I also gave orders to as many of those armed men, whom I esteemed most faithful to me, to go along with the others, every one with him whom he was to guard, lest some con- versation might pass between those whom I sent and those who were with Jonathan. So those men went [to Jonathan.] But, when Jonathan and his partners had failed in this their first attempt, they sent me another letter, the contents whereof were as follows: "Jonathan and those with him, to Josephus, send greeting. We require thee to come to us to the village Gabaroth, on the third day, without any armed men, that we may hear what thou hast to lay to the charge of John [of Gischala."] When they had written this letter, they saluted the Galileans whom I sent ; and came to Japha, which was the largest village of all Galilee, and en- compassed with very strong walls, and had a great number of inhabitants in it. There the multitude of men, with their wives and children, met them, and exclaimed loudly against them; and desired them to be gone, and not to envy them the advantage of an excellent commander. With these clamors Jonathan and his partners were greatly provoked, although they durst not show their anger openly; so they made them no answer, but went to other villages. But still the same clamors met them from all the people, who said, "Nobody should persuade them to have any other JOSEPHUS 179 commander besides Josephus." So Jonathan and his part- ners went away from them without success, and came to Sepphoris, the greatest city of all Galilee. Now the men of that city, who inclined to the Romans in their sentiments, met them indeed, but neither praised nor reproached me ; and when they were gone down from Sepphoris to Asochis, the people of that place made a clamor against them, as those of Japha had done; whereupon they were able to contain themselves no longer, but ordered the armed men that were with them to beat those that made the clamor with their clubs; and when they came to Gabara, John met them with three thousand armed men; but, as I understood by their letter that they had resolved to fight against me, I arose from Chabolo, with three thousand armed men also, but left in my camp one of my fastest friends, and came to Jotapata, as desirous to be near them, the distance being no more than forty furlongs. Whence I wrote thus to them: "If you are very desirous that I should come to you, you know there are two hundred and forty cities and villages in Galilee : I will come to any of them which you please, excepting Gabara and Gischala, the one of which is John's native city, and the other in confederacy and friendship with him." When Jonathan and his partners had received this letter, they wrote me no more answers, but called a council of their friends together; and taking John into their consultation, they took counsel together by what means they might attack me. John's opinion was, that they should write to all the cities and villages that were in Galilee; for that there must be certainly one or two persons in every one of them that were at variance with me ; and that they should be invited to come, to oppose me as an enemy. He would also have them send this resolution of theirs to the city of Jerusalem, that its citizens, upon the knowledge of my being adjudged to be an enemy by the Galileans, might themselves also confirm that determination. He said also, that when this was done, even those Galileans who were well affected to me, would desert me out of fear. When John had given them this coun- sel, what he had said was very agreeable in the rest of them. I was also made acquainted with these affairs about the third hour of the night, by the means of one Saccheus who had 180 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY belonged to them, but now deserted them and came over to me, and told me what they were about; so I perceived that no time was to be lost. Accordingly I gave command to Jacob, an armed man of my guard, whom I esteemed faithful to me, to take two hundred men, and to guard the passages that led from Gabara to Galilee, and to seize upon the pas- sengers, and send them to me, especially such as were caught with letters about them: I also sent Jeremias himself, one of my friends, with six hundred armed men, to the borders of Galilee, in order to watch the roads that led from this country to the city Jerusalem; and gave him charge to lay hold of such as traveled with letters about them, to keep the men in bonds upon the place, but to send me the letters. When I had laid these commands upon them, I gave them orders, and bid them take their arms, and bring three days' provision with them, and be with me the next day. I also parted those that were about me into four parts, and ordained those of them that were most faithful to me to be a guard to my body. I also set over them centurions ; and commanded them to take care that not a soldier which they did not know, should mingle himself among them. Now, on the fifth day following, when I was at Gabaroth, I found the entire plain that was before the village full of armed men, who were come out of Galilee to assist me ; many others of the multitude also out of the village, ran along with me: but as soon as I had taken my place, and began to speak to them, they all made an acclamation, and called me the benefactor and savior of the country; and when I had made them my acknowledg- ments, and thanked them, [for their affection to me,] I also advised them to fight with nobody, nor to spoil the country, but to pitch their tents in the plain, and be content with their sustenance they had brought with them ; for I told them that I had a mind to compose these troubles without shedding any blood. Now it came to pass, that on the very same day those who were sent by John with letters, fell among the guards whom I had appointed to watch the roads ; so the men were themselves kept upon the place, as my orders were ; but I got the letters, which were full of reproaches and lies ; and I intended to fall upon these men, without saying a word of these matters to anybody. JOSEPHUS 181 Now, as soon as Jonathan and his companions heard of my coming, they took all their own friends, and John with them, and retired to the house of Jesus, which indeed was a large castle, and no way unlike a citadel; so they privately led a band of armed men therein, and shut all the other doors but one, which they kept open, and they expected that I should come out of the road to them, to salute them; and indeed they had given orders to the armed men, that when I came they should let nobody besides me come in, but should exclude others ; as supposing that, by this means, they should easily get me under their power: but they were deceived in their expectation, for I perceived what snares they had laid for me. Now, as soon as I was got off my journey, I took up my lodgings over against them, and pretended to be asleep ; so Jonathan and his party, thinking that I was really asleep and at rest, made haste to go down into the plain to persuade the people that I was an ill governor: but the matter proved otherwise; for, upon their appearance, there was a cry made by the Galileans immediately, declaring their good opinion of me as their governor; and they made a clamor against Jonathan and his partners for coming to them when they had suffered no harm, and as though they would overturn their happy settlement ; and desired them by all means to go back again, for that they would never be persuaded to have any other to rule over them but myself. When I heard of this, I did not fear to go down into the midst of them; I went therefore myself down presently, to hear what Jonathan and his companions said. As soon as I appeared, there was immediately an acclamation made to me by the whole multitude, and a cry in my commendation by them, who confessed their thanks was owing to me for my good government of them. When Jonathan and his companions heard this, they were in fear of their own lives, and in danger lest they should be assaulted by the Galileans on my account; so they con- trived how they might run away; but as they were not able to get off, for I desired them to stay, they looked down with concern at my words to them. I ordered, therefore, the multitude to restrain entirely their acclamations, and placed the most faithful of my armed men upon the avenues, to be 182 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY a guard to us, lest John should unexpectedly fall upon us; and I encouraged the Galileans to take their weapons, lest they should be disturbed at their enemies, if any sudden assault should be made upon them; and then, in the first place, I put Jonathan and his partners in mind of their [former] letter, and after what manner they had written to me, and declared they were sent by the common consent of the people of Jerusalem to make up the differences I had with John, and how they had desired me to come to them; and as I spake thus, I publicly showed that letter they had written, till they could not at all deny what they had done, the letter itself convicting them. I then said, ' ' Jonathan ! and you that are sent with him as his colleagues, if I were to be judged as to my behavior, compared with that of John 's, and had brought no more than two or three witnesses, good men and true, it is plain you had been forced, upon the examination of their characters beforehand, to discharge the accusations: that, wherefore, you may be informed that I have acted well in the affairs of Galilee, I think three wit- nesses too few to be brought by a man that hath done as he ought to do; so I gave you all these for witnesses. In- quire of them how I have lived, and whether I have not be- haved myself with all decency, and after a virtuous manner among them. And I further conjure you, Galileans! to hide no part of the truth, but to speak before these men as before judges, whether I have in anything acted otherwise than well." While I was thus speaking, the united voices of all the peo- ple joined together, and called me their benefactor and savior, and attested to my former behavior, and exhorted me to continue so to do hereafter; and they all said, upon their oaths, that their wives had been preserved free from injuries, and that no one had ever been aggrieved by me. After this, I read to the Galileans two of those epistles which had been sent by Jonathan and his colleagues, and which those whom I had appointed to guard the road had taken, and sent to me. These were full of reproaches and of lies, as if I had acted more like a tyrant than a governor against them; with many other things besides therein contained, which were no better indeed than impudent falsities. I also JOSEPHUS 183 informed the multitude how I came by these letters, and that those who carried them delivered them up voluntarily; for I was not willing that my enemies should know anything of the guards I had set, lest they should be afraid, and leave off writing hereafter. When the multitude heard these things, they were greatly provoked at Jonathan and his colleagues that were with him, and were going to attack them, and kill them ; and this they had certainly done, unless I had restrained the anger of the Galileans, and said, that "I forgave Jonathan and his col- leagues what was past, if they would repent, and go to their own country, and tell those who sent them the truth as to my conduct." When I had said this, I let them go, although I knew they would do nothing of what they had promised. But the multitude were very much enraged against them, and entreated me to give them leave to punish them for their insolence; yet did I try all methods to persuade them to spare the men; for I knew that every instance of sedition was pernicious to the public welfare. But the multitude was too angry with them to be dissuaded; and all of them went immediately to the house in which Jonathan and his colleagues abode. However, when I perceived that their rage could not be restrained, I got on horseback, and ordered the multitude to follow me to the village Sogane, which was twenty furlongs off Gabara; and by using this stratagem, I so managed myself as not to appear to begin a civil war amongst them. But when I was come near Sogane, I caused the multitude to make a halt, and exhorted them not to be so easily pro- voked to anger, and to the inflicting such punishments as could not be afterwards recalled : I also gave order, that a hundred men, who were already in years, and were principal men among them, should get themselves ready to go to the city of Jerusalem, and should make a complaint before the people, of such as raised seditions in the country. And I said to them, that "in case they be moved with what you say, you shall desire the community to write to me, and to enjoin me to continue in Galilee, and to order Jonathan and his colleagues to depart out of it." When I had suggested these instructions to them, and while they were getting themselves 184 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY ready as fast as they could, I sent them on this errand the third day after they had been assembled: I also sent five hundred armed men with them [as a guard.] I then wrote to my friends in Samaria, to take care that they might safely pass through the country ; for Samaria was already under the Romans, and it was absolutely necessary for those that go quickly [to Jerusalem] to pass through that country; for in that road you may, in three days' time, go from Galilee to Jerusalem. I also went myself, and conducted the old men as far as the bounds of Galilee, and set guards in the roads, that it might not be easily known by any one that these men were gone. And when I had thus done, I went and abode at Japha. . . . But as I was gone out a little way, I was just upon meeting John, who was marching with his armed men. So I was afraid of him, and turned aside, and escaped by a narrow passage to the lake, and seized on a ship, and embarked in it, and sailed over to Taricheae. So, beyond my expectation, I escaped this danger. Whereupon I presently sent for the chief of the Galileans, and told them after what manner, against all faith given, I had been very near to destruction from Jonathan and his colleagues, and the people of Tiberias. Upon which the multitude of the Galileans were very angry, and encouraged me to delay no longer to make war upon them, but to permit them to go against John, and utterly to destroy him, as well as Jonathan and his colleagues. How- ever, I restrained them, though they were in such a rage, and desired them to tarry a while, till we should be informed what orders those ambassadors that were sent by them to the city of Jerusalem should bring thence; for I told them that it was best to act according to their determination; whereupon they were prevailed on. At which time also, John, when the snares he had laid did not take effect, re- turned back to Gischala. Now, in a few days, those ambassadors whom we had sent came back again, and informed us that the people were greatly provoked at Ananus, and Simon the son of Gamaliel, and their friends; that, without any public determination, they had sent to Galilee, and had done their endeavors that I might be turned out of the government. The ambassadors JOSEPHUS 185 said further, that the people were ready to burn their houses. They also brought letters, whereby the chief men of Jeru- salem, at the earnest petition of the people, confirmed me in the government of Galilee, and enjoined Jonathan and his colleagues to return home quickly. When I had gotten these letters, I came to the village Arbela, where I procured an assembly of the Galileans to meet, and bid the ambassadors declare to them the anger of the people of Jerusalem at what had been done by Jonathan and his colleagues, and how much they hated their wicked doings, and how they had confirmed me in the government of their country, as also what related to the order they had in writing for Jonathan and his colleagues to return home. So I immediately sent them the letter, and bid him that carried it to inquire, as well as he could, how they intended to act [on this occasion.] Now when they had received that letter, and were thereby greatly disturbed, they sent for John, and for the senators of Tiberias, and for the principal men of the Gabarens, and proposed to hold a council, and desired them to consider what was to be done by them. However, the governors of Tiberias were greatly disposed to keep the government to themselves ; for they said it was not fit to desert their city, now it was committed to their trust, and that otherwise I should not de- lay to fall upon them; for they pretended falsely that so I had threatened to do. Now John was not only of their opinion, but advised them, that two of them should go to accuse me before the multitude [at Jerusalem,] that I do not manage the affairs of Galilee as I ought to do; and that they would easily persuade the people, because of their dignity, and because the whole multitude are very mutable. When, therefore, it appeared that John had suggested the wisest advice to them, they resolved that two of them, Jonathan and Ananias, should go to the people of Jerusalem, and the other two [Simon and Joazar] should be left behind to tarry at Tiberias. They also took along with them a hun- dred soldiers for their guard. However, the governors of Tiberias took care to have their city secured with walls, and commanded their inhabitants to take their arms. They also sent for a great many soldiers from John, to assist them against me, if there should be occa- 186 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY sion for them. Now John was at Gischala. Jonathan, there- fore, and those that were with him, when they were departed from Tiberias, and as soon as they were come to Dabaritta, a village that lay in the utmost parts of Galilee, in the great plain, they, about midnight, fell among the guards I had set, who both commanded them to lay aside their weapons, and kept them in bonds upon the place, as I had charged them to do. This news was written to me by Levi, who had the command of that guard committed to him by me. Hereupon I said nothing of it for two days; and, pretending to know nothing about it, I sent a message to the people of Tiberias, and advised them to lay their arms aside, and to dismiss their men, that they might go home ; but supposing that Jonathan, and those that were with him, were already ar- rived at Jerusalem, they made reproachful answers to me; yet was I not terrified thereby, but contrived another stratagem against them, for I did not think it agreeable with piety to kindle the fire of war against the citizens. As I was desirous to draw those men away from Tiberias, I chose out ten thousand of the best of my armed men, and divided them into three bodies, and ordered them to go privately, and lie still as an ambush, in the villages. I also led a thousand into another village, which lay indeed in the mountains, as did the others, but only four furlongs distant from Tiberias; and gave orders that, when they saw my signal, they should come down immediately, while I my- self lay with my soldiers in the sight of everybody. Here- upon the people of Tiberias, at the sight of me, came running out of the city perpetually, and abused me greatly. Nay, their madness was come to that height, that they made a decent bier for me, and, standing about it, they mourned over me in the way of jest and sport ; and I could not but be myself in a pleasant humor upon the sight of this mad- ness of theirs. And now, being desirous to catch Simon by a wile, and Joazar with him, I sent a message to them, and desired them to come a little way out of the city, and many of their friends to guard them; for I said I would come down to them, and make a league with them, and divide the govern- ment of Galilee with them. Accordingly Simon was deluded, JOSEPHUS 187 on account of his imprudence, and out of the hopes of gain, and did not delay to come; but Joazar, suspecting snares were laid for him, stayed behind. So when Simon was come out, and his friends with him for his guard, I met him, and saluted him with great civility, and professed that I was obliged to him for his coming up to me; but a little while afterward I walked along with him, as though I would say something to him by himself; but when I had drawn him a good way from his friends, I took him about the middle, and gave him to my friends that were with me, to carry him into a village; and commanding my armed men to come down, I with them made an assault upon Tiberias. Now, as the fight grew hot on both sides, and the soldiers belonging to Tiberias were in a fair way to conquer me, (for my armed men were already fled away,) I saw the posture of my affairs ; and encouraging those that were with me, I pursued those of Tiberias, even when they were already conquerors, into the city. I also sent another band of soldiers into the city by the lake, and gave them orders to set on fire the first house they could seize upon. When this was done, the people of Tiberias thought that their city was taken by force, and so threw down their arms for fear; and implored, they, their wives, and children, that I would spare their city. So I was over-persuaded by their entreaties, and restrained the soldiers from the vehemency with which they pursued them ; while I myself, upon the coming on of the evening, returned back with my soldiers, and went to refresh myself. I also invited Simon to sup with me, and comforted him on occa- sion of what had happened; and I promised that I would send him safe and secure to Jerusalem, and withal would give him provisions for his journey thither. But on the next day, I brought ten thousand armed men with me, and came to Tiberias. I then sent for the principal men of the multitude into the public place, and enjoined them to tell me who were the authors of the revolt ; and when they told me who the men were, I sent them bound to the city Jotapata ; but, as to Jonathan and Ananias, I freed them from their bonds, and gave them provisions for their journey, together with Simon and Joazar, and five hundred armed men who should guard them ; and so I sent them to Jerusalem. 188 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY The people of Tiberias also came to me again, and desired that I would forgive them for what they had done ; and they said they would amend what they had done amiss with re- gard to me, by their fidelity for the time to come ; and they besought me to preserve what spoils remained upon the plunder of the city, for those that had lost them. Accord- ingly, I enjoined those that had got them to bring them all before us; and when they did not comply for a great while, and I saw one of the soldiers that were about me with a gar- ment on that was more splendid than ordinary, I asked him whence he had it; and when he replied that he had it out of the plunder of the city, I had him punished with stripes ; and I threatened all the rest to inflict a severer punishment upon them, unless they produced before us whatsoever they had plundered ; and when a great many spoils were brought together, I restored to every one of Tiberias what they claimed to be their own. And now I am come to this part of my narration, I have a mind to say a few things to Justus, who hath himself written a history concerning these affairs ; 2 as also to others who profess to write history, but have little regard to truth, and are not afraid, either out of ill-will or good-will to some per- sons, to relate falsehoods. These men do like those who com- pose forged deeds and conveyances ; and because they are not brought to the like punishment with them, they have no re- gard to truth. When, therefore, Justus undertook to write about these facts, and about the Jewish war, that he might appear to have been an industrious man, he falsified in what he related about me, and could not speak truth even about his own country; whence it is that, being belied by him, I am under a necessity to make my defense ; and so I shall say what I have concealed till now; and let no one wonder that I have not told the world these things a great while ago; for although it be necessary for a historian to write the truth, yet is such a one not bound severely to animadvert on the wickedness of certain men, not out of any favor to them, but out of an author's own moderation. How then comes it to pass, Justus! thou most sagacious of writers, (that I may address myself to him as if he were here present,) for 1 This history of Justus is lost. JOSEPHUS 189 so thou boastest of thyself, that I and the Galileans have been the authors of that sedition which thy country engaged in, both against the Romans and against the king [Agrippa, junior] for before ever I was appointed governor of Galilee by the community of Jerusalem, both thou and all the people of Tiberias had not only taken up arms, but had made war with Decapolis of Syria. Accordingly, thou hadst ordered their villages to be burnt, and a domestic servant of thine fell in the battle. Nor is it I only who say this; but so it is written in the Commentaries of Yespasian, the emperor; as also how the inhabitants of Decapolis came clamoring to Vespasian at Ptolemais, and desired that thou, who wast the author, [of that war,] mightst be brought to punishment ; and thou hadst certainly been punished at the command of Vespasian, had not King Agrippa, who had power given him to have thee put to death, at the earnest entreaty of his sister Bernice, changed the punishment from death into a long imprisonment. Thy political administration of affairs after- ward doth also clearly discover both thy other behavior in life, and that thou wast the occasion of thy country's revolt from the Romans; plain signs of which I shall produce presently. Thou sayest, indeed, that it is I who am a wicked man. But then, for what reason was it that King Agrippa, who pro- cured thee thy life when thou wast condemned to die by Vespasian, and who bestowed so much riches upon thee, did twice afterward put thee in bonds, and as often obliged thee to run away from thy country, and, when he had once ordered thee to be put to death, he granted thee a pardon at the earnest desire of Bernice? And when (after so many of thy wicked pranks) he had made thee his secretary, he caught thee falsifying his epistles, and drove thee away from his sight. But I shall not inquire accurately into these matters of scandal against thee. Yet cannot I but wonder at thy impudence, when thou hast the assurance to say, that thou hast better related these affairs [of the war] than have all the others that have written about them, whilst thou didst not know what was done in Galilee ; for thou wast then at Berytus with the king; nor didst thou know how much the Romans suffered at the siege of Jotapata, or what 190 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY miseries they brought upon us; nor couldst thou learn by inquiry what I did during that siege myself; for all those that might afford such information were quite destroyed in that siege. But perhaps thou wilt say, thou hast written of what was done against the people of Jerusalem exactly. But how should that be ? for neither wast thou concerned in that war, nor hast thou read the commentaries of Caesar ; of which we have evident proof, because thou hast contradicted those commentaries of Cassar in thy history. But if thou art so hardy as to affirm that thou hast written that history better than all the rest, why didst thou not publish thy history while the Emperors Vespasian and Titus, the generals in that war, as well as King Agrippa and his family, who were men very well skilled in the learning of the Greeks, were all alive? for thou hast had it written these twenty years, and then mightst thou have had the testimony of thy ac- curacy. But now, when these men are no longer with us, and thou thinkest thou canst not be contradicted, thou ven- turest to publish it. But then I was not in like manner afraid of my own writing, but I offered my books to the emperors themselves, when the facts were almost under men's eyes; for I was conscious to myself that I had observed the truth of the facts; and as I expected to have their attesta- tion to them, so I was not deceived in such expectation. Moreover, I immediately presented my history to many other persons, some of whom were concerned in the war, as was King Agrippa and some of his kindred. Now the Emperor Titus was so desirous that the knowledge of these affairs should be taken from these books alone, that he subscribed his own hand to them, and ordered that they should be pub- lished ; and for King Agrippa, he wrote me sixty-two letters, and attested to the truth of what I had therein delivered ; two of which letters I have here subjoined, and thou mayst thereby know their contents: "King Agrippa to Josephus; his dear friend, sendeth greeting. I have read over thy book with great pleasure, and it appears to me that thou hast done it much more accurately, and with greater care, than have the other writers. Send me the rest of these books. Farewell, my dear friend." "King Agrippa to Josephus, his dear friend, sendeth greeting. It seems by what thou JOSEPHUS 191 hast written, that thou standest in need of no instruction, in order to our information from the beginning. However, when thou comest to me, I will inform thee of a great many things which thou dost not know." So when this history was perfected, Agrippa, neither by way of flattery, which was not agreeable to him, nor by way of irony, as thou wilt say, for he was entirely a stranger to such an evil disposition of mind, but he wrote this by way of attestation to what was true, as all that read histories may do. And so much shall be said concerning Justus, which I am obliged to add by way of digression. Now, when I had settled the affairs of Tiberias, and had assembled my friends as a sanhedrim, I consulted what I should do as to John: whereupon it appeared to be the opinion of all the Galileans that I should arm them all, and march against John, and punish him as the author of all the disorders that had happened. Yet was not I pleased with their determination; as purposing to compose these troubles without bloodshed. Upon this I exhorted them to use the ut- most care to learn the names of all that were under John; which, when they had done, and I thereby was apprised who the men were, I published an edict, wherein I offered security and my right hand to such of John's party as had a mind to repent; and I allowed twenty days' time to such as would take this most advantageous course for themselves. I also threatened that, unless they threw down their arms, I would burn their houses, and expose their goods to public sale. When the men heard of this, they were in no small disorder, and deserted John; and to the number of four thousand threw down their arms, and came to me. So that no others stayed with John but his own citizens, and about fifteen hun- dred strangers that came from, the metropolis of Tyre; and when John saw that he had been outwitted by my stratagem, he continued afterward in his own country, and was in great fear of me. But about this time it was that the people of Sepphoris grew insolent, and took up arms, out of a confidence they had in the strength of their walls, and because they saw me en- gaged in other affairs also. So they sent to Cestius Gallus, who was president of Syria, and desired that he would either 192 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY come quickly to them, and take their city under his protec- tion, or send them a garrison. Accordingly Gallus promised them to come, but did not send word when he would come: and when I had learned so much, I took the soldiers that were with me, and made an assault upon the people of Sepphoris, and took the city by force. The Galileans took this oppor- tunity, as thinking they had now a proper time for showing their hatred to them, since they bore ill-will to that city also. They then exerted themselves as if they would destroy them all utterly, with those that sojourned there also. So they ran upon them, and set their houses on fire, as finding them with- out inhabitants ; for the men, out of fear, ran together to the citadel. So the Galileans carried off everything, and omitted no kind of desolation which they could bring upon their countrymen. When I saw this, I was exceedingly troubled at it, and commanded them to leave off, and put them in mind that it was not agreeable to piety to do such things to their countrymen: but since they neither would hearken to what I exhorted, nor to what I commanded them to do, (for the hatred they bore to the people there was too hard for my exhortations to them,) I bade those my friends, who were most faithful to me, and were about me, to give out reports, as if the Romans were falling upon the other part of the city with a great army; and this I did, that, by such a report being spread abroad, I might restrain the violence of the Galileans, and preserve the city of Sepphoris. And at length this stratagem had its effect; for, upon hearing this report, they were in fear for themselves, and so they left off plunder- ing, and ran away ; and this more especially, because they saw me, their general, do the same also; for, that I might cause this report to be believed, I pretended to be in fear as well as they. Thus were the inhabitants of Sepphoris unexpect- edly preserved by this contrivance of mine. Nay, indeed, Tiberias had like to have been plundered by the Galileans also upon the following occasion: The chief men of the senate wrote to the king, and desired that he would come to them, and take possession of their city. The king promised to come, and wrote a letter in answer to theirs, and gave it to one of his bed-chamber, whose name was Crispus, and who was by birth a Jew, to carry it to Tiberias. JOSEPHUS 193 When the Galileans knew that this man carried such a letter, they caught him and brought him to me; but as soon as the whole multitude heard of it, they were enraged, and betook themselves to their arms. So a great many of them got together from all quarters the next day, and came to the city Asochis, where I then lodged, and made heavy clamors, and called the city of Tiberias a traitor to them, and a friend to the king; and desired leave of me to go down and utterly destroy it; for they bore the like ill-will to the people of Tiberias as they did to those of Sepphoris. When I heard this, I was in doubt what to do, and hesi- tated by what means I might deliver Tiberias from the rage of the Galileans; for I could not deny that those of Tiberias had written to the king, and invited him to come to them ; for his letters to them, in answer thereto, would fully prove the truth of that. So I sat a long time musing with myself, and then said to them, "I know well enough that the people of Tiberias have offended; nor shall I forbid you to plunder the city. However, such things ought to be done with dis- cretion ; for they of Tiberias have not been the only betrayers of our liberty, but many of the most eminent patriots of the Galileans, as they pretended to be, have done the same. Tarry, therefore, till I shall thoroughly find out those authors of our danger, and then you shall have them all at once under your power, with all such as you shall yourselves bring in also." Upon my saying this, I pacified the multitude, and they left off their anger, and went their ways; and I gave orders that he who brought the king's letters should be put into bonds ; but in a few days I pretended that I was obliged, by a necessary affair of my own, to go out of the kingdom. I then called Crispus privately, and ordered him to make the soldier that kept him drunk, and to run away to the king. So when Tiberias was in danger of being utterly de- stroyed a second time, it escaped the danger by my skillful management, and the care that I had for its preservation. About this time it was that Justus, the son of Pistus, with- out my knowledge, ran away to the king; the occasion of which I will here relate. Upon the beginning of the war between the Jews and the Romans, the people of Tiberias resolved to submit to the king, and not to revolt from the A. V. 113 194 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY Romans ; while Justus tried to persuade them to betake them- selves to their arms, as being himself desirous of innovations, and having hopes of obtaining the government of Galilee, as well as of his own country [Tiberias] also. Yet did he not obtain what he hoped for, because the Galileans bore ill-will to those of Tiberias, and this on account of their anger at what miseries they had suffered from them before the war; thence it was that they would not endure that Justus should be their governor. I myself also, who had been intrusted by the community of Jerusalem with the government of Galilee, did frequently come to that degree of rage at Justus, that I had almost resolved to kill him, as not able to bear his mischievous disposition. He was therefore much afraid of me, lest at length my passion should come to extremity; so he went to the king, as supposing that he would dwell better and more safely with him. Now when the people of Sepphoris had, in so surprising a manner, escaped their first danger, they sent to Cestius Gallus, and desired him to come to them immediately, and take possession of their city, or else to send forces sufficient to repress all their enemies' incursions upon them ; and at the last they did prevail with Gallus to send them a considerable army, both of horse and foot, which came in the night-time, and which they admitted into the city. But when the country round about it was harassed by the Roman army, I took those soldiers that were about me, and came to Garisme, where I cast up a bank, a good way off the city Sepphoris ; and when I was at twenty furlongs' distance, I came upon it by night, and made an assault upon its walls with my forces : and when I had ordered a considerable number of my soldiers to scale them with ladders, I became master of the greatest part of the city. But soon after, our unacquaintedness with the places forced us to retire, after we had killed twelve of the Roman footmen, and two horsemen, and a few of the people of Sepphoris, with the loss of only a single man of our own. And when it afterwards came to a battle in the plain against the horsemen, and we had undergone the dangers of it cou- rageously for a long time, we were beaten; for upon the Romans encompassing me about, my soldiers were afraid, and fell back. There fell in that battle one of those that had JOSEPHUS 195 been intrusted to guard my body ; his name was Justus, who at this time had the same post with the king. At the same time also there came forces, both horsemen and footmen, from the king, and Sylla their commander, who was the cap- tain of his guard; this Sylla pitched his camp at five fur- longs' distance from Julias, and set a guard upon the roads, both that which led to Cana, and that which led to the fortress Gamala, that he might hinder their inhabitants from getting provisions out of Galilee. As soon as I had got intelligence of this, I sent two thousand armed men, and a captain over them, whose name was Jeremiah, who raised a bank a furlong off Julias, near to the river Jordan, and did no more than skirmish with the enemy; till I took three thousand soldiers myself, and came to them. But on the next day, when I had laid an ambush in a certain valley, not far from the banks, I provoked those that belonged to the king to come to a battle, and gave orders to my own soldiers to turn their backs upon them, until they should have drawn the enemy away from their camp, and brought them out into the field, which was done accordingly; for Sylla, supposing that our party did really run away, was ready to pursue them, when our soldiers that lay in ambush took them on their backs, and put them all into great dis- order. I also immediately made a sudden turn with my own forces, and met those of the king's party, and put them to flight. And I had performed great things that day, if a cer- tain fate had not been my hindrance ; for the horse on which I rode, and upon whose back I fought, fell into a quagmire, and threw me on the ground ; and I was bruised on my wrist, and carried into a village named Cepharnome, or Capernaum. "When my soldiers heard of this, they were afraid I had been worse hurt than I was; and so they did not go on with their pursuit any further, but returned in very great concern for me. I therefore sent for the physicians, and while I was under their hands, I continued feverish that day ; and, as the physicians directed, I was that night removed to Taricheas. When Sylla and his party were informed what happened to me, they took courage again; and understanding that the watch was negligently kept in our camp, they by night placed a body of horsemen in ambush beyond Jordan, and when it 196 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY was day they provoked us to fight ; and as we did not refuse it, but came into the plain, their horsemen appeared out of that ambush in which they had lain, and put our men into disorder, and made them run away; so they slew six men of our side. Yet did they not go off with the victory at last; for when they heard that some armed men were sailed from Taricheae to Julias, they were afraid, and retired. It was not now long before Vespasian came to Tyre, and King Agrippa with him: but the Tyrians began to speak re- proachfully of the king, and called him an enemy to the Romans; for they said that Philip, the general of his army, had betrayed the royal palace and the Roman forces that were in Jerusalem, and that it was done by his command. When Vespasian heard of this report, he rebuked the Tyrians for abusing a man who was both a king and a friend to the Romans ; but he exhorted the king to send Philip to Rome, to answer for what he had done before Nero. But when Philip was sent thither, he did not come into the sight of Nero, for he found him very near death, on account of the troubles that then happened, and a civil war; and so he returned to the king. But when Vespasian was come to Ptolemais, the chief men of Decapolis of Syria made a clamor against Justus of Tiberias, because he had set their villages on fire: so Vespasian delivered him to the king, to be put to death by those under the king's jurisdiction; yet did the king only put him into bonds, and concealed what he had done from Vespasian, as I have before related. But the people of Sepphoris met Vespasian, and saluted him, and had forces sent him, with Placidus their commander: he also went up with them, as I also followed them, till Vespasian came into Galilee. As to which coming of his, and after what manner it was ordered, and how he fought his first battle with me near the village Taricheae, and how from thence they went to Jotapata, and how I was taken alive, and bound, and how I was afterward loosed, with all that was done by me in the Jewish war, and during the siege of Jerusalem, I have accurately related them in the books concerning the war of the Jews. However, it will, I think, be fit for me to add now an account of those actions of my life which I have not related in that book of the Jewish war. JOSEPHUS 197 For, when the siege of Jotapata was over, and I was among the Romans, I was kept with much care, by means of the great respect that Vespasian showed me. Moreover, at his command, I married a virgin, who was from among the captives of that country : 3 yet did she not live with me long, but was divorced, upon my being freed from my bonds, and my going to Alexandria. However, I married another wife at Alexandria, and was thence sent, together with Titus, to the siege of Jerusalem, and was frequently in danger of be- ing put to death, while both the Jews were very desirous to get me under their power, in order to have me punished; and the Romans also, whenever they were beaten, supposed that it was occasioned by my treachery, and made continual clamors to the emperors, and desired that they would bring me to punishment, as a traitor to them: but Titus Caesar was well acquainted with the uncertain fortune of war, and returned no answer to the soldiers' vehement solicitations against me. Moreover, when the city of Jerusalem was taken by force, Titus Caesar persuaded me frequently to take what- soever I would of the ruins of my country, and said that he gave me leave so to do ; but when my country was destroyed, I thought nothing else to be of any value which I could take and keep as a comfort under my calamities; so I made this request to Titus, that my family might have their liberty : I had also the holy books by Titus 's concession: nor was it long after, that I asked of him the life of my brother, and of fifty friends with him; and was not denied. When I also went once to the temple, by the permission of Titus, where there were a great multitude of captive women and children, I got all those that I remembered, as among my own friends and acquaintances, to be set free, being in number about one hundred and ninety; and so I delivered them, without their paying any price of redemption, and restored them to their former fortune; and when I was sent by Titus Csesar with Cerealius, and a thousand horsemen, to a certain village called Thecoa, in order to know whether it were a place fit for a camp, as I came back, I saw many captives crucified; 8 Here Josephus, a priest, honestly confesses that he did that at the command of Vespasian, which he had before told us was not lawful for a priest to do by the law of Moses, (Antiq. b. iii. ch. xii. sect. 2). I mean, the taking a captive woman to wife. 198 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY and remembered three of them as my former acquaintance. I was very sorry at this in my mind, and went with tears in my eyes to Titus, and told him of them; so he immediately commanded them to be taken down, and to have the greatest care taken of them, in order to their recovery; yet two of them died under the physician's hands, while the third re- covered. But when Titus had composed the troubles in Judea, and conjectured that the lands which I had in Judea would bring me no profit, because a garrison to guard the country was afterward to pitch there, he gave me another country in the plains, and, when he was going away to Rome, he made choice of me to sail along with him, and paid me great respect ; and when we were come to Rome, I had great care taken of me by Vespasian; for he gave me an apartment in his own house, which he lived in before he came to the empire. He also hon- ored me with the privilege of a Roman citizen, and gave me an annual pension ; and continued to respect me to the end of his life, without any abatement of his kindness to me ; which very thing made me envied, and brought me into danger ; for a certain Jew, whose name was Jonathan, who had raised a tumult in Gyrene, and had persuaded two thousand men of that country to join with him, was the occasion of their ruin ; but when he was bound by the governor of that country, and sent to the emperor, he told him that I had sent him both weapons and money. However, he could not conceal his being a liar from Vespasian, who condemned him to die ; according to which sentence he was put to death. Nay, after that, when those that envied my good fortune did frequently bring ac- cusations against me, by God 's providence I escaped them all. I also received from Vespasian no small quantity of land, as a free gift, in Judea; about which time I divorced my wife also, as not pleased with her behavior, though not till she had been the mother of three children ; two of whom are dead, and one, whom I had named Hyrcanus, is alive. After this I married a wife who had lived at Crete, but a Jewess by birth : a woman she was of eminent parents, and such as were the most illustrious in all the country, and whose character was beyond that of most other women, as her future life did dem- onstrate. By her I had two sons; the elder's name was Jus- JOSEPHUS 199 tus, and the next Simonides, who was also named Agrippa: and these were the circumstances of my domestic affairs. However, the kindness of the emperor to me continued still the same ; for when Vespasian was dead, Titus, who succeeded him in the government, kept up the same respect for me which I had from his father; and when I had frequent accusations laid against me, he would not believe them: and Domitian, who succeeded, still augmented his respects to me; for he punished those Jews that were my accusers; and gave com- mand that a servant of mine, who was a eunuch, and my ac- cuser, should be punished. He also made that country I had in Judea tax-free, which is a mark of the greatest honor to him who hath it; nay, Domitia, the wife of Caesar, continued to do me kindnesses. And this is the account of my whole life; and let others judge of my character by them as they please; but to thee, O Epaphroditus, thou most excellent of men ! do I dedicate all this treatise of our Antiquities ; and so, for the present, I here conclude the whole. THE END THE Ey aa (I MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS work was MAECUS AURELIUS THE EMPEROR PHILOSOPHER 121-180 A. D. (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) Marcus Aurelius Antoninus is accepted by common consent as the noblest figure in Roman, perhaps in all pagan, history. He was of a patrician Roman family and so notable even in his earliest youth for ability and honesty that he was highly honored by both Hadrian and Antoninus Pius, the two emperors who preceded him. Antoninus adopted him as a son and made him heir to the imperial throne. Aurelius ruled the Roman world from the year 161 until his death. Most of this world's affections disappointed him; both his wife and his adopted brother and co-emperor were notorious for their vicious lives. His friends died; the Barbarians attacked the empire; his whole reign was spent in battle against foreign foes or Roman rebels. Yet he never wittingly did any man injustice, and was ever ready to forgive a foe or befriend a sufferer. He is the most noteworthy of the Stoic philosophers. The "Meditations" of this high-souled pagan were unknown until about the year 1550 when a manuscript of the work was discovered and published. Since then it has stood as one of the world's most cele- brated and most valued books. No other pagan work so nearly ap- proaches the Christian spirit of faith and obedience toward God and love and toleration toward all men. The ' ' Meditations ' ' were first written in Greek and for the emperor 's own study and perusal. They tell little of his outer history, but reveal so much of his inner life, so much of his soul's sorrow and its strength, that they are usually classed as autobiographical. They certainly take the first great step toward our modern conception of autobiography in that, unlike all earlier biographical works, they tell of the effect of the world upon the man rather than of his effect upon the world. They describe not the writer 's deeds but his spiritual and mental development. 201 202 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS BOOK I THE example of my grandfather Verus gave me a good dis- position, not prone to anger. By the recollection of my father's 1 character, I learned to be both modest and manly. As for my mother, she taught me to have regard for relig- ion, to be generous and open-handed, and not only to forbear from doing anybody an ill turn, but not so much as to endure the thought of it. By her likewise I was bred to a plain, in- expensive way of living, very different from the common lux- ury of the rich. I have to thank my great-grandfather that I did not go to a public school, but had good masters at home, and learned to know that one ought to spend liberally on such, things. From my governor I learned not to join either the green or the blue faction on the race-ground, nor to support the Parmularius or Scutarius at the gladiators' shows. He taught me also to put my own hand to business upon occasion, to endure hardship and fatigues, and to throw the necessities of nature into a little compass; that I ought not to meddle with other people's business, nor be easy in giving credit to informers. From Diognetus, to shun vain pursuits, not to be led away with the impostures of wizards and soothsayers, who pretend they can discharge evil spirits, and do strange feats by the strength of a charm ; not to keep quails for the pit, nor to be eager after any such thing. This Diognetus taught me to bear freedom and plain-dealing in others, and apply myself to philosophy. He also procured me the instruction of Bac- chius, Tandasis, and Marcianus. He likewise put me upon improving myself by writing dialogues when I was a boy; prevailed with me to prefer a couch covered with hides to a bed of state; and reconciled me to other like rigors of the Grecian discipline. 1 Annius Verus was the name of both his grandfather and father; his mother's name was Domitia Calvilla. The emperor T. Antoninus Pius married the paternal aunt of Marcus Aurelius, and adopted him. MARCUS AURELIUS 203 It was Rusticus 2 that first made me desire to live rightly, and come to a better state ; who prevented me from running into the vanity of sophists, either by writing speculative treatises, haranguing upon moral subjects, or making a fan- tastical appearance or display of generosity or discipline. This philosophy kept me from yielding to the charms of rhetoric and poetry, from affecting the character of a man of pleasantry, from wearing my senator's robe in the house, or anything of this kind which looks like conceit and affectation. He taught me to write letters in a plain, unornamental style, like that dated by him from Sinuessa to my mother. By his instructions I was persuaded to be easily reconciled to those who had misbehaved themselves and disobliged me, as soon as they desired reconciliation. And of the same master I learned to read an author carefully. Not to take up with a superficial view, or assent quickly to idle talkers. And, to conclude with him, he gave me his own copy of Epictetus 's memoirs. Apollonius 3 taught me to give my mind its due freedom, and disengage it from dependence upon chance, and not to regard, though ever so little, anything uncountenanced by reason. To maintain an equality of temper, even in acute pains, and loss of children, or tedious sickness. His practice was an excellent instance, that a man may be forcible and yet unbend his humor as occasion requires. The heaviness and impertinence of his scholars could seldom rouse his ill-temper. As for his learning, and the peculiar happiness of his manner in teaching, he was so far from being proud of himself upon this score, that one might easily perceive, he thought it one of the least things which belonged to him. This great man let me into the true secret of receiving an obligation, without either lessening myself, or seeming ungrateful to my friend. The philosopher Sextus recommended good-humor to me, and showed me the pattern of a household governed in a fatherly manner. He also bade me make nature and reason my rule to live by. By his precedent I was instructed to ap- pear with an unaffected gravity, to study the temper and cir- cumstances of my friends in order to oblige them. I saw 2 L. Junius Kusticus was a Stoic philosopher who was put to death by Domitian. * Apollonius of Chalcis was a Stoic philosopher. 204, LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY him bearing with the ignorant and undiscerning, complaisant and obliging to all people, so that his conversation was more charming than flattery ; and yet at the same time he was held in the highest reverence by others. Conversing with this phi- losopher helped me to draw up a true, intelligible, and me- thodical scheme for life and manners, and never so much as to show the least sign of anger, or any other disturbing thought, but to be perfectly calm and indifferent, yet tender- hearted. However, he let me see in himself that a man might show his good-will significantly enough, without noise and display, and likewise possess great knowledge without vanity and ostentation. Alexander the Grammarian taught me not to be ruggedly critical about words, nor find fault with people for improprie- ties of phrase or pronunciation, but to set them right by speaking the thing properly myself, and that either by way of answer, assent, or inquiry, or by some such other indirect and suitable correction. Fronto 4 taught me that envy, tricking, and dissimulation are the character and consequences of tyranny ; and that those we call patricians have commonly not much fatherly feeling in them. Alexander the Platonist advised me, that without neces- sity I should never say to any one, nor write in a letter, that I am not at leisure, nor make business an excuse to decline fre- quently the offices of humanity to those we dwell with. I learned of Catulus 5 not to slight a friend for making a remonstrance, though it should happen to be unreasonable, but rather to endeavor to restore him to his natural humor. That, like Domitius and Athenodotus, I should always speak well of those who had the care of my education, and that I should always preserve an hearty affection for my children. I am indebted to Severus 6 for the love I bear to my rela- tions, and towards justice and truth. He likewise made me acquainted with the character and sentiments of Cato, Brutus, Thrasea, Helvidius, and Dio; and gave me the idea of an equal commonwealth, with equal rights and equal speech, and * M. Cornelius Fronto was a rhetorician who was the emperor 's tutor. Part of Marcus Aurelius' correspondence with him is extant. 'China Catulus was a Stoic philosopher. 6 Claudius Severus was a Stoic philosopher. MARCUS AURELIUS 205 also of a monarchy, where the liberty of the subject was prin- cipally regarded. To mention some more of my obligations to him : It was of him I learned not to grow wise by starts and sudden fancies, but to be a constant admirer of philosophy and improvement ; that a man ought to be generous and oblig- ing, hope the best of matters, and never question the affection of his friends; to be free in showing a reasonable dislike of another, and no less clear in his own expectations and desires ; and not to put his friends to the trouble of divining what he would be at. I learned from Maximus 7 to command myself, and not to be too much drawn towards anything; to be full of spirits under sickness and misfortune ; to appear with modesty, oblig- ingness, and dignity of behavior ; to turn off business smoothly as it arises, without drudging and complaint. Whatever he did, all men believed him, that as he spoke, so he thought, and whatever he did, that he did with a good intent. He attained that greatness of mind, not to wonder or start at anything; neither to hurry an enterprise, nor sleep over it; never to be puzzled or dejected, nor to put on an appearance of friendliness ; not to be angry or suspicious, but ever ready to do good, and to forgive and speak truth ; and all this as one who seemed rather of himself to be straight and right, than ever to have been rectified. Nobody ever could fancy they were slighted by him, or dared to think themselves his betters. Besides all this, he had an agreeable wit. In my adoptive father I observed a smooth and inoffensive temper, with great steadiness in keeping close to measures judiciously taken; a greatness proof against vanity and the impressions of pomp and power. From him a prince might learn to love business and action, and be constantly at it ; to be willing to hear out any proposal relating to public advan- tage, and undeviatingly give every man his due ; to understand the critical seasons and circumstances for rigor or remissness. To have no boy-favorites. Not to stand upon points of state and prerogative, but to leave his nobility at perfect liberty in their visits and attendance; and when he was upon his progress, no man lost his favor for not being at leisure to follow the court. To debate matters nicely and thoroughly 7 Claudius Maximus was a Stoic philosopher. 206 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY at the council-board, and then to stand by what was resolved on, yet not hastily to give up the inquiry, as one easily satisfied with sudden notions and apprehensions. To be constant to a friend, without tiring or fondness. To be always satisfied and cheerful. To reach forward into the future, and manage accordingly. Not to neglect the least concerns, but all with- out hurry, or being embarrassed. Farther, by observing his methods and administrations, I had the opportunity of learn- ing how much it was the part of a prince to check the excesses of panegyric and flattery. To have his magazines and ex- chequer well furnished. To be frugal in his expenses, with- out minding being lampooned for his pains. Not to worship the gods to superstition ; not to court the populace, either by prodigality or compliment; but rather to be sober and firm upon all occasions, keeping things in a steady decorum, with- out chopping and changing of measures. To enjoy the plenty and magnificence of a sovereign fortune without bragging, and yet without making excuse; so as freely to enjoy them when present, but when wanting, not to be mortified at the loss of them. And to behave himself so that no man could charge him with sophistry, or buffooning, or being a pedant. No; he was a person mature and perfect, scorning flattery, and thoroughly qualified to govern himself and others. As for those that were philosophers in earnest, he had a great regard for them, but without reproaching those who were otherwise, nor yet being led away by these. He was con- descending and familiar in conversation, and pleasant too, but not to tiresomeness and excess. As for his health, he was not anxious about it, like one fond of living, or over-studious of bodily appearance, and yet managed his constitution with that care as seldom to stand in need of the assistance of physic or outward applications. Farther, he never envied and browbeat those that were eminent in any faculty or science, as eloquence, or knowledge of the laws or morals; but, on the contrary, encouraged them in their ways, and promoted their reputation. He observed fitness and custom in all his actions, and yet did not seem to regard them. He was not fickle and fluttering in his humor, but constant both to place and undertaking; and I have seen him, after violent fits of the headache, return fresh and vigorous to his usual MARCUS AURELIUS 207 business. He kept but few things to himself, and those were secrets of government. He was very moderate and frugal in shows, public buildings, liberalities, and such like, being one that did not so much regard the popularity as the right- ness of an action. It was none of his custom to bathe at un- usual hours, or to be overcome with the fancy of building, to study eating and luxury, to value the curiosity of his clothes, or the shape and person of his servants. His cloak came from Lorium, his villa on the coast ; at Lanuvium, he wore for the most part only a tunic ; and at Tusculum he would scarcely so much as put on a cloak without making an excuse for it. To take him altogether, there was nothing of ruggedness, im- modesty, or eagerness in his temper. Neither did he ever seem to drudge and sweat at the helm. Things were dis- patched at leisure, and without being felt ; and yet the admin- istration was carried on without confusion, with great order, force, and uniformity. Upon the whole, what was told of Socrates is applicable to him; for he was so much master of himself, that he could either take or leave those conveniences of life with respect to which most people are either uneasy without them, or intemperate with them. Now, to hold on with fortitude in one condition and sobriety in the other is a proof of a great soul and an impregnable virtue, such as he showed in the sickness of Maximus. I have to thank the gods that my grandfathers, parents, sister, preceptors, relations, friends, and domestics were al- most all of them persons of probity, and that I never happened to disoblige or misbehave myself towards any of them, not- withstanding that my disposition was such, that, had occasion offered, I might have acted thus ; but by the goodness of the gods, I met with no provocations to reveal my infirmities. It is likewise by their providence that my childhood was no longer managed by my grandfather's mistress; that I pre- served the flower of my youth ; that I was subject to the em- peror my father, and bred under him, who was the most proper person living to put me out of conceit with pride, and to convince me that it is possible to live in a palace without the ceremony of guards, without richness and distinction of habit, without torches, statues, or such other marks of royalty and state ; and that a prince may shrink himself almost into 208 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY the figure of a private gentleman, and yet act, nevertheless, with all the force and majesty of his character when the common weal requires it. It is the favor of the gods that I happened to meet with a brother, whose behavior and af- fection is such as to contribute both to my pleasure and im- provement. 8 It is also their blessing that my children were neither stupid nor misshapen; that I made no farther ad- vances in rhetoric, poetry, and such other amusements, which possibly might have engaged my fancy too far, had I found myself a considerable proficient; that, without asking, I gave my governors that share of honor which they seemed to de- sire, and did not put them off from time to time with promises and excuses, because they were yet but young ; that I had the happiness of being acquainted with Apollonius, Rusticus, and Maximus; that I have a clear idea of the life in accordance with nature, and the impression frequently refreshed : so that, considering the extraordinary assistance and directions of the gods, it is impossible for me to miss the road of nature unless by refusing to be guided by the dictates and almost sensible inspirations of heaven. It is by their favor that my con- stitution has held out so well, under a life of fatigue and business ; that I never had to do with Benedicta or Theodotus ; and, when I fell into some fits of love, I was soon cured ; that when I fell out with Rusticus, as it frequently happened, I was not transported into any act of violence; that I had the satisfaction of my mother's life and company a considerable while, though she was destined to die young ; that when I was willing to relieve the necessities of others, I was never told that the exchequer was empty ; and, again, it is they that kept me from standing in need of any man's fortune. Farther, it is from them that my wife is so very obedient and affec- tionate and so remote from luxury ; that I had choice of good governors for my children ; that remedies were prescribed me in a dream against giddiness and spitting of blood, as at Cajeta, by an ointment ; that when I had a mind to look into philosophy, I did not meet with a sophist to instruct me ; that I did not spend too much time in reading history, chopping 8 As Marcus Aurelius had no blood brother, this must refer to his adopted brother, Lucius Verus, who certainly did not deserve the praise here bestowed. MARCUS AURELIUS 209 logic, or considering the heavens. Now all these points could never have been compassed without a protection from above and the gods presiding over fate. This was written in the country of the Quadi, at the Granua. BOOK n REMEMBER to put yourself in mind every morning, that before night it will be your luck to meet with some busy-body, with some ungrateful, abusive fellow, with some knavish, en- vious, or unsociable churl or other. Now all this perverseness in them proceeds from their ignorance of good and evil ; and since it has fallen to my share to understand the natural beauty of a good action, and the deformity of an ill one since I am satisfied the person disobliging is of kin to me, and though we are not just of the same flesh and blood, yet our minds are nearly related, being both extracted from the Deity I am likewise convinced that no man can do me a real in- jury, because no man can force me to misbehave myself, nor can I find it in my heart to hate or to be angry with one of my own nature and family. For we are all made for mutual assistance, as the feet, the hands, and the eyelids, as the rows of the upper and under teeth, from whence it follows that clashing and opposition is perfectly unnatural. Now such unfriendly disposition exists in resentment and aversion. This being of mine, all there is of it, consists of flesh, breath, and the ruling part. Away with your books then. Suffer not your mind any more to be distracted. It is not permitted. As for your body, value it no more than if you were just expiring. For what is it? Nothing but a little blood and bones ; a piece of network, wrought out of nerves, veins, and arteries twisted together. In the next place, con- sider what sort of thing your breath is ; why, only a little air, and that not constant, but every moment let out of your lungs, and sucked in again. The third part of your com- position is the ruling part. Now consider thus: you are an old man : do not suffer this noble part of you under servitude any longer. Let it not be moved by the springs of selfish pas- sions ; let it not quarrel with fate, be uneasy at the present, or afraid of the future. A. V. 114 210 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY Providence shines clearly through the works of the gods; even the works of chance are not without dependence on Nature, being only an effect of that chain of causes which are under a providential regulation. Indeed, all things flow from this fountain; besides, there is necessity, and the in- terest of the whole universe, of which you are a part. Now, that which is both the product and support of universal Nature, must by consequence be serviceable to every part of it; but the world subsists upon change, and is preserved by the mutation of the simple elements, and also of things mixed and compounded, and what it loses one way it gets another. Let these reflections satisfy you, and make them your rule to live by. As for books, cast away your thirst after them, that you may not die complaining, but go off in good-humor, and heartily thank the gods for what you have had. Remember how often you have postponed minding your interest, and let slip those opportunities the gods have given you. It is now high time to consider what sort of world you are part of, and from what kind of governor of it you are descended ; that you have a set period assigned you to act in, and unless you improve it to brighten and compose your thoughts, it will quickly run off with you, and be lost beyond recovery. Take care always to remember that you are a man and a. Roman; and let every action be done with perfect and un- affected gravity, humanity, freedom, and justice. And be sure you entertain no fancies, which may give check to these qualities. This is possible, if you will but perform every ac- tion as though it were your last; if your appetites and pas- sions do not cross upon your reason; if you keep clear of rashness, and have nothing of insincerity and self-love to in- fect you, and do not complain of your destiny. You see what a few points a man has to gain in order to attain to a godlike way of living ; for he that comes thus far, performs all which the immortal powers will require of him. Continue to dishonor yourself, my soul! Neither will you have much time left to do yourself honor. For the life of each man is almost up already ; and yet, instead of paying a due regard to yourself, you place your happiness in the souls of other men. MARCUS AURELIUS 211 Do not let accidents disturb, or outward objects engross your thoughts, but keep your mind quiet and disengaged, that you may be at leisure to learn something good, and cease rambling from one thing to another. There is likewise an- other sort of roving to be avoided ; for some people are busy and yet do nothing; they fatigue and wear themselves out, and yet aim at no goal, nor purpose any general end of action or design. A man can rarely be unhappy by being ignorant of an- other 's thoughts ; but he that does not attend to the motions of his own is certainly unhappy. These reflections ought always to be at hand: To con- sider well the nature of the universe and my own nature, to- gether with the relation betwixt them, and what kind of part it is, of what kind of whole ; and that no mortal can hinder me from acting and speaking conformably to the being of which I am a part. Theophrastus, in comparing the degrees of faults (as men would commonly distinguish them), talks like a philosopher when he affirms that those instances of misbehavior which proceed from desire are greater than those of which anger is the occasion. For a man that is angry seems to quit his hold of reason unwillingly and with pain, and start out of rule before he is aware. But he that runs riot out of desire, being overcome by pleasure, loses all hold on himself, and all manly restraint. Well, then, and like a philosopher, he said that he of the two is the more to be condemned that sins with pleasure than he that sins with grief. For the first looks like an in- jured person, and is vexed, and, as it were, forced into a pas- sion ; whereas the other begins with inclination, and commits the fault through desire. Manage all your actions, words, and thoughts accordingly, since you may at any moment quit life. And what great matter is the business of dying? If the gods are in being, you can suffer nothing, for they will do you no harm. And if they are not, or take no care of us mortals why, then, a world without either gods or Providence is not worth a man 's while to live in. But, in truth, the being of the gods, and their concern in human affairs, is beyond dispute. And they have put it entirely in a man's power not to fall into any LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY! calamity properly so-called. And if other misfortunes had been really evils, they would have provided against them too, and furnished man with capacity to avoid them. But how can that which cannot make the man worse make his life so ? I can never be persuaded that the universal Nature neglected these matters through want of knowledge, or, having that, yet lacked the power to prevent or correct the error ; or that Nature should commit such a fault, through want of power or skill, as to suffer things, really good and evil, to happen pro- miscuously to good and bad men. Now, living and dying, honor and infamy, pleasure and pain, riches and poverty all these things are the common allotment of the virtuous and vicious, because they have nothing intrinsically noble or base in their nature ; and, therefore, to speak properly, are neither good nor bad. Consider how quickly all things are dissolved and re- solved ; the bodies and substances themselves into the matter and substance of the world, and their memories into its general age and time. Consider, too, the objects of sense, particularly those which charm us with pleasure, frighten us with pain, or are most admired for empty reputation. The power of thought will show a man how insignificant, despi- cable, and paltry these things are, and how soon they wither and die. It will show him what those people are upon whose fancy and good word the being of fame depends: also the nature of death, which, if once abstracted from the pomp and terror of the idea, will be found nothing more than a pure natural action. Now he that dreads the course of nature is a very child ; but this is not only a work of nature, but is also profitable to her. Lastly, we should consider how we are related to the Deity, and in what part of our being, and in what condition of that part. Nothing can be more unhappy than the curiosity of that man that ranges everywhere, and digs into the earth, as the poet says, for discovery; that is wonderfully busy to force by conjecture a passage into other people's thoughts, but does not consider that it is sufficient to reverence and serve the divinity within himself. And this service consists in this, that a man keep himself pure from all violent passion, and evil affection, from all rashness and vanity, and from all MARCUS AURELIUS 213 manner of discontent towards gods or men. For as for the gods, their administration ought to be revered upon the score of excellency; and as for men, their actions should be well taken for the sake of common kindred. Besides, they are often to be pitied for their ignorance of good and evil ; which incapacity of discerning between moral qualities is no less a defect than that of a blind man, who cannot distinguish be- tween white and black. Though you were to live three thousand, or, if you please, thirty thousand of years, yet remember that no man can lose any other life than that which he now lives, neither is he pos- sessed of any other than that which he loses. "Whence it fol- lows that the longest life, as we commonly speak, and the shortest, come all to the same reckoning. For the present is of the same duration everywhere. Everybody's loss, therefore, is of the same bigness and reaches no further than to a point of time, for no man is capable of losing either the past or the future ; for how can one be deprived of what he has not ? So .that under this consideration there are two notions worth re- membering. One is, that Nature treads in a circle^ and has much the same face through the whole course of eternity. And therefore it signifies not at all whether a man stands gazing here an hundred, or two hundred, or an infinity of years ; for all that he gets by it is only to see the same sights so much the oftener. The other hint is, that when the long- est and shortest-lived persons come to die, their loss is equal ; they can but lose the present as being the only thing they have ; for that which he has not, no man can be truly said to lose. Monimus, the Cynic philosopher, used to say that all things were but opinion. Now this saying may undoubtedly prove serviceable, provided one accepts it only as far as it is true. There are several different ways by which a man's soul may do violence to itself; first of all, when it becomes an abscess, and, as it were, an excrescence on the universe, as far as in it lies. For to be vexed at anything that happens is a separation of ourselves from nature, in some part of which the natures of all other things are contained. Secondly, it- falls under the same misfortune when it hates any person, or goes against him, with an intention of mischief, which is the LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY case of the angry and revengeful. Thirdly, it wrongs itself when it is overcome by pleasure or pain. Fourthly, when it makes use of art, tricking, and falsehood, in word or action. Fifthly, when it does not know what it would he at in a busi- ness, but runs on without thought or design, whereas even the least undertaking ought to be aimed at some end. Now the end of rational beings is to be governed by the law and reason of the most venerable city and constitution. The extent of human life is but a point ; its substance is in perpetual flux, its perceptions dim, and the whole composition of the body tending to corruption. The soul is but a whirl, fortune not to be guessed at, and fame undiscerning in a word, that which belongs to the body is a flowing river, and what the soul has is but dream and bubble. Life is but a campaign, or course of travels, and after-fame is oblivion. What is it, then, that will stick by a man ? Why, nothing but philosophy. Now, this consists in keeping the divinity within us from injury and disgrace, superior to pleasure and pain, doing nothing at random, without any dissembling and pre- tense, and independent of the motions of another. Farther, philosophy brings the mind to take things as they fall, and acquiesce in their distribution, inasmuch as all events proceed from the same cause with itself; and, above all, to have an easy prospect of death, as being nothing more than a dis- solving of the elements of which each thing is composed. Now, if the elements themselves are never the worse for running off one into another, what if they should all change and be dissolved? Why should any man be concerned at the consequence ? All this is but Nature 's method ; now, Nature never does any mischief. Written at Carnuntum. BOOK in WE ought not only to remember that life is wearing off, and a smaller part of it is left daily, but also to consider that if a man 's life should happen to be longer than ordinary, yet it is uncertain whether his mind will keep pace with his years, and afford him sense enough for business, and power to contemplate things human and divine. For if the man begins to dote, it is true the mere animal life goes on ; he may MARCUS AURELIUS breathe, and be nourished, and be furnished with imagination and appetite ; but to make any proper use of himself, to fill up the measure of his duty, to distinguish appearances, and to know whether it is time for him to walk out of the world or not as to all such noble functions of reason and judgment, the man is perfectly dead already. It concerns us, therefore, to push forward, and make the most of our matters, for death is continually advancing ; and besides that, our understanding sometimes dies before us. It is worth while to observe that the least thing that hap- pens naturally to things natural has something in itself that is pleasing and delightful. Thus, for example, there are cracks and little breaks on the surface of a loaf, which, though never intended by the baker, have a sort of agreeableness in them, which invites the appetite. Thus figs, when they are most ripe, open and gape ; and olives, when they fall of themselves and are near decaying, are particularly pretty to look at. The bending of an ear of corn, the brow of a lion, the foam of a boar, and many other things, if you take them singly, are far enough from being beautiful ; but when they are looked on as effects of the products of Nature, help to adorn and attract. Thus, if a man has but inclination and thought enough to examine the product of the universe, he will find the most un- promising appearances in the results of Nature not without charm, and that the more remote appendages have somewhat to recommend them. One thus prepared will be no less pleased to see the gaping jaws of living beasts than the imita- tions of painters and sculptors, and with chastened eyes he will find beauty in the ripeness of age as well as in the blos- som of youth. I grant many of these things will not charm every one, but only those who are truly in harmony with Nature and her works. Hippocrates, who cured so many diseases, himself fell ill and died. The Chaldeans, who foretold other people's death, at last met with their own fate. Alexander, Pompey, and Julius Csesar, who had destroyed so many towns, and cut off so many thousands of horse and foot in the field, were forced at last to march off themselves. Heraclitus, who argued so much about the universal conflagration, died through water by a dropsy. Democritus was eaten up with vermin ; another 216 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY sort of vermin destroyed Socrates. What are these instances for? Look you: you have embarked, you have made your voyage and your port; debark then without more ado. If you happen to land upon another world, there will be gods enough to take care of you ; but if it be your fortune to drop into nothing, why, then you will be no more solicited with pleasure and pain. Then you will have done drudging for your outer covering, which is the more unworthy in propor- tion as that which serves it is worthy ; for the one is all soul, intelligence, and divinity, whereas the other is but dirt and corruption. For the future, do not spend your thoughts upon other people, unless you are led to i by common interest. For the prying into foreign business that is, musing upon the talk, fancies, and contrivances of another, and guessing at the what and why of his actions does but make a man forget himself, and ramble from his own guiding principle. He ought, therefore, not to work his mind to no purpose, nor throw a superfluous link into the chain of thought ; and more especially, to avoid curiosity and malice in his inquiry. Ac- custom yourself, therefore, to think upon nothing but what you could freely reveal, if the question were put to you ; so that if your soul were thus laid open, there would nothing appear but what was sincere, good-natured, and public-spir- ited not so much as one voluptuous or luxurious fancy, nothing of hatred, envy, or unreasonable suspicion, nor aught else which you could not bring to the light without blushing. A man thus qualified, who does not delay to assume the first rank among mortals, is a sort of priest and minister of the gods, and makes a right use of the Deity within him. By the assistance thereof, he is preserved, uninfected with pleas- ure, invulnerable against pain out of the reach of injury, and above the malice of evil people. Thus he wrestles in the noblest fight, to hold his own against all his passions; and penetrated with the spirit of justice, welcomes with his whole heart all that happens and is allotted to him. He never minds other people's speech, thoughts, or actions, unless pub- lic necessity and general good require it. No; he keeps him- self to his own business, and contemplates that portion of the whole allotted him by the fates, and endeavors to do the first MARCUS AURELIUS 217 as it should be, and believes that his lot is good. For every man's fate is suitable, since it is suited to him. He considers that the rational principle is akin in all men, and that general kindness and concern for the whole world is no more than a piece of human nature that not every one's good opinion is not worth the gaining, but only that of those who seek to live in accordance with Nature. As for others, he knows their way of living, both at home and abroad, by day and by night, and their companions in their evil way of life, and he bears it in mind. And, why, indeed, should he value the commenda- tion of such people, who are not able even to please them- selves ? Be not unwilling, selfish, unadvised, or passionate in any- thing you do. Do not affect quaintness and points of wit: neither talk nor meddle more than is necessary. Take care that the divinity within you has a creditable charge to preside over ; that you appear in the character of your sex and age. Act like a Roman Emperor that loves his country, and be al- ways in a readiness to quit the field at the first summons ; and ere you claim your discharge, manage your credit so, that you need neither swear yourself nor want a voucher. Let your air be cheerful ; depend not upon external supports, nor beg your tranquillity of another. And, in a word, never throw away your legs, to stand upon crutches. If, in the whole compass of human life, you find anything preferable to justice and truth ; to temperance and fortitude ; to a mind self-satisfied with its own rational conduct, and en- tirely resigned to fate if, I say, you know anything better than this, turn to it with your whole soul, and enjoy it, ac- counting it the best. But if there is nothing more valuable than the divinity implanted within you, and this is master of its appetites, examines all impressions, and has detached it- self from the senses, as Socrates used to say, and shows itself submissive to the government of the gods, and helpful and benevolent to mankind if all things are trifles compared with this, give way to nothing else. For if you are once inclined to any such thing, it will no longer be in your power to give your undivided preference to what is your own peculiar good, for it is not lawful that anything of another kind or nature, as either popular applause, or power, or riches, or pleasures, 218 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY should be suffered to contest with what is rationally and politically good. All these things, if but for a while they be- gin to please, presently prevail, and pervert a man's mind. Let your choice therefore run all one way, and be bold and resolute for that which is best. Now what is profitable is best. If that means profitable to man as he is a rational being, stand to it ; but if it means profitable to him as a mere animal, reject it, and keep your judgment without arrogance. Only take care to make inquiry secure. Think nothing for your interest which makes you break your word, quit your modesty, hate, suspect, or curse any person, or inclines you to any practice which will not bear the light and look the world in the face. For he that values his mind and the worship of his divinity before all other things, need act no tragic part, laments under no misfortune, and wants neither solitude nor company ; and, which is still more, he will neither fly from life nor pursue it, but is perfectly in- different about the length or shortness of the time in which his soul shall be encompassed by his body. And if he were to expire this moment, he is as ready for it as for any other ac- tion that may be performed with modesty and decency. For all his life long this is his only care that his mind may al- ways be occupied as befits a rational and social creature. If you examine a man that has been well-disciplined and purified by philosophy, you will find nothing that is unsound, foul, or false in him. Death can never surprise his life as imperfect, so that nobody can say he goes off the stage before his part is quite played. Besides, there is in him nothing servile or affected; he neither attaches himself too closely to others, nor keeps aloof from them; he is neither responsible to them, nor does he avoid them. Hold in honor your opinionative faculty, for this alone is able to prevent any opinion from originating in your guid- ing principle that is contrary to Nature or the proper constitu- tion of a rational creature. Now, a rational constitution en- joins us to do nothing rashly, and to be kindly disposed towards men, and to submit willingly to the gods. As for other speculations, throw them all out of your head, excepting those few precepts above mentioned remem- bering withal, that every man's life lies all within the present, MARCUS AURELIUS 219 which is but a point of time ; for the past is spent, and the future is uncertain. Life moves in a very narrow compass; yes, and men live in a small corner of the world too. And the most lasting fame will stretch but to a sorry extent; for, alas! poor transitory mortals who hand it down know little even of themselves, much less of those who died long before their time. To the foregoing hints you may add this which follows: make for yourself a particular description and definition of every object that presents itself to your mind, that you may thoroughly contemplate it in its own nature, bare and naked, wholly and separately. And in your own mind call itself and the parts of which it is composed, and into which it will be resolved, by its own and proper name ; for nothing is so likely to raise the mind to a pitch of greatness as the power truly and methodically to examine and consider all things that hap- pen in this life, and so to penetrate into their natures as to apprehend at once what sort of purpose each thing serves, and what sort of universe makes use of it what value it bears to the whole, and what to man, who is a citizen of that great capital, in respect of which all other towns are no more than single families what is this object which makes an impres- sion on me ; how long can it last ; what virtue does it require of me ; is it good-nature, fortitude, truth, simplicity, self- sufficiency, or any of the rest? On each occasion a man should be ready to pronounce, ' ' This was sent me by heaven, this by destiny, or the combinations of fate, or by one of the same clan, or family, or company as myself, who knows not what is natural for him. But I do know ; therefore I am just and friendly to him, and treat him according to the natural laws of our communion. However, in things indifferent I take care to rate them according to their respective value." If you will be governed by reason, and manage what lies before you with industry, vigor, and temper ; if you will not run out after new distraction, but keep your divinity pure, even as though you must at once render it up again, your mind staunch and well disciplined, as if this trial of behavior were your last ; and, if you will but cleave to this, and be true to the best of yourself, fearing and desiring nothing, but living up to your nature, standing boldjy by the truth of your 220 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY word, and satisfied therewith, then you will be a happy man. But the whole world cannot hinder you from so doing. As surgeons always have their instruments and knives ready for sudden occasions, so be you always furnished with rules and principles to let you into the knowledge of things human and divine, remembering even in your slightest action the connection these two have with each other. For without a regard for things divine, you will fail in your behavior to- wards men ; and again, the reasoning holds for the other side of the argument. Wander at random no longer. Alas! you have no time left to peruse your diary, to read over the Greek and Roman history, or so much as your own commonplace book, which you collected to serve you when you were old. Hasten then towards the goal. Do not flatter and deceive yourself. Come to your own aid while yet you may, if you have a kindness for yourself. Men do not know in how many senses they can take the words to steal, to buy, to sow, to be quiet, to see what should be done ; for this is not effected by eyes, but by another kind of vision. There are three things which belong to a man body, soul, and mind. Sensation belongs to the body, impulse to the soul, and reason to the mind. To have the senses stamped with the impression of an object is common to brutes and cattle ; to be hurried and convulsed with passion is the quality of beasts of prey and men of pleasure such as Phalaris and Nero of atheists and traitors, too, and of those who do not care what they do when no man sees them. Now, since these qualities are common, let us find out the mark of a man of probity. His distinction, then, lies in letting reason guide his practice, in contentment with all that is allotted him, keep- ing pure the divinity within him, untroubled by a crowd of appearances, preserving it tranquil, and obeying it as a god. He is all truth in his words and justice in his actions ; and if the whole world should disbelieve his integrity, dispute his character, and question his happiness, he would neither take it ill in the least, nor turn aside from that path that leads to the aim of life, towards which he must move pure, calm, well- prepared, and with perfect resignation in his fata MARCUS AURELIUS 221 BOOK IV WHEN the mind acts up to Nature, she is rightly disposed, and takes things as they come, and tacks about with her cir- cumstances; as for fixing the condition of her activity, she is not at all solicitous about that. It is true, she is not per- fectly indifferent; she moves forward with a preference in her choice; but if anything comes cross, she falls to work upon it, and like fire converts it into fuel; for like this ele- ment, when it is weak, it is easily put out, but when once well kindled it seizes upon what is heaped upon it, subdues it into its own nature, and increases by resistance. Let every action tend to some point, and be perfect in its kind. It is the custom of people to go to unfrequented places and country places and the seashore and the mountains for retirement; and this you often earnestly desired. But, after all, this is but a vulgar fancy, for it is in your power to with- draw into yourself whenever you desire. Now one's own mind is a place the most free from crowd and noise in the world, if a man's thoughts are such as to insure him perfect tranquillity within, and this tranquillity consists in the good ordering of the mind. Your way is, therefore, to make fre- quent use of this retirement, and refresh your virtue in it. And to this end, be always provided with a few short, un- contested notions, to keep your understanding true, and send you back content with the business to which you return. For instance: What is it that troubles you? It is the wickedness of the world. If this be your case, out with your antidote, and consider that rational beings were made for mutual advantage, that forbearance is one part of justice, and that people misbehave themselves against their will. Consider, likewise, how many men have embroiled them- selves, and spent their days in disputes, suspicion, and ani- mosities; and now they are dead, and burned to ashes. Be quiet, then, and disturb yourself no more. But, it may be, the distribution of the world does not please you. Recall the alternative, and argue thus: either Providence or atoms rule the universe. Besides, you may recall the proofs that the world is, as it were, one great city and corporation. But LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY possibly the ill state of your health afflicts you. Pray reflect, your intellect is not affected by the roughness or smoothness of the currents of sensation, if she will retire and take a view of her own privilege and power. And when she has done this, recollect the philosophy about pleasure and pain, to which you have even now listened and assented. "Well! it may be the concern of fame sits hard upon you. If you are pinched here, consider how quickly all things vanish, and are forgotten what an immense chaos there stands on either side of eternity. Applause ! consider the emptiness of the sound, the precarious tenure, the little judgment of those that give it us, and the narrow compass it is confined to ; for the whole globe is but a point; and of this little, how small is your habitation, and how insignificant the number and quality of your admirers. Upon the whole, do not forget to retire into the little realm of your own. And, above all things, let there be no straining nor struggling in the case, but move freely, and contemplate matters like a human being, a citizen, and a mortal. And among the rest of your stock, let these two maxims be always ready: first, that things cannot disturb the soul, but remain motionless without, while disturbance springs from the opinion within the soul. The second is, to consider that the scene is just shifting and sliding off into nothing; and that you yourself have seen abundance of great alterations. In a word, the world is all transformation, and life is opinion. If the faculty of understanding lies in common amongst us all, then reason, the cause of it, must be common too ; and that other reason too which governs practice by commands and prohibitions. From whence we may conclude, that man- kind are under one common law; and if so, they must be fellow-citizens, and belong to some body politic. From whence it will follow, that the whole world is but one com- monwealth; for certainly there is no other society in which mankind can be incorporated. Now this common fund of understanding, reason, and law is a commodity of this same country, or which way do mortals light on it? For as the four distinctions in my body belong to some general head and species of matter; for instance, the earthy part in me comes from the division of earth; the watery belongs to an- MARCUS AURELIUS 223 other element; the airy particles flow from a third spring, and those of fire from one distinct from all the former (for nothing can no more produce something, than something can sink into nothing) ; thus it is evident that our understand- ing must proceed from some source or other. Death and generation are both mysteries of nature, and somewhat resemble each other; for the first does but dissolve those elements the latter had combined. Now there is noth- ing that a man need be ashamed of in all this ; nothing that is opposed to his nature as a rational being, and to the design of his constitution. Practices and dispositions are generally of a piece; such usage from such sort of men is in a manner necessary. To be surprised at it, is in effect to wonder that the fig-tree yields juice. Pray consider that both you and your enemy are dropping off, and that ere long your very memories will be extinguished. Do not suppose you are hurt, and your complaint ceases. Cease your complaint, and you are not hurt. That which does not make a man worse, does not make his life worse; and by consequence he has no harm either within or without. The nature of the general good was obliged to act in this manner. Take notice that all events turn out justly, and that if you observe nicely, you will not only perceive a connection between causes and effects, but a sovereign distribution of justice, which presides in the administration, and gives every- thing its due. Observe, then, as you have begun, and let all your actions answer the character of a good man I mean a good man in the strictness and notion of philosophy. If a man affronts you, do not accept his opinion or think just as he would have you do. No, look upon things as reality presents them. Be always provided with principles for these two purposes : First, To engage in nothing but what reason dictates, what the sovereign and legislative part of you shall suggest, for the interest of mankind. Secondly, To be disposed to quit your opinion, and alter your measures, when a friend shall give you good grounds for so doing. But then the reasons of LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY changing your mind ought to be drawn from some considera- tion regarding justice and public good, or some such generous motive, and not because it pleases your fancy, or promotes your reputation. Have you any sense in your head? Yes. Why do you not make use of it then? For if this faculty does but do its part, I cannot see what more you need wish for. At present your nature is distinct; but ere long you will vanish into the world. Or, rather, you will be returned into that universal reason which gave you your being. "When frankincense is thrown upon the altar, one grain usually falls before another; but it makes no difference. Do but turn to the principles of wisdom, and those who take you now for a monkey or a wild beast, will make a god of you in a week's time. Do not act as if you had ten thousand years to throw away. Death stands at your elbow. Be good for something, while you live and it is in your power. What a great deal of time and ease that man gains who lets his neighbor's words, thoughts, and behavior alone, con- fines his inspections to himself, and takes care that his own actions are honest and righteous. "Truly," as Agathon observes, "we should not wander thus, but run straight to the goal without rambling and impertinence. ' ' He that is so very solicitous about being talked of when he is dead, and makes his memory his inclination, does not consider that all who knew him will quickly be gone. That his fame will grow less in the next generation, and flag upon the course; and handed from one to another by men who eagerly desire it themselves, and are quenched themselves, it will be quenched at last; but granting your memory and your men immortal, what is their panegyric to you ? I do not say, when you are dead, but if you were living, what would commendation signify, unless for some reason of utility ? To conclude; if you depend thus servilely upon the good word of other people, you will be unworthy of your nature. Whatever is good has that quality from itself; it is fin- ished by its own nature, and commendation is no part of it. Why, then, a thing is neither better nor worse for being praised. This holds concerning things which are called good MARCUS AURELIUS 225 in the common way of speaking, as the products of nature and art; what do you think, then, of that which deserves this character in the strictest propriety? It wants nothing foreign to complete the idea any more than law, truth, good nature, and sobriety. Do any of these virtues stand in need of a good word, or are they the worse for a bad one? I hope an emerald will shine nevertheless for a man's being silent about the worth of it. Neither is there any necessity of praising gold, ivory, purple, a lyre, a dagger, a little flower, or a shrub. If human souls have a being after death, which way has the air made room for them from all eternity? Pray, how has the earth been capacious enough to receive all the bodies buried in it ? The solution of this latter question will satisfy the former. For as a corpse after some continuance by change and dissolution makes way for another, so when a man dies, and the spirit is let loose into the air, it holds out for some time, after which it is changed, diffused, and kin- dled in flame, or else absorbed into the generative principle of the universe. And thus they make room for succession. And this may serve for an answer upon the supposition of the soul's surviving the body. Besides, we are only to con- sider the vast number of bodies disposed of in the manner above mentioned ; but what an infinite number are every day devoured by mankind, and other living creatures, and as it were buried in their bodies. And yet by the transmutation of the food into the blood, or into fire and air, there is space enough. And now which way can a man investigate the truth ? Why, in order to do this, he must divide the thing in question into the causal and material elements. Do not run riot; keep your intention honest, and your convictions sure. Whatever is agreeable to you, O Universe, is so to me too. Nothing is early or late for me that is seasonable for you. Everything is fruit for me which your seasons bring, oh Nature. From you all things proceed, subsist in you, and return to you. And if the poet said, "Dear City of Cecrops, " may we not also say, "Dear City of God"? "If you would live at your ease," says Democritus, "man- age but a few things." I think it had been better if he had A. V. 115 226 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY said, "Do nothing but what is necessary; and what becomes the reason of a social being, and in the order too it prescribes it, ' ' For by this rule a man has the double pleasure of mak- ing his actions good and few into the bargain. For the greater part of what we say and do, being unnecessary, if this were but once retrenched, we should have both more leisure and less disturbance. And therefore before a man sets forward he should ask himself this question, ' ' Am I not upon the verge of something unnecessary?" Farther, we should apply this hint to what we think, as well as to what we do. For impertinence of thought draws unnecessary action after it. Make an experiment upon yourself, and examine your proficiency in a life of virtue. Try how you can acquiesce in your fate, and whether your own honesty and good nature will content you. Have you seen this side ? Pray view the other too. Never be disturbed, but let your purpose be single. Is any man guilty of a fault ? It is to himself then. Has any advantage happened to you? It is the bounty of fate. It was all of it preordained you by the universal cause, and woven in your destiny from the beginning. On the whole, life is but short, therefore be just and prudent, and make the most of it. And when you divert yourself, be always upon your guard. The world is either the effect of contrivance or chance; if the latter, it is a world for all that, that is to say, it is a regular and beautiful structure. Now can any man discover symmetry in his own shape, and yet take the universe for a heap of disorder? I say the universe, in which the very discord and confusion of the elements settle into harmony and order. 1 A black character, an effeminate character, an obstinate character, brutish, savage, childish, silly, false, scurrilous, mercenary, tyrannical. Not to know what is in the world, and not to know what is done in the world, comes much to the same thing, and a man is one way no less a stranger than the other. He is no better than a deserter that flies from public law. He is a blind man that shuts the eyes of his understanding; and ir The Greek word for Universe and Order is the same Tcosmos. MARCUS AURELIUS he is a beggar that is not furnished at home, but wants the assistance of another. He that frets himself because things do not happen just as he would have them, and secedes and separates himself from the law of universal nature, is but a sort of an ulcer of the world, never considering that the same cause which produced the displeasing accident made him too. And lastly, he that is selfish, and cuts off his own soul from the universal soul of all rational beings, is a kind of voluntary outlaw. This philosopher has never a tunic to his coat, the other never a book to read, and a third is half naked, and yet they are none of them discouraged. One learned man says, "I have no bread, yet I abide by reason." Another, "I have no profit of my learning, yet I too abide by reason. ' ' Be satisfied with your business, and learn to love what you were bred to; and as to the remainder of your life, be entirely resigned, and let the gods do their pleasure with your body and your soul. And when this is done, be neither slave nor tyrant to anybody. To begin somewhere, consider how the world went in Vespasian 's time ; consider this, I say, and you will find man- kind just at the same pass they are now : some marrying and some concerned in education, some sick and some dying, some fighting and some feasting, some drudging at the plow and some upon the exchange ; some too affable and some over- grown with conceit; one full of jealousy and the other of knavery. Here you might find a group wishing for the death of their friends, and there a seditious club complaining of the times. Some were lovers and some misers, some grasped at the consulship and some at the scepter. "Well! all is over with that generation long since. Come forward then to the reign of Trajan. Now here you will find the same thing, but they are all gone too. Go on with the contemplation, and carry it to other times and countries, and here you will see abundance of people very busy with their projects, who are quickly resolved into their elements. More particularly recollect those within your own memory, who have been hurried on in these vain pursuits ; how they have overlooked the dignity of their nature, and neglected to hold fast to that, and be satisfied with it. And here you must remember to 228 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY proportion your concern to the weight and importance of each action. Thus, if you refrain from trifling, you may part with amusements without regret. Those words which were formerly current are now become obsolete. Alas! this is not all; fame tarnishes in time too, and men grow out of fashion as well as language. Those celebrated names of Camillus, Caeso, Volesus, and Leonnatus are antiquated. Those of Scipio, Cato, and Augustus will soon have the same fortune, and those of Hadrian and Anto- ninus must follow. All these things are transitory, and quickly become as a tale that is told, and are swallowed up in oblivion. I speak this of those who have been the wonder of their age and who shone with unusual luster. But as for the rest, they are no sooner dead than forgotten. And after all, what does fame everlasting mean? Mere vanity. What then is it that is worth one's while to be concerned for? Why nothing but this : to bear an honest mind, to act for the good of society, to deceive nobody, to welcome everything that happens as necessary and familiar, and flowing from a like source. Put yourself frankly into the hands of fate, and let her spin you out what fortune she pleases. He that does a memorable action, and those that report it, are all but short-lived things. Accustom yourself to consider that whatever is produced, is produced by alteration ; that nature loves nothing so much as changing existing things, and producing new ones like them. For that which exists at present is, as it were, the seed of what shall spring from it. But if you take seed in the common notion, and confine it to the field or the womb, you have a dull fancy. You are just taking leave of the world, and yet you have not done with unnecessary desires. Are you not yet above disturbance and suspicion, and fully convinced that nothing without can hurt you ? You have not yet learned to be friends with everybody, and that to be an honest man is the only way to be a wise one. To understand the true quality of people, you must look into their minds, and examine their pursuits and aversions. Your pain cannot originate in another man's mind, nor MARCUS AURELIUS 229 in any change or transformation of your corporeal covering. Where then does it lie ? Why, in that part of you that forms judgments about things evil. Do not imagine you are hurt, and you are impregnable. Suppose then your flesh was hacked, burnt, putrefied, or mortified, yet let that part that judges keep quiet ; that is, do not conclude that what is com- mon to good or ill men can be good or evil in itself. For that which may be everybody's lot, must in its own nature be indifferent. You ought frequently to consider that the world is an animal, consisting of one soul and body, that an universal sense runs through the whole mass of matter. You should likewise reflect how nature acts by a joint effort, and how everything contributes to the being of everything : and lastly, what connection and subordination there is between causes and effects. Epictetus will tell you that you are a living soul, that drags a corpse about with her. Things that subsist upon change, and owe their being to instability, can neither be considerably good nor bad. Time is like a rapid river, and a rushing torrent of all that comes and passes. A thing is no sooner well come, but it is past ; and then another is borne after it, and this too will be carried away. Whatever happens is as common and well known as a rose in the spring, or an apple in autumn. Of this kind are diseases and death, calumny and trickery, and every other thing which raises and depresses the spirits of unthinking people. Antecedents and consequents are dexterously tied together in the world. Things are not carelessly thrown on a heap, and joined more by number than nature, but, as it were, rationally connected with each other. And as the things that exist are harmoniously connected, so those that become exhibit no mere succession, but an harmonious relationship. Do not forget the saying of Heraclitus, ''That the earth dies into water, water into air, air into fire, and so back- ward." Remember likewise the story of the man that trav- eled on without knowing to what place the way would bring him; and that many people quarrel with that reason that 230 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY governs the world, and with which they are daily conversant, and seem perfectly unacquainted with those things which occur daily. Farther, we must not nod over business for even in sleep we seem to act, neither are we to be wholly governed by tradition; for that is like children, who believe anything their parents tell them. Put the case, some god should acquaint you you were to die to-morrow, or next day at farthest. Under this warning, you would be a very poor wretch if you should strongly solicit for the longest time. For, alas! how inconsiderable is the difference? In like manner, if you would reason right, you would not be much concerned whether your life were to end to-morrow or a thousand years hence. Consider how many physicians are dead that used to knit their brows over their patients; how many astrologers who thought themselves great men by foretelling the death of others; how many philosophers have gone the way of all flesh, after all their learned disputes about dying and immor- tality; how many warriors, who had knocked so many men's brains out; how many tyrants, who managed the power of life and death with as much insolence as if they had been immortal; how many cities, if I may say so, have given up the ghost: for instance, Helice in Greece, Pompeii and Herculaneum in Italy; not to mention many besides. Do but recollect your acquaintance, and here you will find one man closing another's eyes, then he himself is laid out, and this one by another. And all within a small compass of time. In short, mankind are poor transitory things ! They are one day in the rudiments of life and almost the next turned to mummy or ashes. Your way is therefore to manage this minute in harmony with nature, and part with it cheerfully ; and like a ripe olive when you drop, be sure to speak well of the mother that bore you, and make your acknowledgments to the tree that produced you. Stand firm like a rock, against which though the waves batter, yet it stands unmoved, and they fall to rest at last. How unfortunate has this accident made me, cries such an one! Not at all! He should rather say, What a happy mortal am I for being unconcerned upon this occasion! for being neither crushed by the present, nor afraid of what is MARCUS AURELIUS 231 to come. The thing might have happened to any other man as well as myself ; but for all that, everybody would not have been so easy under it. "Why then is not the good fortune of the bearing more considerable than the ill fortune of the happening? Or, to speak properly, how can that be a mis- fortune to a man which does not frustrate his nature ? And how can that cross upon a man 's nature which is not opposed to the intention and design of it? Now what that intention is, you know. To apply this reasoning : does the present acci- dent hinder your being just, magnanimous, temperate and modest, judicious, truthful, reverent, and unservile? Now, when a man is furnished with these good qualities, his nature has what she would have. Farther, when everything grows troublesome, recollect this maxim: This accident is not a misfortune, but bearing it well turns it to an advantage. To consider those old people that resigned life so un- willingly, is a common yet not unserviceable aid in facing death. For what are these long-lived mortals more than those that went off in their infancy? What has become of Cadicianus, Fabius, Julianus, and Lepidus, and others like them? They buried a great many, but came at last to it themselves. Upon the whole, the difference between long and short life is insignificant, especially if you consider the accidents, the company, and the body you must go through with. Therefore do not let a thought of this kind affect you. Do but look upon the astonishing notion of time and eternity ; what an immense deal has run out already, and how infinite it is still in the future. Do but consider this, and you will find three days and three ages of life come much to the same thing. Always go the shortest way to work. Now, the nearest road to your business is the road of nature. Let it be your constant method, then, to be sound in word and in deed, and by this means you need not grow fatigued, you need not quarrel, flourish and dissemble like other people. BOOK v WHEN you find an unwillingness to rise early in the morn- ing, make this short speech to yourself : I am getting up now to do the business of a man; and am I out of humor for LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY going about that I was made for, and for the sake of which I was sent into the world ? Was I then designed for nothing but to doze and keep warm beneath the counterpane ? Well ! but this is a comfortable way of living. Granting that: were you born only for pleasure? were you never to do anything? Is not action the end of your being? Pray look upon the plants and birds, the ants, spiders, and bees, and you will see them all exerting their nature, and busy in their station. Pray, shall not a man act like a man ? Why do you not rouse your faculties, and hasten to act according to your nature? For all that, there is no living without rest. True ; but nature has fixed a limit to eating and drinking, and here, too, you generally exceed bounds, and go beyond what is sufficient. Whereas in business you are apt to do less than lies in your power. In earnest, you have no true love for yourself. If you had, you would love your nature and honor her wishes. Now, when a man loves his trade, how he will sweat and drudge to perform to perfection. But you honor your nature less than a turner does the art of turning, a dancing-master the art of dancing. And as for wealth and popularity, how eagerly are they pursued by the vain and the covetous! All these people when they greatly desire anything, seek to attain it, might and main, and will scarcely allow themselves neces- sary refreshment. And now, can you think the exercise of social duties less valuable than these petty amusements, and worth less exertion? What an easy matter it is to stem the current of your imagination, to discharge a troublesome or improper thought, and at once return to a state of calm. Do not think any word or action beneath you which is in accordance with nature; and never be misled by the appre- hension of censure or reproach. Where honesty prompts you to say or do anything never hold it beneath you. Other people have their own guiding principles and impulses ; mind them not. Go on in the straight road, pursue your own and the common interest. For to speak strictly, these two are approached by one and the same road. I will march on in the path of nature till my legs sink under me, and then I shall be at rest, and expire into that air which has given me my daily breath ; fall upon that earth MARCUS AURELIUS 233 which has maintained my parents, helped my nurse to her milk, and supplied me with meat and drink for so many years; and though its favors have been often abused, still suffers me to tread upon it. Wit and smartness are not your talent. What then ? There are a great many other good qualities in which you cannot pretend nature has failed you; improve them as far as you can, and let us have that which is perfectly in your power. You may if you please behave yourself like a man of gravity and good faith, endure hardship, and despise pleasure; want but a few things, and complain of nothing ; you may be gentle and magnanimous if you please, and have nothing of luxury or trifling in your disposition. Do not you see how much you may do if you have a mind to it, where the plea of in- capacity is out of place? And yet you do not push forward as you should do. What then! Does any natural defect force you to grumble, to lay faults upon your constitution, to be stingy or a flatterer, to seek after popularity, boast, and be disturbed in mind? Can you say you are so weakly made as to be driven to these practices? The immortal gods know the contrary. No, you might have stood clear of all this long since; and after all, if your parts were somewhat slow, and your understanding heavy, your way had been to have taken the more pains with yourself, and not to have lain fallow and remained content with your own dullness. Some men, when they do you a kindness, at once demand the payment of gratitude from you ; others are more modest than this. However, they remember the favor, and look upon you in a manner as their debtor. A third sort shall scarce know what they have done. These are much like a vine, which is satisfied by being fruitful in its kind, and bears a bunch of grapes without expecting any thanks for it. A fleet horse or greyhound does not make a noise when they have done well, nor a bee neither when she has made a little honey. And thus a man that has done a kindness never pro- claims it, but does another as soon as he can, just like a vine that bears again the next season. Now we should imitate those who are so obliging, as hardly to reflect on their benefi- cence. But you will say, a man ought not to act without reflection. It is surely natural for one that is generous to be 234 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY conscious of his generosity; yes, truly, and to desire the person obliged should be sensible of it too. What you say is in a great measure true. But if you mistake my meaning, you will become one of those untoward benefactors I first mentioned ; indeed, they too are misled by the plausibility of their reasoning. But if you will view the matter in its true colors, never fear that you will neglect any social act. A prayer of the Athenians, "Send down, oh! send down rain, dear Zeus, on the plowed fields and plains of the Athenians." Of a truth, we should not pray at all, or else in this simple and noble fashion. .^sculapius, as we commonly say, has prescribed such an one riding out, walking in his slippers, or a cold bath. Now, with much the same meaning we may affirm that the nature of the universe has ordered this or that person a disease, loss of limbs or estate, or some such other calamity. For as in the first case, the word "prescribed" signifies a direction for the health of the patient, so in the latter it means an applica- tion fit for his constitution and fate. And thus these harsher events may be counted fit for us, as stone properly joined together in a wall or pyramid is said by the workmen to fit in. Indeed, the whole of nature consists of harmony. For as the world has its form and entireness from that universal matter of which it consists, so the character of fate results from the quality and concurrence of all other causes con- tained in it. The common people understand this notion very well. Their way of speaking is: "This happened to this man, therefore it was sent him and appointed for him." Let us then comply with our doom, as we do with the pre- scriptions of ^Esculapius. These doses are often unpalatable and rugged, and yet the desire of health makes them go merrily down. Now that which nature esteems profit and convenience, should seem to you like your own health. And, therefore, when anything adverse happens, take it quietly to you; it is for the health of the universe, and the prosperity of Zeus himself. Depend upon it, this had never been sent you, if the universe had not found its advantage in it. Neither does nature act at random, or order anything which is not suitable to those beings under her government. You have two reasons, therefore, to be contented with your condition. MARCUS AURELIUS 235 First, because it has befallen you, and was appointed you from the beginning by the highest and most ancient causes. Secondly, The lot even of individuals is in a manner destined for the interest of him that governs the world. It perfects his nature in some measure, and causes and continues his happiness; for it holds in causes, no less than in parts of a whole that if you lop off any part of the continuity and con- nection, you maim the whole. Now, if you are displeased with your circumstances, you dismember nature, and pull the world in pieces, as much as lies in your power. Be not uneasy, discouraged, or out of humor, because practice falls short of precept in some particulars. If you happen to be beaten, come on again, and be glad if most of your acts are worthy of human nature. Love that to which you return, and do not go like a schoolboy to his master, with an ill will. No, you must apply to philosophy with inclina- tion, as those who have sore eyes make use of a good receipt. And when you are thus disposed, you will easily acquiesce in reason, and make your abode with her. And here you are to remember that philosophy will put you upon nothing but what your nature wishes and calls for. But you are crossing the inclinations of your nature. Is not this the most agree- able? And does not pleasure often deceive us under this pretense ? Now think a little, and tell me what is there more delightful than greatness of mind, and generosity, simplicity, equanimity, and piety? And once more, what can be more delightful than prudence? than to be furnished with that faculty of knowledge and understanding which keeps a man from making a false step, and helps him to good fortune in all his business? Things are so much perplexed and in the dark that several great philosophers looked upon them as altogether unintel- ligible, and that there was no certain test for the discovery of truth. Even the Stoics agree that certainty is very hard to come at; that our assent is worth little, for where is infallibility to be found? However, our ignorance is not so great but that we may discover how transitory and insignifi- cant all things are, and that they may fall into the worst hands. Farther, consider the temper of those you converse with, and you will find the best will hardly do; not to men- 236 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY tion that a man has work enough to make himself tolerable to himself. And since we have nothing but darkness and dirt to grasp at, since time and matter, motion and mortals are in perpetual flux ; for these reasons, I say, I cannot imag- ine what there is here worth the minding or being eager about. On the other hand, a man ought to keep up his spirits, for it will not be long before his discharge comes. In the meantime, he must not fret at the delay, but satisfy himself with these two considerations: the one is, that nothing will befall me but what is in accordance with the nature of the universe ; the other, that I need do nothing contrary to my mind and divinity, since no one can force me to act thus, or force me to act against my own judgment. What use do I put my soul to? It is a serviceable ques- tion this, and should frequently be put to oneself. How does my ruling part stand affected ? And whose soul have I now ? That of a child, or a young man, or a feeble woman, or of a tyrant, of cattle or wild beasts. What sort of good things those are, which are commonly so reckoned on, you may learn from hence. For the purpose, if you reflect upon those qualities which are intrinsically val- uable, such as prudence, temperance, justice, and fortitude, you will not find it possible afterwards to give ear to those, for this is not suitable to a good man. But if you have once conceived as good what appears so to the many, you will hear and gladly accept as suitable the saying of the comic writer. Thus we see the generality are struck with the dis- tinction, otherwise they would not dislike the liberty in one case, and allow it in the other, holding it a suitable and witty jest when it is directed against wealth, and the means that further luxury and ambition. Now, what significancy and excellence can there be in these things, to which may be applied the poet's jest, that excess of luxury leaves no room for comfort ? My being consists of matter and form, that is, of soul and body; annihilation will reach neither of them, for they were never produced out of nothing. The consequence is, that every part of me will serve to make something in the world ; and this again will change into another part through an infinite succession of change. This constant method of MARCUS AURELIUS 237 alteration gave me my being, and my father before me, and so on to eternity backward : for I think I may speak thus, even though the world be confined within certain determinate periods. Reason and the reasoning faculty need no foreign assist- ance, but are sufficient for their own purposes. They move within themselves, and make directly for the point in view. Wherefore, acts in accordance with them are called right acts, for they lead along the right road. Those things do not belong to a man which do not belong to him as a man. For they are not included in the idea ; they are not required of us men ; human nature does not promise them; neither is it perfected by them. From whence it fol- lows that they can neither constitute the chief end of man, nor strictly contribute towards it. Farther, if these things were any real additions, how comes the contempt of them, and the being easy without them, to be so great a commenda- tion? To balk an advantage would be folly if these things were truly good. But the case stands otherwise; for we know that self-denial and indifference about these things, and patience when they are taken away, is the character of a good man. Your manners will depend very much upon the quality of what you really think on; for the soul is as it were tinged with the color and complexion of thought. Be sure therefore to work in such maxims as these. Wherever a man lives, he may live well; by consequence, a life of virtue and that of a courtier are not inconsistent. Again, that which a thing is made for, is that towards which it is carried, and in that which it is naturally carried to, lies the end of the act. Now where the end of a thing is, there the advantage and improvement of it is certainly lodged. Now the happi- ness of mankind lies in society, since that we were made for this purpose, I have proved already. For is it not plain that the lower order of beings are made for the higher, and the higher for the service of each other? Now as those with souls are superior to the soulless, so amongst all creatures with souls the rational are the best. To expect an impossibility is madness. Now it is impos- sible for ill men not to do ill. 238 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY There is nothing happens to any person but what was in his power to go through with. Some people have had very severe trials, and yet either by having less understanding, or more pride than ordinary, have charged bravely through the misfortune, and come off without a scratch. Now it is a disgrace to let ignorance and vanity do more with us than prudence and principle. Outward objects cannot take hold of the soul, nor force their passage into her, nor set any of her wheels going. No, the impression comes from herself, and it is her own motions which affect her. As for the contingencies of fortune, they are either great or little, according to the opinion she has of her own strength. When we consider we are bound to be serviceable to man- kind, and bear with their faults, we shall perceive there is a common tie of nature and relation between us. But when we see people grow troublesome and disturb us in our busi- ness, here we are to look upon men as indifferent sort of things, no less than sun or wind, or a wild beast. It is true they may hinder me in the executing part, but all this is of no moment while my inclinations and good intent stand firm, for these can act according to the condition and change. For the mind converts and changes every hindrance into help. And thus it is probable I may gain by the opposition, and let the obstacle help me on my road. Among all things in the universe, direct your worship to the greatest. And which is that? It is that being which manages and governs all the rest. And as you worship the best thing in nature, so you are to pay a proportionate regard to the best thing in yourself, and this is akin to the Deity. The quality of its functions will discover it. It is the reign- ing power within you, which disposes of your actions and your fortune. That which does not hurt the city or body politic cannot hurt the citizen. Therefore when you think you are ill-used, let this reflection be your remedy: If the community is not the worse for it, neither am I. But if the community is in- jured, your business is to show the person concerned his fault, but not to grow passionate about it. Reflect frequently upon the instability of things, and how MARCUS AURELIUS 239 very fast the scenes of nature are shifted. Matter is in a perpetual flux. Change is always and everywhere at work; it strikes through causes and effects, and leaves nothing fixed and permanent. And then how very near us stand the two vast gulfs of time, the past and the future, in which all things disappear. Now is not that man a blockhead that lets these momentary things make him proud, or uneasy, or sorrowful, as though they could trouble him for long ? Remember what an atom your person is in respect of the universe, what a minute of immeasurable time falls to your share, and what a small concern you are in the empire of fate ! A man misbehaves himself towards me ; what is that to me? The action is his, and the disposition that led him to it is his, and therefore let him look to it. As for me, I am in the condition the universal nature assigns me, and am doing what my own nature assigns me. Whether the motions of your body are rugged or agree- able, do not let your ruling and governing principle be con- cerned with them ; confine the impressions to their respective quarters, and let your mind keep her distance, and not mingle with them. It is true, that which results from the laws of the union through the force of sympathy or constitution, must be felt, for nature will have its course. But though the sen- sation cannot be stopped, it must not be overrated, nor strained to the quality of good or evil. We ought to live with the gods. This is done by him who always exhibits a soul contented with the appointments of Providence, and obeys the orders of that divinity which is his deputy and ruler, and the offspring of God. Now this divine authority is neither more nor less than that soul and reason which every man possesses. Are you angry at a rank smell or an ill-scented breath? What good will this anger do you? But you will say the man has reason, and can, if he takes pains, discover wherein he offends. I wish you joy of your discovery. Well, if you think mankind so full of reason, pray make use of your own. Argue the case with the faulty person, and show him his error. If your advice prevails, he is what you would have him ; and then there is no need of being angry. You may live now if you please, as you would choose to 240 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY do if you were near dying. But suppose people will not let you, why then, give life the slip, but by no means make a misfortune of it. If the room smokes I leave it, and there is an end, for why should one be concerned at the matter? However, as long as nothing of this kind drives me out, I stay, behave as a free man, and do what I have a mind to; but then I have a mind to nothing but what I am led to by reason and public interest. The soul of the universe is of a social disposition. For this reason it has made the lower part of the creation for the sake of the higher. And as for those beings of the higher rank, it has bound them to each other. You see how admi- rably things are ranged and subordinated according to the dignity of their kind, and cemented together in mutual har- mony. Recollect how you have behaved yourself all along towards the gods, your parents, brothers, wife, and children ; towards your instructors, governors, friends, acquaintance, and serv- ants. Whether men can say of you, "He never wronged a man in word or deed." Recollect how much business you have been engaged in, and what you have had strength to endure ; that now your task is done, and the history of your life finished. Remember likewise how many fair sights you have seen, how much of pleasure and pain you have de- spised, how much glory disregarded, and how often you have done good against evil. Why should skill and knowledge be disturbed at the cen- sures of ignorance ? But who are these knowing and skillful people? Why, those who are acquainted with the original cause and end of all things, with that reason which pervades the mass of matter, which renews the world at certain periods, and which governs it through all the lengths of time. You will quickly be reduced to ashes and skeleton. And it may be you will have a name left you, and it may be not. And what is a name? Nothing but sound and echo. And then for those things which are so much valued in the world, they are miserably empty and rotten, and insignificant. It is like puppies snarling for a bone ; and the contests of little children sometimes transported, and then again all in tears about a plaything. And as for modesty and good faith, truth MARCUS AURELIUS 241 and justice, they have fled "up to Olympus from the wide- spread earth." And now, what is it that can keep you here? For if the objects of sense are floating and changeable, and the organs misty, and apt to be imposed on; if the soul is but a vapor drawn off the blood, and the applause of little mortals insignificant; if the case stands thus, why not have patience till you are either extinguished or removed? And till that time comes, what is to be done ? The answer is easy : to worship the gods, and speak honorably of them; to be beneficial to mankind ; to bear with them or avoid them ; and lastly, to remember that whatever lies without the compass of your own flesh and breath is nothing of yours, nor in your power. You may be always successful if you do but set out well, and let your thoughts and practice proceed upon right method. There are two properties and privileges common to the soul of God and man and all rational beings. The one is, not to be hindered by anything external ; the other, to make virtuous intention and action their supreme satisfaction, and not so much as to desire anything farther. If this accident is no fault of mine, nor a consequence of it; and besides, if the community is never the worse for it, why am I concerned? Now, how is the community injured? Do not suffer a sudden impression to overbear your judg- ment. Let those that want your assistance have it as far as the case requires. But if they are injured in matters indif- ferent, do not consider it any real damage, for that is a bad habit. But as the old man, when he went away, asked back his foster-child's top, remembering that it was a top, so do in this case also. When you are haranguing in the rostra, a little of this to yourself would not be amiss: Hark you, friend, have you forgotten what this glitter of honor really is? I grant it is but tinsel, but for all that it is extremely valued. And because other people are fools, must you be so too ? I can at once become happy anywhere, for he is happy who has found for himself a happy lot. In a word, happiness lies all in the functions of reason, in warrantable desires and virtuous practice. A. V. 116 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BOOK VI As the substance of the universe is pliable and obedient, so that sovereign reason which gives laws to it has neither motive nor inclination to bring an evil upon anything. It has no evil in its nature, nor does evil, but forms and governs all things, and hurts nothing. Do but your duty, and do not trouble yourself, whether it is in the cold, or by a good fire, whether you are over- watched, or satisfied with sleep, whether you have a good word or a bad one, whether you are dying, or doing anything else, for this last must be done at one time or other. It is part of the business of life to leave it, and here too it suffices to manage the present well. Look thoroughly into matters, and let not the peculiar quality or intrinsic value of anything escape you. The present appearance of things will quickly undergo a change, and be either exhaled into common matter or dis- persed. That intelligent Being that governs the universe has perfect views of His own nature and acts, and of the matter on which He acts. The best way of revenge is not to imitate the injury. Be always doing something serviceable to mankind, and let this constant generosity be your only pleasure, not forget- ting in the meantime a due regard to the Deity. The governing part of the mind arouses and alters itself; gives what air it pleases to its own likeness, and to all the accidents and circumstances without. The particular effects in the world are all wrought by one intelligent nature. This universal cause has no for- eign assistant, no interloping principle, either without or within it. The world is either a medley of atoms that now inter- mingle and now are scattered apart, or else it is a unity under the laws of order and providence. If the first, what should I stay for, where nature is in such a chaos, and things are so blindly jumbled together? Why do I care for anything else than to return to the element of earth as soon as may be? Why should I give myself any trouble? Let me do what I MARCUS AURELIUS will, my elements will be scattered. But if there is a Provi- dence, then I adore the great Governor of the world, and am easy and of good cheer in the prospect of protection. [The "Meditations" contain twelve books in all; but the later books, seven to twelve, contain no material of an auto- biographical or even of a personal character, except perhaps in the passages that follow.] To keep you modest and free from vain glory, remember that it is no longer in your power to spend your life wholly, from youth upwards, in the pursuit of wisdom. Your friends and yourself, too, are sufficiently acquainted how much you fall short of philosophy ; you have been liable to disturbance, so that the bare report of being a philosopher is no longer an easy matter for you to compass; you are unqualified by your station. However, since you know how to come at the thing, never be concerned about missing the credit. Be satis- fied, therefore, and for the rest of your life let your own rational nature direct you. Mind, then, what she desires, and let nothing foreign disturb you. You are very sensible how much you have rambled after happiness, and failed. Neither learning, nor wealth, nor fame, nor pleasure could ever help you to it. Which way is it to be had then? By acting up to the height of human nature. And how shall a man do this? Why, by getting a right set of principles for impulses and actions. And what principles are those? Such as state and distinguish good and evil. Such as give us to understand that there is nothing properly good for a man but what pro- motes the virtues of justice, temperance, fortitude, and inde- pendence, nor anything bad for him, but that which carries him off to the contrary vices. At every action ask yourself this question, What will the consequence of this be to me ? Am I not likely to repent of it ? I shall be dead in a little time, and then all is over with me. If the present undertaking is but suitable to an intelligent and sociable being, and one that has the honor to live by the same rule and reason with God himself; if the case stands thus, all is well, and to what purpose should you look any farther? Alexander, Julius Cassar, and Pompey, what were they in comparison of Diogenes, Heraclitus, and Socrates? These philosophers looked through things and their causes, and their 244 ruling principles were in accordance. But as for those great princes, what a load of cares were they pestered with, and to how many things were they slaves ! People will play the same pranks over and over again, though you should burst. In the first place, keep yourself easy, for all things are governed by the universal nature. Besides, you will quickly go the way of all flesh, as Augustus and Hadrian have done before you. Farther, examine the matter to the bottom, and remember that your business is to be a good man. Therefore, whatever the dignity of human nature requires of you, set about it at once, without "ifs" or "ands"; and speak al- ways according to your conscience, but let it be done in the terms of good nature and modesty and sincerity. . . . You have no leisure to read books, what then? You have leisure to check your insolence. It is in your power to be superior to pleasure and pain, to be deaf to the charms of am- bition. It is in your power not only to forbear being angry with people for their folly and ingratitude, but over and above, to cherish their interest, and take care of them. Never again let any man hear you censure a court life, nor seem dissatisfied with your own. Repentance is a reproof of a man's conscience for the neg- lect of some advantages. Now, whatever is morally good is profitable, and ought to be the concern of a man of probity. But no good man would ever be inwardly troubled for the omission of any pleasure, whence it follows that pleasure is neither profitable nor good. What is this thing considered in itself? Of what sort of substance, of what material and causal parts does it consist? "What share of action has it in the world ? and how long is it likely to stay there? When you find yourself sleepy in a morning, remember that business and doing service to the world is to act up to nature and live like a man. Whereas sleep you have in com- mon with the beasts. Now those actions which fall in with a man 's nature are more suitable and serviceable, yes, and more pleasant than others. . . . O my soul, are you ever to be rightly good, simple, and uniform, unmasked, and made more visible to yourself than MARCUS AURELIUS 245 the body that hangs about you ? Are you ever likely to relish good nature and general kindness as you ought? Will you ever be fully satisfied, get above want and wishing, and never desire to seek your pleasure in anything foreign, either living or inanimate? Not desiring, I say, either time for longer enjoyment nor place for elbow-room, nor climate for good air, nor the music of good company? Can you be contented with your present condition, and be pleased with all that is about you, and be persuaded that you are fully furnished, that all things are well with you ; for the gods are at the head of the administration, and they will approve of nothing but what is for the best, and tends to the security and advantage of that good, righteous, beautiful, and perfect being which gen- erates and supports and surrounds all things, and embraces those things which decay, that other resembling beings may be made out of them ? In a word, are you ever likely to be so happily qualified as to converse with the gods and men in such a manner as neither to complain of them nor be con- demned by them? Examine what your nature requires, so far as you have no other law to govern you. And when you have looked into her inclinations never balk them, unless your animal nature is likely to be worse for it. Then you are to examine what your animal nature demands; and here you may indulge your ap- petite as far as you please, provided your rational nature does not suffer by the liberty. Now, your rational nature admits of nothing but what is serviceable to the rest of mankind. Keep firmly to these rules, and you will have regard for nothing else. Whatever happens, either you have strength to bear it, or you have not. If you have, exert your nature, and never murmur at the matter. But if the weight is too heavy for you, do not complain ; it will crush you, and then destroy it- self. And here you are to remember that to think a thing tolerable and endurable is the way to make it so if you do but press it strongly on the grounds of interest or duty. Is any one mistaken? Undeceive him civilly, and show him his oversight. But if you cannot convince him, blame yourself, or not even yourself. Whatever happens to you was preordained your lot from 246 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY the first; and that chain of causes which constitutes fate, tied your person and the event together from all eternity. Whether atoms or nature rule the world I lay it down in the first place, that I am part of that whole which is all under nature's government. Secondly, I am in some measure re- lated to those beings which are of my own order and species. These points being agreed, I shall apply them. Insomuch then as I am a part of the universe, I shall never be displeased with the general appointment; for that can never be preju- dicial to the part which is serviceable to the whole, since the universe contains nothing but what is serviceable to it. For the nature of no being is an enemy to itself. But the world has this advantage above other particular beings, that there is no foreign power to force it to produce anything hurtful to itself. Since, therefore, I am a member of so magnificent a body, I shall freely acquiesce in whatever happens to me. Farther, inasmuch as I have a particular relation to my own species, I will never do anything against the common interest. On the other hand, I shall make it my business to oblige man- kind, direct my whole life for the advantage of the public, and avoid the contrary. And by holding to this conduct, I must be happy, as that citizen must needs be who is always working for the benefit of his fellow-citizens, and perfectly satisfied with that interest and station the government assigns him. The properties of a rational soul are these. She has the privilege to look into her own nature, to cut her qualities and form herself to what character she pleases. She enjoys her product (whereas trees and cattle bring plenty for other folks). Whether life proves long or short, she gains the ends of living. Her business is never spoilt by interruption, as it happens in a dance or a play. In every part and in spite of every interruption, her acts are always finished and entire ; so that she may say: I carry off all that belongs to me. Farther, she ranges through the whole world, views its figure, looks into the vacuum on the outside of it, and strains her sight on to an immeasurable length of time. What a brave soul is that that is always prepared to leave the body and unconcerned about her being either extin- guished, scattered, or removed prepared, I say, upon judg- MARCUS AURELIUS 247 ment, and not out of mere obstinacy like the Christians but with a solemn air of gravity and consideration, and in a way to persuade another and without tragic show. God sees through the soul of every man as clearly as if it was not wrapped up in matter, nor had anything of the shroud and coarseness of body about it. And God, with his intellectual part alone, touches those beings only that have flowed and proceeded from him. Now, if you would learn to do thus, a great deal of trouble would be saved; for he that can overlook his body will hardly disturb himself about the clothes he wears, the house he dwells in, about his repu- tation, or any part of this pomp and magnificence. . . . To those that ask me the reason of my being so earnest in religious worship, and whether I ever saw any of the gods, or which way I am convinced of the certainty of their existence ; in the first place, I answer, that the gods are not invisible. But granting they were, the objection would signify nothing, for I never had a sight of my own soul, and yet I have a great value for it. And thus by my constant experience of the power of the gods I -have a proof of their being, and a reason for my veneration. The best provision for a happy life is to dissect everything, view its own nature, and divide it into matter and form. To practice honesty in good earnest, and speak truth from the very soul of you. What remains but to live easy and cheer- ful, and crowd one good action so close to another that there may not be the least empty space between them. The light of the sun is but one and the same, though it is divided by the interposition of walls and mountains, and abundance of other opaque bodies. There is but one common matter, though it is parceled out among bodies of different qualities. There is but one sensitive soul too, notwithstand- ing it is divided among innumerable natures and individual limitations. And lastly, the rational soul, though it seems to be split into distinction, is but one and the same. Now, excepting this last, the other parts above-mentioned, such as breath and matter, though without apprehension, or any com- mon affection to tie them to each other, are yet upheld by an intelligent being, and by that faculty which pushes things of the same nature to the same place; but human under- 248 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY standings have a peculiar disposition to union; they stick together by inclination, and nothing can extinguish such sociable thoughts in them. What is it you hanker after? Is it bare existence? or sensation ? or motion ? or strength, that you may lose it again in decay ? What ? Is it the privilege of speech, or the power of thinking in general? Is any of this worth desiring? If all these things are trifles, proceed to something that is worth your while, and that is to be governed by reason and the Deity. And yet yon cannot be said to value these last-men- tioned privileges rightly, if you are disturbed because death must take them from you. What a small part of immeasurable and infinite time falls to the share of a single mortal, and how soon is every one swallowed up in eternity ! What a handful of the universal matter goes to the making of a human body, and what a very little of the universal soul too ! And on what a narrow clod with respect to the whole earth do you crawl upon! Consider all this, and reckon nothing great, unless it be to act in conformity to your own reason, and to suffer as the universal nature shall appoint you. The great business of a man is to improve his mind, therefore consider how he does this. As for all other things, whether in our power to com- pass or not, they are no better than lifeless ashes and smoke. We cannot have a more promising notion to set us above the fear of death, than to consider that it has been despised even by that sect [the Epicureans] who made pleasure and pain the standard of good and evil. He that likes no time so well as the fitting season, he that is indifferent whether he has room for a long progress in reason or not, or whether he has a few or a great many years to view the world in, a person thus qualified will never be afraid of dying. Hark ye, friend: you have been a burgher of this great city, what matter though you have lived in it five years or three; if you have observed the laws of the corporation, the length or shortness of the time makes no difference. Where is the hardship then if nature, that planted you here, orders your removal? You cannot say you are sent off by a tyrant or unjust judge. No; you quit the stage as fairly as a player does that has his discharge from the master of the revels. MARCUS AURELIUS 249 But I have only gone through three acts, and not held out to the end of the fifth. You say well ; but in life three acts make the play entire. He that ordered the opening of the first scene now gives the sign for shutting up the last; you are neither accountable for one nor the other; therefore retire well satisfied, for He by whom you are dismissed is satisfied too. ' C MEDITA- SAINT AUGUSTINE IAN CHURCH (INT .justine we roach tb* sally recognized e. It is some > greatest autobK 'he world." August!** re of the Eomai. a. In his early nl becsjae dugnste> next tu SAINT AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO tea scholar, then be f Socrates and early joys and t Ambrose, the He became Dative Af . ^?ader of profound fait and is i of the Christian Church," t). Ba and guided it through t ^^HL not of t.l i sh( SAINT AUGUSTINE THE GREATEST "FATHER" OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH 354-430 A. D. (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) With the celebrated "Confessions" of Saint Augustine we reach the first universally recognized revelation of man's inner life. It is some- times called "the greatest autobiography of the world." Augustine was a native of the Eoman province of Numidia in Africa. In his early days he lived wildly and became disgusted with life; he next turned to philosophy and his keen mind pierced the emptiness of a dozen pagan systems of thought. He was from the first a noted scholar, then he became an eager follower of the Manichean school of semi-Christian philosophy, then a wearied, half-contemptuous student of Socrates and Plato. At length, thoroughly disillusioned as to his early joys and opinions, he visited Milan in Italy and there met Saint Ambrose, the celebrated Christian Bishop of Milan. By Ambrose, in the year 387, Augustine was convinced of the truth of Christianity. He became a priest and ultimately Bishop of Hippo, a city of his native Africa. Augustine proved himself a Christian leader of profound faith, and tremendous energy and power. He was soon recognized as the chief writer and thinker of his day, and all later writers have referred to him with deep admiration, appealing to his doctrines as the highest churchly authority since the days of the Apostles. He is held in equal esteem by Catholics and Protestants; and is recognized as the foremost of the so-called "Fathers of the Christian Church," that is, the teachers who framed its doctrines and guided it through the controversies of the Eoman Age. Augustine's two most noted books are the "Confessions" and the "City of God." The latter, written in his ripened age, is an able, passionate, poetical work picturing the coming of God's rule on earth through the organized government of the Christian Church. The "Con- fessions" was written in 393 shortly after Augustine's conversion. It is an intense and most impressive picture of the searches and struggles of a tortured soul, and of the final triumphant happiness and security with which the great "Father" reached his goal of faith. 251 252 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BOOK I Great art Thou, Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom infinite. And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness of his sin, the witness, that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man praise Thee; he, but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to de- light in Thy praise; for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise Thee; and, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee. For who can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? For he that knoweth Thee not, may call on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee that we may know Thee ? But how shall they call on Him in whom they have not be- lieved? or how shall they believe without a preacher? And they that seek the Lord shall praise Him. For they that seek shall find Him, and they that find shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of the Preacher. 1 And how shall I call upon my God, my God and Lord, since, when I call for Him, I shall be calling Him to myself ? and what room is there within me, whither my God can come into me? Whither can God come into me, God who made heaven and earth? Is there, indeed, O Lord my God, aught in me that can contain Thee? Do then heaven and earth, which Thou hast made, and wherein Thou hast made me, con- tain Thee ? or, because nothing which exists could exist with- out Thee, doth therefore whatever exists contain Thee ? Since, then, I too exist, why do I seek that Thou shouldest enter into me, who were not, wert Thou not in me ? Why ? Because I am not gone down in hell, and yet Thou art there also. For 1 8. Ambrose; from whom were the beginnings of his conversion, and by whom he was baptized. SAINT AUGUSTINE 253 if 1 go down into hell, Thou art there. I could not be then, O my God, could not be at all, wert Thou not in me; or, rather, unless I were in Thee, of whom are all things, ~by whom are all things, in whom are all things? Even so, Lord, even so. Whither do I call Thee, since I am in Thee? or whence canst Thou enter into me? For whither can I go beyond heaven and earth, that thence my God should come into me, who hath said, I fill the heaven and the earth? Do 2 the heaven and earth then contain Thee, since Thou fillest them? or dost Thou fill them and yet overflow, since they do not contain Thee? And whither, when the heaven and the earth are filled, pourest Thou forth the remainder of Thyself? Or hast Thou no need that aught contain Thee, who containest all things, since what Thou fillest Thou fillest by containing it ? For the vessels which Thou fillest uphold Thee not, since, though they were broken, Thou wert not poured out. And when Thou art poured out on us, Thou art not cast down, but Thou uplif test us ; Thou art not dissipated, but Thou gatherest us. But Thou who fillest all things, fillest Thou them with Thy whole self? or, since all things cannot contain Thee wholly, do they contain part of Thee ? and all at once the same part? or each its own part, the greater more, the smaller less? And is, then, one part of Thee greater, another less? or, art Thou wholly everywhere, while nothing contains Thee wholly? What art Thou then, my God? What, but the Lord God? For who is Lord but the Lord? or who is God save our God? Most highest, most good, most potent, most omnipotent ; most merciful, yet most just ; most hidden, yet most present ; most beautiful, yet most strong ; stable, yet incomprehensible ; un- changeable, yet all-changing ; never new, never old ; all-renew- ing, and bringing age upon the proud, and they know it not; ever working, ever at rest; still gathering, yet nothing lack- ing; supporting, filling, and overspreading; creating, nour- ishing, and maturing; seeking, yet having all things. Thou lovest, without passion; art jealous, without anxiety; re- pentest, yet grievest not ; art angry, yet serene ; changest Thy works, Thy purpose unchanged; receivest again what Thou findest, yet didst never lose; never in need, yet rejoicing in 1 Against the Manichees. 254 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY gains; never covetous, yet exacting usury. Thou receivest over and above, that Thou mayest owe; and who hath aught that is not Thine? Thou payest debts, owing nothing; re- mittest debts, losing nothing. And what have I now said, my God, my life, my holy joy? or what saith any man when he speaks of Thee? Yet woe to him that speaketh not, since mute are even the most eloquent. Oh ! that I might repose on Thee ! Oh ! that Thou wouldest enter into my heart, and inebriate it, that I may forget my ills, and embrace Thee, my sole good ? What art Thou to me ? In Thy pity, teach me to utter it. Or what am I to Thee that Thou demandest my love, and, if I give it not, art wroth with me, and threatenest me with grievous woes? Is it then a slight woe to love Thee not? Oh! for Thy mercies' sake, tell me, O Lord my God, what Thou art unto me. Say unto my soul, I cum thy salvation. So speak, that I may hear. Be- hold, Lord, my heart is before Thee; open Thou the ears thereof, and say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. After this voice let me haste, and take hold on Thee. Hide not Thy face from me. Let me die 3 lest I die only let me see Thy face. Narrow is the mansion of my soul; enlarge Thou it, that Thou mayest enter in. It is ruinous ; repair Thou it. It has that within which must offend Thine eyes ; I confess and know it. But who shall cleanse it? or to whom should I cry, save Thee? Lord, cleanse me from my secret faults, and spare Thy servant from the power of the enemy. I believe, and therefore do I speak. Lord, Thou knowest. Have I not con- fessed against myself my transgressions unto Thee, and Thou, my God, hast forgiven the iniquity of my heart? I contend, not in judgment with Thee, who art the truth ; I fear to de- ceive myself; lest mine iniquity lie unto itself. Therefore I contend not in judgment with Thee; for if Thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, Lord, who shall abide it? Yet suffer me to speak unto Thy mercy, me, dust and ashes. Yet suffer me to speak, since I speak to Thy mercy, and not to scornful man. Thou too, perhaps, despisest me, yet wilt Thou return and have compassion upon me. For what would *i.e. Let me see the face of God, though I die, (Ex. 33, 20.) since if I see it not, but it be turned away, I must needs die, and that ' ' the second death." SAINT AUGUSTINE 255 I say, Lord my God, but that I know not whence I came into this dying life (shall I call it?) or living death. Then immediately did the comforts of Thy compassion take me up, as I heard (for I remember it not) from the parents of my flesh, out of whose substance Thou didst sometime fashion me. Thus there received me the comforts of woman's milk. For neither my mother nor my nurses stored their own breasts for me; but Thou didst bestow the food of my infancy through them, according to Thine ordinance, whereby Thou distributest Thy riches through the hidden springs of all things. Thou also gavest me to desire no more than Thou gavest; and to my nurses willingly to give me what Thou gavest them. For they, with an heaven-taught affection, will- ingly gave me what they abounded with from Thee. For this my good from them, was good for them. Nor, indeed, from them was it, but through them ; for from Thee, God, are all good things, and from my God is all my health. This I since learned, Thou, through these Thy gifts, within me and without, proclaiming Thyself unto me. For them I knew but to suck ; to repose in what pleased, and cry at what offended my flesh; nothing more. Afterwards I began to smile; first in sleep, then waking: for so it was told me of myself, and I believed it ; for we see the like in other infants, though of myself I remember it not. Thus, little by little, I became conscious where I was; and to have a wish to express my wishes to those who could content them, and I could not; for the wishes were within me, and they without; nor could they by any sense of theirs enter within my spirit. So I flung about at random limbs and voice, making the few signs I could, and such as I could, like, though in truth very little like, what I wished. And when I was not presently obeyed, (my wishes being hurtful or unintelligible,) then I was indignant with my elders for not submitting to me, with those owing me no service, for not serving me ; and avenged myself on them by tears. Such have I learnt infants to be from observing them ; and, that I was myself such, they, all unconscious, have shewn me better than my nurses who knew it. And, lo! my infancy died long since, and I live. But Thou, Lord, who for ever livest, and in whom nothing dies: 256 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY for before the foundation of the worlds, and before all that can be called "before," Thou art, and art God and Lord of all which Thou hast created : in Thee abide, fixed for ever, the first causes of all things unabiding; and of all things changeable, the springs abide in Thee unchangeable: and in Thee live the eternal reasons of all things unreasoning and temporal. Say, Lord, to me, Thy suppliant; say, all-pitying, to me, Thy pitiable one ; say, did my infancy succeed another age of mine that died before it ? Was it that which I spent within my mother's womb? for of that I have heard some- what, and have myself seen women with child? and what before that life again, O God my joy, was I any where or any body ? For this have I none to tell me, neither father nor mother, nor experience of others, nor mine own mem- ory. Dost Thou mock me for asking this, and bid me praise Thee and acknowledge Thee, for that I do know? I acknowledge Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, and praise Thee for my first rudiments of being, and my infancy, whereof I remember nothing; for Thou hast appointed that man should from others guess much as to himself; and believe much on the strength of weak females. Even then I had being and life, and (at my infancy's close) I could seek for signs, whereby to make known to others my sensations. Whence could such a being be, save from Thee, Lord ? Shall any be his own artificer? Or can there elsewhere be de- rived any vein, which may stream essence and life into us, save from Thee, O Lord, in whom essence and life are one? for Thou Thyself art supremely Essence and Life. For Thou art most high, and art not changed, neither in Thee doth To-day come to a close; yet in Thee doth it come to a close; because all such things also are in Thee. For they had no way to pass away, unless Thou upheldest them. And since Thy years fail not, Thy years are one To-day. How many of ours and our fathers' years have flowed away through Thy "to-day," and from it received the measure and the mold of such being as they had; and still others shall flow away, and so receive the mold of their degree of being. But Thou art still the same, and all things of to- morrow, and all beyond, and all of yesterday, and all behind it, Thou hast done to-day. What is it to me, though any SAINT AUGUSTINE 257 comprehend not this? Let him also rejoice and say, What thing is this? Let him rejoice even thus; and be content rather by not discovering to discover Thee, than by discover- ing not to discover Thee. Hear, O God. Alas, for man's sin! So saith man, and Thou pitiest him; for Thou madest him, but sin in him Thou madest not. Who remindeth me of the sins of my in- fancy? for in Thy sight none is pure from sin, not even the infant whose life is ~but a day upon the earth. "Who re- mindeth me? Doth not each little infant, in whom I see what of myself I remember not? What then was my sin? Was it that I hung upon the breast and cried? For should I now so do for food suitable to my age, justly should I be laughed at and reproved. What I then did was worthy of reproof ; but since I could not understand reproof, custom and reason forbade me to be reproved. For those habits, when grown, we root out and cast away. Now no man, though he prunes, wittingly casts away what is good. Or was it then good, even for a while, to cry for what, if given, would hurt? bitterly to resent, that persons free, and its own elders, yea, the very authors of its birth, served it not? that many besides, wiser than it, obeyed not the nod of its good pleasure ? to do its best to strike and hurt, because com- mands were not obeyed, which had been obeyed to its hurt? The weakness then of infant limbs, not its will, is its inno- cence. Myself have seen and known even a baby envious; it could not speak, yet it turned pale and looked bitterly on its foster-brother. Who knows not this? Mothers and nurses tell you, that they allay these things by I know not what remedies. Is that too innocence, when the fountain of milk is flowing in rich abundance, not to endure one to share it, though in extremest need, and whose very life as yet depends thereon? We bear gently with all this, not as being no or slight evils, but because they will disappear as years increase; for, though tolerated now, the very same tempers are utterly intolerable when found in riper years. Thou, then, O Lord my God, who gavest life to this my in- fancy, furnishing thus with senses (as we see) the frame Thou gavest, compacting its limbs, ornamenting its proportions, and, for its general good and safety, implanting in it all vital A. v. i 17 258 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY functions, Thou commandest me to praise Thee in these things, to confess unto Thee, and sing unto Thy name, Thou most Highest. For Thou art God, Almighty and Good, even hadst Thou done nought but only this, which none could do but Thou: whose Unity is the mold of all things; who out of Thy own fairness makest all things fair; and orderest all things by Thy law. This age then, Lord, whereof I have no remembrance, which I take on others' word, and guess from other infants that I have passed, true though the guess be, I am yet loth to count in this life of mine which I live in this world. For no less than that which I spent in my mother's womb, is it hid from me in the shadows of forget- fulness. But if / was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me, where, I beseech Thee, O my God, where, Lord, or when, was I Thy servant guiltless? But, lo! that period I pass by; and what have I now to do with that, of which I can recall no vestige ? Passing hence from infancy, I came to boyhood, or rather it came to me, displacing infancy. Nor did that depart, (for whither went it?) and yet it was no more. For I was no longer a speechless infant, but a speaking boy. This I remember ; and have since observed how I learned to speak. It was not that my elders taught me words (as, soon after, other learning) in any set method; but I, longing by cries and broken accents and various motions of my limbs to ex- press my thoughts, that so I might have my will, and yet un- able to express all I willed, or to whom I willed, did myself, by the understanding which Thou, my God, gavest me, practice the sounds in my memory. When they named any thing, and as they spoke turned towards it, I saw and re- membered that they called what they would point out, by the name they uttered. And that they meant this thing and no other, was plain from the motion of their body, the natural language, as it were, of all nations, expressed by the countenance, glances of the eye, gestures of the limbs, and tones of the voice, indicating the affections of the mind, as it pursues, possesses, rejects, or shuns. And thus by con- stantly hearing words, as they occurred in various sentences, I collected gradually for what they stood ; and having broken in my mouth to these signs, I thereby gave utterance to my SAINT AUGUSTINE 259 will. Thus I exchanged with those about me these cur- rent signs of our wills, and so launched deeper into the stormy intercourse of human life, yet depending on parental authority and the beck of elders. O God my God, what miseries and mockeries did I now experience, when obedience to my teachers was proposed to me, as proper in a boy, in order that in this world I might prosper, and excel in tongue-science, which should serve to the "praise of men," and to deceitful riches. Next I was put to school to get learning, in which I (poor wretch) knew not what use there was; and yet, if idle in learning, I was beaten. For this was judged right by our forefathers; and many, passing the same course before us, framed for us weary paths, through which we were fain to pass ; multiplying toil and grief upon the sons of Adam. But, Lord, we found that men called upon Thee, and we learnt from them to think of Thee (according to our powers) as of some great One, who, though hidden from our senses, couldst hear and help us. For so I began, as a boy, to pray to Thee, my aid and refuge; and broke the fetters of my tongue to call on Thee, praying Thee, though small, yet with no small earnest- ness, that I might not be beaten at school. And when Thou heardest me not, (not thereby giving me over to folly,) my elders, yea, my very parents, who yet wished me no ill, mocked my stripes, my then great and grievous ill. Is there, Lord, any of soul so great, and cleaving to Thee with so intense affection, (for a sort of stupidity will in a way do it) ; but is there any one, who, from cleaving de- voutly to Thee, is endued with so great a spirit, that he can think as lightly of the racks and hooks and other tor- ments, (against which, throughout all lands, men call on Thee with extreme dread,) mocking at those by whom they are feared most bitterly, as our parents mocked the torments which we suffered in boyhood from our masters? For we feared not our torments less; nor prayed we less to Thee to escape them. And yet we sinned, in writing or reading or studying less than was exacted of us. For we wanted not, O Lord, memory or capacity, whereof Thy will gave enough for our age; but our sole delight was play; and for this we were punished by those who yet themselves were doing 260 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY the like. But elder folks' idleness is called "business"; that of boys, being really the same, is punished by those elders; and none commiserates either boys or men. For will any of sound discretion approve of my being beaten as a boy, be- cause, by playing at ball, I made less progress in studies which I was to learn, only that, as a man, I might play more unbeseemingly ? And what else did he, who beat me ? who, if worsted in some trifling discussion with his fellow-tutor, was more embittered and jealous than I, when beaten at ball by a play-fellow ? And yet, I sinned herein, O Lord God, the Creator and Disposer of all things in nature, of sin the Disposer only, Lord my God, I sinned in transgressing the commands of my parents and those of my masters. For what they, with whatever motive, would have me learn, I might afterward have put to good use. For I disobeyed, not from a better choice, but from love of play, loving the pride of victory in my contests, and to have my ears tickled with lying fables, that they might itch the more; the same curiosity flashing from my eyes more and more, for the shows and games of my elders. Yet those who give these shows are in such esteem, that almost all wish the same for their children, and yet are very willing that they should be beaten, if those very- games detain them from the studies, whereby they would have them attain to be the givers of them. Look with pity, Lord, on these things, and deliver us who call upon Thee now; deliver those too who call not on Thee yet, that they may call on Thee, and Thou mayest deliver them. As a boy, then, I had already heard of an eternal life, promised us through the humility of the Lord our God stooping to our pride ; and even from the womb of my mother, who greatly hoped in Thee, I was sealed with the mark of His cross and salted with His salt. 4 Thou sawest, Lord, how while yet a boy, being seized on a time with sudden op- pression of the stomach, and like near to death Thou saw- est, my God, (for Thou wert my keeper,) with what eagerness and what faith I sought, from the pious care of my mother 4 A rite in the Western Churches, on admission as a Catechumen, pre- vious to Baptism, denoting the purity and uncorruptedness and discre- tion required of Christians. SAINT AUGUSTINE 261 and Thy Church, the mother of us all, the baptism of Thy Christ my God and Lord. Whereupon the mother of my flesh, being much troubled, (since, with a heart pure in Thy faith, she even more lovingly travailed in birth of my salva- tion,) would in eager haste have provided for my consecra- tion and cleansing by the healthgiving sacraments, confessing Thee, Lord Jesus, for the remission of sins, unless I had suddenly recovered. And so, as if I must needs be again polluted should I live, my cleansing was deferred, because the defilements of sin would, after that washing, bring greater and more perilous guilt. I then already believed ; and my mother, and the whole household, except my father: yet did not he prevail over the power of my mother's piety in me, that as he did not yet believe, so neither should I. For it was her earnest care, that Thou my God, rather than he, shouldest be my father; and in this Thou didst aid her to prevail over her husband, whom she, the better, obeyed, therein also obeying Thee, who hast so commanded. I beseech Thee, my God, I would fain know, if so Thou wiliest, for what purpose my baptism was then deferred? Was it for my good that the rein was laid loose, as it were, upon me, for me to sin? or was it not laid loose? If not, why does it still echo in our ears on all sides, "Let him alone, let him do as he will, for he is not yet baptized?" but as to bodily health, no one says, "Let him be worse wounded, for he is not yet healed." How much better then, had I been at once healed; and then, by my friends' diligence and my own, my soul's recovered health had been kept safe in Thy keeping who gavest it. Better truly. But how many and great waves of temptation seemed to hang over me after my boyhood ! These my mother foresaw ; and preferred to expose to them the clay whence I might after- wards be molded, than the very cast, when made. In boyhood itself, however, (so much less dreaded for me than youth,) I loved not study, and hated to be forced to it. Yet I was forced; and this was well done towards me, but I did not well ; for, unless forced, I had not learnt. But no one doth well against his will, even though what he doth, be well. Yet neither did they well who forced me, but what was well came to me from Thee, my God. For 262 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY they were regardless how I should employ what they forced me to learn, except to satiate the insatiate desires of a wealthy beggary, and a shameful glory. But Thou, ~by whom the very hairs of our head are numbered, didst use for my good the error of all who urged me to learn ; and my own, who would not learn, Thou didst use for my punish- ment a fit penalty for one, so small a boy and so great a sinner. So by those who did not well, Thou didst well for me; and by my own sin Thou didst justly punish me. For Thou hast commanded, and so it is, that every inordinate affection should be its own punishment. But why did I so much hate the Greek, which I studied as a boy ? I do not yet fully know. For the Latin I loved ; not what my first masters, but what the so-called grammarians taught me. For those first lessons, reading, writing, and arithmetic, I thought as great a burden and penalty as any Greek. And yet whence was this too, but from the sin and vanity of this life, because I was flesh, and a breath that passeth away and cometh not again ? For those first lessons were better certainly, because more certain; by them I ob- tained, and still retain, the power of reading what I find written, and myself writing what I will; whereas in the others, I was forced to learn the wanderings of one ^Eneas, forgetful of my own, and to weep for dead Dido, because she killed herself for love ; the while, with dry eyes, I endured my miserable self dying among these things, far from Thee, God my life. For what more miserable than a miserable being who com- miserates not himself; weeping the death of Dido for love to JEneas, but weeping not his own death for want of love to Thee, God. Thou light of my heart, Thou bread of my inmost soul, Thou Power who givest vigor to my mind, who quickenest my thoughts, I loved Thee not. I committed fornication against Thee, and all around me thus fornicating there echoed ' ' "Well done ! well done ! ' ' for the friendship of this world is fornication against Thee; and "Well done! well done!" echoes on till one is ashamed not to be thus a man. And all this I wept not, I who wept for Dido slain, and "seeking by the sword a stroke and wound extreme," my- self seeking the while a worse extreme, the extremest and SAINT AUGUSTINE 263 lowest of Thy creatures, having forsaken Thee, earth passing into the earth. And if forbid to read all this, I was grieved that I might not read what grieved me. Madness like this is thought a higher and a richer learning, than that by which I learned to read and write. But now, my God, cry Thou aloud in my soul; and let Thy truth tell me, ''Not so, not so. Far better was that first study." For, lo, I would readily forget the wanderings of ..Eneas and all the rest, rather than how to read and write. But over the entrance of the Grammar School is a vail 5 drawn ! true ; yet is this not so much an emblem of aught recondite, as a cloak of error. Let not those, whom I no longer fear, cry out against me, while I confess to Thee, my God, whatever my soul will, and acquiesce in the con- demnation of my evil ways, that I may love Thy good ways. Let not either buyers or sellers of grammar-learning cry out against me. For if I question them whether it be true, that J&neas came on a time to Carthage, as the Poet tells, the less learned will reply that they know not, the more learned that he never did. But should I ask with what letters the name "^neas" is written, every one who has learnt this will answer me aright, as to the signs which men have con- ventionally settled. If, again, I should ask, which might be forgotten with least detriment to the concerns of life, reading and writing or these poetic fictions, who does not foresee what all must answer who have not wholly forgotten them- selves? I sinned, then, when as a boy I preferred those empty to those more profitable studies, or rather loved the one and hated the other. "One and one, two;" "two and two, four;" this was to me a hateful sing-song: "the wooden horse lined with armed men," and "the burning of Troy," and "Creusa's shade and sad similitude," were the choice spectacle of my vanity. Why then did I hate the Greek classics, which have the like tales? For Homer also curiously wove the like fictions, 8 The ' ' vail ' ' was an emblem of honor, used in places of worship, and subsequently in courts of law, Emperors' palaces, and even private houses. That between the vestibule, or proscholium, and the school itself, besides being a mark of dignity, may, as S. Aug. perhaps implies, have been intended to denote the hidden mysteries taught therein, and that the mass of mankind were not fit hearers of truth. 264 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY and is most sweetly-vain, yet was he bitter to my boyish taste. And so I suppose would Virgil be to Grecian children, when forced to learn him as I was Homer. Difficulty, in t truth, the difficulty of a foreign tongue, dashed, as it were, with gall all the sweetness of Grecian fable. For not one word of it did I understand, and to make me understand I was urged vehemently with cruel threats and punishments. Time was also, (as an infant,) I knew no Latin; but this I learned without fear of suffering, by mere observation, amid the caresses of my nursery and jests of friends, smiling and sportively encouraging me. This I learned without any pressure of punishment to urge me on, for my heart urged me to give birth to its conceptions, which I could only do by learning words not of those who taught, but of those who talked with me; in whose ears also I gave birth to the thoughts, whatever I conceived. No doubt then, that a free curiosity has more force in our learning these things, than a frightful enforcement. Only this enforcement restrains the rovings of that freedom, through Thy laws, O my God, Thy laws, from the master's cane to the martyr's trials, being able to temper for us a wholesome bitter, recalling us to Thy- self from that deadly pleasure which lures us from Thee. Hear, Lord, my prayer; let not my soul faint under Thy discipline, nor let me faint in confessing unto Thee all Thy mercies, whereby Thou hast drawn me out of all my most evil ways, that Thou mightest become a delight to me above all the allurements which I once pursued; that I may most entirely love Thee, and clasp Thy hand with all my affections, and Thou mayest yet rescue me from every temptation, even unto the end. For, lo, Lord, my King and my God, for Thy service be whatever useful thing my childhood learned ; for Thy service, that I speak write read reckon. For Thou didst grant me Thy discipline, while I was learning vanities ; and my sin of delighting in those vanities Thou hast forgiven. In them, indeed, I learnt many a useful word, but these may as well be learnt in things not vain; and that is the safe path for the steps of youth. But woe is thee, thou torrent of human custom! Who shall stand against thee? How long shalt thou not be dried up? How long roll the sons of Eve into that huge and SAINT AUGUSTINE 265 hideous ocean, which even they scarcely overpass who climb the cross? Did not I read in thee of Jove the thunderer and the adulterer ? Both, doubtless, he could not be ; but so the feigned thunder might countenance and pander to real adultery. And now which of our gowned masters lends a sober ear to one who from their own school cries out, ' ' These were Homer's fictions, transferring things human to the gods ; would he had brought down things divine to us ! " Yet more truly had he said, "These are indeed his fictions; but attributing a divine nature to wicked men, that crimes might be no longer crimes, and whoso commits them might seem to imitate not abandoned men, but the celestial gods." And yet, thou hellish torrent, into thee are cast the sons of men with rich rewards, for compassing such learning ; and a great solemnity is made of it, when this is going on in the forum, within sight of laws appointing a salary beside the scholar's payments; and thou lashest thy rocks and roar- est, "Hence words are learnt; hence eloquence; most neces- sary to gain your ends, or maintain opinions." As if we should have never known such words as "golden shower," "lap," "beguile," "temples of the heavens," or others in that passage, unless Terence had brought a lewd youth upon the stage, setting up Jupiter as his example of seduction. Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn, Of Jove's descending in a golden shower To Danae's lap, a woman to beguile. And then mark how he excites himself to lust as by celestial authority ; And what God ? Great Jove, Who shakes heav'n's highest temples with his thunder, And I, poor mortal man, not do the same! I did it, and with all my heart I did it. Not one whit more easily are the words learnt for all this vileness; but by their means the vileness is committed with less shame. Not that I blame the words, being, as it were, choice and precious vessels; but that wine of error which is drunk to us in them by intoxicated teachers; and if we, too, drink not, we are beaten, and have no sober judge to 266 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY whom we may appeal. Yet, O my God, (in whose presence I now without hurt may remember this,) all this unhappily I learnt willingly with great delight, and for this was pro- nounced a hopeful boy. Bear with me, my God, while I say somewhat of my wit, Thy gift, and on what dotages I wasted it. For a task was set me, troublesome enough to my soul, upon terms of praise or shame, and fear of stripes, to speak the words of Juno, as she raged and mourned that she could not This Trojan prince from Latium turn. Which words I had heard that Juno never uttered; but we were forced to go astray in the footsteps of these poetic fic- tions, and to say in prose much what he expressed in verse. And his speaking was most applauded, in whom the passions of rage and grief were most preeminent, and clothed in the most fitting language, maintaining the dignity of the char- acter. What is it to me, O my true life, my God, that my declamation was applauded above so many of my own age and class? Is not all this smoke and wind? And was there nothing else whereon to exercise my wit and tongue? Thy praises, Lord, Thy praises might have stayed the yet tender shoot of my heart by the prop of Thy Scriptures; so had it not trailed away amid these empty trifles, a defiled prey for the fowls of the air. For in more ways than one do men sacrifice to the rebellious angels. But what marvel that I was thus carried away to vanities, and went out from Thy presence, O my God, when men were set before me as models, who, if in relating some action of theirs, in itself not ill, they committed some barbarism or solecism, being censured, were abashed ; but when in rich and adorned and well-ordered discourse they related their own disordered life, being bepraised, they gloried? These things Thou seest, Lord, and boldest Thy peace; long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth. Wilt Thou hold Thy peace for ever? And even now Thou drawest out of this horrible gulf the soul that seeketh Thee, that thirsteth for Thy pleas- ures, whose heart saith unto Thee, I have sought Thy face; Thy face, Lord, will I seek. For darkened affections is re- moval from Thee. For it is not by our feet, or change of SAINT AUGUSTINE 267 place, that men leave Thee, or return unto Thee. Or did that Thy younger son look out for horses or chariots, or ships, fly with visible wings, or journey by the motion of his limbs, that he might in a far country waste in riotous living all Thou gavest at his departure ? A loving Father, when Thou gavest, and more loving unto him, when he returned empty. So then in lustful, that is, in darkened affections, is the true distance from Thy face. Behold, O Lord God, yea, behold patiently as Thou art wont, how carefully the sons of men observe the covenanted rules of letters and syllables received from those who spake before them, neglecting the eternal covenant of everlasting salvation received from Thee. Insomuch, that a teacher or learner of the hereditary laws of pronunciation will more offend men, by speaking without the aspirate, of a "uman being," in despite of the laws of grammar, than if he, a "human being," hate a "human being" in despite of Thine. As if any enemy could be more hurtful than the hatred with which he is incensed against him ; or could wound more deeply him whom he persecutes, than he wounds his own soul by his enmity. Assuredly no science of letters can be so innate as the record of conscience, "that he is doing to another what from another he would be loth to suffer." How deep are Thy ways, God, Thou only great, that sittest silent on high and by an unwearied law dispensing penal blindness to lawless desires. In quest of the fame of eloquence, a man standing before a human judge, surrounded by a human throng, declaiming against his enemy with fiercest hatred, will take heed most watchfully, lest, by an error of the tongue, he murder the word "human-being;" but takes no heed, lest, through the fury of his spirit, he murder the real human being. This was the world at whose gate unhappy I lay in my boyhood; this the stage, where I had feared more to commit a barbarism, than having committed one, to envy those who had not. These things I speak and confess to Thee, my God ; for which I had praise from them, whom I then thought it all virtue to please. For I saw not the abyss of vileness, wherein I was cast away from Thine eyes. Before them what more foul than I was already, displeasing even such as 268 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY myself ? with innumerable lies deceiving my tutor, my masters, my parents, from love of play, eagerness to see vain shows, and restlessness to imitate them! Thefts also I committed, from my parents' cellar and table, enslaved by greediness, or that I might have to give to boys, who sold me their play, which all the while they liked no less than I. In this play, too, I often sought unfair conquests, conquered myself mean- while by vain desire of preeminence. And what could I so ill endure, or, when I detected it, upbraided I so fiercely, as that I was doing to others? and for which if, detected, I was upbraided, I chose rather to quarrel, than to yield. And is this the innocence of boyhood? Not so, Lord, not so; I cry Thy mercy, O my God. For these very sins, as riper years succeed, these very sins are transferred from tutors and masters, from nuts and balls and sparrows, to magistrates and kings, to gold and manors and slaves, just as severer punish- ments displace the cane. It was the low stature then of childhood, which Thou our King didst commend as an em- blem of lowliness, when Thou saidst, Of such is the kingdom of heaven. Yet, Lord, to Thee, the Creator and Governor of the uni- verse, most excellent and most good, thanks were due to Thee our God, even hadst Thou destined for me boyhood only. For even then I was, I lived, and felt; and had an im- planted providence over my own well-being, a trace of that mysterious Unity, whence I was derived; I guarded by the inward sense the entireness of my senses, and in these minute pursuits, and in my thoughts on things minute, I learnt to delight in truth, I hated to be deceived, had a vigorous memory, was gifted with speech, was soothed by friendship, avoided pain, baseness, ignorance. In so small a creature, what was not wonderful, not admirable? But all are gifts of my God; it was not I, who gave them me; and good these are, and these together are myself. Good, then, is He that made me, and He is my good; and before Him will I exult for every good which of a boy I had. For it was my sin, that not in Him, but in His creatures myself and others I sought for pleasures, sublimities, truths, and so fell headlong into sorrows, confusions, errors. Thanks be to Thee, my joy and my glory and my confidence, my God, thanks SAINT AUGUSTINE 269 be to Thee for Thy gifts; but do Thou preserve them to me. For so wilt Thou preserve me, and those things shall be en- larged and perfected, which Thou hast given me, and I my- self shall be with Thee, since even to be Thou hast given me. BOOK n I WILL now call to mind my past foulness, and the carnal corruptions of my soul: not because I love them, but that I may love Thee, my God. For love of Thy love I do it; reviewing my most wicked ways in the very bitterness of my remembrance, that Thou mayest grow sweet unto me; (Thou sweetness never failing, Thou blissful and assured sweetness;) and gathering me again out of that my dissipation, wherein I was torn piecemeal, while turned from Thee, the One Good, I lost myself among a multiplicity of things. For I even burnt in my youth heretofore, to be satiated in things below ; and I dared to grow wild again, with these various and shadowy loves: my beauty consumed away, and I stank in Thine eyes; pleasing myself, and desirous to please in the eyes of men. And what was it that I delighted in, but to love, and be beloved? but I kept not the measure of love, of mind to mind, friendship's bright boundary; but out of the muddy concupiscence of the flesh, and the bubblings of youth, mists fumed up which beclouded and overcast my heart, that I could not discern the clear brightness of love, from the fog of lustfulness. Both did confusedly boil in me, and hurried my unstayed youth over the precipice of unholy desires, and sunk me in a gulf of flagitiousnesses. Thy wrath had gathered over me, and I knew it not. I was grown deaf by the clank- ing of the chain of my mortality, the punishment of the pride of my soul, and I strayed further from Thee, and Thou lettest me alone, and I was tossed about, and wasted, and dis- sipated, and I boiled over in my fornications, and Thou heldest Thy peace, O Thou my tardy joy ! Thou then heldest Thy peace, and I wandered further and further from Thee, into more and more fruitless seed-plots of sorrows, with a proud dejectedness, and a restless weariness. Oh! that some one had then attempered my disorder, and turned to account the fleeting beauties of these, the extreme 270 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY points of Thy creation! had put a bound to their pleasur- ableness, that so the tides of my youth might have cast them- selves upon the marriage shore, if they could not be calmed, and kept within the object of a family, as Thy law pre- scribes, Lord: who this way formest the offspring of this our death, being able with a gentle hand to blunt the thorns, which were excluded from Thy paradise? For Thy omnipotency is not far from us, even when we be far from Thee. Else ought I more watchfully to have heeded the voice from the clouds; Nevertheless such, shall have trouble in the flesh, but I spare you. And, it is good for a man not to touch a woman. And, he that is unmarried thinketh of the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but he that is married careth for the things of this world, how he may please his wife. To these words I should have listened more attentively, and being severed for the kingdom of heaven's sake, had more happily awaited Thy embraces; but I, poor wretch, foamed like a troubled sea, following the rushing of my own tide, forsaking Thee, and exceeded all Thy limits; yet I escaped not Thy scourges. For what mortal can? For Thou wert ever with me mercifully rigorous, and besprinkling with most bitter alloy all my unlawful pleasures : that I might seek pleasures without alloy. But where to find such, I could not discover, save in Thee, O Lord, who teachest by sorrow, and woundest us, to heal; and killest us, lest we die from Thee. Where was I, and how far was I exiled from the delights of Thy house, in that sixteenth year of the age of my flesh, when the madness of lust (to which human shame- lessness giveth free license, though unlicensed by Thy laws) took the rule over me, and I resigned myself wholly to it? My friends meanwhile took no care by marriage to save my fall; their only care was that I should learn to speak ex- cellently, and be a persuasive orator. For that year were my studies intermitted: whilst after my return from Madaura, (a neighbor city, whither I had journeyed to learn grammar and rhetoric,) the expenses for a further journey to Carthage were being provided for me; and that, rather by the resolution than the means of my father, who was but a poor freeman of Thagaste. To whom SAINT AUGUSTINE 271 tell I this? not to Thee, my God; but before Thee to mine own kind, even to that small portion of mankind as may light upon these writings of mine. And to what purpose? that whosoever reads this, may think out of what depths we are to cry unto Thee. For what is nearer to Thine ears than a confessing heart, and a life of faith? Who did not extol my father, for that beyond the ability of his means, he would furnish his son with all necessaries for a far journey for his studies' sake? For many far abler citizens did no such thing for their children. But yet this same father had no concern, how I grew towards Thee, or how chaste I were ; so that I were but copious in speech, however barren I were to Thy culture, O God, who art the only true and good Lord of Thy field, my heart. But while in that my sixteenth year I lived with my parents, leaving all school for a while, (a season of idleness being interposed through the narrowness of my parents' fortunes,) the briers of unclean desires grew rank over my head, and there was no hand to root them out. When that my father saw me at the baths, now growing toward man- hood, and endued with a restless youthfulness, he, as already hence anticipating his descendants, gladly told it to my mother; rejoicing in that tumult of the senses wherein the world forgetteth Thee its Creator, and becometh enamored of Thy creature, instead of Thyself, through the fumes of that invisible wine of its self-will, turning aside and bowing down to the very basest things. But in my mother's breast Thou hadst already begun Thy temple, and the foundation of Thy holy habitation, whereas my father was as yet but a catechumen, and that but recently. She then was startled with an holy fear and trembling; and though I was not as yet baptized, feared for me those crooked ways, in which they walk, who turn their back to Thee, and not their face. Woe is me ! and dare I say that Thou heldest Thy peace, O my God, while I wandered further from Thee? Didst Thou then indeed hold Thy peace to me? And whose but Thine were these words which by my mother, Thy faithful one, Thou sangest in my ears? Nothing whereof sunk into my heart, so as to do it. For she wished, and I remember in private with great anxiety warned me, "not to commit forni- LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY cation; but especially never to defile another's wife." These seemed to me womanish advices, which I should blush to obey. But they were Thine, and I knew it not : and I thought Thou wert silent, and that it was she who spake; by whom Thou wert not silent unto me; and in her wast despised by me, her son, the son of Thy handmaid, Thy servant. But I knew it not; and ran headlong with such blindness, that amongst my equals I was ashamed of a less shamelessness, when I heard them boast of their flagitiousness, yea, and the more boasting, the more they were degraded : and I took pleasure, not only in the pleasure of the deed, but in the praise. What is worthy of dispraise but Vice? But I made myself worse than I was, that I might not be dispraised ; and when in anything I had not sinned as the abandoned ones, I would say that I had done what I had not done, that I might not seem contemptible in proportion as I was innocent ; or of less account, the more chaste. Behold with what companions I walked the streets of Babylon, and wallowed in the mire thereof, as if in a bed of spices, and precious ointments. And that I might cleave the faster to its very center, the invisible enemy trod me down, and seduced me, for that I was easy to be seduced. Neither did the mother of my flesh, (who had now fled out of the center of Babylon, yet went more slowly in the skirts thereof,) as she advised me to chastity, so heed what she had heard of me from her husband, as to restrain within the bounds of conjugal affection, (if it could not be pared away to the quick,) what she felt to be pestilent at present, and for the future dangerous. She heeded not this, for she feared, lest a wife should prove a clog and hindrance to my hopes. Not those hopes of the world to come, which my mother reposed in Thee; but the hope of learning, which both my parents were too desirous I should attain ; my father, because he had next to no thought of Thee, and of me but vain conceits; my mother, because she accounted that those usual courses of learning would not only be no hindrance, but even some furtherance towards attaining Thee. For this I conjecture, recalling, as well as I may, the disposition of my parents. The reins, meantime, were slack- ened to me, beyond all temper of due severity, to spend my SAINT AUGUSTINE 273 time in sport, yea, even unto dissoluteness in whatsoever I affected. And in all was a mist, intercepting from me, O my God, the brightness of Thy truth; and mine iniquity burst out as from very fatness. Theft is punished by Thy law, Lord, and the law written in the hearts of men, which iniquity itself effaces not. For what thief will abide a thief? not even a rich thief, one stealing through want. Yet I lusted to thieve, and did it, compelled by no hunger, nor poverty, but through a cloyedness of welldoing, and a pamperedness of iniquity. For I stole that, of which I had enough, and much better. Nor cared I to enjoy what I stole, but joyed in the theft and sin itself. A pear tree there was near our vineyard, laden with fruit, tempting neither for color nor taste. To shake and rob this, some lewd young fellows of us went, late one night, (having according to our pestilent custom prolonged our sports in the streets till then,) and took huge loads, not for our eating, but to fling to the very hogs, having only tasted them. And this, but to do, what we liked only, because it was misliked. Behold my heart, O God, behold my heart, which Thou hadst pity upon in the bottom of the bottomless pit. Now, behold let my heart tell Thee, what it sought there, that I should be gratuitously evil, having no temptation to ill, but the ill itself. It was foul, and I loved it; I loved to perish, I loved mine own fault, not that for which I was faulty, but my fault itself. Foul soul, falling from Thy firmament to utter destruction ; not seeking aught through the shame, but the shame itself! For there is an attractiveness in beautiful bodies, in gold and silver, and all things; and in bodily touch, sympathy hath much influence, and each other sense hath his proper object answerably tempered. Worldly honor hath also its grace, and the power of overcoming, and of mastery; whence springs also the thirst of revenge. But yet, to obtain all these, we may not depart from Thee, O Lord, nor decline from Thy law. The life also which here we live hath its own en- chantment, through a certain proportion of its own, and a correspondence with all things beautiful here below. Human friendship also is endeared with a sweet tie, by reason of the unity formed of many souls. Upon occasion of all these, A. V. 118 274 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY and the like, is sin committed, while through an immoderate inclination towards these goods of the lowest order, the better and higher are forsaken, Thou, our Lord God, Thy truth, and Thy law. For these lower things have their delights, but not like my God, who made all things ; for in Him doth the righteous delight, and He is the joy of the upright in heart. When, then, we ask why a crime was done, we believe it not, unless it appear that there might have been some desire of obtaining some of those which we called lower goods, or a fear of losing them. For they are beautiful and comely; although compared with those higher and beatific goods, they be abject and low. A man hath murdered another; why? he loved his wife or his estate ; or would rob for his own liveli- hood ; or feared to lose some such thing by him ; or, wronged, was on fire to be revenged. Would any commit murder upon no cause, delighted simply in murdering? Who would believe it ? For as for that furious and savage man, of whom it is said that he was gratuitously evil and cruel, yet is the cause assigned; 1 "lest" (saith he) "through idleness hand or heart should grow inactive." And to what end? That, through that practice of guilt, he might, having taken the city, attain to honors, empire, riches, and be freed from fear of the laws, and his embarrassments from domestic needs, and consciousness of villanies. So then, not even Catiline himself loved his own villanies, but something else, for whose sake he did them. What then did wretched I so love in thee, thou theft of mine, thou deed of darkness, in that sixteenth year of my age? Lovely thou wert not, because thou wert theft. But art thou anything, that thus I speak to thee? Fair were the pears we stole, because they were Thy creation, Thou fairest of all, Creator of all, Thou good God; God, the sovereign good and my true good. Fair were those pears, but not them did my wretched soul desire ; for I had store of better, and those I gathered, only that I might steal. For, when gathered, I flung them away, my only feast therein be- ing my own sin, which I was pleased to enjoy. For if aught of those pears came within my mouth, what sweetened it was 'Sallust. de Bell. Catil. c. 9. SAINT AUGUSTINE 275 the sin. And now, Lord my God, I inquire what in that theft delighted me ; and behold it hath no loveliness ; I mean not such loveliness as in justice and wisdom; nor such as is in the mind and memory, and senses, and animal life of man ; nor yet as the stars are glorious and beautiful in their orbs ; or the earth, or sea, full of embryo-life, replacing by its birth that which decayeth; nay, nor even that false and shadowy beauty, which belongeth to deceiving vices. For so doth pride imitate exaltedness; whereas Thou Alone art God exalted over all. Ambition, what seeks it, but honors and glory? whereas Thou Alone art to be honored above all, and glorious for evermore. The cruelty of the great would fain be feared; but who is to be feared but God alone, out of whose power what can be wrested or withdrawn ? when, or where, or whither, or by whom? The tendernesses of the wanton would fain be counted love : yet is nothing more tender than Thy charity; nor is aught loved more healthfully than Thy truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity makes semblance of a desire of knowledge ; whereas Thou supremely knowest all. Yea, ignorance and foolishness itself are cloaked under the name of simplicity and uninjuriousness ; because nothing is found more single than Thee: and what less in- jurious, since they are his own works, which injure the sinner? Yea, sloth would fain be at rest; but what stable rest besides the Lord? Luxury affects to be called plenty and abundance; but Thou art the fullness and never-failing plenteousness of incorruptible pleasures. Prodigality pre- sents a shadow of liberality: but Thou art the most over- flowing Giver of all good. Covetousness would possess many things: and Thou possessest all things. Envy disputes for excellency: what more excellent than Thou? Anger seeks revenge : who revenges more justly than Thou ? Fear startles at things unwonted and sudden, which endanger things be- loved, and takes forethought for their safety; but to Thee what unwonted or sudden, or who separateth from Thee what Thou lovest? Or where but with Thee is unshaken safety? Grief pines away for things lost, the delight of its desires; because it would have nothing taken from it, as nothing can from Thee. Thus doth the soul commit fornication, when she turns 276 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY from Thee, seeking without Thee, what she findeth not pure and untainted, till she returns to Thee. Thus all pervertedly imitate Thee, who remove far from Thee, and lift themselves up against Thee. But even by thus imitating Thee, they imply Thee to be the Creator of all nature; whence there is no place whither altogether to retire from Thee. What then did I love in that theft? and wherein did I even corruptly and pervertedly imitate my Lord? Did I wish even by stealth to do contrary to Thy law, because by power I could not, so that being a prisoner, I might mimic a maimed liberty by doing with impunity things unpermitted me, a darkened likeness of Thy Omnipotency? Behold, Thy servant, fleeing from his Lord, and obtaining a shadow. O rottenness, O monstrousness of life, and depth of death! could I like what I might not, only because I might not? What shall I render unto the Lord, that, whilst my mem- ory recalls these things, my soul is not affrighted at them? I will love Thee, O Lord, and thank Thee, and confess unto Thy name; because Thou hast forgiven me these so great and heinous deeds of mine. To Thy grace I ascribe it, and to Thy mercy, that Thou hast melted away my sins as it were ice. To Thy grace I ascribe also whatsoever I have not done of evil; for what might I not have done, who even loved a sin for its own sake ? Yea, all I confess to have been forgiven me ; both what evils I committed by my own willfulness, and what by Thy guidance I committed not. What man is he, who, weighing his own infirmity, dares to ascribe his purity and innocency to his own strength; that so he should love Thee the less, as if he had less needed Thy mercy, whereby Thou remittest sins to those that turn to Thee? For whosoever, called by Thee, followed Thy voice, and avoided those things which he reads me recalling and confessing of myself, let him not scorn me, who being sick, was cured by that Phy- sician, through Whose aid it was that he was not, or rather was less, sick: and for this let him love Thee as much, yea and more ; since by Whom he sees me to have been recovered from such deep consumption of sin, by Him he sees himself to have been from the like consumption of sin preserved. What fruit had I then (wretched man!) in those things, of the remembrance whereof I am now ashamed? Especially, SAINT AUGUSTINE 277 in that theft which I loved for the theft's sake; and it too was nothing, and therefore the more miserable I, who loved it. Yet alone I had not done it : such was I then, I remember, alone I had never done it. I loved then in it also the com- pany of the accomplices, with whom I did it? I did not then love nothing else but the theft, yea rather I did love nothing else : for that circumstance of the company was also nothing. What is, in truth? who can teach me, save He that enlight- eneth my heart, and discovereth its dark corners? What is it which hath come into my mind to inquire, and discuss, and consider ? For had I then loved the pears I stole, and wished to enjoy them, I might have done it alone, had the bare com- mission of the theft sufficed to attain my pleasure ; nor needed I have inflamed the itching of my desires, by the excitement of accomplices. But since my pleasure was not in those pears, it was in the offense itself, which the company of fellow-sinners occasioned. What then was this feeling? For of a truth it was too foul: and woe was me, who had it. But yet what was it? Who can understand his errors? It was the sport, which, as it were, tickled our hearts, that we beguiled, those who little thought what we were doing, and much misliked it. Why then was my delight of such sort, that I did it not alone ? Because none doth ordinarily laugh alone ? ordinarily no one ; yet laughter sometimes masters men alone and singly when no one whatever is with them, if anything very ludicrous presents itself to their senses or mind. Yet I had not done this alone ; alone I had never never done it. Behold my God, before Thee, the vivid remembrance of my soul; alone, I had never committed that theft, wherein what I stole pleased me not, but that I stole ; nor had it alone liked me to do it, nor had I done it. O friendship too unfriendly ! thou incomprehensible inveigler of the soul, thou greediness to do mischief out of mirth and wantonness, thou thirst of others' loss, without lust of my own gain or revenge: but when it is said, "Let's go, let's do it," we are ashamed not to be shameless. Who can disentangle that twisted and intricate knottiness ? Foul is it: I hate to think on it, to look on it. But Thee I long for, O Righteousness and Innocency, beautiful and 278 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY comely to all pure eyes, and of a satisfaction unsating. With Thee is rest entire, and life imperturbable. Whoso enters into Thee, enters into the joy of Ms Lord: and shall not fear, and shall do excellently in the All-Excellent. I sank away from Thee, and I wandered, O my God, too much astray from Thee my stay, in these days of my youth, and I became to myself a barren land. BOOK ra To Carthage I came, where there sang all around me in my ears a cauldron of unholy loves. I loved not yet, yet I loved to love, and out of a deep-seated want, I hated myself for wanting not. I sought what I might love, in love with lov- ing, and safety I hated, and a way without snares. For within me was a famine of that inward food, Thyself, my God ; yet, through that famine I was not hungered; but was without all 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 miserably cast itself forth, desiring to be scraped by the touch of ob- jects of sense. Yet if these had not a soul, they would not be objects of love. To love then, and to be beloved, was sweet to me ; but more, when I obtained to enjoy the person I loved. I defiled, therefore, the spring of friendship with the filth of concupiscence, and I beclouded its brightness with the hell of lustfulness; and thus foul and unseemly, I would fain, through exceeding vanity, be fine and courtly. I fell head- long then into the love, wherein I longed to be ensnared. My God, my Mercy, with how much gall didst Thou out of Thy great goodness besprinkle for me that sweetness? For I was both beloved, and secretly arrived at the bond of en- joying; and was with joy fettered with sorrow-bringing bonds, that I might be scourged with the iron burning rods of jealousy, and suspicions, and fears, and angers, and quarrels. Stage-plays also carried me away, full of images of my miseries, and of fuel to my fire. Why is it, that man desires to be made sad, beholding doleful and tragical things, which yet himself would by no means suffer? yet he desires as a spectator to feel sorrow at them, and this very sorrow is his SAINT AUGUSTINE 279 pleasure. What is this but a miserable madness? for a man is the more affected with these actions, the less free he is from such affections. Howsoever, when he suffers in his own person, it uses to be styled misery: when he compassionates others, then it is mercy. But what sort of compassion is this for feigned and scenical passions ? for the auditor is not called on to relieve, but only to grieve : and he applauds the actor of these fictions the more, the more he grieves. And if the calamities of those persons (whether of old times, or mere fiction) be so acted, that the spectator is not moved to tears, he goes away disgusted and criticizing; but if he be moved to passion, he stays intent, and weeps for joy. Are griefs then too loved? Verily all desire joy. Or whereas no man likes to be miserable, is he yet pleased to be merciful ? which because it cannot be without passion, for this reason alone are passions loved ? This also springs from that vein of friendship. But whither goes that vein? whither flows it ? wherefore runs it into that * torrent of pitch bubbling forth those monstrous tides of foul lustfulness, into which it is willfully changed and transformed, being of its own will precipitated and corrupted from its heavenly clearness ? Shall compassion then be put away ? by no means. Be griefs then sometimes loved. But beware of uncleanness, O my soul, under the guardianship of my God, the God of our fathers, who is to ~be praised and exalted above all for ever, beware of uncleanness. For I have not now ceased to pity ; but then in the theaters I rejoiced with lovers, when they wickedly enjoyed one another, although this was imaginary only in the play. And when they lost one another, as if very compassionate, I sorrowed with them, yet had my delight in both. But now I much more pity him that re- joiceth in his wickedness, than him who is thought to suffer hardship, by missing some pernicious pleasure, and the loss of some miserable felicity. This certainly is the truer mercy, but in it, grief delights not, For though he that grieves for the miserable, be commended for his office of charity ; yet had he, who is genuinely compassionate, rather there were 1 He alludes to the sea of Sodom, which is said to bubble out a pitchy slime, into which other rivers running, are there lost in it. And like the lake itself, remain unmovable: wherefore it is called the Dead Sea. 280 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY nothing for him to grieve for. For if good will be ill willed, (which can never be,) then may he, who truly and sincerely commiserates, wish there might be some miserable, that he might commiserate. Some sorrow may then be al- lowed, none loved. For thus dost Thou, O Lord God, who lovest souls far more purely than we, and hast more incor- ruptibly pity on them, yet are wounded with no sorrowfulness. And who is sufficient for these thingsf But I, miserable, then loved to grieve, and sought out what to grieve at, when in another's and that feigned and per- sonated misery, that acting best pleased me, and attracted me the most vehemently, which drew tears from me. What marvel that an unhappy sheep, straying from Thy flock, and impatient of Thy keeping, I became infected with a foul disease? And hence the love of griefs; not such as should sink deep into me; for I loved not to suffer, what I loved to look on; but such as upon hearing their fictions should lightly scratch the surface; upon which as on envenomed nails, followed inflamed swelling, impostumes, and a putrified sore. My life being such, was it life, my God ? And Thy faithful mercy hovered over me afar. Upon how grievous iniquities consumed I myself, pursuing a sacrilegious curiosity, that having forsaken Thee, it might bring me to the treacherous abyss, and the beguiling service of devils, to whom I sacrificed my evil actions, and in all these things thou didst scourge me! I dared even, while Thy solemnities were celebrated within the walls of Thy Church, to desire, and to compass a business, deserving death for its fruits, for which Thou scourgedst me with grievous punishments, though nothing to my fault, O Thou my ex- ceeding mercy, my God, my refuge from those terrible de- stroyers, among whom I wandered with a stiff neck, with- drawing further from Thee, loving mine own ways, and not Thine; loving a vagrant liberty. Those studies also, which were accounted commendable, had a view to excelling in the courts of litigation; the more bepraised, the craftier. Such is men's blindness, glorying even in their blindness. And now I was chief in the rhetoric school, whereat I joyed proudly, and I swelled with arrogancy, though (Lord, Thou knowest) far quieter and SAINT AUGUSTINE 281 altogether removed from the subvertings of those "Sub- verters" 2 (for this ill-omened and devilish name was the very badge of gallantry) among whom I lived, with a shame- less shame that I was not even as they. With them I lived, and was sometimes delighted with their friendship, whose doings I ever did abhor, i.e. their "subvertings," wherewith they wantonly persecuted the modesty of strangers, which they disturbed by a gratuitous jeering, feeding thereon their malicious mirth. Nothing can be liker the very actions of devils than these. What then could they be more truly called than ' ( subverters ? " themselves subverted and altogether per- verted first, the deceiving spirits secretly deriding and se- ducing them, wherein themselves delight to jeer at, and deceive others. Among such as these, in that unsettled age of mine, learned I books of eloquence, wherein I desired to be eminent, out of a damnable and vain glorious end, a joy in human vanity. In the ordinary course of study, I fell upon a certain book of Cicero, whose speech almost all admire, not so his heart. This book of his contains an exhortation to philosophy, and is called "Hortensius." But this book altered my af- fections, and turned my prayers to Thyself, Lord; and made me have other purposes and desires. Every vain hope at once became worthless to me; and I longed with an in- credibly burning desire for an immortality of wisdom, and began now to arise, that I might return to Thee. For not to sharpen my tongue, (which thing I seemed to be purchas- ing with my mother 's allowances, in that my nineteenth year, my father being dead two years before,) not to sharpen my tongue did I employ that book; nor did it infuse into me its style, but its matter. How did I burn then, my God, how did I burn to re-mount from earthly things to Thee, nor knew I what Thou wouldest do with me! For with Thee is wisdom. But the love of wisdom is in Greek called "philosophy," with which that book inflamed me. Some there be that seduce through philosophy, under a great, and smooth, and honorable name * Eversores. This appears to have been a name which a pestilent and savage set of persons gave themselves, licentious alike in speech and action. They seem to have consisted mainly of Carthaginian students. 282 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY coloring and disguising their own errors : and almost all who in that and former ages were such, are in that book censured and set forth : there also is made plain that wholesome advice of Thy Spirit, by Thy good and devout servant ; Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ. For in Him dwelleth all the fullness of the Godhead bodily. And since at that time (Thou, light of my heart, knowest) Apostolic Scripture was not known to me, I was delighted with that exhortation, so far only, that I was thereby strongly roused, and kindled, and inflamed to love, and seek, and obtain, and hold, and embrace not this or that sect, but wisdom itself whatever it were; and this alone checked me thus enkindled, that the name of Christ was not in it. For this name, according to Thy mercy, O Lord, this name of my Savior Thy Son, had my tender heart, even with my mother's milk, devoutly drunk in, and deeply treasured; and whatsoever was without that name, though never so learned, polished, or true, took not entire hold of me. I resolved then to bend my mind to the holy Scriptures, that I might see what they were. But behold, I see a thing not understood by the proud, nor laid open to children, lowly in access, in its recesses lofty, and veiled with mysteries; and I was not such as could enter into it, or stoop my neck to follow its steps. For not as I now speak, did I feel when I turned to those Scriptures ; but they seemed to me unworthy to be compared to the stateliness of Tully: for my swelling pride shrunk from their lowliness, nor could my sharp wit pierce the interior thereof. Yet were they such as would grow up in a little one. But I disdained to be a little one; and, swollen with pride, took myself to be a great one. Therefore I fell among men 3 proudly doting, exceeding carnal and prating, in whose mouths were the snares of the Devil, lined with the mixture of the syllables of Thy name, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Holy Ghost, the Paraclete, our Comforter. These names departed not out of their mouth, but so far forth, as the sound only and the noise of the tongue, for the heart was void of truth. Yet "In the Preface to the book "On the Benefit of Believing," S. Aug. speaks further on the errors which betrayed him to the Manichees. SAINT AUGUSTINE 283 they cried out "Truth, Truth," and spake much thereof to me, yet it was not in them: but they spake falsehood, not of Thee only, (who truly art Truth,) but even of those elements of this world, Thy creatures. And I indeed ought to have passed by even philosophers who spake truth concerning them, for love of Thee, my Father, supremely good, Beauty of all things beautiful. Truth, Truth, how inwardly did even then the marrow of my soul pant after Thee, when they often and diversely, and in many and huge books, echoed of Thee to me, though it was but an echo? And these were the dishes wherein to me, hungering after Thee, they, instead of Thee, served up the Sun and Moon, beautiful works of Thine, but yet Thy works, not Thyself, no nor Thy first works. For Thy spiritual works are before these corporeal works, celestial though they be, and shining. But I hungered and thirsted not even after those first works of Thine, but after Thee Thyself, the Truth, in whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning: yet they still set before me in those dishes, glittering fantasies, . than which better were it to love this very sun, (which is real to our sight at least,) than those fantasies which by our eyes deceive our mind. Yet because I thought them to be Thee, I fed thereon; not eagerly, for Thou didst not in them taste to me as Thou art ; for Thou wast not these emptinesses, nor was I nourished by them, but exhausted rather. Food in sleep shews very like our food awake; yet are not those asleep nourished by it, for they are asleep. But those were not even any way like to Thee, as Thou hast now spoken to me ; for those were corporeal fantasies, false bodies, than which these true bodies, celestial or terrestrial, which with our fleshly sight we be- hold, are far more certain: these things the beasts and birds discern as well as we, and they are more certain than when we fancy them. And again, we do with more certainty fancy them, than by them conjecture other vaster and infinite bodies which have no being. Such empty husks was I then fed on; and was not fed. But Thou, my soul's Love, in looking for whom I fail, that I may become strong, art neither those bodies which we see, though in heaven; nor those which we see not there; for Thou hast created them, nor dost Thou account them among the chiefest of Thy LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY works. How far then art Thou from those fantasies of mine, fantasies of bodies which altogether are not, than which the images of those bodies, which are, are far more certain, and more certain still the bodies themselves, which yet Thou art not; no, nor yet the soul, which is the life of the bodies. So then, better and more certain is the life of the bodies, than the bodies. But Thou art the life of souls, the life of lives, having life in Thyself; and changest not, life of my soul. "Where then wert Thou then to me, and how far from me ? Far verily was I straying from Thee, barred from the very husks of the swine, whom with husks I fed. For how much better are the fables of poets and grammarians, than these snares! For verses, and poems, and "Medea flying," are more profitable truly, than these men 's five elements, variously disguised, answering to five dens of darkness, which have no being, yet slay the believer. For verses and poems I can turn to true food, and "Medea flying," though I did sing, I maintained not; though I heard it sung, I believed not: but those things I did believe. Woe, woe, by what steps was I brought down to the depths of hell! toiling and turmoiling through want of Truth, since I sought after Thee, my God, (to Thee I confess it, who hadst mercy on me, not as yet confessing,) not according to the understanding of the mind, wherein Thou willedst that I should excel the beasts, but ac- cording to the sense of the flesh. But Thou wert more inward to me, than my most inward part; and higher than my highest. I lighted upon that bold woman, simple and knoweth nothing, shadowed out in Solomon, sitting at the door, and saying, Eat ye bread of secrecies willingly, and drink ye stolen waters which are sweet: she seduced me, be- cause she found my soul dwelling abroad in the eye of my flesh, and ruminating on such food, as through it I had devoured. For other than this, that which really is I knew not; and was, as it were through sharpness of wit, persuaded to assent to foolish deceivers, when they asked me, "whence is evil?" "is God bounded by a bodily shape, and has hairs and nails?" "are they to be esteemed righteous, who had many wives at once, and did kill men, and sacrificed living SAINT AUGUSTINE 285 creatures?" At which I, in my ignorance, was much trou- bled, and departing from the truth, seemed to myself to be making towards it; because as yet I knew not that evil was nothing but a privation of good, until at last a thing ceases altogether to be; which how should I see, the sight of whose eyes reached only to bodies, and of my mind to a phantasm ? And I knew not God to be a Spirit, not One who hath parts extended in length and breadth, or whose being was bulk; for every bulk is less in a part, than in the whole : and if it be infinite, it must be less in such part as is defined by a cer- tain space, than in its infinitude ; and so is not wholly every where, as Spirit, as God. And what that should be in us, by which we were like to God, and might in Scripture be rightly said to be after the Image of God, I was altogether ignorant. Nor knew I that true inward righteousness, which judgeth not according to custom, but out of the most rightful law of God Almighty, whereby the ways of places and times were disposed, according to those times and places; itself meantime being the same always and everywhere, not one thing in one place, and another in another; according to which Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Moses, and David, were righteous, and all those commended by the mouth of God ; but were judged unrighteous by silly men, judging out of man 's judgment, and measuring by their own petty habits, the moral habits of the whole human race. As if in an armory, one ignorant what were adapted to each part, should cover his head with greaves, or seek to be shod with a helmet, and complain that they fitted not: or as if on a day, when business is publicly stopped in the afternoon, one were angered at not being allowed to keep open shop, because he had been in the forenoon; or when in one house he observeth some servant take a thing in his hand, which the butler is not suffered to meddle with; or something permitted out of doors, which is forbidden in the dining-room; and should be angry, that in one house, and one family, the same thing is not allotted everywhere, and to all. Even such are they who are fretted to hear something to have been lawful for righteous men formerly, which now is not; or that God, for certain temporal respects, commanded them one thing, and 286 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY these another, obeying both the same righteousness: whereas they see, in one man, and one day, and one house, different things to be fit for different members, and a thing formerly lawful, after a certain time not so; in one corner permitted or commanded, but in another rightly forbidden and pun- ished. Is justice therefore various or mutable ? No, but the times, over which it presides, flow not evenly, because they are times. But men, whose days are few upon the earth, for that by their senses they cannot harmonize the causes of things in former ages and other nations, which they had no experience of, with these which they have experience of, whereas in one and the same body, day, or family, they easily see what is fitting for each member, and season, part, and person; to the one they take exceptions, to the other they submit. These things I then knew not, nor observed; they struck my sight on all sides, and I saw them not. I indited verses, in which I might not place every foot everywhere, but dif- ferently in different meters; nor even in any one meter the self-same foot in all places. Yet the art itself, by which I indited, had not different principles for these different cases, but comprised all in one. Still I saw not how that righteous- ness, which good and holy men obeyed, did far more ex- cellently and sublimely contain in one all those things which God commanded, and in no part varied ; although in varying times it prescribed not everything at once, but apportioned and enjoined what was fit for each. And I, in my blindness, censured the holy Fathers, not only wherein they made use of things present as God commanded and inspired them, but also wherein they were foretelling things to come, as God was revealing in them. Can it at any time or place be unjust to love God with all his heart, with all his soul, and with all his mdnd; and his neighbor as himself? Therefore are those foul offenses which be against nature, to be everywhere and at all times de- tested and punished; such as were those of the men of Sodom: which should all nations commit, they should all stand guilty of the same crime, by the law of God, which hath not so made men, that they should so abuse one an- other. For even that intercourse which should be between SAINT AUGUSTINE 287 God and us is violated, when that same nature, of which He is Author, is polluted by the perversity of lust. But those actions which are offenses against the customs of men, are to be avoided according to the customs severally prevailing; so that a thing agreed upon, and confirmed, by custom or law of any city or nation, may not be violated at the lawless pleasure of any, whether native or foreigner. For any part, which harmonizeth not with its whole, is offensive. But when God commands a thing to be done, against the customs or compact of any people, though it were never by them done heretofore, it is to be done; and if intermitted, it is to be restored; and if never ordained, is now to be ordained. For lawful if it be for a king, in the state which he reigns over, to command that, which no one before him, nor he him- self heretofore, had commanded, and to obey him cannot be against the common weal of the state; (nay, it were against it if he were not obeyed, for to obey princes is a general compact of human society;) how much more un- hesitatingly ought we to obey God, in all which He commands, the Ruler of all His creatures! For as among the powers in man 's society, the greater authority is obeyed in preference to the lesser, so must God above all. So in acts of violence, where there is a wish to hurt, whether by reproach or injury ; and these either for revenge, as one enemy against another; or for some profit belonging to another, as the robber to the traveler; or to avoid some evil, as towards one who is feared; or through envy, as one less fortunate to one more so, or one well thriven in any- thing, to him whose being on a par with himself he fears, or grieves at, or for the mere pleasure at another's pain, as spectators of gladiators, or deriders and mockers of others. These be the heads of iniquity, which spring from the lust of the flesh, of the eye, or of rule, either singly, or two com- bined, or all together; and so do men live ill against the three, and seven,* that psaltery of ten strings, Thy Ten Com- 4 8. Augustine mentions the two modes of dividing the Ten Com- mandments, into three and seven, or four and six, and gives what appear to have been his own private reasons for preferring the first. "To the first Commandment there belong three strings, because God is Trine. To the other, i.e. the love of our neighbor, seven strings. These let us join to those three, which belong to the love of God, if we would on 288 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY mandments, O God, most high, and most sweet. But what foul offenses can there be against Thee, who canst not be defiled? or what acts of violence against Thee, who canst not be harmed? But Thou avengest what men commit against themselves, seeing also when they sin against Thee, they do wickedly against their own souls, and iniquity gives itself the lie, by corrupting and perverting their nature, which Thou hast created and ordained, or by an immoderate use of things allowed, or in 'burning in things unallowed, to that use which is against nature; or are found guilty, raging with heart and tongue against Thee, kicking against the pricks; or when, bursting the pale of human society, they boldly joy in self-willed combinations or divisions, according as they have any object to gain or subject of offense. And these things are done when Thou art forsaken, O Fountain of Life, who art the only and true Creator and Governor of the Universe, and by a self-willed pride, any one false thing is selected therefrom and loved. So then by a humble de- voutness we return to Thee; and Thou cleansest us from our evil habits, and art merciful to their sins who confess, and hearest the groaning of the prisoner, and loosest us from the chains which we made for ourselves, if we lift not up against Thee the horns of an unreal liberty, suffering the loss of all, through covetousness of more, by loving more our own private good, than Thee, the Good of all. Amidst these offenses of foulness and violence, and so many iniquities, are sins of men, who are on the whole making proficiency; which by those that judge rightly, are, after the rule of perfection, discommended, yet the persons com- mended, upon hope of future fruit, as in the green blade of growing corn. And there are some, resembling offenses of foulness or violence, which yet are no sins; because they offend neither Thee, our Lord God, nor human society ; when, namely, things fitting for a given period are obtained for the service of life, and we know not whether out of a lust the psaltery of ten strings sing a new song. If ye do it out of love, ye sing a new song; if ye do it from fear, but still do it, ye bear indeed the psaltery, but do not yet sing; but if ye do not even this, ye cast away the psaltery itself. Better even to bear, than cast away ; but again, better with joy to sing, than to bear as burthensome. But to ' sing a new song,' he must be a new man." SAINT AUGUSTINE 289 of having; or when things are, for the sake of correction, by constituted authority punished, and we know not whether out of a lust of hurting. Many an action then which in men's sight is disapproved, is by Thy testimony approved; and many, by men praised, are (Thou being witness) con- demned: because the shew of the action, and the mind of the doer, and the unknown exigency of the period, severally vary. But when Thou on a sudden commandest an un- wonted and unthought-of thing, yea, although Thou hast sometime forbidden it, and still for the time hidest the reason of Thy command, and it be against the ordinance of some society of men, who doubts but it is to be done, seeing that society of men is just which serves Thee? But blessed are they who know Thy commands! For all things were done by Thy servants ; either to shew forth something needful for the present, or to foreshew things to come. These things I being ignorant of, scoffed at those Thy holy servants and prophets. And what gained I by scoffing at them, but to be scoffed at by Thee, being insensibly and step by step drawn on to those follies, as to believe that a fig- tree wept when it was plucked, and the tree, its mother, shed milky tears? Which fig notwithstanding (plucked by some other's, not his own, guilt) had some (Manichaean) saint eaten, and mingled with his bowels, he should breathe out of it angels, yea, there shall burst forth particles of divinity, at every moan or groan in his prayer, which particles of the most high and true God had remained bound in that fig, unless they had been set at liberty by the teeth or belly of some "Elect" saint! And I, miserable, believed that more mercy was to be shewn to the fruits of the earth than men, for whom they were created. For if any one an hungered, not a Manichasan, should ask for any, that morsel would seem as it were condemned to capital punishment, which should be given him. And Thou sentest Thine hand from above, and drewest my soul out of that profound darkness, my mother, Thy faithful one, weeping to Thee for me, more than mothers weep the bodily deaths of their children. For she, by that faith and spirit which she had from. Thee, discerned the death wherein I lay, and Thou heardest her, O Lord; Thou A. V. 119 290 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY heardest her, and despisedst not her tears, when streaming down, they watered the ground under her eyes in every place where she prayed ; yea Thou heardest her. For whence was that dream whereby Thou comfortedst her; so that she al- lowed me to live with her, and to eat at the same table in the house, which she had begun to shrink from, abhorring and detesting the blasphemies of my error? For she saw herself standing on a certain wooden rule, and a shining youth com- ing towards her, cheerful and smiling upon her, herself grieving, and overwhelmed with grief. But he having (in order to instruct, as is their wont, not to be instructed) in- quired of her the causes of her grief and daily tears, and she answering that she was bewailing my perdition, he bade her rest contented, and told her to look and observe, ' ' That where she was, there was I also." And when she looked, she saw me standing by her in the same rule. Whence was this, but that Thine ears were towards her heart? Thou Good omnipotent, who so carest for every one of us, as if Thou caredst for him only ; and so for all, as if they were but one ! Whence was this also, that when she had told me this vision, and I would fain bend it to mean, "That she rather should not despair of being one day what I was;" she presently, without any hesitation, replies ; ' ' No ; for it was not told me that, 'where he, there thou also;' but 'where thou, there he also?' ! I confess to Thee, O Lord, that to the best of my remembrance, (and I have oft spoken of this), that Thy answer, through my waking mother, that she was not per- plexed by the plausibility of my false interpretation, and so quickly saw what was to be seen, and which I certainly had not perceived, before she spake, even then moved me more than the dream itself, by which a joy to the holy woman, to be fulfilled so long after, was, for the consolation of her present anguish, so long before foresignified. For almost nine years passed, in which I wallowed in the mire of that deep pit, and the darkness of falsehood, often assaying to rise, but dashed down the more grievously. All which time that chaste, godly, and sober widow, (such as Thou lovest,) now more cheered with hope, yet no whit relaxing in her weeping and mourning, ceased not at all hours of her devotions to bewail my case unto Thee. And her prayers SAINT AUGUSTINE 291 entered into Thy presence; and yet Thou sufferest me to be yet involved and reinvolved in that darkness. Thou gavest her meantime another answer, which I call to mind; for much I pass by, hasting to those things which more press me to confess unto Thee, and much I do not re- member. Thou gavest her then another answer, by a Priest of Thine, a certain Bishop brought up in Thy Church, and well studied in Thy books. Whom when this woman had entreated to vouchsafe to converse with me, refute my errors, unteach me ill things, and teach me good things, (for this he was wont to do, when he found persons fitted to receive it,) he refused, wisely, as I afterwards perceived. For he an- swered, that I was yet unteachable, being puffed up with the novelty of that heresy, and had already perplexed divers unskillful persons with captious questions, as she had told him: ''but let him alone a while," (saith he,) "only pray God for him, he will of himself by reading find what that error is, and how great its impiety." At the same time he told her, how himself, when a little one, had by his seduced mother been consigned over to the Manichees, and had not only read, but frequently copied out almost all, their books, and had (without any argument or proof from any one) seen how much that sect was to be avoided; and had avoided it. Which when he had said, and she would not be satisfied, but urged him more, with entreaties and many tears, that he would see me, and discourse with me; he, a little displeased at her importunity, saith, ' ' Go thy ways, and God bless Thee, for it is not possible that the son of these tears should perish." Which answer she took (as she often men- tioned in her conversations with me) as if it had sounded from heaven. BOOK IV FOR this space of nine years then (from my nineteenth year, to my eight and twentieth) we lived seduced and seducing, deceived and deceiving, in divers lusts; openly, by sciences which they call liberal ; secretly, with a false named religion ; here proud, there superstitious, everywhere vain! Here, hunting after the emptiness of popular praise, down even to theatrical applauses, and poetic prizes, and strifes for grassy 292 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY garlands, and the follies of shews, and the intemperance of desires. There, desiring to be cleansed from these defile- ments, by carrying food to those who were called "elect" and "holy," out of which, in the workhouse of their stomachs, they should forge for us Angels and Gods, by whom we might be cleansed. These things did I follow, and practice with my friends, deceived by me, and with me. Let the arrogant mock me, and such as have not been, to their soul's health, stricken and cast down by Thee, O my God; but I would still confess to Thee mine own shame in Thy praise. Suffer me, I beseech Thee, and give me grace to go over in my present remembrance the wanderings of my forepassed time, and to offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving. For what am I to myself without Thee, but a guide to mine own downfall? or what am I even at the best, but an infant sucking the milk Thou givest, and feeding upon Thee, the food that perisheth not? But what sort of man is any man, seeing he is but a man ? Let now the strong and the mighty laugh at us, but let us poor and needy confess unto Thee. In those years I taught rhetoric, and, overcome by cupidity, made sale of a loquacity to overcome by. Yet I preferred (Lord, Thou knowest) honest scholars, (as they are ac- counted,) and these I, without artifice, taught artifices, not to be practiced against the life of the guiltless, though some- times for the life of the guilty. And thou, O God, from afar perceivedst me stumbling in that slippery course, and amid much smoke sending out some sparks of faithfulness, which I shewed in that my guidance of such as loved vanity, and sought after leasing, myself their companion. In those years I had one, not in that which is called lawful marriage, but whom I had found out in a wayward passion, void of under- standing; yet but one, remaining faithful even to her; in whom I in my own case experienced, what difference there is betwixt the self-restraint of the marriage-covenant, for the sake of issue, and the bargain of a lustful love, where children are born against their parents' will, although, once born, they constrain love. I remember also, that when I had settled to enter the lists for a theatrical prize, some wizard asked me what I would give him to win: but I, detesting and abhorring such foul SAINT AUGUSTINE 293 mysteries, answered, "Though the garland were of imperish- able gold, I would not suffer a fly to be killed to gain me it. ' ' For he was to kill some living creatures in his sacrifices, and by those honors to invite the devils to favor me. But this ill also I rejected, not out of a pure love for Thee, O God of my heart; for I knew not how to love Thee, who knew not how to conceive aught beyond a material brightness. And doth not a soul, sighing after such fictions, commit fornication against Thee, trust in things unreal, and feed the wind? Still I would not forsooth have sacrifices offered to devils for me, to whom I was sacrificing myself by that superstition. For, what else is it to feed the mind, but to feed them, that is, by going astray to become their pleasure and derision ? Those impostors then, whom they style Mathematicians, I consulted without scruple; because they seemed to use no sacrifice, nor to pray to any spirit for their divinations : which art, however, Christian and true piety consistently rejects and condemns. For, it is a good thing to confess unto Thee, and to say, Have mercy upon me, heal my soul, for I have sinned against Thee; and not to abuse Thy mercy for a license to sin, but to remember the Lord's words, Behold, thou art made whole, sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee. All which wholesome advice they labor to destroy, saying, "The cause of thy sin is inevitably determined in heaven;" and "This did Venus, or Saturn, or Mars:" that man, forsooth, flesh and blood, and proud corruption, might be blameless ; while the Creator and Ordainer of heaven and the stars is to bear the blame. And who is He but our God? the very sweetness and well-spring of righteousness, who renderest to every man according to his works: and a broken and contrite heart wilt Thou not despise. There was in those days a wise man, 1 very skillful in physic, and renowned therein, who had with his own procon- sular hand put the Agonistic garland upon my distempered head, but not as a physician : for this disease Thou only curest, who resistest the proud, and givest grace to the humble. But didst Thou fail me even by that old man, or forbear to heal my soul ? For having become more acquainted with him, and hanging assiduously and fixedly on his speech, (for 1 Vindicianus. S. Aug. calls him "the great physician of our times." 294 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY though in simple terms, it was vivid, lively, and earnest,) when he had gathered by my discourse, that I was given to the books of nativity-casters, he kindly and fatherly advised me to cast them away, and not fruitlessly bestow a care and diligence, necessary for useful things, upon these vanities; saying, that he had in his earliest years studied that art, so as to make it the profession whereby he should live, and that, understanding Hippocrates, he could soon have understood such a study as this ; and yet he had given it over, and taken to physic, for no other reason, but that he found it utterly false; and he, a grave man would not get his living by deluding people. "But thou," saith he, "hast rhetoric to maintain thyself by, so that thou f ollowest this of free choice, not of necessity: the more then oughtest Thou to give me credit herein, who labored to acquire it so perfectly, as to get my living by it alone. ' ' Of whom when I had demanded, how then could many true things be foretold by it, he an- swered me (as he could) "that the force of chance, diffused throughout the whole order of things, brought this about. For if when a man by hap-hazard opens the pages of some poet, who sang and thought of something wholly different, a verse oftentimes fell out, wondrously agreeable to the present business : it were not to be wondered at, if out of the soul of man, unconscious what takes place in it, by some higher instinct an answer should be given, by hap, not by art, cor- responding to the business and actions of the demander. ' ' And thus much, either from or through him, Thou con- veyedst to me, and tracedst in my memory, what I might hereafter examine for myself. But at that time neither he, nor my dearest Nebridius, a youth singularly good and of a holy fear, who derided the whole body of divination, could persuade me to cast it aside, the authority of the authors swaying me yet more, and as yet I had found no certain proof (such as I sought) whereby it might without all doubt appear, that what had been truly foretold by those consulted was the result of hap-hazard, not of the art of the star- gazers. In those years when I first began to teach rhetoric in my native town, I had made one my friend, but too dear to me, from a community of pursuits, of mine own age, and, as my- SAINT AUGUSTINE 295 self, in the first opening flower of youth. He had grown up of a child with me, and we had been both school-fellows, and play-fellows. But he was not yet my friend as afterwards, nor even then, as true friendship is; for true it cannot be, unless in such as Thou cementest together, cleaving unto Thee, by that love which is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us. Yet was it but too sweet, ripened by the warmth of kindred studies : for, from the true faith (which he as a youth had not soundly and thoroughly imbibed,) I had warped him also to those superstitious and pernicious fables, for which my mother bewailed me. With me he now erred in mind, nor could my soul be without him. But behold Thou wert close on the steps of Thy fugitives, at once God of vengeance, and Fountain of mercies, turning us to Thyself by wonderful means; Thou tookest that man out of this life, when he had scarce filled up one whole year of my friendship, sweet to me above all sweetness of that my life. Who can recount all Thy praises, which he hath felt in his one self ? What didst Thou then, my God, and how unsearch- able is the abyss of Thy judgments? For long, sore sick of a fever, he lay senseless in a death-sweat; and his recovery being despaired of, he was baptized, unknowing; myself meanwhile little regarding, and presuming that his soul would retain rather what it had received of me, not what was wrought on his unconscious body. But it proved far other- wise : for he was refreshed, and restored. Forthwith, as soon as I could speak with him, (and I could, so soon as he was able, for I never left him, and we hung but too much upon each other,) I essayed to jest 2 with him, as though he would jest with 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 so shrunk from me, as from an enemy ; and with a wonderful and sudden freedom bade me, as I would continue his friend, forbear such 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 2 The Manichseans, which S. Aug. then was, could not but reject Bap- tism, or any rite employing a material substance. They purified matter, not matter them. S. Aug. speaks again of his "mocking" at Baptism in his own case. 296 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY from my frenzy, that with Thee he might be preserved for my comfort ; a few days after, in my absence, he was attacked again by the fever, and so departed. At this grief my heart was utterly darkened ; and whatever I beheld was death. My native country was a torment to me, and my father's house a strange unhappiness; and whatever I had shared with him, wanting him, became a distracting torture. Mine eyes sought him everywhere, but he was not granted them; and I hated all places, for that they had not him ; nor could they now tell me, "he is coming, ' ' as when he was alive and absent. I became a great riddle to myself, and I asked my soul, why she was so sad, and why she disquieted me sorely: but she knew not what to answer me. And if I said, Trust in God, she very rightly obeyed me not ; because that most dear friend, whom she had lost, was, being man, both truer and better, than that phantasm she was bid to trust in. Only tears were sweet to me, for they succeeded my friend, in the dearest of my affections. And now, Lord, these things are passed by, and time hath assuaged my wound. May I learn from Thee, who art Truth, and approach the ear of my heart unto Thy mouth, that Thou mayest tell me why weeping is sweet to the miserable ? Hast Thou, although present everywhere, cast away our misery far from Thee ? And Thou abidest in Thyself, but we are tossed about in divers trials. And yet unless we mourned in Thine ears, we should have no hope left. Whence then is sweet fruit gathered from the bitterness of life, from groaning, tears, sighs, and complaints? Doth this sweeten it, that we hope Thou hearest ? This is true of prayer, for therein is a long- ing to approach unto Thee. But is it also in grief for a thing lost, and the sorrow wherewith I was then overwhelmed? For I neither hoped he should return to life, nor did I desire this with my tears ; but I wept only and grieved. For I was miserable, and had lost my joy. Or is weeping indeed a bitter thing, and for very loathing of the things, which we before enjoyed, does it then, when we shrink from them, please us? But what speak I of these things? for now is no time to question, but to confess unto Thee. Wretched I was; and wretched is every soul bound by the friendship of perishable things; he is torn asunder when he loses them, and then he SAINT AUGUSTINE 297 feels the wretchedness, which he had, ere yet he lost them. So was it then with me ; I wept most bitterly, and found my repose in bitterness. Thus was I wretched, and that wretched life I held dearer than my friend. For though I would willingly have changed it, yet was I more unwilling to part with it, than with him ; yea, I know not whether I would have parted with it even for him, as is related (if not feigned) of Pylades and Orestes, that they would gladly have died for each other or together, not to live together being to them worse than death. But in me there had arisen some unexplained feeling, too contrary to this, for at once I loathed exceedingly to live, and feared to die. I suppose, the more I loved him, the more did I hate, and fear (as a most cruel enemy) death, which had bereaved me of him: and I imagined it would speedily make an end of all men, since it had power over him. Thus was it with me, I remember. Behold my heart, O my God, behold and see into me; for well I remember it, O my Hope, who cleansest me from the impurity of such affections, directing mine eyes towards Thee, and plucking my feet out of the snare. For I wondered at others, subject to death, did live, since he whom I loved, as if he should never die, was dead : and I wondered yet more that myself, who was to him a second self, could live, he being dead. Well said one of his friends, ' ' Thou half of my soul : ' ' for I felt that my soul and his soul were "one soul in two bodies:" and therefore was my life a horror to me, because I would not live halved. And therefore perchance I feared to die, lest he whom I had much loved, should die wholly. O madness, which knowest not how to love men, like men ! O foolish man that I then was, enduring impatiently the lot of man ! I fretted then, 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, not in games and music, nor in fragrant spots, nor in curious banquetings, nor in the pleasures of the bed and the couch; nor (finally) in books or poesy, found it repose. All things looked ghastly, yea, the very light; whatsoever was not what he was, was revolting and hateful, except groaning and tears. For in those alone found I a little refreshment. But when my soul 298 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY was withdrawn from them, a huge load of misery weighed me down. 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 wert not to me any solid or substantial thing. For Thou wert not Thyself, but a mere phantom, and my error was my God. If I offered to discharge my load thereon, that it might rest, it glided through the void, and came rushing down again on 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 should I flee from myself ? Whither not follow myself ? And yet I fled out of my country ; for so should mine eyes less look for him, where they were not wont to see him. And thus from Thagaste, I came to Carthage. Times lose no time ; nor do they roll idly by ; through our senses they work strange operations on the mind. Behold, they went and came day by day, and by coming and going, introduced into my mind other imaginations, and other re- membrances; and little by little patched me up again with my old kind of delights, unto which that my sorrow gave way. And yet there succeeded, not indeed other griefs, yet the causes of other griefs. For whence had that former grief so easily reached my very inmost soul, but that I had poured out my soul upon the dust, in loving one that must die, as if he would never die? For what restored and refreshed me chiefly, was the solaces of other friends, with whom I did love, what instead of Thee I loved: and this was a great fable, and protracted lie, by whose adulterous stimulus, our soul, which lay itching in our ears, was being defiled. But that fable would not die to me, so oft as any of my friends died. There were other things which in them did more take my mind; to talk and jest together, to do kind offices by turns; to read together honied books; to play the fool or be earnest together; to dissent at times without discontent, as a man might with his own self; and even with the seldomness of these dissentings, to season our more frequent consentings ; sometimes to teach, and sometimes learn; long for the absent with impatience; and welcome the coming with joy. These and the like expressions, proceeding out of the hearts of those that loved and were loved again, by the countenance, the SAINT AUGUSTINE 299 tongue, the eyes, and a thousand pleasing gestures, were so much fuel to melt our souls together, and make but one. This is it that is loved in friends; and so loved, that a man's conscience condemns itself, if he love not him that loves him again, or love not again him that loves him, looking for nothing from his person, but indications of his love. Hence that mourning, if one die, and darkenings of sorrows, that steeping of the heart in tears, all sweetness turned to bitterness ; and upon the loss of life of the dying, the death of the living. Blessed whoso loveth Thee, and his friend in Thee, and his enemy for Thee. For he alone loses none dear to him, to whom all are dear in Him Who cannot be lost. And who is this but our God, the God that made heaven and earth, and filleth them, because by filling them He created them ? Thee none loseth, but who leaveth. And who leaveth Thee, whither goeth or whither fleeth he, but from Thee well- pleased, to Thee displeased ? For where doth he not find Thy law in his own punishment? And Thy law is truth, and truth Thou. These things I then knew not, and I loved these lower beauties, and I was sinking to the very depths, and to my friends I said, "do we love anything but the beautiful? What then is the beautiful ? and what is beauty ? What is it that attracts and wins us to the things we love? for unless there were in them a grace and beauty, they could by no means draw us unto them." And I marked and perceived that in bodies themselves there was a beauty, from their forming a sort of whole, and again, another from apt and mutual correspondence, as of a part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with a foot, and the like. And this considera- tion sprang up in my mind, out of my inmost heart, and I wrote "on the fair and fit," I think, two or three books. Thou knowest, O Lord, for it is gone from me; for I have them not, but they are strayed from me, I know not how. But what moved me, Lord my God, to dedicate these books unto Hierius, an orator of Rome, whom I knew not by face, but loved for the fame of his learning which was eminent in him, and some words of his I had heard, which pleased me ? But more did he please me, for that he pleased others, who highly extolled him, amazed that out of a Syrian, first in- 300 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY structed in Greek eloquence, should afterwards be formed a wonderful Latin orator, and one most learned in things per- taining unto philosophy. One is commended, and, unseen, he is loved: doth this love enter the heart of the hearer from the mouth of the commender ? Not so. But by one who loveth is another kindled. For hence he is loved, who is commended, when the commender is believed to extol him with an un- feigned heart ; that is, when one that loves him, praises him. I was then some six or seven and twenty years old when I wrote those volumes; revolving within me corporeal fictions, buzzing in the ears of my heart, which I turned, O sweet truth, to thy inward melody, meditating on the ' ' fair and fit, ' ' and longing to stand and hearken to Thee, and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's voice, but could not; for by the voices of mine own errors, I was hurried abroad, and through the weight of my own pride, I was sinking into the lowest pit. For Thou didst not make me to hear joy and gladness, nor did the bones exult which were not yet humbled. And what did it profit me, that scarce twenty years old, a book of Aristotle, which they call the ten Predicaments, falling into my hands, (on whose very name I hung, as on something great and divine, so often as my rhetoric master of Carthage, and others, accounted learned, mouthed it with cheeks bursting with pride,) I read and understood it un- aided? And on my conferring with others, who said that they scarcely understood it with very able tutors, not only orally explaining it, but drawing many things in sand, they could tell me no more of it than I had learned, reading it by myself. And the book appeared to me to speak very clearly of substances, such as "man," and of their qualities, as the figure of a man, of what sort it is; and stature, how many feet high; and his relationship, whose brother he is; or where placed ; or when born ; or whether he stands or sits ; or be shod or armed ; or does, or suffers anything ; and all the innumerable things which might be ranged under these nine Predicaments, 3 of which I have given some specimens, or under that chief Predicament of Substance. 3 All the relations of things were comprised by Aristotle under nine heads; quantity, quality, relation, action, passion, where, when, situation, clothing; and these with that wherein they might be found, or "sub- stance," make up the ten categories or predicaments. SAINT AUGUSTINE 301 What did all this further me, seeing it even hindered me? when, imagining whatever was, was comprehended under those ten Predicaments, I essayed in such wise to understand, my God, Thy wonderful and unchangeable Unity also, as if Thou also hadst been subjected to Thine own greatness or beauty; so that (as in bodies) they should exist in Thee, as their subject: whereas Thou Thyself art Thy greatness and beauty; but a body is not great or fair in that it is a body, seeing that, though it were less great or fair, it should not- withstanding be a body. But it was falsehood which of Thee 1 conceived, not truth ; fictions of my misery, not the realities of Thy Blessedness. For Thou hadst commanded, and it was done in me, that the earth should bring forth briars and thorns to me, and that in the sweat of my brows I should eat my bread. And what did it profit me, that all the books I could pro- cure of the so-called liberal arts, I, the vile slave of vile affections, read by myself, and understood ? And I delighted in them, but knew not whence came all, that therein was true or certain. For I had my back to the light, and my face to the things enlightened; whence my face, with which I dis- cerned the things enlightened, itself was not 1 enlightened. Whatever was written, either on rhetoric, or logic, geometry, music, and arithmetic, by myself without much difficulty or any instructor, I understood, Thou knowest, O Lord my God ; because both quickness of understanding, and acuteness in discerning, is Thy gift : yet did I not thence sacrifice to Thee as I should have. So then it served not to my use, but rather to my perdition, since I went about to get so good a portion of my substance into my own keeping; and I kept not my strength for Thee, but wandered from Thee into a far country, to spend it upon harlotries. For what profited me good abilities, not employed to good uses? For I felt not that those arts were attained with great difficulty, even by the studious and talented, until I attempted to explain them to such ; when he most excelled in them, who followed me not altogether slowly. But what did this further me, imagining that Thou, Lord God, the Truth, wert a vast and bright body, and I a frag- ment of that body? Perverseness too great! But such was 302 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY I. Nor do I blush, my God, to confess to Thee Thy mercies towards me, and to call upon Thee, who blushed not then to profess to men my blasphemies, and to bark against Thee. What profited me then my nimble wit in those sciences and all those most knotty volumes, unraveled by me, without aid from human instruction; seeing I erred so foully, and with such sacrilegious shamefulness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what hindrance was a far slower wit to Thy little ones, since they departed not far from Thee, that in the nest of Thy Church they might securely be fledged, and nourish the wings of charity, by the food of a sound faith. Lord our God, under the shadow of Thy wings let us hope; protect us, and carry us. Thou wilt carry us both when little, and even to hoar hairs wilt Thou carry us; for our firmness, when it is Thou, then is it firmness ; but when our own, it is infirmity. Our good ever lives with Thee; from which when we turn away, we are turned aside. Let us now, Lord, return, that we may not be overturned, because with Thee our good lives without any decay, which good art Thou; nor need we fear, lest there be no place whither to return, because we fell from it: for through our absence, our mansion fell not Thy eternity. BOOK v ACCEPT the sacrifice of my confessions from the ministry of my tongue, which Thou hast formed and stirred up to confess unto Thy name. Heal Thou all my bones, and let them say, Lord, who is like unto Thee? For he who confesses to Thee, doth not teach Thee what takes place within him; seeing a closed heart closes not out Thy eye, nor can man's hard-heartedness thrust back Thy hand: for Thou dissolvest it at Thy will in pity or in vengeance, and nothing can hide itself from Thy heat. But let my soul praise Thee, that it may love Thee ; and let it confess Thy own mercies to Thee, that it may praise Thee. Thy whole creation ceaseth not, nor is silent in Thy praises ; neither the spirit of man with voice directed unto Thee, nor creation animate or inanimate, by the voice of those who meditate thereon : that so our souls may from their weariness arise towards Thee, leaning on those things which Thou hast created, and passing on to Thyself, SAINT AUGUSTINE 303 who madest them wonderfully ; and there is refreshment and true strength. Let the restless, the godless, depart and flee from Thee ; yet Thou seest them, and dividest the darkness. And behold, the universe with them is fair, though they are foul. And how have they injured Thee? or how have they disgraced Thy government, which, from the heaven to this lowest earth, is just and perfect? For whither fled they, when they fled from Thy presence ? Or where dost not Thou find them ? But they fled, that they might not see Thee seeing them, and, blinded, might stumble against Thee ; (because Thou forsakest nothing Thou hast made;) that the unjust, I say, might stumble upon Thee, and justly be hurt ; withdrawing themselves from Thy gentleness, and stumbling at Thy uprightness, and falling upon their own ruggedness. Ignorant, in truth, that Thou art everywhere, Whom no place encompasseth ! and Thou alone art near, even to those that remove far from Thee. Let them then be turned, and seek Thee ; because not as they have forsaken their Creator, hast Thou forsaken Thy creation. Let them be turned and seek Thee; and behold, Thou art there in their heart, in the heart of those that confess to Thee, and cast themselves upon Thee, and weep in Thy bosom, after all their rugged ways. Then dost Thou gently wipe away their tears, and they weep the more, and joy in weeping; even for that Thou, Lord, not man of flesh and blood, but Thou, Lord, who madest them, re-makest and comfortest them. But where was I, when I was seeking Thee ? And Thou wert before me, but I had gone away from Thee ; nor did I find myself, how much less Thee ! I would lay open before my God that nine and twentieth year of mine age. There had then come to Carthage, a certain Bishop of the Manichees, Faustus by name, a great snare of the Devil, and many were entangled by him through that lure of his smooth language: which though I did commend, yet could I separate from the truth of the things which I was earnest to learn: nor did I so much regard the service of oratory, as the science which this Faustus, so praised among them, set before me to feed upon. Fame had before bespoken him most knowing in all valuable learning, and exquisitely skilled in the liberal sciences. And since I had read and well 304 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY remembered much, of the philosophers, I compared some things of theirs with those long fables of the Manichees, and found the former the more probable. And for almost all those nine years, wherein with unsettled mind I had been their disciple, I had longed but too intensely for the coming of this Faustus. For the rest of the sect, whom by chance I had lighted upon, when unable to solve my objections about these things, still held out to me the com- ing of this Faustus, by conference with whom, these and greater difficulties, if I had them, were to be most readily and abundantly cleared. When then he came, I found him a man of pleasing discourse, and who could speak fluently and in better terms, yet still but the self-same things which they were wont to say. But what availed the utmost neatness of the cup-bearer to my thirst for a more precious draft? Mine ears were already cloyed with the like, nor did they seem to me therefore better, because better said ; nor therefore true, because eloquent ; nor the soul therefore wise, because the face was comely, and the language graceful. But they who held him out to me, were no good judges of things ; and therefore to them he appeared understanding and wise, because in words pleasing. I felt however that another sort of people were suspicious even of truth, and refused to assent to it, if delivered in a smooth and copious discourse. But Thou, O my God, hadst already taught me by wonderful and secret ways, and therefore I believe that Thou taughtest me, because it is truth, nor is there besides Thee any teacher of truth, where or whencesoever it may shine upon us. Of Thyself therefore had I now learned, that neither ought anything to seem to be spoken truly, because eloquently ; nor therefore falsely, because the utterance of the lips is inharmonious; nor, again, therefore true, because rudely delivered; nor therefore false, because the language is rich ; but that wisdom and folly are as wholesome and unwholesome food; and adorned or unadorned phrases, as courtly or country vessels ; either kind of meats may be served up in either kind of dishes. That greediness then, wherewith I had of so long time ex- pected that man, was delighted verily with his action and feeling when disputing, and his choice and readiness of words to clothe his ideas. I was then delighted, and, with many SAINT AUGUSTINE 305 others and more than they, did I praise and extol him. It troubled me, however, that in the assembly of his auditors, I was not allowed to put in, and communicate those questions that troubled me, in familiar converse with him. Which when I might, and with my friends began to engage his ears at such times as it was not unbecoming for him to discuss with me, and had brought forward such things as moved me ; I found him first utterly ignorant of liberal sciences, save grammar, and that but in an ordinary way. But because he had read some of Tully's Orations, a very few books of Seneca, some things of the poets, and such few volumes of his own sect as were written in Latin and neatly, and was daily practiced in speaking, he acquired a certain eloquence, which proved the more pleasing and seductive, because under the guidance of a good wit, and with a kind of natural graceful- ness. Is it not thus, as I recall it, O Lord my God, Thou Judge of my conscience? Before Thee is my heart, and my remembrance, Who didst at that time direct me by the hidden mystery of Thy providence, and didst set those shameful errors of mine before my face, that I might see and hate them. For after it was clear, that he was ignorant of those arts in which I thought he excelled, I began to despair of his opening and solving the difficulties which perplexed me ; (of which indeed however ignorant, he might have held the truths of piety, had he not been a Manichee). For their books are fraught with prolix fables, of the heaven, and stars, sun, and moon, and I now no longer thought him able satisfactorily to decide what I much desired, whether, on comparison of these things with the calculations I had elsewhere read, the account given in the books of Manichasus were preferable, or at least as good. Which when I proposed to be considered and discussed, he, so far modestly, shrunk from the burthen. For he knew that he knew not these things, and was not ashamed to confess it. For he was not one of those talking persons, many of whom I had endured, who undertook to teach me these things, and said nothing. But this man had a heart, though not right towards Thee, yet neither altogether treach- erous to himself. For he was not altogether ignorant of his own ignorance, nor would he rashly be entangled in a dis- pute, whence he could neither retreat, nor extricate himself A. v. 120 306 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY fairly. Even for this I liked him the better. For fairer is the modesty of a candid mind, than the knowledge of those things which I desired ; and such I found him, in all the more difficult and subtle questions. My zeal for the writings of Manichaeus being thus blunted, and despairing yet more of their other teachers, seeing that in divers things which perplexed me, he, so renowned among them, had so turned out ; I began to engage with him in the study of that literature, on which he also was much set, (and which as rhetoric-reader I was at that time teaching young students at Carthage,) and to read with him, either what himself desired to hear, or such as I judged fit for his genius. But all my efforts whereby I had purposed to advance in that sect, upon knowledge of that man, came utterly to an end; not that I detached myself from them altogether, but as one finding nothing better, I had settled to be content meanwhile with what I had in whatever way fallen upon, unless by chance something more eligible should dawn upon me. Thus that Faustus, to so many a snare of death, had now, neither willing nor witting it, begun to loosen that wherein I was taken. For Thy hands, O my God, in the secret purpose of Thy providence, did not forsake my soul; and out of my mother's heart's blood, through her tears night and day poured out, was a sacrifice offered for me unto Thee; and Thou didst deal with me by wondrous ways. Thou didst it, O my God : for the steps of a man are ordered by the Lord, and He shall dispose his way. Or how shall we obtain salvation, but from Thy hand, re-making what It made ? Thou didst deal with me, that I should be persuaded to go to Rome, and to teach there rather, what I was teaching at Carthage. And how I was persuaded to this, I will not neg- lect to confess to Thee: because herein also the deepest re- cesses of Thy wisdom, and Thy most present mercy to us, must be considered and confessed. I did not wish therefore to go to Rome, because higher gains and higher dignities were warranted me by my friends who persuaded me to this, (though even these things had at that time an influence over my mind,) but my chief and almost only reason was, that I heard that young men studied there more peacefully, and were kept quiet under a restraint of more regular discipline ; SAINT AUGUSTINE 307 so that they did not, at their pleasures, petulantly rush into the school of one, whose pupils they were not, nor were even admitted without his permission. Whereas at Carthage, there reigns among the scholars a most disgraceful and unruly license. They burst in audaciously, and with gestures almost frantic, disturb all order which any one hath established for the good of his scholars. Divers outrages they commit, with a wonderful stolidity, punishable by law, did not custom up- hold them ; that custom evincing them to be the more miser- able, in that they now do as lawful, what by Thy eternal law shall never be lawful ; and they think they do it unpun- ished, whereas they are punished with the very blindness whereby they do it, and suffer incomparably worse than what they do. The manners then which, when a student, I would not make my own, I was fain, as a teacher, to endure in others : and so I was well pleased to go where, all that knew it, assured me that the like was not done. But Thou, my refuge and my portion in the land of the living, that I might change my earthly dwelling for the salvation of my soul, at Carthage didst goad me, that I might thereby be torn from it ; and at Rome didst proffer me allurements, whereby I might be drawn thither, by men in love with a dying life, the one doing frantic, the other promising vain, things; and, to cor- rect my steps, didst secretly use their and my own perverse- ness. For both they who disturbed my quiet, were blinded with a disgraceful frenzy, and they who invited me else- where, savored of earth. And I, who here detested real mis- ery, was there seeking unreal happiness. But why I went hence, and went thither, Thou knewest, O God, yet shewedst it neither to me, nor to my mother, who grievously bewailed my journey, and followed me as far as the sea. But I deceived her, holding me by force, that either she might keep me back, or go with me, and I feigned that I had a friend whom I could not leave, till he had a fair wind to sail. And I lied to my mother, and such a mother, and escaped: for this also hast Thou mercifully forgiven me, preserving me, thus full of execrable defilements, from the waters of the sea, for the water of Thy Grace ; whereby when I was cleansed, the streams of my mother's eyes should be dried, with which for me she daily watered the ground under 308 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY her face. And yet refusing to return without me, I scarcely persuaded her to stay that night in a place hard by our ship, where was an Oratory in memory of the blessed Cyprian. That night I privily departed, but she was not behind in weeping and prayer. And what, O Lord, was she with so many tears asking of Thee, but that Thou wouldest not suffer me to sail? But Thou, in the depth of Thy counsels and hearing the main point of her desire, regardest not what she then asked, that Thou mightest make me what she ever asked. The wind blew and swelled our sails, and withdrew the shore from our sight; and she on the morrow was there, frantic with sorrow, and with complaints and groans filled Thine ears, who didst then disregard them; whilst through my desires, Thou wert hurrying me to end all desire, and the earthly part of her affection to me was chastened by the allotted scourge of sorrows. For she loved my being with her, as mothers do, but much more than many; and she knew not how great joy Thou wert about to work for her out of my absence. She knew not; therefore did she weep and wail, and by this agony there appeared in her the inheritance of Eve, with sorrow seeking, what in sorrow she had brought forth. And yet, after accusing my treachery and hardheart- edness, she betook herself again to intercede to Thee for me, went to her wonted place, and I to Rome. And lo, there was I received by the scourge of bodily sick- ness, and I was going down to hell, carrying all the sins which I had committed, both against Thee, and myself, and others, many and grievous, over and above that bond of origi- nal sin, whereby we all die in Adam. For Thou hadst not forgiven me any of these things in Christ, nor had He abol- ished by His cross the enmity which by my sins I had incurred with Thee. For how should He, by the crucifixion of a phan- tasm, which I believed Him to be? So true, then, was the death of my soul, as that of His flesh seemed to me false; and how true the death of His body, so false was the life of my soul, which did not believe it. And now the fever heightening, I was parting and departing forever. For had I then parted hence, whither had I departed, but into fire and torments, such as my misdeeds deserved in the truth of Thy appointment? And this she knew not, yet in absence SAINT AUGUSTINE 309 prayed for me. But Thou, everywhere present, heardest her where she was, and, where I was, hadst compassion upon me ; that I should recover the health of my body, though frenzied as yet in my sacrilegious heart. For I did not in all that danger desire Thy baptism ; and I was better as a boy, when I begged it of my mother's piety, as I have before recited and confessed. But I had grown up to my own shame, and I madly scoffed at the prescripts of Thy medicine, who wouldest not suffer me, being such, to die a double death. With which wound had my mother's heart been pierced, it could never be healed. For I cannot express the affection she bare to me, and with how much more vehement anguish she was now in labor of me in the spirit, than at her childbearing in the flesh. I see not then how she should have been healed, had such a death of mine stricken through the bowels of her love. And where would have been those her so strong and unceasing prayers, unintermitting to Thee alone? But wouldest Thou, God of mercies, despise the contrite and humbled heart of that chaste and sober widow, so frequent in almsdeeds, so full of duty and service to Thy saints, no day intermitting the oblation at Thine altar, twice a day, morning and evening, without any intermission, coming to Thy church, not for idle tattling and old wives' fables; but that she might hear Thee in Thy discourses, and Thou her, in her prayers. Couldest Thou despise and reject from Thy aid the tears of such an one, wherewith she begged of Thee not gold or silver, nor any mutable or passing good, but the salvation of her son's soul ? Thou, by whose gift she was such ? Never, Lord. Yea, Thou wert at hand, and wert hearing and doing, in that order wherein Thou hadst determined before, that it should be done. Far be it that Thou shouldest deceive her in Thy visions and answers, some whereof I have, some I have not mentioned, which she laid up in her faithful heart, and ever praying, urged upon Thee, as Thine own handwriting. For Thou, because Thy mercy endureth forever, vouchsafest to those to whom Thou forgivest all their debts, to become also a debtor by Thy promises. Thou recoveredst me then of that sickness, and healedst the son of Thy handmaid, for the time in body, that he might 310 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY live, for Thee to bestow upon him a better and more abiding health. And even then, at Rome, I joined myself to those deceiving and deceived "holy ones;" not with their disciples only, (of which number was he, in whose house I had fallen sick and recovered ;) but also with those whom they call "The Elect." For I still thought, "that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature sinned in us;" and it de- lighted my pride, to be free from blame ; and when I had done any evil, not to confess I had done any, that Thou mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against Thee: but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse I know not what other thing, which was with me, but which I was not. But in truth it was wholly I, and mine impiety had divided me against myself: and that sin was the more incurable, whereby I did not judge myself a sinner; and execrable iniquity it was, that I had rather have Thee, Thee, O God Almighty, to be overcome in me to my destruction, than myself of Thee to salvation. Not as yet then hadst Thou set a watch before my mouth, and a door of safe keeping around my lips, that my heart might not turn aside to wicked speeches, to make excuses of sins, with men that work iniquity: and, therefore, was I still united with their Elect. But now despairing to make proficiency in that false doc- trine, even those things (with which if I should find no better, I had resolved to rest contented) I now held more laxly and carelessly. For there half arose a thought in me, that those philosophers, whom they call Academics, were wiser than the rest, for that they held, men ought to doubt everything, and laid down that no truth can be comprehended by man: for so, not then understanding even their meaning, I also was clearly convinced that they thought, as they are commonly 1 reported. Yet did I freely and openly discourage that host of mine from that over-confidence which I perceived him to have in those fables, which the books of Manichasus are full of. Yet I lived in more familiar friendship with them, than with others who were not of this heresy. Nor did I maintain it with my ancient eagerness ; still my intimacy with that sect 1 The ordinary opinion as to the Academics, was that they were uni- versal skeptics; S. Aug. states his conviction that they held, concealed, positive truth, but publicly contented themselves with refuting the op- posed errors. SAINT AUGUSTINE 311 (Rome secretly harboring many of them) made me slower to seek any other way : especially since I despaired of finding the truth, from which they had turned me aside, in Thy Church, O Lord of heaven and earth, Creator of all things visible and invisible: and it seemed to me very unseemly to believe Thee to have the shape of human flesh, and to be bounded by the bodily lineaments of our members. And be- cause, when I wished to think on my God, I knew not what to think of, but a mass of bodies, (for what was not such, did not seem to me to be anything,) this was the greatest, and al- most only cause of my inevitable error. For hence I believed Evil also to be some such kind of substance, and to have its own foul, and hideous bulk; whether gross, which they called earth, or thin and subtile, (like the body of the air,) which they imagine to be some malignant mind, creeping through that earth. And because a piety, such as it was, constrained me to believe, that the good God never created any evil nature, I conceived two masses, contrary to one another, both unbounded, but the evil nar- rower, the good more expansive. And from this pestilent beginning, the other sacrilegious conceits followed on me. For when my mind endeavored to recur to the Catholic faith, I was driven back, since that was not the Catholic faith, which I thought to be so. And I seemed to myself more reverential, if I believed of Thee, my God, (to whom Thy mercies confess out of my mouth,) as unbounded, at least on other sides, although on that one where the mass of evil was opposed to Thee, I was constrained to confess Thee bounded ; than if on all sides I should imagine Thee to be bounded by the form of a human body. And it seemed to me better to believe Thee to have created no evil, (which to me ignorant seemed not some only, but a bodily, substance, because I could not conceive of mind, unless as a subtile body, and that diffused in definite spaces,) than to believe the nature of evil, such as I conceived it, could come from Thee. Yea, and our Savior Himself, Thy Only Begotten, I believed to have been reached forth (as it were) for our salvation, out of the mass of Thy most lucid substance, so as to believe nothing of Him, but what I could imagine in my vanity. His Nature then, being such, I thought could not be born of the Virgin Mary, 312 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY without being mingled with the flesh : and how that which I had so figured to myself, could be mingled, and not defiled, I saw not. I feared therefore to believe Him born in the flesh, lest I should be forced to believe Him defiled by the flesh. Now will Thy spiritual ones mildly and lovingly smile upon me, if they shall read these my confessions. Yet such was I at that time. Furthermore, what the Manichees had criticized in Thy Scriptures, I thought could not be defended; yet at times verily I had a wish to confer upon these several points with some one very well skilled in those books, and to make trial what he thought thereon : for the words of one Helpidius, as he spoke and disputed face to face against the said Mani- chees, had begun to stir me even at Carthage : in that he had produced things out of the Scriptures, not easily withstood, the Manichees' answer whereto seemed to me weak. And this answer they liked not to give publicly, but only to us in private. It was, that the Scriptures of the New Testament had been corrupted by I know not whom, who wished to engraft the law of the Jews upon the Christian faith: yet themselves produced not any uncorrupted copies. But I, conceiving of things corporeal only, was mainly held down, vehemently oppressed and in a manner suffocated by those "masses;" panting under which after the breath of Thy truth, I could not breathe it pure and untainted. I began then diligently to practice that for which I came to Rome, to teach rhetoric; and first, to gather some to my house, to whom, and through whom, I had begun to be known ; when lo, I found other offenses committed in Rome, to which I was not exposed in Africa. True, those "subvertings" by profligate young men, were not here practiced, as was told me: but on a sudden, said they, to avoid paying their master's stipend, a number of youths plot together, and remove to an- other; breakers of faith, who for love of money hold justice cheap. These also my heart hated, though not with a perfect hatred: for perchance I hated them more because I was to suffer by them, than because they did things utterly unlawful. Of a truth such are base persons, and they go a whoring from Thee, loving these fleeting mockeries of things temporal, and filthy lucre, which fouls the hand that grasps it ; hugging the SAINT AUGUSTINE 313 fleeting world, and despising Thee, who abidest, and recallest, and forgivest the adulteress soul of man, when she returns to Thee. And now I hate such depraved and crooked persons, though I love them if corrigible, so as to prefer to money the learning, which they acquire, and to learning, Thee, O God, the truth and fullness of assured good, and most pure peace. But then I rather for my own sake misliked them evil, than liked and wished them good for Thine. When therefore they of Milan had sent to Rome to the prefect of the city, to furnish them with a rhetoric reader for their city, and send him at the public expense, I made ap- plication (through those very persons, intoxicated with Manichsean vanities, to be freed wherefrom I was to go, neither of us however knowing it) that Symmachus, then prefect of the city, would try me by setting me some subject, and so send me. To Milan I came, to Ambrose the Bishop, known to the whole world as among the best of men, Thy devout servant ; whose eloquent discourse did then plentifully dispense unto Thy people the flour of Thy wheat, the gladness of Thy oil, and the sober inebriation of Thy wine. To him was I unknowing led by Thee, that by him I might knowingly be led to Thee. That man of God received me as a father, and shewed me an Episcopal kindness on my coming. Thenceforth I began to love him, at first indeed not as a teacher of the truth, (which I utterly despaired of in Thy Church,) but as a person kind towards myself. And I listened diligently to him preaching to the people, not with that intent I ought, but, as it were, trying his eloquence, whether it answered the fame thereof, or flowed fuller or lower than was reported ; and I hung on his words attentively ; but of the matter I was as a careless and scornful looker-on ; and I was delighted with the sweetness of his discourse, more recondite, yet in manner, less winning and harmonious, than that of Faustus. Of the matter, however, there was no comparison; for the one was wandering amid Manichaean delusions, the other teaching sal- vation most soundly. But salvation is far from sinners, such as I then stood before him ; and yet was I drawing nearer by little and little, and unconsciously. For though I took no pains to learn what he spake, but only to hear how he spake; (for that empty care alone was LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY left me, despairing of a way, open for man, to Thee,) yet together with the words which I would choose, came also into my mind the things which I would refuse; for I could not separate them. And while I opened my heart to admit "how eloquently he spake," there also entered "how truly he spake;" but this by degrees. For first, these things also had now begun to appear to me capable of defense; and the Catholic faith, for which I had thought nothing could be said against the Manichees' objections, I now thought might be maintained without shamelessness ; especially after I had heard one or two places of the Old Testament resolved, and ofttimes "in a figure," which when I understood literally, I was slain spiritually. Very many places then of those books having been explained, I now blamed my despair, in believing, that no answer could be given to such as hated and scoffed at the Law and the Prophets. Yet did I not therefore then see, that the Catholic way was to be held, because it also could find learned maintainers, who could at large and with some shew of reason answer objections; nor that what I held was therefore to be condemned, because both sides could be main- tained. For the Catholic cause seemed to me in such sort not vanquished, as still not as yet to be victorious. Hereupon I earnestly bent my mind, to see if in any way I could by any certain proof convict the Manichees of false- hood. Could I once have conceived a spiritual substance, all their strongholds had been beaten down, and cast utterly out of my mind; but I could not. Notwithstanding, concerning the frame of this world, and the whole of nature, which the senses of the flesh can reach to, as I more and more considered and compared things, I judged the tenets of most of the philosophers to have been much more probable. So then after the manner of the Academics (as they are supposed) doubting of everything, and wavering between all, I settled so far, that the Manichees were to be abandoned; judging that, even while doubting, I might not continue in that sect, to which I already preferred some of the philosophers; to which philosophers notwithstanding, for that they were with- out the saving Name of Christ, I utterly refused to commit the cure of my sick soul. I determined therefore so long to be a Catechumen in the Catholic Church, to which I had been SAINT AUGUSTINE 315 commended by my parents, till something certain should dawn upon me, whither I might steer my course. BOOK VI Thou, my hope from my ycnith, where wert Thou to me, and whither wert Thou gone? Hadst not Thou created me, and separated me from the beasts of the field, and fowls of the air ? Thou hadst made me wiser, yet did I walk in dark- ness, and in slippery places, and sought Thee abroad out of myself, and found not the God of my heart; and had come into the depths of the sea, and distrusted and despaired of ever finding truth. My mother had now come to me, resolute through piety, following me over sea and land, in all perils confiding in Thee. For in perils of the sea, she comforted the very mariners, (by whom passengers unacquainted with the deep, use rather to be comforted when troubled,) assuring them of a safe arrival, because Thou hadst by a vision assured her thereof. She found me in grievous peril, through despair of ever finding truth. But when I had discovered to her, that 1 was now no longer a Manichee, though not yet a Catholic Christian, she was not overjoyed, as at something unexpected ; although she was now assured concerning that part of my misery, for which she bewailed me as one dead, though to be reawakened by Thee, carrying me forth upon the bier of her thoughts, that Thou mightest say to the son of the widow, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise; and he should revive, and begin to speak, and thou shouldest deliver him to his mother. Her heart then was shaken with no tumultuous ex- ultation, when she heard that what she daily with tears de- sired of Thee, was already in so great part realized ; in that, though I had not yet attained the truth, I was rescued from falsehood ; but, as being assured, that Thou, who hadst prom- ised the whole, wouldest one day give the rest, most calmly, and with an heart full of confidence, she replied to me, "She believed in Christ, that before she departed this life, she should see me a Catholic believer." Thus much to me. But to Thee, Fountain of mercies, poured she forth more copious prayers and tears, that Thou wouldest hasten Thy help, and enlighten my darkness; and she hastened the more eagerly to the Church, and hung upon the lips of Ambrose, praying 316 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY for the fountain of that water, which springeth up unto life everlasting. But that man she loved as an angel of God, be- cause she knew that by him I had been brought for the present to that doubtful state of faith I now was in, through which she anticipated most confidently, that I should pass from sick- ness unto health, after the access, as it were, of a sharper fit, which physicians call "the crisis." When then my mother had once, as she was wont in Africa, brought to the Churches built in memory of the Saints, cer- tain cakes, and bread and wine, and was forbidden by the door-keeper; so soon as she knew that the Bishop had for- bidden this, she so piously and obediently embraced his wishes, that I myself wondered how readily she censured her own practice, rather than discuss his prohibition. For wine-bib- bing did not lay siege to her spirit, nor did love of wine pro- voke her to hatred of the truth, as it doth too many, (both men and women,) who revolt at a lesson of sobriety, as men well-drunk at a draft mingled with water. But she, when she had brought her basket with the accustomed festival-food, to be but tasted by herself, and then given away, never joined therewith more than one small cup of wine, diluted according to her own abstemious habits, which for courtesy she would taste. And if there were many Churches of the departed saints, that were to be honored in that manner, she still car- ried round that same one cup, to be used everywhere; and this, though not only made very watery, but unpleasantly heated with carrying about, she would distribute to those about her by small sips; for she sought their devotion, not pleasure. So soon, then, as she found this custom to be for- bidden by that famous preacher, and most pious prelate, even to those that would use it soberly, lest so an occasion of excess might be given to the drunkard ; and for that these, as it were, anniversary funeral solemnities did much resemble the super- stition of the Gentiles, she most willingly f orbare it : and for a basket filled with fruits of the earth, she had learned to bring to the Churches of the martyrs, a breast filled with more purified petitions, and to give what she could to the poor; that so the communication of the Lord 's Body might be there rightly celebrated, where, after the example of His Passion, the martyrs had been sacrificed and crowned. But yet it SAINT AUGUSTINE 317 seems to me, O Lord my God, and thus thinks my heart of it in Thy sight, that perhaps she would not so readily have yielded to the cutting off of this custom, had it been forbidden by another, whom she loved not as Ambrose, whom, for my salvation, she loved most entirely; and he her again, for her most religious conversation, whereby in good works, so fervent in spirit, she was constant at church; so that, when he saw me, he often burst forth into her praises ; congratulating me, that I had such a mother; not knowing what a son she had in me, who doubted of all these things, and imagined the way to life could not be found out. Nor did I yet groan in my prayers, that Thou wouldest help me; but my spirit was wholly intent on learning, and restless to dispute. And Ambrose himself, as the world counts happy, I esteemed a happy man, whom personages so great held in such honor; only his celibacy seemed to me a painful course. But what hope he bore within him, what struggles he had against the temptations which beset his very excellencies, or what comfort in adversities, and what sweet joys Thy Bread had for the hidden mouth of his spirit, when chewing the cud thereof, I neither could conjecture, nor had experienced. Nor did he know the tides of my feelings, or the abyss of my danger. For I could not ask of him, what I would as I would, being shut out both from his ear and speech by multitudes of busy people, whose weaknesses he served. With whom when he was not taken up, (which was but a little time,) he was either refreshing his body with the sustenance absolutely necessary, or his mind with reading. But when he was reading, his eye glided over the pages, and his heart searched out the sense, but his voice and tongue were at rest. Oft-times when we had come, (for no man was for- bidden to enter, nor was it his wont that any who came should be announced to him,) we saw him thus reading to himself, and never otherwise; and having long sat silent, (for who durst intrude on one so intent?) we were fain to depart, conjecturing, that in the small interval, which he obtained, free from the din of others' business, for the recruiting of his mind, he was loath to be taken off; and perchance he dreaded lest if the author he read should deliver anything obscurely, some attentive or perplexed hearer should desire 318 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY him to expound it, or to discuss some of the harder questions ; so that his time being thus spent, he could not turn over so many volumes as he desired ; although the preserving of his voice (which a very little speaking would weaken) might be the truer reason for his reading to himself. But with what intent soever he did it, certainly in such a man it was good. I however certainly had no opportunity of inquiring what I wished, of that so holy oracle of Thine, his breast, unless the thing might be answered briefly. But those tides in me, to be poured out to him, required his full leisure, and never found it. I heard him indeed every Lord's day, rightly ex- pounding the Word of Truth among the people ; and I was more and more convinced, that all the knots of those crafty calumnies, which those our deceivers had knit against the Divine Books, could be unraveled. But when I understood withal, that "man, created "by Thee, after Thine own image," was not so understood by Thy spiritual sons, whom of the Catholic Mother Thou hast born again through grace, as though they believed and conceived of Thee as bounded by human shape; (although what a spiritual substance should be I had not even a faint or shadowy notion;) yet, with joy I blushed at having so many years barked not against the Catholic faith, but against the fictions of carnal imaginations. For so rash and impious had I been, that what I ought by inquiring to have learned, I had pronounced on, condemning. For Thou, Most High, and most near; most secret, and most present; Who hast not limbs some larger, some smaller, but art wholly everywhere, and nowhere in space, art not of such corporeal shape, yet hast Thou made man after Thine own image ; and behold, from head to foot is he contained in space. Ignorant then how this Thy image should subsist, I should have knocked and proposed the doubt, how it was to be be- lieved, not insultingly opposed it, as if believed. Doubt, then, what to hold for certain, the more sharply gnawed my heart, the more ashamed I was, that so long deluded and deceived by the promise of certainties, I had with childish error and vehemence, prated of so many uncertainties. For that they were falsehoods, became clear to me later. However I was certain that they were uncertain, and that I had formerly accounted them certain, when with a blind contentiousness, I SAINT AUGUSTINE 319 accused Thy Catholic Church, whom I now discovered, not indeed as yet to teach truly, but at least not to teach that, for which I had grievously censured her. So I was con- founded, and converted: and I joyed, O my God, that the One Only Church, the body of Thine Only Son, (wherein the name of Christ had been put upon me as an infant,) had no taste for infantine conceits ; nor in her sound doctrine, main- tained any tenet which should confine Thee, the Creator of all, in space, however great and large, yet bounded every- where by the limits of a human form. I joyed also, that the old Scriptures of the Law and the Prophets, were laid before me, not now to be perused with that eye to which before they seemed absurd, when I reviled Thy holy ones for so thinking, whereas indeed they thought not so : and with joy I heard Ambrose in his sermons to the people, oftentimes most diligently recommend this text for a rule, The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life; whilst he drew aside the mystic veil, laying open spiritually what ac- cording to the letter, seemed to teach something unsound; teaching herein nothing that offended me, though he taught what I knew not as yet, whether it were true. For I kept my heart from assenting to anything, fearing to fall headlong; but by hanging in suspense I was the worse killed. For I wished to be as assured of the things I saw not, as I was that seven and three are ten. For I was not so mad, as to think that even this could not be comprehended; but I desired to have other things as clear as this, whether things corporeal, which were not present to my senses, or spiritual, whereof I knew not how to conceive, except corporeally. And by be- lieving might I have been cured, that so the eyesight of my soul being cleared, might in some way be directed to Thy truth, which abideth always, and in no part faileth. But as it happens that one, who has tried a bad physician, fears to trust himself with a good one, so was it with the health of my soul, which could not be healed but by believing, and lest it should believe falsehoods, refused to be cured; resisting Thy hands, who hast prepared the medicines of faith, and hast applied them to the diseases of the whole world, and given unto them so great authority. Being led, however, from this to prefer the Catholic doc- 320 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY trine, I felt that her proceeding was more unassuming and honest, in that she required to be believed things not demon- strated, (whether it was that they could in themselves be demonstrated but not to certain persons, or could not at all be,) whereas among the Manichees our credulity was mocked by a promise of certain knowledge, and then so many most fabulous and absurd things were imposed to be believed, because they could not be demonstrated. Then Thou, O Lord, little by little with most tender and most merciful hand, touching and composing my heart, didst persuade me con- sidering what innumerable things I believed, which I saw not, nor was present while they were done, as so many things in secular history, so many reports of places and of cities, which I had not seen ; so many of friends, so many of physicians, so many continually of other men, which unless we should be- lieve, we should do nothing at all in this life; lastly, with how unshaken an assurance I believed, of what parents I was born, which I could not know, had I not believed upon hearsay considering all this, Thou didst persuade me, that not they who believed Thy Books, (which Thou hast estab- lished in so great authority among almost all nations,) but they who believed them not, were to be blamed ; and that they were not to be heard, who should say to me, "How knowest thou those Scriptures to have been imparted unto mankind by the Spirit of the one true and most true God ? ' ' For this very thing was of all most to be believed, since no contentious- ness of blasphemous questionings, of all that multitude which I had read in the self-contradicting philosophers, could wring this belief from me, "That Thou art" whatsoever Thou wert, (what I knew not,) and "That the government of human things belongs to Thee." This I believed, sometimes more strongly, more weakly other-whiles; yet I ever believed both that Thou wert, and hadst a care of us ; though I was ignorant, both what was to be thought of Thy substance, and what way led or led back to Thee. Since then we were too weak by abstract reasonings to find out truth : and for this very cause needed the authority of Holy Writ ; I had now begun to believe, that Thou wouldest never have given such excellency of authority to that Writ in all lands, hadst Thou not willed thereby to be believed in, SAINT AUGUSTINE 321 thereby sought. For now what things, sounding strangely in the Scripture, were wont to offend me, having heard divers of them expounded satisfactorily, I referred to the depth of the mysteries, and its authority appeared to me the more venerable, and more worthy of religious credence, in that, while it lay open to all to read, it reserved the majesty of its mysteries within its profounder meaning, stooping to all in the great plainness of its words and lowliness of its style,yet calling forth the intensest application of such as are not light of heart; that so it might receive all in its open bosom, and through narrow passages waft over towards Thee some few, yet many more than if it stood not aloft on such a height of authority, nor drew multitudes within its bosom by its holy lowliness. These things I thought on, and Thou wert with me; I sighed, and Thou heardest me; I wavered, and Thou didst guide me; I wandered through the broad way of the world, and Thou didst not forsake me. I panted after honors, gains, marriage ; and Thou deridedst me. In these desires I underwent most bitter crosses, Thou being the more gracious, the less Thou sufferedst aught to grow sweet to me, which was not Thou. Behold my heart, O Lord, who wouldest I should remember all this, and confess to Thee. Let my soul cleave unto Thee, now that Thou hast freed it from that fast-holding birdlime of death. How wretched was it! and Thou didst irritate the feeling of its wound, that forsaking all else, it might be converted unto Thee, who art above all, and without whom all things would be nothing ; be converted, and be healed. How miserable was I then, and how didst Thou deal with me, to make me feel my misery on that day, when I was preparing to recite a panegyric of the Emperor, 1 wherein I was to utter many a lie, and lying, was to be applauded by those who knew I lied, and my heart was panting with these anxieties, and boiling with the feverishness of consuming thoughts. For, passing through one of the streets of Milan, I observed a poor beggar, then, I suppose, with a full belly, joking and joyous: and I sighed, and spoke to the friends around me, of the many sorrows of our frenzies; for that by all such efforts of ours, as those 1 Perhaps Valentinian the younger, whose court, according to Possidius, was at Milan, when Aug. was Professor of Ehetoric there. A. V. 121 322 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY wherein I then toiled, dragging along, under the goading of desire, the burthen of my own wretchedness, and, by drag- ging, augmenting it, we yet looked to arrive only at that very joyousness, whither that beggar-man had arrived before us, who should never perchance attain it. For what he had ob- tained by means of a few begged pence, the same was I plot- ting for by many a toilsome turning and winding ; the joy of a temporary felicity. For he verily had not the true joy; but yet I with those my ambitious designs was seeking one much less true. And certainly he was joyous, I anxious; he void of care, I full of fears. But should any ask me, had I rather be merry or fearful? I would answer, merry. Again, if he asked had I rather be such as he was, or what I then was? I should choose to be myself, though worn with cares and fears ; but out of wrong judgment; for, was it the truth? For I ought not to prefer myself to him, because more learned than he, seeing I had no joy therein, but sought to please men by it ; and that not to instruct, but simply to please. Where- fore also Thou didst break my bones with the staff of thy correction. Away with those then from my soul, who say to her, "It makes a difference, whence a man's joy is. That beggar-man joyed in drunkenness; Thou desiredst to joy in glory." What glory, Lord? That which is not in Thee. For even as his was no true joy, so was that no true glory : and it overthrew my soul more. He that very night should digest his drunken- ness; but I had slept and risen again with mine, and was to sleep again, and again to rise with it, how many days, Thou, God, knowest. But "it doth make a difference whence a man's joy is." I know it, and the joy of a faithful hope lieth incomparably beyond such vanity. Yea, and so was he then beyond me : for he verily was the happier ; not only for that he was thoroughly drenched in mirth, I disemboweled with cares: but he, by fair wishes, had gotten wine; I, by lying was seeking for empty, swelling praise. Much to this purpose said I then to my friends: and I often marked in them how it fared with me ; and I found it went ill with me, and grieved, and doubled that very ill ; and if any prosperity smiled on me, I was loath to catch at it, for almost before I could grasp it, it flew away. SAINT AUGUSTINE 323 These things we, who were living as friends together, be- moaned together, but chiefly and most familiarly did I speak thereof with Alypius and Nebridius, of whom Alypius was born in the same town with me, of persons of chief rank there, but younger than I. For he had studied under me, both when I first lectured in our town, and afterwards at Carthage, and he loved me much, because I seemed to him kind, and learned; and I him, for his great towardliness to virtue, which was eminent enough in one of no greater years. Yet the whirlpool of Carthaginian habits (amongst whom those idle spectacles are hotly followed) had drawn him into the madness of the Circus. But while he was miserably tossed therein, and I, professing rhetoric there, had a public school, as yet he used not my teaching, by reason of some unkindness risen betwixt his father and me. I had found then how deadly he doted upon the Circus, and was deeply grieved that he seemed likely, nay, or had thrown away so great promise : yet had I no means of advising or with a sort of constraint reclaiming him, either by the kindness of a friend, or the authority of a master. For I supposed that he thought of me as did his father ; but he was not such ; laying aside then his father 's mind in that matter, he began to greet me, come some- times into my lecture-room, hear a little, and be gone. I however had forgotten to deal with him, that he should not, through a blind and headlong desire of vain pastimes, undo so good a wit. But Thou, O Lord, who guidest the course of all Thou hast created, hadst not forgotten him, who was one day to be among Thy children, Priest and Dispenser of Thy Sacrament; and that his amendment might plainly be attributed to Thyself, Thou effectedst it through me, but unknowingly. For as one day I sat in my accustomed place, with my scholars before me, he entered, greeted me, sat down, and applied his mind to what I then handled. I had by chance a passage in hand, which while I was explaining, a likeness from the Circensian races occurred to me, as likely to make what I would convey pleasanter and plainer, sea- soned with biting mockery of those whom that madness had enthralled; God, Thou knowest, that I then thought not of curing Alypius of that infection. But he" took it wholly to himself, and thought that I said it simply for his sake. And LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY whence another would have taken occasion of offense with me, that right-minded youth took as a ground of being offended at himself, and loving me more fervently. For Thou hadst said it long ago, and put it into Thy book, Rebuke a wise man and he will love thee. But I had not rebuked him, but Thou, who employest all, knowing or not knowing, in that order which Thyself knowest, (and that order is just,) didst of my heart and tongue make burning coals, by which to set on fire the hopeful mind, thus languishing, and so cure it. Let him be silent in Thy praises, who considers not Thy mercies, which confess unto Thee out of my inmost soul. For he upon that speech, burst out of that pit so deep, wherein he was willfully plunged, and was blinded with its wretched pastimes ; and he shook his mind with a strong self-command; where- upon all the filths of the Circensian pastimes flew off from him, nor came he again thither. Upon this, he prevailed with his unwilling father, that he might be my scholar. He gave way, and gave in. And Alypius beginning to be my hearer again, was involved in the same superstition with me, loving in the Manichees that shew of continency, which he supposed true and unfeigned. Whereas it was a senseless and seducing continency, ensnaring precious souls, unable as yet to reach the depth of virtue, yet readily beguiled with the surface of what was but a shadowy and counterfeit virtue. Him then I had found at Rome, and he clave to me by a most strong tie, and went with me to Milan, both that he might not leave me, and might practice something of the law he had studied, more to please his parents, than himself. There he had thrice sat as Assessor with an uncorruptness, much wondered at by others, he wondering at others rather, who could prefer gold to honesty. His character was tried besides, not only with the bait of covetousness, but with the goad of fear. At Rome he was Assessor to the Count of the Italian Treasury. There was at that time a very powerful senator, to whose favors many stood indebted, many much feared. He would needs, by his usual power, have a thing allowed him, which by the laws was unallowed. Alypius re- sisted it : a bribe was promised ; with all his heart he scorned it: threats were held out; he trampled upon them: all won- dering at so unwonted a spirit, which neither desired the SAINT AUGUSTINE 325 friendship, nor feared the enmity of one so great and so mightily renowned for innumerable means of doing good or evil. And the very Judge, whose councilor Alypius was, although also unwilling it should be, yet did not openly refuse, but put the matter off upon Alypius, alleging that he would not allow him to do it: for in truth had the Judge done it, Alypius would have decided otherwise. With this one thing in the way of learning was he well-nigh seduced, that he might have books copied for him at Praetorian prices, but consulting justice, he altered his deliberation for the better ; esteeming equity whereby he was hindered more gain- ful than the power whereby he were allowed. These are slight things, but he that is faithful in little, is faithful also in much. Nor can that anyhow be void, which proceeded out of the mouth of Thy truth; // ye have not been faithful in the unrighteous Mammon, who will commit to your trust true riches? And if ye have not been faithful in that which is another man's, who shall give you that which is your own? He, being such, did at that time cleave to me, and with me wavered in purpose, what course of life was to be taken. Nebridius also, who having left his native country near Carthage, yea and Carthage itself, where he had much lived, leaving his excellent family-estate and house, and a mother behind, who was not to follow him, had come to Milan, for no other reason, but that with me he might live in a most ardent search after truth and wisdom. Like me he sighed, like me he wavered, an ardent searcher after true life, and a most acute examiner of the most difficult questions. Thus were there the mouths of three indigent persons, sighing out their wants one to another, and waiting upon Thee that Thou mightest give them their meat in due season. And in all the bitterness, which by Thy mercy followed our worldly affairs, as we looked towards the end, why we should suffer all this, darkness met us ; and we turned away groaning, and saying, How long shall these things be? This too we often said; and so saying for- sook them not, for as yet there dawned nothing certain, which, these forsaken, we might embrace. And I, viewing and reviewing things, most wondered at the length of time from that my nineteenth year, wherein I had begun to kindle with the desire of wisdom, settling when 326 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY I had found her, to abandon all the empty hopes and lying frenzies of vain desires. And lo, I was now in my thirtieth year, sticking in the same mire, greedy of enjoying things present, which passed away and wasted my soul ; while I said to myself, "To-morrow I shall find it; it will appear mani- festly, and I shall grasp it; lo, Faustus the Manichee will come, and clear everything! O you great men, ye Academi- cians, it is true then, that no certainty can be attained for the ordering of life ! Nay, let us search the more 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, 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? Whence, or when pro- cure them? from whom borrow them? Let set times be ap- pointed, and certain hours be ordered for the health of our soul. Great hope has dawned ; the Catholic Faith teaches not what we thought, and vainly accused it of; her instructed members hold it profane, to believe God to be bounded by the figure of a human body : and do we doubt to 'knock,' that the rest 'may be opened?' The forenoons our scholars take up; what do we during the rest ? Why not this ? But when then pay we court to our great friends, whose favor we need? When compose what we may sell to scholars? When refresh ourselves, unbending our minds from this intenseness of care?" "Perish everything, dismiss we these empty vanities, and betake ourselves to the one search for truth! Life is vain, death uncertain; if it steals upon us on a sudden, in what state shall we depart hence? and where shall we learn what here we have neglected? and shall we not 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 authority of the Christian Faith hath overspread the whole world. Never would such and so great things be by God wrought for us, if with the death of the body, the life of the soul came to an end. Wherefore de- SAINT AUGUSTINE 327 lay then to abandon worldly hopes, and give ourselves wholly to seek after God and the blessed life? But wait! Even those things are pleasant ; they have some, and no small sweet- ness. We must not lightly abandon them, for it were a shame to return again to them. See, it is no great matter now to obtain some station, and then what should we more wish for? We have store of powerful friends; if nothing else offer, and we be in much haste, at least a presidentship may be given us: and a wife with some money, that she increase not our charges: and this shall be the bound of desire. Many great men, and most worthy of imitation, have given themselves to the study of wisdom in the state of marriage. ' ' While I went over these things, and these winds shifted and drove my heart this way and that, time passed on, but I delayed to turn to the Lord ; and from day to day deferred to live in Thee, and deferred not daily to die in myself. Loving a happy life, I feared it in its own abode, and sought it, by fleeing from it. I thought I should be too miserable, unless folded in female arms; and of the medicine of Thy mercy to cure that infirmity I thought not, not having tried it. As for continency, I supposed it to be in our own power, (though in myself I did not find that power) being so foolish as not to know what is written, None can be continent unless Thou give it; and that Thou wouldest give it, if with inward groanings I did knock at Thine ears, and with a settled faith did cast my care on Thee. Alypius indeed kept me from marrying; alleging, that so could we by no means with undistracted leisure live together in the love of wisdom, as we had long desired. For himself was even then most pure in this point, so that it was wonder- ful; and that the more, since in the outset of his youth he had entered into that course, but had not stuck fast therein ; rather had he felt remorse and revolting at it, living thence- forth until now most continently. But I opposed him with the examples of those, who as married men had cherished wisdom, and served God acceptably, and retained their friends, and loved them faithfully. Of whose greatness of spirit I was far short ; and bound with the disease of the flesh, and its deadly sweetness, drew along my chain, dreading to be loosed, and as if my wound had been fretted, put back his 328 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY good persuasions, as it were the hand of one that would un- chain me. Moreover, by me did the serpent speak unto Alypius himself, by my tongue weaving and laying in his path pleasurable snares, wherein his virtuous and free feet might be entangled. For when he wondered that I, whom he esteemed not slightly, should stick so fast in the birdlime of that pleasure, as to protest (so oft as we discussed it) that I could never lead a single life ; and urged in my defense when I saw him wonder, that there was great difference between his momen- tary and scarce-remembered knowledge of that life, which so he might easily despise, and my continued acquaintance whereto if but the honorable name of marriage were added, he ought not to wonder why I could not contemn that course ; he began also to desire to be married ; not as overcome with desire of such pleasure, but out of curiosity. For he would fain know, he said, what that should be, without which my life, to him so pleasing, would to me seem not life but a pun- ishment. For his mind, free from that chain, was amazed at my thraldom ; and through that amazement was going on to a desire of trying it, thence to the trial itself, and thence per- haps to sink into that bondage whereat he wondered, seeing he was willing to make a covenant with death; and, he that loves danger, shall fall into it. For whatever honor there be in the office of well-ordering a married life, and a family, moved us but slightly. But me for the most part the habit of satisfying an insatiable appetite tormented, while it held me captive; him, an admiring wonder was leading captive. So were we, until Thou, Most High, not forsaking our dust, commiserating us miserable, didst come to our help, by won- drous and secret ways. Continual effort was made to have me married. I wooed, I was promised, chiefly through my mother's pains, that so once married, the health-giving baptism might cleanse me, towards which she rejoiced that I was being daily fitted, and observed that her prayers, and Thy promises, were being fulfilled in my faith. At which time verily, both at my re- quest and her own longing, with strong cries of heart she daily begged of Thee, that Thou wouldest by a vision discover unto her something concerning my future marriage; Thou SAINT AUGUSTINE 329 never wouldest. She saw indeed certain vain and fantastic things, such as the energy of the human spirit, busied thereon, brought together ; and these she told me of, not with that con- fidence she was wont, when Thou shewedst her anything, but slighting them. For she could, she said, through a certain feeling, which in words she could not express, discern betwixt Thy revelations, and the dreams of her own soul. Yet the matter was pressed on, and a maiden asked in marriage, two years under the fit age ; and, as pleasing, was waited for. And many of us friends conferring about, and detesting the turbulent turmoils of human life, had debated and now almost resolved on living apart from business and the bustle of men ; and this was to be thus obtained ; we were to bring whatever we might severally procure, and make one household of all; so that through the truth of our friendship nothing should belong especially to any; but the whole thus derived from all, should as a whole belong to each, and all to all. We thought there might be some ten persons in this society; some of whom were very rich, especially Romanianus our townsman, from childhood a very familiar friend of mine, whom the grievous perplexities of his affairs had brought up to court; who was the most earnest for this project; and therein was his voice of great weight, because his ample estate far exceeded any of the rest. We had settled also, that two annual officers, as it were, should provide all things necessary, the rest being undisturbed. But when we began to consider whether the wives, which some of us already had, others hoped to have, would allow this, all that plan, which was being so well molded, fell to pieces in our hands, was utterly dashed and cast aside. Thence we betook us to sighs, and groans, and our steps to follow the broad and "beaten ways of the world; for many thoughts were in our heart, but Thy counsel standeth forever. Out of which counsel Thou didst deride ours, and preparedst Thine own ; purposing to give its meat in due season, and to open Thy hand, and to fill our souls with Messing. Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied, and my concu- bine being torn from my side as a hindrance to my marriage, my heart which clave unto her was torn and wounded and bleeding. And she returned to Africa, vowing unto Thee 330 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY never to know any other man, leaving with me my son by her. But unhappy I, who could not imitate a very woman, impa- tient of delay, inasmuch as not till after two years was I to obtain her I sought, not being so much a lover of marriage, as a slave to lust, procured another, though no wife, that so by the servitude of an enduring custom, the disease of my soul might be kept up and carried on in its vigor or even aug- mented, into the dominion of marriage. Nor was that my wound cured, which had been made by the cutting away of the former, but after inflammation and most acute pain, it mortified, and my pains became less acute, but more desperate. To Thee be praise, glory to Thee, Fountain of mercies. I was becoming more miserable, and Thou nearer. Thy right hand was continually ready to pluck me out of the mire, and to wash me thoroughly, and I knew it not ; nor did anything call me back from a yet deeper gulf of carnal pleasures, but the fear of death, and of Thy judgment to come ; which amid all my changes, never departed from my breast. And in my disputes with my friends Alypius and Nebridius, of the nature of good and evil, I held that Epicurus had in my mind won the palm, had I not believed, that after death there remained a life for the soul, and places of requital according to men's deserts, which Epicurus would not believe. And I asked, "were we immortal, and to live in perpetual bodily pleasure, without fear of losing it, why should we not be happy, or what else should we seek?" not knowing that great misery was involved in this very thing, that, being thus sunk and blinded, I could not discern that light of excellence and beauty, to be embraced for its own sake, which the eye of flesh cannot see, and is seen by the inner man. Nor did I, unhappy, consider from what source it sprung, that even on these things, foul as they were, I with pleasure discoursed with my friends, nor could I, even according to the notions I then had of happiness, be happy without friends, amid what abundance soever of carnal pleasures. And yet these friends I loved for themselves only, and I felt that I was beloved of them again for myself only. O crooked paths ! Woe to the audacious soul, which hoped, by forsaking Thee, to gain some better thing! Turned it hath, and turned again, upon back, sides, and belly, yet all SAINT AUGUSTINE 331 was painful, and Thou alone rest. And behold, Thou art at hand, and deliverest us from our wretched wanderings, and placest us in Thy way, and dost comfort us, and say, ' ' Run ; I will carry you ; yea I will bring you through ; there also will I carry you. ' ' BOOK VII DECEASED was now that my evil and abominable youth, and I was passing into early manhood ; the more defiled by vain things as I grew in years, who could not imagine any sub- stance, but such as is wont to be seen with these eyes. I thought not of Thee, O God, under the figure of an human body ; since I began to hear aught of wisdom, I always avoided this ; and rejoiced to have found the same in the faith of our spiritual mother, Thy Catholic Church. But what else to conceive Thee I knew not. And I, a man, and such a man, sought to conceive of Thee the sovereign, only, true God ; and I did in my inmost soul believe that Thou wert incorruptible, and uninjurable, and unchangeable ; because though not know- ing whence or how, yet I saw plainly and was sure, that that which may be corrupted, must be inferior to that which can- not; what could not be injured I preferred unhesitatingly to what could receive injury; the unchangeable to things subject to change. My heart passionately cried out against all my phantoms, and with this one blow I sought to beat away from the eye of my mind all that unclean troop which buzzed around it. And lo, being scarce put off, in the twinkling of an eye they gathered again thick about me, flew against my face, and beclouded it ; so that though not under the form of the human body, yet was I constrained to conceive of Thee (that incorruptible, uninjurable, and unchangeable, which I preferred before the corruptible, and injurable, and change- able) as being in space, whether infused into the world, or diffused infinitely without it. Because whatsoever I con- ceived, deprived of this space, seemed to me nothing, yea altogether nothing, not even a void, as if a body were taken out of its place, and the place should remain empty of any body at all, of earth and water, air and heaven, yet would it remain a void place, as it were a spacious nothing. I then being thus gross-hearted, nor clear even to myself, 332 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY whatsoever was not extended over certain spaces, nor dif- fused, nor condensed, nor swelled out, or did not or could not receive some of these dimensions, I thought to be altogether nothing. For over such forms as my eyes are wont to range, did my heart then range: nor yet did I see that this same notion of the mind, whereby I formed those very images, was not of this sort, and yet it could not have formed them, had not itself been some great thing. So also did I endeavor to conceive of Thee, Life of my life, as vast, through infinite spaces, on every side penetrating the whole mass of the uni- verse, and beyond it, every way, through unmeasurable boundless spaces; so that the earth should have Thee, the heaven have Thee, all things have Thee, and they be bounded in Thee, and Thou bounded nowhere. For that as the body of this air which is above the earth, hindereth not the light of the sun from passing through it, penetrating it, not by bursting or by cutting, but by filling it wholly : so I thought the body not of heaven, air, and sea only, but of the earth too, pervious to Thee, so that in all its parts, the greatest as the smallest, it should admit Thy presence, by a secret in- spiration, within and without, directing all things which Thou hast created. So I guessed, only as unable to conceive aught else, for it was false. For thus should a greater part of the earth contain a greater portion of Thee, and a less, a lesser: and all things should in such sort be full of Thee, that the body of an elephant should contain more of Thee than that of a sparrow, by how much larger it is, and takes up more room ; and thus shouldest Thou make the several portions of Thyself present unto the several portions of the world, in fragments, large to the large, petty to the petty. But such art not Thou. But not as yet hadst Thou enlightened my darkness. And I strained to perceive what I now heard, that freewill was the cause of our doing ill, and Thy just judgment, of our suffering ill. But I was not able clearly to discern it. So then endeavoring to draw my soul's vision out of that deep pit, I was again plunged therein, and sndeavoring often, I was plunged back as often. But this raised me a little into Thy light, that I knew as well that I had a will, as that I lived : when then I did will or nill anything, I was most sure, that no other than myself did will and nill : and I all but saw that SAINT AUGUSTINE 333 there was the cause of my sin. But what I did against my will, I saw that I suffered rather than did, and I judged not to be my fault, but my punishment; whereby however, holding thee to be just, I speedily confessed myself to be not unjustly punished. But again I said, Who made me? Did not my God, who is not only good, but goodness itself? Whence then came I to will evil and nill good, so that I am thus justly punished? who set this in me, and ingrafted into me this plant of bitterness, seeing I was wholly formed by my most sweet God ? If the devil were the author, whence is that same devil ? And if he also by his own perverse will, of a good angel became a devil, whence, again, came in him that evil will, whereby he became a devil, seeing the whole nature of angels was made by that most good Creator? By these thoughts I was again sunk down and choked; yet not brought down to that hell of error, (where no man confesseth unto Thee,) to think rather that Thou dost suffer ill, than that man doth it. By this time also had I rejected the lying divinations and impious dotages of the astrologers. Let Thine own mercies, out of my very inmost soul, confess unto Thee for this also, O my God. For Thou, Thou altogether, (for who else calls us back from the death of all errors, save the Life which cannot die, and the Wisdom which needing no light enlightens the minds that need it, whereby the universe is directed, down to the whirling leaves of trees?) Thou madest provision for my obstinacy wherewith I (Struggled against Vindicianus, an acute old man, and Nebridius, a young man of admirable talents; the first vehemently affirming, and the latter often (though with some doubtfulness) saying, "That there was no such art whereby to foresee things to come, but that men's conjectures were a sort of lottery, and that out of many things, which they said should come to pass, some actually did, unawares to them who spake it, who stumbled upon it, through their oft speaking. ' ' Thou providedst then a friend for me, no negligent consulter of the astrologers; nor yet well skilled in those arts, but (as I said) a curious consulter with them, and yet knowing something, which he said he had heard of his father, which how far it went to overthrow the estimation of that art, he knew not. This man then, Firminus 334 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY by name, having had a liberal education, and well taught in Rhetoric, consulted me, as one very dear to him, what, ac- cording to his so-called constellations, I thought on certain affairs of his, wherein his worldly hopes had risen, and I, who had herein now begun to incline towards Nebridius' opinion, did not altogether refuse to conjecture, and tell him what came into my unresolved mind; but added, that I was now almost persuaded, that these were but empty and ridiculous follies. Thereupon he told me, that his father had been very curious in such books, and had a friend as earnest in them as himself, who with joint study and conference fanned the flame of their affections to these toys, so that they would observe the moments, whereat the very dumb animals, which bred about their houses, gave birth, and then observed the relative position of the heavens, thereby to make fresh experi- ments in this so-called art. He said then that he had heard of his father, that what time his mother was about to give birth to him, Firminus, a woman-servant of that friend of his father's, was also with child, which could not escape her master, who took care with most exact diligence to know the births of his very puppies. And so it was, that (the one for his wife, and the other for his servant, with the most careful observation, reckoning days, hours, nay, the lesser divisions of the hours,) both were delivered at the same instant; so that both were constrained to allow the same constellations, even to the minutest points, the one for his son, the other for his new-born slave. For so soon as the women began to be in labor, they each gave notice to the other what was fallen out in their houses, and had messengers ready to send to one another, so soon as they had notice of the actual birth, of which they had easily provided, each in his own province, to give instant intelligence. Thus then the messengers of the respective parties met, he averred, at such an equal distance from either house, that neither of them could make out any difference in the position of the stars, or any other minutest points ; and yet Firminus, born in a high estate in his parents' house, ran his course through the gilded paths of life, was increased in riches, raised to honors ; whereas that slave con- tinued to serve his masters, without any relaxation of his yoke, as Firminus, who knew him, told me. SAINT AUGUSTINE 335 Upon hearing and believing these things, told by one of such credibility, all that my resistance gave way ; and first I endeavored to reclaim Firminus himself from that curiosity, by telling him, that upon inspecting his constellations, I ought, if I were to predict truly, to have seen in them, parents eminent among their neighbors, a noble family in its own city, high birth, good education, liberal learning. But if that ser- vant had consulted me upon the same constellations, since they were his also, I ought again (to tell him too truly) to see in them a lineage the most abject, a slavish condition, and every- thing else, utterly at variance with the former. Whence then if I spake the truth, I should, from the same constellations, speak diversely, or if I spake the same, speak falsely: thence it followed most certainly, that whatever, upon consideration of the constellations, was spoken truly, was spoken not out of art, but chance ; and whatever spoken falsely, was not out of ignorance in the art, but the failure of the chance. An opening thus made, ruminating with myself on the like things, that no one of those dotards (who lived by such a trade, and whom I longed to attack, and with derision to confute) might urge against me, that Firminus had informed me falsely, or his father him; I bent my thoughts on those that are born twins, who for the most part come out of the womb so near one to other, that the small interval (how much force soever in the nature of things folk may pretend it to have) cannot be noted by human observation, or be at all expressed in those figures which the Astrologer is to inspect, that he may pronounce truly. Yet they cannot be true : for looking into the same figures, he must have predicted the same of Esau and Jacob, whereas the same happened not to them. Therefore he must speak falsely; or if truly, then, looking into the same figures, he must not give the same answer. Not by art, then, but by chance, would he speak truly. For Thou, Lord, most righteous Ruler of the Universe, while con- suiters and consulted know it not, dost by Thy hidden in- spiration effect that the consulter should hear what according to the hidden deservings of souls, he ought to hear, out of the unsearchable depth of Thy just judgment, to Whom let no man say, What is this ? Why that ? Let him not so say, for he is man. 336 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY Now then, O my Helper, hadst Thou loosed me from those fetters: and I sought "whence is evil," and found no way. But Thou sufferedst me not by any fluctuations of thought to be carried away from the Faith whereby I believed Thee both to be, and Thy substance to be unchangeable, and that Thou hast a care of, and wouldest judge men, and that in Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, and the holy Scriptures, which the authority of Thy Catholic Church pressed upon me, Thou hadst set the way of man's salvation, to that life which is to be after this death. These things being safe and immoveably settled in my mind, I sought anxiously "whence was evil?" What were the pangs of my teeming heart, what groans, O my God ! yet even there were Thine ears open, and I knew it not: and when in silence I vehemently sought, those silent contritions of my soul were strong cries unto Thy mercy. Thou knewest what I suffered, and no man. For, what was that which was thence through my tongue distilled into the ears of my most familiar friends? Did the whole tumult of my soul, for which neither time nor utterance sufficed, reach them? Yet went up the whole to Thy hearing, all which I roared out from the groanings of my heart; and my desire was before Thee, and the light of mine eyes was not with me : for that was within, I without : nor was that confined to place, but I was intent on things contained in place, but there found I no resting-place, nor did they so receive me, that I could say, "It is enough," "it is well:" nor did they yet suffer me to turn back, where it might be well enough with me. For to these things was I superior, but inferior to Thee ; and Thou art my true joy when subjected to Thee, and Thou hadst subjected to me, what Thou createdst below me. And this was the true temperament, and middle region of my safety, to remain in Thy Image, and by serving Thee, rule the body. But when I rose proudly against Thee, and ran against the Lord with my neck, with the thick "bosses of my buckler, even these inferior things were set above me, and pressed me down, and nowhere was there respite or space of breathing. They met my sight on all sides by heaps and troops, and in thought the images thereof presented them- selves unsought, as I would return to Thee, as if they would say unto me, "Whither goest thou, unworthy and defiled?" SAINT AUGUSTINE 337 And these things had grown out of my wound; for Thou "humbledst the proud like one that is wounded," and through my own swelling was I separated from Thee ; yea, my pride- swollen face closed up mine eyes. But Thou, Lord, abides! forever, yet not forever art Thou angry with us ; because Thou pitiest our dust and ashes, and it was pleasing in Thy sight to reform my deformities; and by inward goads didst Thou rouse me, that I should be ill at ease, until Thou wert manifested to my inward sight. Thus, by the secret hand of Thy medicining, was my swelling abated, and the troubled and bedimmed eyesight of my mind, by the smarting anointings of healthful sorrows, was from day to day healed. And Thou, willing first to shew me, how Thou resistest the proud, but givest grace unto the humble, and by how great an act of Thy mercy Thou hadst traced out to men the way of humility, in that Thy WORD was made flesh, and dwelt among men: Thou procuredst for me, by means of one puffed up with most unnatural pride, certain books of the Platonists, translated from Greek into Latin. And therein I read, not indeed in the very words, but to the very same pur- pose, enforced by many and divers reasons, that In the begin- ning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God: the Same was in the beginning with God: all things were made by Him, and without Him was nothing made: that which was made by Him is life, and the life was the light of men, and the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not. And that the soul of man, though it bears witness to the light, yet itself is not that light; but the Word of God, being God, is that true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world. And that He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. But, that He came unto His own, and His own received Him not; but as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, as many as believed in His name; this I read not there. And therefore did I read there also, that they had changed the glory of Thy incorruptible nature into idols and divers shapes, into the likeness of the image of corruptible man, and birds, and beasts, and creeping things; namely into that A. v. 122 338 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY Egyptian food, for which Esau lost his birth-right, for that Thy first-born people worshiped the head of a four-footed beast instead of Thee ; turning in heart back towards Egypt ; and bowing Thy image, their own soul, before the image of a calf that eateth hay. These things found I here, but I fed not on them. For it pleased Thee, O Lord, to take away the reproach of diminution from Jacob, that the elder should serve the younger: and Thou calledst the Gentiles into Thine inheritance. And I had come to Thee from among the Gen- tiles; and I set my mind upon the gold which Thou willedst Thy people to take from Egypt, seeing Thine it was, whereso- ever it were. And to the Athenians Thou saidst by Thy Apostle, that in Thee we live, move, and have our 'being, as one of their own poets had said. And verily these books came from thence. But I set not my mind on the idols of Egypt, whom they served with Thy gold, who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshiped and served the creature more than the Creator. And being thence admonished to return to myself, I entered even into my inward self, Thou being my Guide : and able I was, for Thou wert become my Helper. And I entered and beheld with the eye of my soul, (such as it was,) above the same eye of my soul, above my mind, the Light Unchangeable. Not this ordinary light, which all flesh may look upon, nor as it were a greater of the same kind, as though the brightness of this should be manifold brighter, and with its greatness take up all space. Not such was this light, but other, yea, far other from all these. Nor was it above my soul, as oil is above water, nor yet as heaven above earth : but above to my soul, because It made me ; and I below It, because I was made by It. He that knows the Truth, knows what that Light is; and he that knows It, knows Eternity. Love knoweth it. O Truth Who art Eternity! and Love Who art Truth! and Eternity Who art Love! Thou art my God, to Thee do I sigh night and day. Thee when I first knew, Thou liftedst me up, that I might see there was what I might see, and that I was not yet such as to see. And Thou didst beat back the weakness of my sight, streaming forth Thy beams of light upon me most strongly, and I trembled with love and awe: and I perceived myself to be far off from Thee, in the region SAINT AUGUSTINE 339 of unlikeness, as if I heard this Thy voice from on high: "I am the food of grown men; grow, and thou shalt feed upon Me; nor shalt thou convert Me, like the food of thy flesh, into thee, but thou shalt be converted into Me. ' ' And I learned, that Thou for iniquity chastenest man, and Thou modest my soul to consume away like a spider. And I said, ' ' Is Truth therefore nothing because it is not diffused through space finite or infinite?" And Thou criedst to me from afar; ''Yea verily, / AM that I AM." And I heard, as the heart heareth, nor had I room to doubt, and I should sooner doubt that I live, than that Truth is not, which is clearly seen being understood by those things which are made. And I beheld the other things below Thee, and I perceived, that they neither altogether are, nor altogether are not, for they are, since they are from Thee, but are not, because they are not, what Thou art. For that truly is, which remains unchangeable. It is good then for me to hold fast unto God; for if I remain not in Him, I cannot in myself; but He re- maining in himself, reneweth all things. And Thou art the Lord my God, since Thou standest not in need of my good- ness. And it was manifested unto me, that those things be good, which yet are corrupted ; which neither were they sovereignly good, nor unless they were good, could be corrupted: for if sovereignly good, they were incorruptible, if not good at all, there were nothing in them to be corrupted. For cor- ruption injures, but unless it diminished goodness, it could not injure. Either then corruption injures not, which can not be; or which is most certain, all which is corrupted is deprived of good. But if they be deprived of all good, they shall cease to be. For if they shall be, and can now no longer be corrupted, they shall be better than before, be- cause they shall abide incorruptibly. And what more mon- strous, than to affirm things to become better by losing all their good ? Therefore, if they shall be deprived of all good, they shall no longer be. So long therefore as they are, they are good: therefore whatsoever is, is good. That evil then which I sought, whence it is, is not any substance : for were it a substance, it should be good. For either it should be an incorruptible substance, and so a chief good : or a corruptible 340 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY substance ; which unless it were good, could not be corrupted. I perceived therefore, and it was manifested to me, that Thou madest all things good, nor is there any substance at all, which Thou madest not; and for that Thou madest not all things equal, therefore are all things; because each is good, and altogether very good, because our God made all things very good. And to Thee is nothing whatsoever evil: yea, not only to Thee, but also to Thy creation as a whole, because there is nothing without, which may break in, and corrupt that order which Thou hast appointed it. But in the parts thereof some things, because unharmonizing with other some, are accounted evil: whereas those very things harmonize with others, and are good; and in themselves are good. And all these things which harmonize not together, do yet with the inferior part, which we call Earth, having its own cloudy and windy sky harmonizing with it. Far be it then that I should say, "These things should not be:" for should I see nought but these, I should indeed long for the better; but still must even for these alone praise Thee; for that Thou art to be praised; do shew from the earth, dragons, and all deeps, fire, hail, snow, ice, and stormy wind, which fulfill Thy word; mountains, and all hills, fruitful trees, and all cedars; beasts, and all cattle, creeping things, and flying fowls; kings of the earth, and all people, princes, and all judges of the earth; young men and maidens, old men and young, praise Thy Name. But when, from heaven, these praise Thee, praise Thee, our God, in the heights, all Thy angels, all Thy hosts, sun and moon, all the stars and light, the Heaven of heavens, and the waters that be above the heavens, praise Thy Name; I did not now long for things better, because I conceived of all: and with a sounder judg- ment I apprehended that the things above were better than these below, but all together better than those above by them- selves. There is no soundness in them, whom aught of Thy crea- tion displeaseth: as neither in me, when much which Thou hast made, displeased me. And because my soul durst not be displeased at my God, it would fain not account that Thine, which displeased it. Hence it had gone into the SAINT AUGUSTINE 341 opinion of two substances, and had no rest, but talked idly. And returning thence, it had made to itself a God, through infinite measures of all space; and thought it to be Thee, and placed it in its heart ; and had again become the temple of its own idol, to Thee abominable. But after Thou hadst soothed my head, unknown to me, and closed mine eyes that they should not behold vanity, I ceased somewhat of my former self, and my frenzy was lulled to sleep; and I awoke in Thee, and saw Thee infinite, but in another way, and this sight was not derived from the flesh. And I wondered that I now loved Thee, and no phantasm for Thee. And yet did I not press on to enjoy my God ; but was borne up to Thee by Thy beauty, and soon borne down from Thee by mine own weight, sinking with sorrow into these inferior things. This weight was carnal custom. Yet dwelt there with me a remembrance of Thee ; nor did I any way doubt, that there was One to Whom I might cleave, but that I was not yet such as to cleave to Thee : for that the body which is corrupted, presseth down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle weigheth down the mind that museth upon many things. And most certain I was, that Thy invisible works from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even Thy eternal power and Godhead. For examining, whence it was that I admired the beauty of bodies celestial or terrestrial ; and what aided me in judging soundly on things mutable, and pro- nouncing, "This ought to be thus, this not;" examining, I say, whence it was that I so judged, seeing I did so judge, I had found the unchangeable and true Eternity of Truth, above my changeable mind. And thus by degrees, I passed from bodies to the soul, which through the bodily senses perceives; and thence to its inward faculty, to which the bodily senses represent things external, whitherto reaches the faculties of beasts ; and thence again to the reasoning faculty, to which what is received from the senses of the body, is re- ferred to be judged. Which finding itself also to be in me a thing variable, raised itself up to its own understanding, and drew away my thoughts from the power of habit, withdraw- ing itself from those troops of contradictory phantasms;, that so it might find what that light was, whereby it was LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY bedewed, when, without all doubting, it cried out, "That the unchangeable was to be preferred to the changeable ; ' ' whence also it knew That Unchangeable, which, unless it had in some way known, it had had no sure ground to prefer it to the changeable. And thus with the flash of one trembling glance it arrived at THAT WHICH Is. And then I saw Thy in- visible things understood by the things which are made. But I could not fix my gaze thereon; and my infirmity being struck back, I was thrown again on my wonted habits, car- rying along with me only a loving memory thereof, and a longing for what I had, as it were, perceived the odor of, but was not yet able to feed on. Then I sought a way of obtaining strength, sufficient to enjoy Thee ; and found it not, until I embraced that Mediator betwixt God and men, the Man Christ Jesus, who is over all, God blessed for evermore, calling unto me, and saying, / am the way, the truth, and the life, and mingling that food which I was unable to receive, with our flesh. For the Word was made flesh, that Thy wisdom, whereby Thou createdst all things, might provide milk for our infant state. For I did not hold to my Lord Jesus Christ, I humbled to the humble; nor knew I yet whereto His infirmity would guide us. For Thy Word, the Eternal Truth, far above the higher parts of Thy Creation, raises up the subdued unto Itself: but in this lower world built for Itself a lowly habitation of our clay, whereby to abase from themselves such as would be subdued, and bring them over to Himself; allaying their swelling, and fomenting their love; to the end they might go on no further in self-confidence, but rather consent to become weak, seeing before their feet the Divinity weak by taking our coats of skin; and wearied, might cast themselves down upon It, and It rising, might lift them up. But I thought otherwise; conceiving only of my Lord Christ, as of a man of excellent wisdom, whom no one could be equaled unto; especially, for that being wonderfully born of a Virgin, He seemed, in conformity therewith, through the Divine care for us, to have attained that great eminence of authority, for an ensample of despising things temporal for the obtaining of immortality. But what mystery there lay in, "The Word was made flesh," I could not even imagine. SAINT AUGUSTINE 343 Only I had learnt out of what is delivered to us in writing of Him, that He did eat, and drink, sleep, walk, rejoiced in spirit, was sorrowful, discoursed ; that, flesh did not cleave by itself unto Thy Word, but with the human soul and mind. All know this, who know the unchangeableness of Thy "Word, which I now knew, as far as I could, nor did I at all doubt thereof. For, now to move the limbs of the body by will, now not, now to be moved by some affection, now not, now to deliver wise sayings through human signs, now to keep silence, belong to soul and mind subject to variation. And should these things be falsely written of Him, all the rest also would risk the charge, nor would there remain in those books any saving faith for mankind. Since then they were written truly, I acknowledged a perfect man to be in Christ ; not the body of a man only, nor, with the body, a sensitive soul without a rational, but very man; whom, not only as being a form 1 of Truth, but for a certain great excellency of human nature and a more perfect participation of wisdom, I judged to be preferred before others. But Alypius imagined the Catholics to believe God to be so clothed with flesh, that besides God and flesh, there was no soul at all in Christ, and did not think that a human mind was ascribed to Him. And because he was well persuaded, that the actions recorded of Him, could only be performed by a vital and a rational creature, he moved the more slowly towards the Christian Faith. But understanding afterwards, that this was the error of the Apollinarian heretics, he joyed in and was conformed to the Catholic Faith. But somewhat later, I confess, did I learn, how in that saying, The Word was made flesh, the Catholic Truth is distinguished from the falsehood of Photinus. For the rejection of heretics makes the tenets of Thy Church and sound doctrine to stand out more clearly. For there must also ~be heresies, that the approved may be made manifest among the weak. But having then read those books of the Platonists, and thence been taught to search for incorporeal truth, I saw Thy invisible things, understood by those things which are made; and though cast back, I perceived what that was, which through the darkness of my mind I WPS hindered from con- 1 As the Maniehees thought. 344 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY templating, being assured, "That Thou wert, and wert in- finite, and yet not diffused in space, finite or infinite ; and that Thou truly art who art the same ever, in no part nor motion, varying; and that all other things are from Thee, on this most sure ground alone, that they are." Of these things I was assured, yet too unsure to enjoy Thee. I prated as one well skilled ; but had I not sought Thy way in Christ our Savior, I had proved to be, not skilled, but killed. For now I had begun to wish to seem wise, being filled with mine own punishment, yet I did not mourn, but rather scorn, puffed up with knowledge. For where was that charity building upon the foundation of humility, which is Christ Jesus? or when should these books teach me it? Upon these, I believe, Thou therefore willedst that I should fall, before I studied Thy Scriptures, that it might be imprinted on my memory, how I was affected by them; and that afterwards when my spirits were tamed through Thy books, and my wounds touched by Thy healing fingers, I might discern and dis- tinguish between presumption and confession; between those who saw whither they were to go, yet saw not the way, and the way that leadeth not to behold only but to dwell in the beatific country. For had I first been formed in Thy Holy Scriptures, and hadst Thou, in the familiar use of them, grown sweet unto me, and had I then fallen upon those other volumes, they might perhaps have withdrawn me from the solid ground of piety, or, had I continued in that healthful frame which I had thence imbibed, I might have thought, that it might have been obtained by the study of those books. Most eagerly then did I seize that venerable writing of Thy Spirit; and chiefly the Apostle Paul. Whereupon those dif- ficulties vanished away, wherein he once seemed to me to contradict himself, and the text of his discourse not to agree with the testimonies of the Law and the Prophets. And the face of that pure word appeared to me one and the same; and I learned to rejoice with trembling. So I began; and whatsoever truth I had read in those other books, I found here amid the praise of Thy Grace ; that whoso sees, may not so glory as if he had not received, not only what he sees, but also that he sees, (for what hath he, which he hath not received?) and that he may be not only admonished to behold SAINT AUGUSTINE 345 Thee, Who art ever the same, but also healed, to hold Thee ; and that he who cannot see afar off, may yet walk on the way, whereby he may arrive, and behold, and hold Thee. For, though a man be delighted with the law of God after the inner man, what shall he do with that other law in his mem- bers which warreth against the law of his mind, and bringeth him into captivity to the law of sin which is in his mem- bers? For, Thou art righteous, Lord, but we have sinned and committed iniquity, and have done wickedly, and Thy hand is grown heavy upon us, and we are justly delivered over unto that ancient sinner, the king of death ; because he persuaded our will to be like his will, whereby he abode not in Thy truth. What shall wretched man do? who shall deliver him from the body of this death, but only Thy Grace, through Jesus Christ our Lord, whom Thou hast begotten coeternal, and formedst in the beginning of Thy ways, in whom the prince of this world found nothing worthy of death, yet killed he Him; and the handwriting, which was contrary to us, was blotted out? This those writings con- tain not. Those pages present not the image of this piety, the tears of confession, Thy sacrifice, a troubled spirit, a broken and a contrite heart, the salvation of the people, the Bridal City, the earnest of the Holy Ghost, the Cup of our Redemption. No man sings there, Shall not my soul be sub- mitted unto God? for of Him cometh my salvation. For he is my God and my salvation, my guardian, I shall no more be moved. No one there hears Him call, Come unto Me all ye that labor. They scorn to learn of Him, because He is meek and lowly in heart; for these things hast Thou hid from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. For it is one thing, from the mountain's shaggy top to see the land of peace, and to find no way thither; and in vain to essay through ways unpassable, opposed and beset by fugitives and deserters, under their captain the lion and the dragon: and another to keep on the way that leads thither, guarded by the host of the heavenly General ; where they spoil not who have deserted the heavenly army ; for they avoid it, as very torment. These things did wonderfully sink into my bowels, when I read that least of Thy Apostles, and had meditated upon Thy works, and trembled exceedingly. 346 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BOOK vin O MY God, let me, with thanksgiving, remember, and con- fess unto Thee Thy mercies on me. Let my bones be bedewed with Thy love, and let them say unto Thee, Who is like unto Thee, Lord? Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder, I will offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving. And how Thou hast broken them, I will declare ; and all who worship Thee, when they hear this, shall say, "Blessed be the Lord, in heaven and in earth, great and wonderful is His name." Thy words had stuck fast in my heart, and / was hedged round about on all sides by Thee. Of Thy eternal life I was now certain, though I saw it in a figure and as through a glass. Yet I had ceased to doubt that there was an in- corruptible substance, whence was all other substance; nor did I now desire to be more certain of Thee, but more stead- fast in Thee. But for my temporal life, all was wavering, and my heart had to be purged from the old leaven. The Way, the Savior Himself, well pleased me, but as yet I shrunk from going through its straitness. And Thou didst put into my mind, and it seemed good in my eyes, to go to Sim- plicianus, 1 who seemed to me a good servant of Thine; and Thy grace shone in him. I had heard also, that from his very youth he had lived most devoted unto Thee. Now he was grown into years; and by reason of so great age spent in such zealous following of Thy ways, he seemed to me likely to have learned much experience; and so he had. Out of which store, I wished that he would tell me (setting before him my anxieties) which were the fittest way for one in my case to walk in Thy paths. For, I saw the church full ; and one went this way, and an- other that way. But I was displeased, that I led a secular life; yea now that my desires no longer inflamed me, as of old, with hopes of honor and profit, a very grievous burden it was to undergo so heavy a bondage. For, in comparison of Thy sweetness, and the beauty of Thy house which I loved, those things delighted me no longer. But still I was enthralled with the love of woman ; nor did the Apostle f or- 1 Simplicianus became a successor of the most blessed Ambrose, Bishop of the Church of Milan. SAINT AUGUSTINE 347 bid me to marry, although he advised me to something better, chiefly wishing that all men were as himself was. But I be- ing weak, chose the more indulgent place ; and because of this alone, was tossed up and down in all beside, faint and wasted with withering cares, because in other matters, I was con- strained against my will to conform myself to a married life, to which I was given up and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of the Truth, that there were some eunuchs, which had made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake: but, saith He, let him who can receive it receive it. Surely vain are all men who are ignorant of God, and could not out of the good things which are seen, find out Him who is good. But I was no longer in that vanity; I had sur- mounted it; and by the common witness of all Thy creatures, had found Thee our Creator, and Thy Word, God with Thee, and together with Thee one God, by whom Thou createdst all things. There is yet another kind of ungodly, who know- ing God, glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful. Into this also had I fallen, but Thy right hand upheld me, and took me thence, and Thou placedst me where I might recover. For Thou hadst said unto man, Behold, the fear of the Lord is wisdom, and, Desire not to seem wise; because they who affirmed themselves to be wise, became fools. But I had now found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that I had, I ought to have bought, and I hesitated. To Simplicianus then I went, the father of Ambrose (a Bishop now) in receiving Thy grace, and whom Ambrose truly loved as a father. To him I related the mazes of my wanderings. But when I mentioned that I had read certain books of the Platonists, which Victorinus, sometime Rhetoric Professor of Rome, (who had died a Christian, as I had heard,) had translated into Latin, he testified his joy that I had not fallen upon the writings of other philosophers, full of fallacies and deceits, after the rudiments of this world, whereas the Platonists many ways led to the belief in God, and His Word. Then to exhort me to the humility of Christ, hidden from the wise, and revealed to little ones, he spoke of Victorinus himself whom while at Rome he had most in- timately known : and of him he related what I will not con- ceal. For it contains great praise of Thy grace, to be con- 348 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY fessed unto Thee, how that aged man, most learned and skilled in the liberal sciences, and who had read, and weighed so many works of the philosophers; the instructor of so many noble Senators, who also, as a monument of his ex- cellent discharge of his office, had (which men of this world esteem a high honor) both deserved and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum; he, to that age a worshiper of idols, and a partaker of the sacrilegious rites, to which almost all the nobility of Rome were given up, and had inspired the people with the love of Anubis, barking Deity, and all The monster Gods of every kind, who fought 'Gainst Neptune, Venus, and Minerva: whom Rome once conquered, now adored, all which the aged Victorinus had with thundering eloquence so many years de- fended; he now blushed not to be the child of Thy Christ, and the new-born babe of Thy fountain ; submitting his neck to the yoke of humility, and subduing his forehead to the reproach of the Cross. O Lord, Lord, Which hast bowed the heavens and come down, touched the mountains and they did smoke, by what means didst Thou convey Thyself into that breast ? He used to read (as Simplicianus said) the holy Scripture, most studiously sought and searched into all the Christian writ- ings, and said to Simplicianus, (not openly, but privately and as a friend,) "Understand that I am already a Christian." Whereto he answered, "I will not believe it, nor will I rank you among Christians, unless I see you in the Church of Christ. ' ' The other, in banter, replied, ' ' Do walls then make Christians?" And this he often said, that he was already a Christian; and Simplicianus as often made the same an- swer, and the conceit of the "walls" was by the other as often renewed. For he feared to offend his friends, proud daemon-worshipers, from the height of whose Babylonian dignity, as from cedars of Libanus, which the Lord had not yet broken down, he supposed the weight of enmity would fall upon him. But after that by reading and earnest thought he had gathered firmness, and feared to be denied by Christ before the holy angels, should he now be afraid to confess SAINT AUGUSTINE 349 him before men, and appeared to himself guilty of a heavy offense, in being ashamed of the Sacraments of the humility of Thy Word, and not being ashamed of the sacrilegious rites of those proud daemons, whose pride he had imitated and their rites adopted, he became bold-faced against vanity, and shame-faced towards the truth, and suddenly and unex- pectedly said to Simplicianus, (as himself told me,) "Go we to the Church; I wish to be made a Christian." But he, not containing himself for joy, went with him. And having been admitted to the first Sacrament and become a Catechumen, not long after he further gave in his name, that he might be regenerated by baptism, Rome wondering, the Church re- joicing. The proud saw, and were wroth; they gnashed with their teeth, and melted away. But the Lord God was the hope of Thy servant, and he regarded not vanities and lying madness. To conclude, when the hour was come for making pro- fession of his faith, (which at Rome they, who are about to approach to Thy grace, deliver, from an elevated place, in the sight of all the faithful, in a set form of words 2 com- mitted to memory,) the presbyters, he said, offered Victorinus (as was done to such, as seemed likely through bashful- ness to be alarmed) to make his profession more privately: but he chose rather to profess his salvation in the presence of the holy multitude. "For it was not salvation that he taught in rhetoric, and yet that he had publicly professed. How much less then ought he, when pronouncing Thy word, to dread Thy meek flock, who, when delivering his own words, had not feared a mad multitude ! ' ' When, then, he went up to make his profession, all, as they knew him, whispered his name one to another with the voice of congratulation. And who there knew him not? and there ran a low murmur through all the mouths of the rejoicing multitude, Victorinus ! Victorinus! Sudden was the burst of rapture, that they saw him; suddenly were they hushed that they might hear him. He pronounced the true faith with an excellent bold- ness, and all wished to draw him into their very heart: yea 2 The Apostles' Creed, which was delivered orally to the Catechumens to commit to memory, and by them "delivered back," i.e. publicly re- peated before they were baptized. 350 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY by their love and joy they drew him thither; such were the hands wherewith they drew him. But when that man of Thine, Simplicianus, related to me this of Victorinus, I was on fire to imitate him; for this very end had he related it. But when he had subjoined also, how in the days of the Emperor Julian, a law was made, whereby Christians were forbidden to teach the liberal sciences or oratory; and how he, obeying this law, chose rather to give over the wordy school, than Thy Word, by which Thou makest eloquent the tongues of the dumb; he seemed to me not more resolute than blessed, in having thus found opportunity to wait on Thee only. Which thing I was sighing for, bound as I was, not with another's irons, but by my own iron will. My will the enemy held, and thence had made a chain for me, and bound me. For of a froward will, was a lust made ; and a lust served, became custom ; and custom not resisted, became necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together (whence I called it a chain) a hard bondage held me enthralled. But that new will which had begun to be in me, freely to serve Thee, and to wish to enjoy Thee, O God, the only assured pleasantness, was not yet able to overcome my former willfulness, strengthened by age. Thus did my two wills, one new, and the other old, one carnal, the other spiritual, struggle within me; and by their discord, undid my soul. Thus I understood, by my own experience, what I had read, how the flesh lusteth against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh. Myself verily either way; yet more my- self, in that which I approved in myself, than in that which in myself I disapproved. For in this last, it was now for the more part not myself, because in much I rather endured against my will, than acted willingly. And yet it was through me, that custom had obtained this power of warring against me, because I had come willingly, whither I willed not. And who has any right to speak against it, if just punishment follow the sinner? Nor had I now any longer my former plea, that I therefore as yet hesitated to be above the world and serve Thee, for that the truth was not altogether as- certained to me ; for now it too was. But I, still under service to the earth, refused to fight under Thy banner, and feared as SAINT AUGUSTINE 351 much to be freed of all encumbrances, as we should fear to be encumbered with it. Thus with the baggage of this present world was I held down pleasantly, as in sleep: and the thoughts wherein I meditated on Thee, were like the efforts of such as would awake, who yet overcome with a heavy drowsiness, are again drenched therein. And as no one would sleep for ever, and in all men's sober judgment, waking is better, yet a man for the most part, feeling a heavy lethargy in all his limbs, defers to shake off sleep, and, though half displeased, yet, even after it is time to rise, with pleasure yields to it, so was I assured, that much better were it for me to give myself up to thy charity, than to give myself over to mine own cupidity; but though the former course satisfied me and gained the mastery, the latter pleased me and held me mastered. Nor had I anything to answer Thee calling to me, Awake, thou that steepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light. And when Thou didst on all sides shew me, that what Thou saidst was true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to answer, but only those dull and drowsy words, "Anon, anon," "presently;" "leave me but a little." But "presently, presently," had no present, and my "little while" went on for a long while; in vain I delighted in Thy law according to the inner man, when another law in my members, rebelled against the law of my mind, and led me captive under the law of sin which was in my members. For the law of sin is the violence of custom, whereby the mind is drawn and holden, even against its will ; but deservedly, for that it will- ingly fell into it. Who then should delwer me thus wretched from, the body of this death, ~but Thy grace only, through Jesus Christ our Lord? And how Thou didst deliver me out of the bonds of desire, wherewith I was bound most straitly to carnal concupiscence, and out of the drudgery of worldly things, I will now declare, and confess unto Thy name, Lord, my helper and my re- deemer. Amid increasing anxiety, I was doing my wonted business, and daily sighing unto Thee. I attended Thy Church, whenever free from the business under the burden of which I groaned. Alypius was with me, now after the third sitting released from his law business, and awaiting 352 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY to whom to sell his counsel, as I sold the skill of speaking, if indeed teaching can impart it. Nebridius had now, in con- sideration of our friendship, consented to teach under Verecundus, a citizen and a grammarian of Milan, and a very intimate friend of us all; who urgently desired, and by the right of friendship challenged from our company, such faith- ful aid as he greatly needed. Nebridius then was not drawn to this by any desire of advantage, (for he might have made much more of his learning had he so willed,) but as a most kind and gentle friend, he would not be wanting to a good office, and slight our request. But he acted herein very dis- creetly, shunning to become known to personages great ac- cording to this world, avoiding the distraction of mind thence ensuing, and desiring to have it free and at leisure, as many hours as might be, to seek, or read, or hear something con- cerning wisdom. Upon a day then, Nebridius being absent, (I recollect not why,) lo, there came to see me and Alypius, one Pontitianus, our countryman so far as being an African, in high office in the Emperor's court. What he would with us, I know not, but we sat down to converse, and it happened that upon a table for some game, before us, he observed a book, took, opened it, and contrary to his expectation, found it the Apostle Paul; for he had thought it some of those books, which I was wearing myself in teaching. "Whereat smiling, and looking at me, he expressed his joy and wonder, that he had on a sudden found this book, and this only *before my eyes. For he was a Christian, and baptized, and often bowed himself before Thee our God in the Church, in frequent and continued prayers. When then I had told him, that I bestowed very great pains upon those Scriptures, a conversa- tion arose (suggested by his account) on Antony the Egyp- tian Monk: whose name was in high reputation among Thy servants, though to that hour unknown to us. Which when he discovered, he dwelt the more upon that subject, inform- ing and wondering at our ignorance of one so eminent. But we stood amazed, hearing Thy wonderful works most fully attested, in times so recent, and almost in our own, wrought in the true Faith and Church Catholic. We all wondered; we, that they were so great ; he, that they had not reached us. SAINT AUGUSTINE 353 Thence his discourse turned to the flocks in the Monasteries, and their holy ways, a sweet smelling savor unto Thee, and the fruitful deserts of the wilderness, whereof we knew noth- ing. And there was a Monastery at Milan, full of good brethren, without the city walls, under the fostering care of Ambrose, and we knew it not. He went on with his dis- course, and we listened in intent silence. He told us then how one afternoon at Triers, when the Emperor was taken up with the Circensian games, he and three others, his com- panions, went out to walk in gardens near the city walls, and there as they happened to walk in pairs, one went apart with him, and the other two wandered by themselves; and these, in their wanderings, lighted upon a certain cottage, inhabited by certain of thy servants, poor in spirit, of whom is the kingdom of heaven, and there they found a little book, con- taining the life of Antony. This one of them began to read, admire, and kindle at it; and as he read, to meditate on taking up such a life, and giving over his secular service to serve Thee. And these two were of those whom they style agents for the public affairs. Then suddenly, filled with an holy love, and a sober shame, in anger with himself he cast his eyes upon his friend, saying, "Tell me, I pray thee, what would we attain by all these labors of ours? what aim we at? what serve we for? Can our hopes in court rise higher than to be the Emperor 's favorites ? and in this, what is there not brittle, and full of perils? and by how many perils -arrive we at a greater peril? And when arrive we thither? But a friend of God, if I wish it, I become now at once." So spake he. And in pain with the travail of a new life, he turned his eyes again upon the book, and read on, and was changed inwardly, where Thou sawest, and his mind was stripped of the world, as soon appeared. For as he read, and rolled up and down the waves of his heart, he stormed at himself a while, then discerned, and determined on a better course ; and now being Thine, said to his friend, "Now have I broken loose from those our hopes, and am re- solved to serve God; and this, from this hour, in this place, I begin upon. If thou likest not to imitate me, oppose not." The other answered, he would cleave to him, to partake so glorious a reward, so glorious a service. Thus both being A. V. J 23 354 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY now Thine, were building the tower at the necessary cost, the forsaking all that they had, and following Thee. Then Pontitianus and the other with him, that had walked in other parts of the garden, came in search of them to the same place ; and finding them, reminded them to return, for the day was now far spent. But they relating their resolu- tion and purpose, and how that will was begun, and settled in them, begged them, if they would not join, not to molest them. But the others, though nothing altered from their former selves, did yet bewail themselves, (as he affirmed,) and piously congratulated them, recommending themselves to their prayers; and so, with hearts lingering on the earth, went away to the palace. But the other two, fixing their heart on heaven, remained in the cottage. And both had af- fianced brides, who when they heard hereof, also dedicated their virginity unto God. Such was the story of Pontitianus; but Thou, O Lord, while he was speaking, didst turn me round towards myself, taking me from behind my back, where I had placed me, un- willing to observe myself ; and setting me before my face, that I might see how foul I was, how crooked and defiled, be- spotted and ulcerous. And I beheld and stood aghast; and whither to flee from myself I found not. And if I sought to turn mine eye from off myself, he went on with his re- lation, and Thou again didst set me over against myself, and thrustedst me before my eyes, that I might find out mine iniquity, and hate it. I had known it, but made as though I saw it not, winked at it, and forgot it. But now, the more ardently I loved those, whose health- ful affections I heard of, that they had resigned themselves wholly to Thee to be cured, the more did I abhor myself, when compared with them. For many of my years (some twelve) had now run out with me since my nineteenth, when, upon the reading of Cicero's Hortensius, I was stirred to an earnest love of wisdom ; and still I was deferring to reject mere earthly felicity, and give myself to search out that, whereof not the finding only, but the very search, was to be preferred to the treasures and kingdoms of the world, though already found, and to the pleasures of the body, though spread around me at my will. But I wretched, most SAINT AUGUSTINE 355 wretched, in the very commencement of my early youth, had begged chastity of Thee, and said, ''Give me chastity and continency, only not yet." For I feared lest Thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure me of the disease of con- cupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, rather than ex- tinguished. And I had wandered through crooked ways in a sacrilegious superstition, not indeed assured thereof, but as preferring it to the others which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously. And I had thought, that I therefore deferred from day to day to reject the hopes of this world, and follow Thee only, because there did not appear aught certain, whither to direct my course. And now was the day come wherein I was to be laid bare to myself, and my conscience was to up- braid me. "Where art thou now, my tongue? Thou saidst, that for an uncertain truth thou likedst not to cast off the baggage of vanity; now, it is certain, and yet that burthen still oppresseth thee, while they who neither have so worn themselves out with seeking it, nor for ten years and more have been thinking thereon, have had their shoulders light- ened, and received wings to fly away." Thus was I gnawed within, and exceedingly confounded with an horrible shame, while Pontitianus was so speaking. And he having brought to a close his tale and the business he came for, went his way; and I unto myself. What said I not against myself? with what scourges of condemnation lashed I not my soul, that it might follow me, striving to go after Thee! Yet it drew back; refused, but excused not itself. All arguments were spent and confuted; there remained a mute shrinking; and she feared, as she would death, to be restrained from the flux of that custom, whereby she was wasting to death. Then in this great contention of my inward dwelling, which I had strongly raised against my soul, in the chamber of my heart, troubled in mind and countenance, I turned upon Alypius. "What ails us?" I exclaim: "what is it? what heardest thou ? The unlearned start up and take heaven T}y force, and we with our learning, and without heart, lo, where we wallow in flesh and blood ! Are we ashamed to fol- low, because others are gone before, and not ashamed not even to follow?" Some such words I uttered, and my fever 356 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY of mind tore me away from him, while he, gazing on me in astonishment, kept silence. For it was not my wonted tone ; and my forehead, cheeks, eyes, color, tone of voice, spake my mind more than the words I uttered. A little garden there was to our lodging, which we had the use of, as of the whole house ; for the master of the house, our host, was not living there. Thither had the tumult of my breast hur- ried me, where no man might hinder the hot contention wherein I had engaged with myself, until it should end as Thou knewest, I knew not. Only I was healthfully distracted and dying, to live; knowing what evil thing I was, and not knowing what good thing I was shortly to become. I retired then into the garden, and Alypius, on my steps. For his presence did not lessen my privacy ; or how could he forsake me so disturbed ? We sate down as far removed as might be from the house. I was troubled in spirit, most vehemently indignant that I entered not into Thy will and covenant, O my God, which all my bones cried out unto me to enter, and praised it to the skies. And therein we enter not by ships, or chariots, or feet, no, move not so far as I had come from the house to that place where we were sitting. For, not to go only, but to go in thither was nothing else but to will to go, but to will resolutely and thoroughly ; not to turn and toss, this way and that, a maimed and half-divided will, struggling, with one part sinking as another rose. Lastly, in the very fever of my irresoluteness, I made with my body many such motions as men sometimes would, but cannot, if either they have not the limbs, or these be bound with bands, weakened with infirmity, or any other way hindered. Thus, if I tore my hair, beat my forehead, if locking my fingers I clasped my knee; I willed, I did it. But I might have willed, and not done it, if the power of motion in my limbs had not obeyed. So many things then I did, when "to will" was not in itself "to be able;" and I did not what both I longed incomparably more to do, and which soon after, when I should will, I should be able to do; because soon after, when I should will, I should will thoroughly. For in these things the ability was one with the will, and to will was to do; and yet was it not done: and more easily did my body obey the weakest willing of my soul, SAINT AUGUSTINE 357 in moving its limbs at its nod, than the soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will alone this its momentous will. Thus soul-sick was I, and tormented, accusing myself much more severely than my wont, rolling and turning me in my chain, till that were wholly broken, whereby I now was but just, but still was, held. And Thou, Lord, pressedst upon me in my inward parts by a severe mercy, redoubling the lashes of fear and shame, lest I should again give way, and not bursting that same slight remaining tie, it should recover strength, and bind me the faster. For I said within myself, "Be it done now, be it done now." And as I spake, I all but enacted it. I all but did it, and did it not: yet sunk not back to my former state, but kept my stand hard by, and took breath. And I essayed again, and wanted some- what less of it, and somewhat less, and all but touched and laid hold of it; and yet came not at it, nor touched, nor laid hold of it: hesitating to die to death and to live to life: and the worse whereto I was inured, prevailed more with me than the better, whereto I was unused : and the very mo- ment wherein I was to become other than I was, the nearer it approached me, the greater horror did it strike into me; yet did it not strike me back, nor turned me away, but held me in suspense. The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my ancient mistresses, still held me; they plucked my fleshly garment, and whispered softly, "Dost thou cast us off? and from that moment shall we no more be with thee for ever? and from that moment shall not this or that be lawful for thee for ever?" And what was it which they suggested in that I said, "this or that," what did they suggest, O my God? Let Thy mercy turn it away from the soul of Thy servant. What defilements did they suggest ! what shame ! And now I much less than half heard them, and not openly shewing them- selves and contradicting me, but muttering as it were be- hind my back, and privily plucking me, as I was departing, but to look back on them. Yet they did retard me, so that I hesitated to burst and shake myself free from them, and to spring over whither I was called ; a violent habit saying to me, "Thinkest thou, thou canst live without them?" But now it spake very faintly. For on that side whither 358 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY I had set my face, and whither I trembled to go, there ap- peared unto me the chaste dignity of Continency, serene, yet not relaxedly gay, honestly alluring me to come, and doubt not; and stretching forth to receive and embrace me, her holy hands full of multitudes of good examples. There were so many young men and maidens here, a multitude of youth and every age, grave widows and aged virgins; and Continence herself in all, not barren, but a fruitful mother of children of joys, by Thee her Husband, O Lord. And she smiled on me with a persuasive mockery, as would she say, ' ' Canst not thou what these youths, what these maidens can ? or can they either in themselves, and not rather in the Lord their God? The Lord their God gave me unto them. Why standest thou in thyself, and so standest not? Cast thyself upon Him, fear not He will not withdraw Himself that thou shouldest fall; cast thyself fearlessly upon Him, He will re- ceive, and will heal thee." And I blushed exceedingly, for that I yet heard the muttering of those toys, and hung in suspense. And she again seemed to say, "Stop thine ears against those thy unclean members on the earth, that they may be mortified. They tell thee of delights, but not as doth the law of the Lord thy God." This controversy in my heart was self against self only. But Alypius sitting close by my side, in silence waited the issue of my unwonted emotion. But when a deep consideration had from the secret bottom of my soul drawn together and heaped up all my misery in the sight of my heart; there arose a mighty storm, bringing a mighty shower of tears. Which that I might pour forth wholly, in its natural expressions, I rose from Alypius: solitude was suggested to me as fitter for the business of weeping; so I retired so far that even his presence could not be a burthen to me. Thus was it then with me, and he perceived something of it; for something I suppose I had spoken, wherein the tones of my voice appeared choked with weeping, and so had risen up. He then remained where we were sitting, most extremely astonished. I cast myself down I know not how, under a certain fig-tree, giving full vent to my tears ; and the floods of mine eyes gushed out, an acceptable sacrifice to Thee. And, not indeed in these words, yet to this purpose, spake I much unto Thee: And Thou, SAINT AUGUSTINE 359 Lord, how long? how long, Lord, wilt Thou be angry, for ever? Remember not our former iniquities, for I felt that I was held by them. I sent up these sorrowful words; How long? how long, "to-morrow, and to-morrow?" Why not now? why not is there this hour an end to my unclean- ness? So was I speaking, and weeping in the most bitter contri- tion of my heart, when, lo ! I heard from a neighboring house a voice, as of boy or girl, I know not, chanting, and oft re- peating, ' ' Take up and read ; Take up and read. ' ' Instantly, my countenance altered, I began to think most intently, whether children were wont in any kind of play to sing such words: nor could I remember ever to have heard the like. So checking the torrent of my tears, I arose; inter- preting it to be no other than a command from God, to open the book, and read the first chapter I should find. For I had heard of Antony, that coming in during the reading of the Gospel, he received the admonition, as if what was being read, was spoken to him; Go, sell all that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come and follow me. And by such oracle he was forthwith converted unto Thee. Eagerly then I returned to the place where Alypius was sitting; for there had I laid the volume of the Apostle, when I arose thence. I seized, opened, and in silence read that section, on which my eyes first fell: Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wanton- ness, not in strife and envying: but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, in concupiscence. No further would I read ; nor needed I : for instantly at the end of this sentence, by a light as it were of serenity infused into my heart, all the darkness of doubt vanished away. Then putting my finger between, or some other mark, I shut the volume, and with a calmed countenance made it known to Alypius. And what was wrought in him, which 1 knew not, he thus shewed me. He asked to see what I had read: I shewed him; and he looked even further than I had read, and I knew not what followed. This followed, him that is weak in the faith, receive; which he applied to him- self, and disclosed to me. And by this admonition was he strengthened; and by a good resolution and purpose, and 360 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY most corresponding to his character, wherein he did always very far differ from me, for the better, without any turbulent delay he joined me. Thence we go into my mother; we tell her ; she rejoiceth : we relate in order how it took place ; she leaps for joy, and triumpheth, and blesseth Thee, Who art able to do above that which we ask or think; for she per- ceived that Thou hadst given her more for me, than she was wont to beg by her pitiful and most sorrowful groanings. For Thou convertedst me unto Thyself, so that I sought neither wife, nor any hope of this world, standing in that rule of faith, where Thou hadst shewed me unto her in a vision, so many years before. And Thou didst convert her mourning into joy, much more plentiful than she had desired, and in a much more precious and purer way than she erst re- quired, by having grandchildren of my body. BOOK IX Lord, I am Thy servant; I am Thy servant, and the son, of Thy handmaid: Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder. I will offer to Thee the sacrifice of praise. Let my heart and my tongue praise Thee; yea let all my bones say, Lord, who is like unto Thee? Let them say, and answer Thou me, and say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. Who am I, and what am I? What evil have not been either my deeds, or if not my deeds, my words, or if not my words, my will? But Thou, O Lord, art good and merciful, and Thy right hand had respect unto the depth of my death, and from the bottom of my heart emptied that abyss of corruption. And this Thy whole gift was, to nill what I willed, and to will what Thou willedst. But where through all those years, and out of what low and deep recess was my free-will called forth in a moment, whereby to submit my neck to Thy easy yoke, and my shoulders unto Thy light burthen, O Christ Jesus, my Helper and my Eedeemerf How sweet did it at once become to me, to want the sweetness of those toys! and what I feared to be parted from, was now a joy to part with. For Thou didst cast them forth from me, Thou true and high- est sweetness. Thou castest them forth, and for them en- teredst in Thyself, sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood ; brighter than all light, but more hidden than SAINT AUGUSTINE 361 all depths, higher than all honor, but not to the high in their own conceits. Now was my soul free from the biting cares of canvassing and getting, and weltering in filth, and scratch- ing off the itch of lust. And my infant tongue spake freely to Thee, my brightness, and my riches, and my health, the Lord my God. And I resolved in Thy sight, not tumultuously to tear, but gently to withdraw, the service of my tongue from the marts of lip-labor: that the young, no students in Thy law, nor in Thy peace, but in lying dotages and law-skirmishes, should no longer buy at my mouth arms for their madness. And very seasonably, it now wanted but very few days unto the Vacation of the Vintage, and I resolved to endure them, then in a regular way to take my leave, and having been pur- chased by Thee, no more to return for sale. Our purpose then was known to Thee; but to men, other than our own friends, was it not known. For we had agreed among our- selves not to let it out abroad to any. although to us, now ascending from the valley of tears, and singing that song of degrees, Thou hadst given sharp arrows, and destroying coals against the subtile tongue, which as though advising for us, would thwart, and would out of love devour us, as it doth its meat. Thou hadst pierced our hearts with Thy charity, and we carried Thy words as it were fixed in our entrails: and the examples of Thy servants, whom for black Thou hadst made bright, and for dead, alive, being piled together in the re- ceptacle of our thoughts, kindled and burned up that our heavy torpor, that we should not sink down to the abyss; and they fired us so vehemently, that all the blasts of subtle tongues from gainsayers might only inflame us the more fiercely, not extinguish us. Nevertheless, because for Thy Name's sake which Thou hast hallowed throughout the earth, this our vow and purpose might also find some to commend it, it seemed like ostentation not to wait for the vacation now so near, but to quit beforehand a public profession, which was before the eyes of all; so that all looking on this act of mine, and observing how near was the time of vintage which I wished to anticipate, would talk much of me, as if I had desired to appear some great one. And what end had it 362 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY served me, that people should repute and dispute upon my purpose, and that by them our good should be evil spoken of? Moreover, it had at first troubled me, that in this very summer my lungs began to give way, amid too great literary labor, and to breathe deeply with difficulty, and by the pain in my chest to shew that they were injured, and to refuse any full or lengthened speaking; this had troubled me, for it al- most constrained me of necessity, to lay down that burthen of teaching, or, if I could be cured and recover, at least to intermit it. But when the full wish for leisure, that I might see how that Thou art the Lord, arose, and was fixed, in me; my God, Thou knowest, I began even to rejoice that I had this secondary, and that no feigned, excuse, which might something moderate the offense taken by those, who for their sons' sake^ wished me never to have the freedom of Thy sons. Full then of such joy, I endured till that interval of time were run ; it may have been some twenty days, yet they were endured manfully ; endured, for the covetousness which afore- time bore a part of this heavy business, had left me, and I remained alone, and had been overwhelmed, had not patience taken its place. Perchance, some of Thy servants, my brethren, may say, that I sinned in this, that with a heart fully set on Thy service, I suffered myself to sit even one hour in the chair of lies. Nor would I be contentious. But hast not Thou, O most merciful Lord, pardoned and remitted this sin also, with my other most horrible and deadly sins, in the holy water? Now was the day come, wherein I was indeed to be freed of my Rhetoric Professorship, whereof in thought I was already freed. And it was done. Thou didst rescue my tongue, whence Thou hadst before rescued my heart. And I blessed Thee, rejoicing; retiring with all mine to the villa. What I there did in writing, which was now enlisted in Thy service, though still, in this breathing-time as it were, panting from the school of pride, my books may witness, as well what I debated with others, as what with myself alone, before Thee: what with Nebridius, who was absent, my Epistles bear witness. And when shall I have time to rehearse all Thy great benefits towards us at that time, especially when hasting SAINT AUGUSTINE 363 on to yet greater mercies? For my remembrance recalls me, and pleasant is it to me, O Lord, to confess to Thee, by what inward goads Thou tamedst me; and how Thou hast evened me, lowering the mountains and hills of my high imaginations , straightening my crookedness, and smoothing my rough ways; and how Thou also subduedst the brother of my heart, Alypius, unto the Name of Thy Only Begotten, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, which he would not at first vouchsafe to have inserted in our writings. For rather would he have them savor of the lofty cedars of the Schools, which the Lord hath now broken down, than of the wholesome herbs of the Church, the antidote against serpents. Oh in what accents spake I unto Thee, my God, when I read the Psalms of David, those faithful songs, and sounds of devotion, which allow of no swelling spirit, as yet a Catechumen, and a novice in Thy real love, resting in that villa, with Alypius, a Catechumen, my mother cleaving to us, in female garb with masculine faith, with the tranquillity of age, motherly love, Christian piety. Oh, what accents did I utter unto Thee in those Psalms, and how was I by them kindled towards Thee, and on fire to rehearse them, if pos- sible, through the whole world, against the pride of man- kind. And yet they are sung through the whole world, nor can any hide himself from Thy heat. With what vehement and bitter sorrow was I angered at the Manichees ! and again I pitied them, for that they knew not those Sacraments, those medicines, and were mad against the antidote, which might have recovered them of their madness. How I would they had then been somewhere near me, and without my knowing that they were there, could have beheld my countenance, and heard my words, when I read the fourth Psalm in that time of my rest, and how that Psalm wrought upon me, When I called, the God of my righteousness heard me; in tribulation Thou enlargedst me. Have mercy upon me, Lord, and hear my prayer. Would that what I uttered on these words, they could hear, without my knowing whether they heard, lest they should think I spake it for their sakes! Because in truth neither should I speak the same things, nor in the same way, if I perceived that they heard and saw me; nor if I spake them would they so receive them, as when I spake 364 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY by and for myself before Thee, out of the natural feelings of my soul. When shall I recall all which passed in those holy-days? Yet neither have I forgotten, nor will I pass over the severity of Thy scourge, and the wonderful swiftness of Thy mercy. Thou didst then torment me with pain in my teeth; which when it had come to such height, that I could not speak, it came into my heart to desire all my friends present to pray for me to Thee, the God of all manner of health. And this I wrote on wax, and gave it them to read. Presently so soon as with humble devotion we had bowed our knees, that pain went away. But what pain? or how went it away? I was affrighted, O my Lord, my God; for from infancy I had never experienced the like. And the power of Thy Nod was deeply conveyed to me, and rejoicing in faith, I praised Thy Name. And that faith suffered me not to be at ease about my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me by Thy baptism. The vintage-vacation ended, I gave notice to the Milanese to provide their scholars with another master to sell words to them ; for that I had both made choice to serve Thee, and through my difficulty of breathing and pain in my chest, was not equal to the Professorship. And by letters I signified to Thy Prelate, the holy man Ambrose, my former errors and present desires, begging his advice what of Thy Scriptures I had best read, to become readier and fitter for receiving so great grace. He recommended Isaiah the Prophet: I believe, because he above the rest is a more clear foreshewer of the Gospel and of the calling of the Gentiles. But I, not under- standing the first lesson in him, and imagining the whole to be like it, laid it by, to be resumed when better practiced in our Lord's own words. Thence, when the time was come, wherein I was to give in my name, 1 we left the country and returned to Milan. It pleased Alypius also to be with me born again in Thee, being already clothed with the humility befitting Thy Sacra- ments; and a most valiant tamer of the body, so as, with un- 1 They were baptized at Easter, and gave up their names before the second Sunday in Lent: the rest of which, they were to spend in fasting, humility, prayer, and being examined in the scrutinies. SAINT AUGUSTINE 365 wonted venture, to wear the frozen ground of Italy with his bare feet. We joined with us the boy Adeodatus, born after the flesh, of my sin. Excellently hadst Thou made him. He was not quite fifteen, and in wit surpassed many grave and learned men. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts, O Lord my God, Creator of all, and abundantly able to reform our de- formities: for I had no part in that boy, but the sin. For that we brought him up in Thy discipline, it was Thou, none else, had inspired us with it. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts. There is a book of ours entitled The Master; it is a dialogue between him and me. Thou knowest, that all there ascribed to the person conversing with me, were his ideas, in his sixteenth year. Much besides, and yet more admirable, I found in him. That talent struck awe into me. And who but Thou could be the workmaster of such wonders? Soon didst Thou take his life from the earth : and I now remember him without anxiety, fearing nothing for his childhood or youth, or his whole self. Him we joined with us, our con- temporary in grace, to be brought up in Thy discipline ; and we were baptized, and anxiety for our past life vanished from us. Nor was I sated in those days with the wondrous sweetness of considering the depth of Thy counsels concern- ing the salvation of mankind. How did I weep, in Thy Hymns and Canticles, touched to the quick by the voices of Thy sweet-attuned Church! The voices flowed into mine ears, and the Truth distilled into my heart, whence the af- fections of my devotion overflowed, and tears ran down, and happy was I therein. Not long had the Church of Milan begun to use this kind of consolation and exhortation, the brethren zealously joining with harmony of voice and hearts. For it was a year, or not much more, that Justina, mother to the Emperor Valentinian, a child, persecuted Thy servant Ambrose, in favor of her heresy, to which she was seduced by the Arians. The devout people kept watch in the Church, ready to die with their Bishop Thy servant. There my mother Thy handmaid, bear- ing a chief part of those anxieties and watchings, lived for prayer. We, yet unwarmed by the heat of Thy Spirit, still were stirred up by the sight of the amazed and disquieted city. Then it was first instituted that after the manner of 366 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY the Eastern Churches, Hymns and Psalms should be sung, lest the people should wax faint through the tediousness of sorrow: and from that day to this the custom is retained, divers, yea, almost all Thy congregations, throughout other parts of the world, following herein. Then didst Thou by a vision discover to Thy forenamed Bishop, where the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius the martyrs lay hid, (whom Thou hadst in Thy secret treasury stored uncorrupted so many years,) whence Thou mightest seasonably produce them to repress the fury of a woman, but an Empress. For when they were discovered and dug up, and with due honor translated to the Ambrosian Basilica, not only they who were vexed with unclean spirits (the devils confessing themselves) were cured, but a certain man, who had for many years been blind, a citizen, and well known to the city, asking and hearing the reason of the people 's con- fused joy, sprang forth, desiring his guide to lead him thither. Led thither, he begged to be allowed to touch with his handkerchief the bier of Thy saints, whose death is precious in Thy sight. Which when he had done, and put to his eyes, they were forthwith opened. Thence did the fame spread, thence Thy praises glowed, shone; thence the mind of that enemy, though not turned to the soundness of believ- ing, was yet turned back from her fury of persecuting. Thanks to Thee, my God. Whence and whither hast Thou thus led my remembrance, that I should confess these things also unto Thee ? which great though they be, I had passed by in forgetfulness. And yet then, when the odor of Thy ointments was so fragrant, did we not run after Thee. Therefore did I more weep among the singing of Thy Hymns, formerly sighing after Thee, and at length breathing in Thee, as far as the breath may enter into this our house of grass. Thou that maJcest men to dwell of one mind in one house, didst join with us Euodius also, a young man of our own city. Who being an officer of Court, was before us converted to Thee and baptized : and quitting his secular warfare, girded himself to Thine. We were together, about to dwell to- gether in our devout purpose. We sought where we might serve Thee most usefully, and were together returning to SAINT AUGUSTINE 367 Africa: whitherward being as far as Ostia, my mother de- parted this life. Much I omit, as hastening much. But now, with a heart cured of that wound, wherein it might seem blameworthy for an earthly feeling, I pour out unto Thee, our God, in behalf of that Thy handmaid, a far different kind of tears, flowing from a spirit shaken by the thoughts of the dangers of every soul that dieth in Adam. And although she having been quickened in Christ, even before her release from the flesh, had lived to the praise of Thy name for her faith and conversation ; yet dare I not say that from what time Thou regeneratedst her by baptism, no word issued from her mouth against Thy Commandment. Thy Son, the Truth, hath said, Whosoever shall say unto his brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire. And woe be even unto the commendable life of men, if, laying aside mercy, Thou shouldest examine it. But because Thou art not extreme in enquiring after sins, we confidently hope to find some place with Thee. But whosoever reckons up his real merits to Thee, what reckons he up to Thee, but Thine own gifts? that men would know themselves to be men; and that he that glorieth, would glory in the Lord. I therefore, O my Praise and my Life, Gtfd of my heart, laying aside for a while her good deeds, for which I give thanks to Thee with joy, do now beseech Thee for the sins of my mother. Hearken unto me, I entreat Thee, by the Medicine of our wounds, Who hung upon the tree, and now sitting at Thy right hand maketh intercession to Thee for us. I know that she dealt mercifully, and from her heart forgave her debtors their debts; do Thou also forgive her debts, whatever she may have contracted in so many years, since the water of salvation. Forgive her, Lord, forgive, I beseech Thee; enter not into judgment with her. Let Thy mercy be exalted above Thy justice, since Thy words are true, and Thou hast promised mercy unto the merciful; which Thou gavest them to be, who wilt have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy; and wilt have compassion, on whom- Thou hast had compassion. And, I believe, Thou hast already done what I ask; but accept, Lord, the free-will offerings of my mouth. For she, the day of her dissolution now at hand, took no thought 368 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY to have her body sumptuously wound up, or embalmed with spices; nor desired she a choice monument, or to be buried in her own land. These things she enjoined us not ; but de- sired only to have her name commemorated at Thy Altar, which she had served without intermission of one day : whence she knew that holy sacrifice to be dispensed, by which the hand-writing that was against us, is blotted out; through which the enemy was triumphed over, who summing up our offenses, and seeking what to lay to our charge, found noth- ing in Him, in Whom we conquer. Who shall restore to Him the innocent blood? Who repay Him the price where- with He bought us, and so take us from Him? Unto the Sacrament of which our ransom, Thy handmaid bound her soul by the bond of faith. Let none sever her from Thy protection: let neither the lion nor the dragon interpose himself by force or fraud. For she will not answer that she owes nothing, lest she be convicted and seized by the crafty accuser: but she will answer, that her sins are forgiven her by Him, to Whom none can repay that price, which He, Who owed nothing, paid for us. May she rest then in peace with the husband, before and after whom she had never any; whom she obeyed, with patience bringing forth fruit unto Thee, that she might win him also unto Thee. And inspire, Lord my God, inspire Thy servants my brethren, Thy sons my masters, whom with voice, and heart, and pen I serve, that so many as shall read these Confessions, may at Thy Altar remember Monnica Thy handmaid, with Patricius, her sometimes husband, by whose bodies Thou broughtest me into this life, how, I know not. May they with devout affection remember my parents in this transitory light, my brethren under Thee our Father in our Catholic Mother, and my fellow citizens in that eternal Jerusalem, which Thy pilgrim people sigheth after from their Exodus, even unto their return thither. That so, my mother 's last request of me, may through my confessions, more than through my prayers, be, through the prayers of many, more abundantly fulfilled to her. SAINT AUGUSTINE 369 BOOK X LET me know Thee, O Lord, who knowest me: let me know Thee, as I am known. Power of my soul, enter into it, and fit it for Thee, that Thou mayest have and hold it without spot or wrinkle. This is my hope, therefore do I speak; and in this hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice healthfully. Other things of this life are the less to be sorrowed for, the more they are sorrowed for; and the more to be sorrowed for, the less men sorrow for them. For behold, Thou lovest the truth, and he that doth it, cometh to the light. This would I do in my heart before Thee in confession: and in my writing, before many witnesses. And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes the abyss of man 's conscience is naked, what could be hidden in me though I would not confess it? For I should hide Thee from me, not me from Thee. But now, for that my groaning is wit- ness, that I am displeased with myself, Thou shinest out, and art pleasing, and beloved, and longed for; that I may be ashamed of myself, and renounce myself, and choose Thee, and neither please Thee, nor myself, but in Thee. To Thee therefore, O Lord, am I open, whatever I am ; and with what fruit I confess unto Thee, I have said. Nor do I it with words and sounds of the flesh, but with the words of my soul, and the cry of the thought which Thy ear knoweth. For when I am evil, then to confess to Thee is nothing else than to be displeased with myself; but when holy, nothing else than not to ascribe it to myself: because Thou, O Lord, blessest the godly, but first Thou justifieth him when un- godly. My confession then, O my God, in Thy sight, is made silently, and not silently. For in sound, it is silent; in af- fection, it cries aloud. For neither do I utter any thing right unto men, which Thou hast not before heard from me; nor dost Thou hear any such thing from me, which Thou hast not first said unto me. What then have I to do with men, that they should hear my confessions; as if they could heal all my infirmities? A race, curious to know the lives of others, slothful to amend their own. Why seek they to hear from me what I am; who will not hear from Thee what themselves are? And A. V. 124 370 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY how know they, when from myself they hear of myself, whether I say true; seeing no man knows what is in mam, but the spirit of man which is in him? But if they hear from Thee of themselves, they cannot say, "The Lord lieth." For what is it to hear from Thee of themselves, but to know themselves? and who knoweth and saith, "It is false," unless himself lieth? But because charity believeth all things; (that is, among those whom knitting unto itself it maketh one,) I also, O Lord, will in such wise confess unto Thee, that men may hear, to whom I cannot demonstrate whether I confess truly ; yet they believe me, whose ears char- ity openeth unto me. Not with doubting, but with assured consciousness, do I love Thee, Lord. Thou hast stricken my heart with Thy word, and I loved Thee. Yea also heaven, and earth, and all that therein is, behold, on every side they bid me love Thee ; nor cease to say so unto all, that they may be without excuse. But more deeply wilt Thou have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and wilt have compassion on whom Thou hast had compassion : else in deaf ears do the heaven and the earth speak Thy praises. But what do I love, when I love Thee? not beauty of bodies, nor the fair harmony of time, nor the brightness of the light, so gladsome to our eyes, nor sweet melodies of varied songs, nor the fragrant smell of flowers, and ointments, and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs acceptable to embracements of flesh. None of these I love, when I love my God; and yet I love a kind of light, and melody, and fragrance, and meat, and embracement, when I love my God, the light, melody, fragrance, meat, embrace- ment of my inner man: where there shineth unto my soul, what space cannot contain, and there soundeth, what time beareth not away, and there smelleth, what breathing dis- perseth not, and there tasteth, what eating diminisheth not, and there clingeth, what satiety divorceth not. This is it which I love, when I love my God. Too late loved I Thee, O Thou Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new ! too late I loved Thee ! And behold, Thou wert within, and I abroad, and there I searched for Thee; de- formed I, plunging amid those fair forms, which Thou hadst made. Thou wert with me, but I was not with Thee. Things SAINT AUGUSTINE 371 held me far from Thee, which, unless they were in Thee, were not at all. Thou calledst, and shoutedst, and burstest my deafness. Thou flashedst, shonest, and scatteredst my blind- ness. Thou breathedst odors, and I drew in 'breath and pant for Thee. I tasted, and hunger and thirst. Thou touchedst me, and I burned for Thy peace. When I shall with my whole self cleave to Thee, I shall no- where have sorrow, or labor; and my life shall wholly live, as wholly full of Thee. But now since whom Thou fillest, Thou liftest up, because I am not full of Thee I am a burthen to myself. Lamentable joys strive with joyous sorrows : and on which side is the victory, I know not. Woe is me ! Lord, have pity on me. My evil sorrows strive with my good joys ; and on which side is the victory, I know not. Woe is me ! Lord, have pity on me. Woe is me ! lo ! I hide not my wounds ; Thou art the Physician, I the sick; Thou merciful, I miser- able. 7s not the life of man upon earth all trial ? Who wishes for troubles and difficulties? Thou commandest them to be endured, not to be loved. No man loves what he en- dures, though he love to endure. For though he rejoices that he endures, he had rather there were nothing for him to en- dure. In my adversity, I long for prosperity; in prosperity, I fear adversity. What middle place is there betwixt these two, where the life of man is not all trial? Woe to the pros- perities of the world, once and again, through fear of ad- versity, and corruption of joy ! Woe to the adversities of the world, once and again, and the third time, from the longing for prosperity, and because adversity itself is a hard thing, and lest it shatter endurance. Is not the life of man upon earth all trial, without any interval? And all my hope is nowhere but in Thy exceeding great mercy. Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. Thou enjoinest us continency ; and when I knew, saith one, that no man can be continent, unless God give it, this also was a part of wisdom to know whose gift she is. By conti- nency verily, are we bound up and brought back into One, whence we were dissipated into many. For too little doth he love Thee, who loves anything with Thee, which he loveth not for Thee. O love, whoever burnest and never consumest ! 372 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY O charity, my God! kindle me. Thou enjoinest continency: give me what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. Verily Thou enjoinest me continency from the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the ambition of the world. Thou enjoinest continency from concubinage; and, for wed- lock itself, Thou hast counseled something better than what Thou hast permitted. And since Thou gavest it, it was done, even before I became a dispenser of Thy Sacrament. But there yet live in my memory (whereof I have much spoken) the images of such things, as my ill custom there fixed; which haunt me, strengthless when I am awake : but in sleep, not only so as to give pleasure, but even to obtain assent, and what is very like reality. Yea, so far prevails the illusion of the image, in my soul and in my flesh, that, when asleep, false visions persuade to that which when waking, the true cannot. Am I not then myself, O Lord my God ? And yet there is so much difference betwixt myself and myself, within that mo- ment wherein I pass from waking to sleeping, or return from sleeping to waking! "Where is reason then, which, awake, resisteth such suggestions ? And should the things themselves be urged on it, it remaineth unshaken. Is it clasped up with the eyes? is it lulled asleep with the senses of the body? And whence is it that often even in sleep we resist, and mind- ful of our purpose, and abiding most chastely in it, yield no assent to such enticements ? And yet so much difference there is, that when it happeneth otherwise, upon waking we return to peace of conscience: and by this very difference discover that we did not, what yet we be sorry that in some way it was done in us. Art Thou not mighty, God Almighty, so as to heal all the diseases of my soul, and by Thy more abundant grace to quench even the impure motions of my sleep? Thou wilt increase, Lord, Thy gifts more and more in me, that my soul may follow me to Thee, disentangled from the bird-lime of concupiscence; that it rebel not against itself, and even in dreams not only not, through images of sense, commit those debasing corruptions, even to pollution of the flesh, but not even to consent unto them. For that nothing of this sort should have, over the pure affections even of a sleeper, the very least influence, not even such as a thought would re- SAINT AUGUSTINE 373 strain, to work this, not only during life, but even at my present age, is not hard for the Almighty, Who art able to do above all that we ask or think. But what I yet am in this kind of my evil, have I confessed unto my good Lord; rejoicing with trembling, in that which Thou hast given me, and be- moaning that wherein I am still imperfect ; hoping, that Thou wilt perfect Thy mercies in me, even to perfect peace, which my outward and inward man shall have with Thee, when death shall be swallowed up in victory. There is another evil of the day, which I would were suffi- cient for it. For by eating and drinking we repair the daily decays of our body, until Thou destroy both belly and meat, when Thou shalt slay my emptiness with a wonderful fullness, and clothe this incorruptible with an eternal incorruption. But now the necessity is sweet unto me, against which sweet- ness I fight, that I be not taken captive ; and carry on a daily war by fastings ; often bringing my body into subjection, and my pains are removed by pleasure. For hunger and thirst are in a manner pains ; they burn and kill like a fever, unless the medicine of nourishments come to our aid. Which since it is at hand through the consolations of Thy gifts, with which land, and water, and air serve our weakness, our calamity is termed gratification. This hast Thou taught me, that I should set myself to take food as physic. But while I am passing from the discomfort of emptiness to the content of replenishing, in the very pas- sage the snare of concupiscence besets me. For that passing, is pleasure, nor is there any other way to pass thither, whither we needs must pass. And health being the cause of eating and drinking, there joineth itself as an attendant a dangerous pleasure, which mostly endeavors to go before it, so that I may for her sake do what I say I do, or wish to do, for health's sake. Nor have each the same measure; for what is enough for health, is too little for pleasure. And oft it is uncertain, whether it be the necessary care of the body which is yet asking for sustenance, or whether a voluptuous deceivableness of greediness is proffering its services. In this uncertainty the unhappy soul rejoiceth, and therein prepares an excuse to shield itself, glad that it appeareth not what sufficeth for the moderation of health, that under the cloak 374. LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY of health, it may disguise the matter of gratification. These temptations I daily endeavor to resist, and I call on Thy right hand, and to Thee do I refer my perplexities; because I have as yet no settled counsel herein. I hear the voice of my God commanding, Let not your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness. Drunkenness is far from me; Thou wilt have mercy that it come not near me. But full-feeding sometimes creepeth upon Thy servant ; Thou wilt have mercy, that it may be far from me. For no one can be continent unless Thou givest it. Many things Thou givest us, praying for them; and what good soever we have received before we prayed, from Thee we received it ; yea to the end we might afterwards know this, did we before receive it. Drunkard was I never, but drunkards have I known made sober by Thee. From Thee then it was, that they who never were such, should not so be, as from Thee it was, that they who have been, should not ever so be ; and from Thee it was, that both might know from Whom it was. I heard another voice of Thine, Go not after thy lusts, and from thy pleasure turn away. Yea by Thy favor have I heard that which I have much loved; neither if we eat, shall we abound; neither if we eat not, shall we lack; which is to say, neither shall the one make me plenteous, nor the other miser- able. I heard also another, for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content; I know how to abound, and how to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ that strengthened me. Behold a soldier of the heavenly camp, not the dust which we are. But remember, Lord, that we are dust, and that of dust thou hast made man; and he was lost and is found. Nor could he of himself do this, be- cause he whom I so loved, saying this through the in-breath- ing of Thy inspiration, was of the same dust. I can do all things (saith he) through Him that strengthened me. Strengthen me, that I can. Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. He confesses to have received, and when he glorieth, in the Lord he glorieth. Another have I heard begging that he might receive, Take from me (saith he) the desires of the belly; whence it appeareth, O my holy God, that Thou givest, when that is done which Thou commandest to be done. SAINT AUGUSTINE 375 Thou hast taught me, good Father, that to the pure, all things are pure; but that it is evil unto the man that eateth with offense; and, that every creature of Thine is good, and nothing to be refused, which is received with thanksgiving; and that meat commendeth us not to God; and, that no man should judge us in meat or drink; and, that he which eateth, let him not despise him that eateth not; and let not him that eateth not, judge him that eateth. These things have I learned, thanks be to Thee, praise to Thee, my God, my Mas- ter, knocking at my ears, enlightening my heart; deliver me out of all temptation. I fear not uncleanness of meat, but the uncleanness of lusting. I know, that Noah was permitted to eat all kind of flesh that was good for food ; that Elijah was fed with flesh; that John, endued with an admirable absti- nence, was not polluted by feeding on living creatures, lo- custs. I know also that Esau was deceived by lusting for lentils; and that David blamed himself for desiring a draft of water ; and that' our King was tempted, not concerning flesh, but bread. And therefore the people in the wilderness also deserved to be reproved, not for desiring flesh, but be- cause, in the desire of food, they murmured against the Lord. Placed then amid these temptations, I strive daily against concupiscence in eating and drinking. For it is not of such nature, that I can settle on cutting it off once for all, and never touching it afterward, as I could of concubinage. The bridle of the throat then is to be held attempered between slackness and stiffness. And who is he, O Lord, who is not somewhat transported beyond the limits of necessity ? whoever he is, he is a great one ; let him make Thy Name great. But I am not such, for / am a sinful man. Yet do I too magnify Thy name ; and He maketh intercession to Thee for my sins, who hath overcome the world; numbering me among the weak members of His body; because thine eyes have seen that of Him which is imperfect, and in Thy book shall all be written. With the allurements of smells, I am not much concerned. When absent, I do not miss them ; when present, I do not re- fuse them; yet ever ready to be without them. So I seem to myself; perchance I am deceived. For that also is a mournful darkness, whereby my abilities within me, are 376 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY hidden from me ; so that my mind making inquiry into herself of her own powers, ventures not readily to believe herself; because even what is in it, is mostly hidden, unless experi- ence reveal it. And no one ought to be secure in that life, the whole whereof is called a trial, that he who hath been capable, of worse to be made better, may not likewise of better be made worse. Our only hope, only confidence, only assured promise, is Thy mercy. The delights of the ear, had more firmly entangled and subdued me; but Thou didst loosen, and free me. Now, in those melodies which Thy words breathe soul into, when sung with a sweet and attuned voice, I do a little repose ; yet not so as to be held thereby, but that I can disengage myself when I will. But with the words which are their life and whereby they find admission into me, themselves seek in my affections a place of some estimation, and I can scarcely assign them one suitable. For at one time I seem to myself to give them more honor than is seemly, feeling our minds to be more holily and fervently raised unto a flame of devo- tion, by the holy words themselves when thus sung, than when not; and that the several affections of our spirit, by a sweet variety, have their own proper measures in the voice and singing, by some hidden correspondence wherewith they are stirred up. But this contentment of the flesh, to which the soul must not be given over to be enervated, doth oft beguile me, the sense not so waiting upon reason, as patiently to follow her ; but having been admitted merely for her sake, it strives even to run before her, and lead her. Thus in these things I unawares sin, but afterwards am aware of it. At other times, shunning over-anxiously this very decep- tion, I err in too great strictness; and sometimes to that de- gree, as to wish the whole melody of sweet music which is used to David's Psalter, banished from my ears, and the Church's too; and that mode seems to me safer, which I remember to have been often told me of Athanasius Bishop of Alexandria, who made the reader of the psalm utter it with so slight in- flection of voice that it was nearer speaking than singing. Yet again, when I remember the tears I shed at the Psalmody of Thy Church, in the beginning of my recovered faith ; and how at this time, I am moved, not with the singing, but with SAINT AUGUSTINE 377 the things sung, when they are sung with a clear voice and modulation most suitable, I acknowledge the great use of this institution. Thus I fluctuate between peril of pleasure, and approved wholesomeness ; inclined the rather (though not as pronouncing an irrevocable opinion) to approve of the usage of singing in the church ; that so by the delight of the ears, the weaker minds may rise to the feeling of devotion. Yet when it befalls me to be more moved with the voice than the words sung, I confess to have sinned penally, and then had rather not hear music. See now my state ; weep with me, and weep for me, ye, who so regulate your feelings within, as that good action ensues. For you who do not act, these things touch not you. But Thou, O Lord my God, hearken ; behold, and see, and have mercy, and heal me, Thou, in whose pres- ence I have become a problem to myself; and that is my in- firmity. There remains the pleasure of these eyes of my flesh, on which to make my confessions in the hearing of the ears of Thy temple, those brotherly and devout ears; and so to con- clude the temptations of the lust of the flesh, which yet assail me, groaning earnestly, and desiring to be clothed upon with my house from heaven. The eyes love fair and varied forms, and bright and soft colors. Let not these occupy my soul; let God rather occupy it, who made these things, very good indeed, yet is He my good, not they. And these affect me, waking, the whole day, nor is any rest given me from them, as there is from musical, sometimes, in silence, from all voices. For this queen of colors, the light, bathing all which we be- hold, wherever I am through the day, gliding by me in varied forms, sooths me when engaged on other things, and not observing it. And so strongly doth it entwine itself, that if it be suddenly withdrawn, it is with longing sought for, and if absent long, saddeneth the mind. Thou Light, which Tobias saw, when, these eyes closed, he taught his son the way of life; and himself went before with the feet of charity, never swerving. Or which Isaac saw, when his fleshly eyes being heavy and closed by old age, it was vouchsafed him, not, knowingly to bless his sons, but by blessing to know them. Or which Jacob saw, when he also, blind through great age, with illumined heart, in the persons 378 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY of his sons shed light on the different races of the future people, in them f oresignified ; and laid his hands, mystically crossed, upon his grandchildren by Joseph, not as their father by his outward eye corrected them, but as himself inwardly discerned. This is the light, it is one, and all are one, who see and love it. But that corporeal light whereof I spake, it sea- soneth the life of this world for her blind lovers, with an entic- ing and dangerous sweetness. But they who know how to praise Thee for it, " O All-creating Lord, ' ' take it up in Thy hymns, and are not taken up with it in their sleep. Such would I be. These seductions of the eyes I resist, lest my feet wherewith I walk upon Thy way be ensnared ; and I lift up mine invisible eyes to Thee, that Thou wouldest pluck my feet out of the snare. Thou dost ever and anon pluck them out, for they are ensnared. Thou ceasest not to pluck them out, while I often entangle myself in the snares on all sides laid ; because Thou that keepest Israel shalt neither slumber nor sleep. What innumerable toys, made by divers arts and manufac- tures, in our apparel, shoes, utensils and all sort of works, in pictures also and divers images, and these far exceeding all necessary and moderate use and all pious meaning, have men added to tempt their own eyes withal; outwardly following what themselves make, inwardly forsaking Him by whom themselves were made, and destroying that which themselves have been made ! But I, my God and my Glory, do hence also sing a hymn to Thee, and do consecrate praise to Him who consecrateth me, because those beautiful patterns which through men's souls are conveyed into their cunning hands, come from that Beauty, Which is above our souls, Which my soul day and night sigheth after. But the framers and fol- lowers of the outward beauties, derive thence the rule of judging of them, but not of using them. And He is there, though they perceive Him not, that so they might not wander, but keep their strength for Thee, and not scatter it abroad upon pleasureable wearinesses. And I, though I speak and see this, entangle my steps with these outward beauties; but Thou pluckest me out, O Lord, Thou pluckest me out ; because Thy loving-kindness is before my eyes. For I am taken mis- erably, and Thou pluckest me out mercifully ; sometimes not SAINT AUGUSTINE 379 perceiving it, when I had but lightly lighted upon them; otherwhiles with pain, because I had stuck fast in them. To this is added another form of temptation more mani- foldly dangerous. For besides that concupiscence of the flesh which consisteth in the delight of all senses and pleasures, wherein its slaves, who go far from Thee, waste and perish, the soul hath, through the same senses of the body, a certain vain and curious desire, veiled under the title of knowledge and learning, not of delighting in the flesh, but of making experiments through the flesh. The seat whereof being in the appetite of knowledge, and sight being the sense chiefly used for attaining knowledge, it is in Divine language called, The lust of the eyes. For, to see, belongeth properly to the eyes ; yet we use this word of the other senses also, when we employ them in seeking knowledge. For we do not say, hark how it flashes, or smell how it glows, or taste how it shines, or feel how it gleams ; for all these are said to be seen. And yet we say not only, see how it shineth, which the eyes alone can perceive ; but also, see how it soundeth, see how it smell- eth, see how it tasteth, see how hard it is. And so the general experience of the senses, as was said, is called The lust of the eyes, because the office of seeing, wherein the eyes hold the prerogative, the other senses by way of similitude take to themselves, when they make search after any knowledge. But by this may more evidently be discerned, wherein pleasure and wherein curiosity is the object of the senses ; for pleasure seeketh objects beautiful, melodious, fragrant, sa- vory, soft; but curiosity, for trial's sake, the contrary as well, not for the sake of suffering annoyance, but out of the lust of making trial and knowing them. For what pleasure hath it, to see in a mangled carcass what will make you shudder ? and yet if it be lying near, they flock thither, to be made sad, and to turn pale. Even in sleep they are afraid to see it. As if when awake, any one forced them to see it, or any report of its beauty drew them thither ! Thus also in the other senses, which it were long to go through. From this disease of curi- osity, are all those strange sights exhibited in the theater. Hence men go on to search out the hidden powers of nature, (which is besides our end,) which to know profits not, and wherein men desire nothing but to know. Hence also, if with 380 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY that same end of perverted knowledge magical arts be en- quired by. Hence also in religion itself, is God tempted, when signs and wonders are demanded of Him, not desired for any good end, but merely to make trial of. In this so vast wilderness, full of snares and dangers, be- hold many of them I have cut off, and thrust out of my heart, as Thou hast given me, O God of my salvation. And yet when dare I say, since so many things of this kind buzz on all sides about our daily life when dare I say, that nothing of this sort engages my attention, or causes in me an idle interest? True, the theaters do not now carry me away, nor care I to know the courses of the stars, nor did my soul ever consult ghosts departed; all sacrilegious mysteries I detest. From Thee, Lord my God, to whom I owe humble and single-hearted service, by what artifices and suggestions doth the enemy deal with me to desire some sign ! But I beseech thee by our King, and by our pure and holy country, Jerusa- lem, that as any consenting thereto is far from me, so may it ever be further and further. But when I pray Thee for the salvation of any, my end and intention is far different. Thou givest and wilt give me to follow Thee willingly, doing what Thou wilt. Notwithstanding, in how many most petty and contemptible things is our curiosity daily tempted, and how often we give way, who can recount ? How often do we begin, as if we were tolerating people telling vain stories, lest we offend the weak ; then by degrees we take interest therein! I go not now to the circus to see a dog coursing a hare; but in the field, if passing, that coursing peradventure will distract me even from some weighty thought, and draw me after it : not that I turn aside the body of my beast, yet still incline my mind thither. And unless Thou, having made me see my infirmity, didst speedily admonish me either through the sight itself, by some contemplation to rise towards Thee, or altogether to de- spise and pass it by, I dully stand fixed therein. What, when sitting at home, a lizard catching flies, or a spider entangling them rushing into her nets, oft-times takes my attention ? Is the thing different, because they are but small creatures? I go on from them to praise Thee the wonderful Creator and Orderer of all, but this does not first draw my attention. It SAINT AUGUSTINE 381 is one thing to rise quickly, another not to fall. And of such things is my life full; and my one hope is Thy wonderful great mercy. For when our heart becomes the receptacle of such things, and is over-charged with throngs of this abun- dant vanity, then are our prayers also thereby often inter- rupted and distracted, and whilst in Thy presence we direct the voice of our heart to Thine ears, this so great concern is broken off, by the rushing in of I know not what idle thoughts. Shall we then account this also among things of slight con- cernment, or shall ought bring us back to hope, save Thy com- plete mercy, since Thou hast begun to change us? And Thou knowest how far Thou hast already changed me, who first healedst me of the lust of vindicating myself, that so Thou mightest forgive all the rest of my iniquities, and heal all my infirmities, and redeem my life from corruption, and crown me with mercy and pity, and satisfy my desire with good things: who didst curb my pride with Thy fear, and tame my neck to Thy yoke. And now I bear it and it is light unto me, because so hast Thou promised, and hast made it ; and verily so it was, and I knew it not, when I feared to take it. But, Lord, Thou alone Lord without pride, because Thou art the only true Lord, who hast no lord ; hath this third kind of temptation also ceased from me, or can it cease through this whole life? To wish, namely, to be feared and loved of men, for no other end, but that we may have a joy therein which is no joy? A miserable life this, and a foul boastful- ness! Hence especially it comes, that men do neither purely love, nor fear Thee. And therefore dost Thou resist the proud, and givest grace to the humble: yea, Thou thunderest down upon the ambitions of the world, and the foundations of the mountains tremble. Because now certain offices of hu- man society make it necessary to be loved and feared of men, the adversary of our true blessedness layeth hard at us, every where spreading his snares of "well-done, well-done;" that greedily catching at them, we may be taken unawares, and sever our joy from Thy truth, and set it in the deceivingness of men; and be pleased at being loved and feared, not for Thy sake, but in Thy stead : and thus having been made like him, he may have them for his own, not in the bands of 382 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY charity, but in the bonds of punishment: who purposed to set his throne in the north, that dark and chilled they might serve him, pervertedly and crookedly imitating Thee. But we, Lord, behold we are Thy little flock; possess us as Thine, stretch Thy wings over us, and let us fly under them. Be Thou our glory; let us be loved for Thee, and Thy word feared in us. Who would be praised of men, when Thou blam- est, will not be defended of men, when Thou judgest ; nor de- livered, when Thou condemnest. But when not the sinner is praised in the desires of his soul, nor he blessed who doth un- godlily, but a man is praised for some gift which Thou hast given him, and he rejoices more at the praise for himself than that he hath the gift for which he is praised, he also is praised, while Thou dispraisest; and better is he who praised than he who is praised. For the one took pleasure in the gift of God in man; the other was better pleased with the gift of man, than of God. By these temptations we are assailed daily, O Lord ; without ceasing are we assailed. Our daily furnace is the tongue of men. And in this way also Thou commandest us continence. Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. Thou knowest on this matter the groans of my heart, and the floods of mine eyes. For I cannot learn how far I am more cleansed from this plague, and I much fear my secret sins, which Thine eyes know, mine do not. For in other kinds of temptations 1 have some sort of means of examining myself ; in this, scarce any. For, in refraining my mind from the pleasures of the flesh, and idle curiosity, I see how much I have attained to, when I do without them ; foregoing, or not having them. For then I ask myself how much more or less troublesome it is to me, not to have them ? Then, riches, which are desired, that they may serve to some one or two or all of the three con- cupiscences, if the soul cannot discern, whether, when it hath them, it despiseth them, they may be cast aside, that so it may prove itself. But to be without praise, and therein essay our powers, must we live ill, yea so abandonedly and atrociously, that no one should know without detesting us? What greater madness can be said, or thought of? But if praise useth and ought to accompany a good life and good works, we ought as little to forego its company, as good life SAINT AUGUSTINE 383 itself. Yet I know not, whether I can well or ill be without anything, unless it be absent. What then do I confess unto Thee in this kind of tempta- tion, O Lord? What, but that I am delighted with praise, but with truth itself, more than with praise? For were it proposed to me, whether I would, being frenzied in error on all things, be praised by all men, or being consistent and most settled in the truth be blamed by all, I see which I should choose. Yet fain would I, that the approbation of another should not even increase my joy for any good in me. Yet I own, it doth increase it, and not so only, but dispraise doth diminish it. And when I am troubled at this my misery, an excuse occurs to me, which of what value it is, Thou God knowest, for it leaves me uncertain. For since Thou hast com- manded us not continency alone, that is, from what things to refrain our love, but righteousness also, that is, whereon to bestow it, and hast willed us to love not Thee only, but our neighbor also ; often, when pleased with intelligent praise, I seem to myself to be pleased with the proficiency or towardli- ness of my neighbor, or to be grieved for evil in him, when I hear him dispraise either what he understands not, or is good. For sometimes I am grieved at my own praise, either when those things be praised in me, in which I mislike myself, or even lesser and slight goods are more esteemed, than they ought. But again how know I whether I am therefore thus affected, because I would not have him who praiseth me, differ from me about myself ; not as being influenced by concern for him, but because those same good things which please me in myself, please me more when they please another also? For somehow I am not praised when my judgment of myself is not praised; forasmuch as either those things are praised, which displease me ; or those more, which please me less. Am I then doubtful of myself in this matter? Behold, in Thee, O Truth, I see, that I ought not to be moved at my own praises, for my own sake, but for the good of my neighbor. And whether it be so with me, I know not. For herein I know less of myself, than of Thee. I beseech now, O my God, discover to me myself also, that I may confess unto my brethren, who are to pray for me, wherein I find myself maimed. Let me examine myself again more dili- 384 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY gently. If in my praise I am moved with the good of my neighbor, why am I less moved if another be unjustly dis- praised than if it be myself? Why am I more stung by re- proach cast upon myself, than at that cast upon another, with the same injustice, before me ? Know I not this also ? or is it at last that I deceive myself, and do not the truth before Thee in my heart and tongue ? This madness put far from me, O Lord, lest mine own mouth be to me the sinner's oil to make fat my head. I am poor and needy; yet best, while in hidden groanings I displease myself, and seek Thy mercy, until what is lacking in my defective state be renewed and perfected, on to that peace which the eye of the proud knoweth not. Yet the word, which cometh out of the mouth, and deeds known to men, bring with them a most dangerous temptation through the love of praise: which, to establish a certain ex- cellency of our own, solicits and collects men's suffrages. It tempts, even when it is reproved by myself in myself, on the very ground that it is reproved ; and often glories more vainly of the very contempt of vain-glory ; and so it is no longer con- tempt of vain-glory, whereof it glories; for it doth not con- temn when it glorieth. Within also, within is another evil, arising out of a like temptation; whereby men become vain, pleasing themselves in themselves, though they please not, or displease, or care not to please others. But pleasing themselves, they much displease Thee, not only taking pleasure in things not good, as if good, but in Thy good things, as though their own; or even if as thine, yet as though for their own merits ; or even if as though from Thy grace, yet not with brotherly rejoicing, but envying that grace to others. In all these and the like perils and travails, Thou seest the trembling of my heart ; and I rather feel my wounds to be cured by Thee, than not in- flicted by me. Where hast Thou not walked with me, O Truth, teaching me what to beware, and what to desire; when I referred to Thee what I could discover here below, and consulted Thee? With my outward senses, as I might, I surveyed the world, and observed the life, which my body hath from me, and these my senses. Thence entered I the recesses of my mem- ory, those manifold and spacious chambers, wonderfully fur- SAINT AUGUSTINE 385 nished with innumerable stores; and I considered, and stood aghast ; being able to discern nothing of these things without Thee, and finding none of them to be Thee. Nor was I myself, who found out these things, who went over them all, and labored to distinguish and to value everything according to its dignity, taking some things upon the report of my senses, questioning about others which I felt to be mingled with myself, numbering and distinguishing the reporters them- selves, and in the large treasure-house of my memory, revolv- ing some things, storing up others, drawing out others. Nor yet was I myself when I did this, i.e. that my power whereby I did it, neither was it Thou, for Thou art the abiding light, which I consulted concerning all these, whether they were, what they were, and how to be valued ; and I heard Thee di- recting and commanding me ; and this I often do, this delights me, and as far as I may be freed from necessary duties, unto this pleasure have I recourse. Nor in all these which I run over consulting Thee, can I find any safe place for my soul, but in Thee ; whither my scattered members may be gathered, and nothing of me depart from Thee. And sometimes Thou admittest me to an affection, very unusual, in my inmost soul ; rising to a strange sweetness, which if it were perfected in me, I know not what in it would not belong to the life to come. But through my miserable encumbrances I sink down again into these lower things, and am swept back by former custom, and am held, and greatly weep, but am greatly held. So much doth the burthen of a bad custom weigh us down. Here I can stay, but would not; there I would, but cannot; both ways, miserable. Thus then have I considered the sicknesses of my sins in that threefold concupiscence, and have called Thy right hand to my help. For with a wounded heart have I beheld Thy brightness, and stricken back I said, ''who can attain thither? / am cast away from the sight of Thine eyes." Thou art the Truth who presidest over all, but I through my eovetousness, would not indeed forego Thee, but would with Thee possess a lie ; as no man would in such wise speak falsely, as himself to be ignorant of the truth. So then I lost Thee, because Thou vouchsafest not to be possessed with a lie. Whom could I find to reconcile me to Thee? was I to have A. V. 125 386 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY recourse to Angels? by what prayers? by what sacraments? Many endeavoring to return unto Thee, and of themselves un- able, have, as I hear, tried this, and fallen into the desire of curious visions, and been accounted worthy to be deluded. For they, being high minded, sought Thee by the pride of learning, swelling out rather, than smiting upon, their breasts, and so by the agreement of their heart, drew unto themselves the princes of the air, the fellow-conspirators of their pride, by whom, through magical influences, they were deceived, seeking a mediator, by whom they might be purged, and there was none. For the devil it was, transforming himself into an Angel of light. And it much enticed proud flesh, that he had no body of flesh. For they were mortal, and sinners; but Thou, Lord, to whom they proudly sought to be reconciled, art immortal, and without sin. But a mediator between God and man, must have something like to God, something like to men; lest being in both like to man, he should be far from God : or if in both like God, too unlike man : and so not be a mediator. That deceitful mediator then, by whom in Thy secret judgments pride deserved to be deluded, hath one thing in common with man, that is sin ; another, he would seem to have in common with God; and not being clothed with the mortality of flesh, would vaunt himself to be immortal. But since the wages of sm is death, this hath he in common with men, that with them he should be condemned to death. But the true Mediator, Whom in Thy secret mercy Thou hast shewed to the humble, and sentest, that by His example also they might learn that same humility, that Mediator 'be- tween God and man, the Man Christ Jesus, appeared betwixt mortal sinners and the immortal Just One ; mortal with men, just with God : that because the wages of righteousness is life and peace, He might by a righteousness conjoined with God, make void that death of sinners, now made righteous, which He willed to have in common with them. Hence He was shewed forth to holy men of old ; that so they, through faith in His Passion to come, as we through faith of it passed, might be saved. For as Man, He was a Mediator ; but as the Word, not in the middle between God and man, because equal to God, and God with God, and together one God. How hast Thou loved us, good Father, who sparedst not SAINT AUGUSTINE 387 Thine only Son, but deliveredst Him up for us ungodly! How hast Thou loved us, for whom, He that thought it no robbery to be equal with Thee, was made subject even to the death of the cross, He alone free among the dead, having power to lay down His life, and power to take it again: for us to Thee both Victor and Victim, and therefore Victor, be- cause the Victim; for us to Thee Priest and Sacrifice, and therefore Priest because the Sacrifice ; making us to Thee, of servants, sons, by being born of Thee, and serving us. Well then is my hope strong in Him, that Thou wilt heal all my infirmities, by Him Who sitteth at Thy right hand and maketh intercession for us; else should I despair. For many and great are my infirmities, many they are, and great; but Thy medicine is mightier. We might imagine that Thy Word was far from any union with man, and despair of ourselves, unless He had been made flesh and dwelt among us. Affrighted with my sins and the burthen of my misery, I had cast in my heart, and had purposed to flee to the wilder- ness: but Thou forbaddest me, and strengthenedst me, saying, Therefore Christ died for all, that they which live may now no longer live unto themselves, but unto Him that died for them. See, Lord, I cast my care upon Thee, that I may live, and consider wondrous things out of Thy law. Thou knowest my unskillfulness, and my infirmities ; teach me, and heal me. He Thine only Son, in Whom are hid all the treasures of wis- dom and knowledge, hath redeemed me with His blood. Let not the proud speak evil of me; because I meditate on my ransom, and eat and drink, and communicate it; and poor, desired to be satisfied from Him, amongst those that eat and are satisfied, and they shall praise the Lord who seek Him. GBATIAS TIBI, DOMINE THE END AUTOBIOGRAPHIES IN THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY IN VOLUME Abelard II Alfieri, Vittorio X AlGhazali II Amiel, Henri Frederic XIV Andersen, Hans Christian . . XIII Augustine, Saint I Aurelius, Marcus I Avicenna II Bacon, Sir Francis IV Barry, Mme. Jeanne Du ... IX Bashkirtseff , Marie XV Beers, Clifford XV Bessemer, SJT Henry XIV Bismarck XIV Bodley, Sir Thomas IV Bunyan, John V Burns, Robert X Byron XII Csesar, Augustus I Caesar, Julius I Cardan, Jerome Ill Cartwright, Peter XII Casanova, Jean Jacques. . . . VIII Catherine the Great of Rus- sia VIII Cellini Ill Charles the Fifth of Ger- many Ill Gibber, Colley VI Comines, Sir Philip de II Dante.. II IN VOLUME Darwin, Charles XIV De Quincey, Thomas XII Dickens XIV Digby, Sir Kenelm IV Drake, Sir Francis IV Fouche", Joseph XI Fox, George V Franklin, Benjamin VI Frederick the Great of Prus- sia VII Froebel, Friedrich XII Froissart, Sir John II Garibaldi XIV Geikie, Sir Archibald XV Gibbon, Edward IX Goethe IX Goldoni, Carlo VII Goldsmith, Oliver VIII Grammont, Count Philibert de V Guerin, Eugenie de XIII Hamilton, Alexander X Hawkes, Clarence XV Haydon, Benjamin XII Heine, Heinrich XII Henry the Eighth of Eng- land Ill Herbert of Cherbury, Lord . IV Holberg, Lewis VI Hugo, Victor XIII Hume, David VH AUTOBIOGRAPHIES IN THE LIBRARY IN VOLUME Huxley, Thomas XV Jefferson, Thomas IX Johnson, Dr. Samuel VII Josephus, Flavius I Kovalevsky, Sonia XV Lafayette X Latude, Henri de VIII Lilly, William V Lincoln, Abraham XIV Longfellow, Henry XIII Luther Ill Maimon, Solomon X Marguerite de Valois IV Marie Asmar of Babylon . . . XIII Marie The'rese of France . . . XII Marmontel, Jean Frangois. . VIII Marshall, John X Mary Queen of Scots IV Metternich, Prince von .... XI Mill, John Stuart XIII Milton V Mohammed Ali Hazin VI Napoleon XI Nelson X Newman, John Cardinal . . . XIII Newton, Sir Isaac V Pepys, Samuel V Petrarch II Platter, Thomas Ill Priestley, Dr. Joseph VIII Raleigh, Sir Walter IV Renan, Ernest XV IN VOLUME Robinson, Mrs. Mary X Roland, Madame X Rousseau, Jean Jacques VII Ruskin, John XIV Saint Simon, Due de VI Salimbene II Sargon, Bang of Babylon ... I Scott, Sir Walter XI Sennacherib, King I Sinuhit, Prince of Egypt. . . I Socrates I Sophia, Princess, of Hanover V Spencer, Herbert XIV Sully, Duke de IV Teresa, Saint IV Timur, or Tamberlaine .... II Tolstoi XV Trenck, Baron Frederic VIII ' Uni, Lord, of Egypt I Vambery, Arminius XV Victoria, Queen XIV Vidocq, Eugene XI Wagner, Richard XIV Washington IX Wellington, Duke of XI Wesley, John VII Wilde, Oscar XV Wilhelmine, Margravine of Baireuth VII Wordsworth, William XI Xenophon University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. LD-UR1 ' 5 1992 3 115801071 27