BOOK III.

Of the time he resided at Carthage, that is, from his seventeenth to his nineteenth year, where though he stayed for the sake of study, he freely gave himself up to plays and infamous practices. Through Cicero's "Hortensius" he is inflamed with the love of wisdom; which he sought proudly, and so fell into the heresy of the Manichæans. Their errors and follies he in passing attacks, and clearly discusses questions concerning vicious excesses and true justice. Monica, weeping profusely and continually for her son, is assured of his future repentance by a dream which God sent her, and by the answer of a holy bishop.

I

CHAPTER I.

By the Love which he hunted after, he is taken.

CAME to Carthage, into the very midst of a seeth

ing mass of immorality. I was not yet in love, but I longed to be so, and from a deeper want, I hated myself for wanting not. In my desire to love, I sought an object to love, and hated safety and the path which had no traps in it. For there was an inward famine of that inward food, Thyself, my God, and that famine did not assert its presence by hunger, for I had no desire for incorruptible nourishment; not because I was full, but because the more empty I was the greater was my distaste for it. Thus my soul became unhealthy; and full of ulcers, cast itself forth in its misery, eager to be scraped by contact with objects of

48 A LOVE, BASE, DISHONOURABLE, AND VAIN

sense-with souls I mean, for otherwise they would certainly not call forth love. For to love, and to be loved, was sweet to me; and the more so when I enjoyed the bodily presence of the one loved. Therefore I polluted the course of friendship with sordid desires, and dimmed its brightness with hellish passion; and foul and dishonourable as I was, yet I, in an excess of vanity, affected a polite and refined manner. I rushed then into the love by which I longed to be held captive. O my God, my Mercy, with what gall didst Thou in Thy Goodness sprinkle that sweetness! For I was both loved, and in secret admitted to the bond of enjoyment; and I in my joy was bound about with chains of sorrow, so that I might be scourged with the red-hot iron rods of jealousies, suspicions, fears, angers, and quarrels.

THE

CHAPTER II.

He loved to see Tragedies.

HE plays at the theatre carried me away, filled, as they were, with representations of my miseries, and added fuel to the fire. Why is it, that man likes thus to taste an unnecessary sorrow, by beholding distressing and tragical events which he would not wish to happen to himself? And yet as a spectator he wills to be touched with sorrow for them, and this sorrow is his pleasure. What is this but a miserable madness? For the more he is affected by such sights the less free is he from the like affections. Although, when he suffers in his own person, they call

THE PLEASURES OF SYMPATHY

49

it misery; when he is grieved at the sufferings of others, they are wont to name it pity. But what pity can there be expended upon the dramatic performances of the stage? The spectator is not appealed to in order that he might bring succour to the distressed, but he is invited only to grieve; and the more the actor of these representations excites his grief, the more he applauds him. And if these human calamities, whether historic or fabulous, are so acted as to fail to excite the emotions of the beholder, he goes away in disgust, and finds fault with the performance; but if he is touched with grief, he remains intent, and finds delight in weeping.

Do we then love sorrow? surely every one desires joy. Or is it that whilst no one likes to be miserable, yet we like to feel pity, and as pity cannot arise without some sorrow, on this account alone sorrows are loved? This springs also from that vein of friendship. But whither does it go? whither does it flow? why does it run down into that torrent of pitch which bubbles forth its frightful tides of filthy passions, into which itself is changed and perverted, being by its own consent turned aside and precipitated from its heavenly clearness? Shall pity then be condemned? By no means. Sometimes, indeed, such feelings may be loved. But beware of impurity, O my soul, under the defence of my God—the “God of our fathers, Who is to be praised and exalted above all for ever;" beware of impurity. For I am not now without compassion; but then in theatres I used to rejoice with lovers when they enjoyed each other's company, although it was only an imaginary transaction as a Dan. iii. 52, V.

I

D

50

THE MIS-USE OF PITY

part of the play; and when they lost one another, as if pitiful, I was grieved for them, and yet I found delight in both. But now I have much more pity for him who rejoices in wickedness, than for him who is thought to undergo a hardship, when he loves a pernicious pleasure or is deprived of some wretched delight. This certainly is a truer compassion, but it is a grief without delight. For although he that has pity on the miserable, is to be commended for his charitable service; yet would he who has genuine compassion, assuredly prefer that the cause of his sorrow did not exist. For if there is such a thing (which cannot be) as an ill-disposed goodwill, then he who truly and sincerely feels pity, can wish that there might be some miserable persons, so that he might compassionate them. Some sorrows, then, may be commended; none, loved. For Thou, O Lord God, Who lovest souls, hast a pity far more pure and incorruptible than ours, and art never wounded by sorrow. "And who is sufficient for these things?"

But I then, poor wretch, used to love to grieve, and went in quest of something to grieve at; when in another's affliction, and that, too, feigned and pretended, the action of the player which best pleased me, and exercised upon me the strongest fascination, was that which drew tears from my eyes. Is it any wonder that I, an unhappy sheep, straying from Thy flock, and impatient of Thy protection, should be defiled with a foul disease? And hence came this love of griefs-not of griefs which entered deeply into my soul: for I did not love to suffer myself the very things which I loved to behold in the play, but just the hearing and 1 2 Cor. ii. 16.

BAD BEHAVIOUR IN CHURCH

51

the feigning, such as only scratched, as it were, the surface; upon which, however, as from scratches of the nails, followed a hot swelling, a gathering, and a festering sore. Such was my life, could it be called life, O my God!

CHAPTER III.

In the School of Rhetoric, he abhors the Deeds of the "Subverters."

AND Thy faithful Mercy hovered over me afar.

Upon what great iniquities did I consume away, and I yielded to a sacrilegious curiosity, which brought me, having forsaken Thee, to treacherous depths, and to the beguiling service of devils, to whom I sacrificed my wicked actions, and in all this Thou didst scourge me! I dared even in the celebration of Thy solemn Service, within the walls of the church, to indulge evil desires, and there to make designs which would bring the fruits of death, for which Thou didst scourge me with heavy punishments; but not onehalf that I deserved, O Thou, my exceeding great Mercy, my God, my Refuge from those terrible destroyers amongst whom I wandered with a stiff neck, withdrawing further from Thee, loving my own ways and not Thine, loving a fleeting liberty.

Those studies also which were accounted honourable, had their attraction in reference to the Courts of Law, that I might excel in them, and be so much the more honoured the more I could deceive. So great is the blindness of men, glorying even in their blindAnd now I was head in the rhetoric school, at which I proudly rejoiced, and was puffed up with

ness.