JOHN FRANCIS NEMAN
 
 UNIVERSITY LIBRARV 
 OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 
 INCLUDING ALL THE GREAT 
 
 AUTOB IO GRAPH I B<S 
 
 AND THE AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL* 
 
 DATA LEFT BY THE 
 
 EKMOUS MEN AND 
 WOMBN. 
 
 BOfTEP 
 
 P*{<AY5S ANP APPRECIATIONS 
 B>' THE LBAPrNC SCHOLARS 
 \ND EDUCATORS OP AMERICA, 
 
 THE NATIONAL AUUMNI
 
 Dfiurattmt 
 
 TfflS 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. 
 iv
 
 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.
 
 "Knmo 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
 
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 SENNACHERIB, KING OF ASSYRIA
 
 M> ,>/.!/{ .Miii.'-r.i >/'/: i
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 Autobiography in the 
 Ancient World 
 
 (B. C. 3800 A. D. 430) 
 
 INCLUDING THE SELF-NARRATIVES OF 
 
 KING SARGON, 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 C.ESAR, 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 ike University of Texas 
 
 WILLIAM H. P. FAUNCE 
 
 President of Brown Unitersily
 
 COPYRIGHT. 1918, BT 
 F. TYLER DANIELS COMPANY 
 
 INCORPORATED
 
 THF. I.IP.RARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 ^ SANTA BARBARA _ 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 GENERAL INTRODUCTION XIII 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN THE ANCIENT WORLD XIX 
 
 APPRECIATIONS 
 
 Socrates, by J. H. Kirkland of Vanderbili 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, 3800 B.C. (f) 3 
 
 Inscription of Lord Uni of Egypt, 2600 B.C. (?) 5 
 
 Memoirs of Prince Sinuhit of Egypt, WOO 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 CAESAR, 10CM4 B.C 101 
 
 The Commentaries 102 
 
 AUGUSTUS CJESAR, 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, 354^30 A.D 251 
 
 Confessions 252
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOLUME I 
 
 TO FACE PAGE 
 
 Sennacherib, King of Assyria Frontispiece 
 
 Socrates 33 
 
 Xenophon 57 
 
 Julius Caesar 101 
 
 Augustus Caesar 141 
 
 Flavius Josephus 155 
 
 Marcus Aurelius Antoninus 201 
 
 Saint Augustine of Hippo 251 
 
 XI
 
 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 mankind 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 believes 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 xx 
 
 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 sec 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 in
 
 IN THE ANCIENT WORLD 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 
 Caesar. We find mention of an earlier similar narrative by 
 Caesar's predecessor Sulla, but this has not been preserved. 
 
 In Ctesar's day Rome had already conquered the world; 
 now Caesar conquered Rome. He 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 
 Caesar was far vaster than the narrow region which had con- 
 stituted the domains of the earlier "world-rulers." And even 
 Caesar'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 Roman 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 Ancyra. 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.
 
 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. I>ut 
 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. Kirkland, 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. 
 
 zzvii
 
 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
 
 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 
 
 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 na'ive 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 that 
 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 need, 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 Roman 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 Ca?sar. 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 
 unornamental 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 EAELIEST 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 I
 
 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 is by an Assyrian king. The Assyrians were ferocious fighters 
 who finally conquered both Egypt and Babylon. Several of these official 
 records of the reigiis 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 eaeli 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 Jlezekiah, the king of Jerusalem. The view- 
 point from which Hezekiah saw the contest has long been known to us 
 from the Bible. The question ol how Sennacherib viewed it is here 
 answered by himself in widely diil'ering fashion.
 
 KING SARGON 
 
 THE FOUNDER OP BABYLON, THE "BELOVED OP THE GODS" 
 
 3800 B. C. (?) 
 
 SARGON 'S OWN RECORD OP 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
 
 i 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 Ami destroy his name, may Enlil extirpate 
 his seed. 
 
 1 The dots indicate words which our archaeologists have been unable 
 to translate.
 
 LORD UNI 
 
 THE FIRST PRIVATE PERSON OF WHOSE LIFE WE HAVE FULL 
 
 RECORD 
 
 2600 B. C. ( ?) 
 UNl'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. ' ' 
 * 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 w y ho 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, 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. 
 
 7 Literally, "When the matter was contested." 
 
 ' Literally, ' ' great king 's-wife. ' ' 
 
 9 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 
 find 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 noraarchs 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 " 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. 
 
 12 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, 18 to bring the sarcophagus 
 named: " Chest-of-the-Living, " together with its lid and the 
 costly, splendid pyramidion for the pyramid called : ' ' Mer- 
 nere-Shines-and-is-Beautiful," 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. 
 
 11 The northern and southern limits of Upper Egypt. 
 
 14 The meaning is that Uni twice made a census of all the royal prop- 
 erties. 
 
 16 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- 
 etta (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 doorwa} r s 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-Beautiful," 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. 
 
 18 These must be for passing the cataracts; as was the canal of Sesostris 
 III.
 
 PRINCE SINUHIT 
 
 AN EGYPTIAN ADVENTURER IN THE WILDS OP ANCIENT PALESTINE 
 
 2000 B. C. 
 THE MEMOIRS OF SINUHIT, AN E6YPTIAN 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 royal wife, 
 Ankhet-Usertesen, who shares the dwelling of the royal sou 
 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 Amenembet I. 
 
 10
 
 PRINCE SINUHIT 11 
 
 beating, ray 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 
 crouched 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. " lie 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 
 
 A champion of the Tenu came to defy me in my tent: a 
 bold man without equal, for he had vanquished the whole 
 country. lie 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. 
 
 4 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. 
 
 "0 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 Horns, 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, 
 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, 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 
 
 l Lake Van and the Persian Gulf. 
 2 The inhabitants of Babylonia. 
 1 Babylonia. 
 
 21
 
 22 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 women of the palace, valets de chambre, 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 ray 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- 
 shauati, 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 * 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, rny 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-Kilam/akh, 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, 
 
 4 /mm, i.e., "donkey-loads," the original meaning of the word homer. 
 t Kasshi. 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 Cossseans, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Kharkhar adjoined Ellipi on the northeast. 
 
 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 ray third campaign I marched to the land of the Hit- 
 tites. 10 Elulipus, 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 Aslmr, 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-Aramon, 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 Eltekeli 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 
 
 ""The land of the Hittites" had now become a generic title, signify- 
 ing Syria generally. The Hittite kingdoms at Carchemish 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 without 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; Josh. xv. 10; Juclg. 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 " 
 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. lie 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 
 Xagittu, 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, 
 Avith 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 1 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 ; 
 
 u 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 
 Ukki, 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 marched. 
 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-khurnbi, 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 
 sjpans. 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,
 
 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 Ilittites, 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 
 
 19 Mount Amanus.
 
 32 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 writing anil 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 
 arehonate of Bel-imurani, prefect of Carchemish. 
 
 END OP SENNACHERIB'S INSCRIPTION
 
 SOCRATES
 
 SOCRATES 
 
 THE FOUNDER 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 th 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 me people 's court as being a corrupter of the 
 Athenian youth. Ho 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 aa 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, 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 ray 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 ray 
 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 l 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 
 
 1 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. 
 
 1 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 Moletus could lay that to my charge. 
 But the simple truth is, 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 Ilippias 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 3 
 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 sous 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 minne. " 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. 
 
 1 Gorgias and Fortagoras received as much as one hundred minac ($1GOO 
 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, 
 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 
 Cha?rephon ; 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. Chsere- 
 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 wont 
 to one who had the reputation of wisdom, and observed him 
 his name I need not mention ; he was a politician whom T 
 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 wis 
 by many, and wiser still by himself; and I went and tried 
 
 ' The Poloponnesian 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, lie, 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. lie 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 tho 
 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 
 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 he ought to remain in the hour of danger; he 
 should not think of death or of anything, but of disgrace. 
 And this, O men of Athens, is a true saying. 
 
 Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, men of Athens, 
 if I who, when I was ordered by the generals whom you chose 
 to command me at Potidiea 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 on 
 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 
 
 11 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 groat 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 w r ith 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 if 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 th indictment. 12 This 
 
 12 Socrates spoke frequently of this voice, calling it li'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 L 
 had not yielded I should have died at once. I will tell you & 
 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- 
 nusaa; 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. 
 
 "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 arc 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 JEantodorus, 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 iny 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 that 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 he 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 drachm [$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 reward 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 ambassadors 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 W'hen 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 
 
 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 fhe 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 JEacus 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 Musoeus and Hesiod 
 and Homer ? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. 
 I, too, shall have a wonderful interest in a plape 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. AY' 1 at
 
 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! TV hat 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, O 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. 
 
 END OK THE APOLOGY
 
 XEXOPHON
 
 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 
 Tissaph ernes 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 w r as 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 * 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, "O 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 Bceotia 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, O 
 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 
 Lacedaemonian 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 Ariasus, 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. 15
 
 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 pa?an. 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 beeH 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 
 
 m 
 
 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, 
 Nicarclms 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 
 
 2 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 w r ere 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 
 IMS 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 
 pro-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, "\\ r e 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. 3 
 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 w r ho they were ; and the interpreter answ r ered, 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 parasaug 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 
 
 v. | 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 pulso feeble." Here, however, it seems to 
 mean littlo 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. Xeuophon, 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. AVhen 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.
 
 7(> LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 The young men were rejoiced to see them, and gave them the 
 sk-k 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; \vhence 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 Theehes. 
 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 ome 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. 
 
 VII 
 
 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 mnle 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 \ve 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 aro 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, 4 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 
 
 * Two victims were brought, that if favorable omens were not obtained 
 from the first, the second might be used. 
 A. V. 19
 
 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; 6 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, 
 
 * Alluding to the consequences of tho Peloponnesian war, by which 
 the supreme power over Greece fell into the hands of the Lacedsemo- 
 mans.
 
 XEXOPHON 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 Ileraclea 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 Achtean, 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 Achipans began to hold meetings together, Callimachus 
 the Parrhasian and Lycon the Achwan 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 Achaeans, 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 
 Achaeans 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 
 AcluTans, 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 Clearchus ; and seventeen hundred 
 heavy-armed men, with three hundred peltasts, under Xeno- 
 phon, who was the only one that had any cavalry, a body of 
 about forty horsemen. 
 
 The Arcadians, having procured ships from the people of 
 Ileraclea, 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 Thrac'ians, 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 Bitbynian 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, 
 lie 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 recounoiter the country in front, that 
 nothing may take us by surprise." lie 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 lie, ' ' 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 Achaeans 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 
 inarched 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 laud, 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 
 
 trauquilized, 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 Acha^ans 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 Cceratades as their leader, 
 and went out of the city, Cceratades 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. 
 
 Xext day Cceratades 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 
 
 * Tie ha<l 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 9r> 
 
 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. 
 
 Coeratades, 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 Coeratades 
 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. 
 
 XII 
 
 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, w r hich 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 w r ould 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 Phoenicia 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 Ccptae, 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
 
 JULIUS CJESAR
 
 r-rrr.r
 
 JULIUS 
 
 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 ' ' Csesar, ' ' 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 Csesar 's 
 struggle with Pompey. Pompey had been master of the Koman 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 Roman 
 Senate to command Caesar to surrender his devoted Gallic army. This 
 would have left Csesar 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 Rome upheld Csesar in this; but Pompey 
 persisted in using his influence within the Roman Senate so as to crush 
 his rival. Caesar was declared by senatorial decree to be an enemy of 
 the republic. What Csesar, the strongest, keenest man in all the Roman 
 world, then resolved upon and did, here follows in his own words. 
 
 101
 
 102 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 OESAR'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, Caesar 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 Csesar. 
 He, after concluding the rest of his speech, and stating for 
 what purpose he had come, told Caesar that he had commands 
 of a private nature for him from Pompey, that Pompey 
 wished to clear himself to Caesar, 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 
 praetor, conferred with Caesar 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 Civsar 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 Ca j sar'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 Caesar would 
 perform his promises, that the consuls and Poinpey 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 Caesar'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 Arirainum with two legions, 
 
 1 When Ccesar and Pompey were reconciled, they and Crassus divided 
 the provinces between them. Cajsar 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 (Ja?sar 
 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, Fanum, 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 Cassar'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 
 Ca?sar 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 Ciesar 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 Ca?sar'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 CLESAR 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 .^nobarbus, 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 
 Ciesar. Antonius returned the same day on which he ha<l 
 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 Ctesar 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 C^SAR 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 CLESAR 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 praetor, from Tarracina, with three. These hav- 
 ing described Cassar's cavalry at a distance, which were com- 
 manded by Bivius Curius, and having deserted the praator, 
 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 Cassar's army, others with 
 his horse. Cneius Magius, from Cremona, engineer-general 
 to Pompey, was taken prisoner on the road and brought to 
 Cassar, 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 Eoman miles. 
 
 * 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 be 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 
 wore 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 
 Can in ins Rebilus to have an interview with Scribonius Libo,
 
 JULIUS CAESAR 113 
 
 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. Cassar 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 Caesar '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 Cesar'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. 18
 
 114 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. 
 Ca?sar'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 Cffisar, 
 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 propnptor, 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, 
 
 * Marcus Cato, better known by the name of Cato of Utica, was one o" 
 the most determined enemies of Caesar. He continued the struggle until
 
 JULIUS C^SAR 115 
 
 should have had the government of Africa. The Caralitani,' 
 as soon as they heard that Valerius was sent against them, 
 even before 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 Roman 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, Ceesar, 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." 
 
 * The inhabitants of Carales, now Cagliari, the modern capital of Sar- 
 dinia, in the south of the island. It was built by the Carthaginians. 
 
 8 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. lie 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 Ctrsar's camp. Thus three days were 
 wasted in disputes and excuses. Besides, Lucius Metellus, one 
 of the tribunes, was suborned by Ctesar's enemies, to prevent 
 this, and to embarrass 7 everything else which Cffisar should 
 
 7 Before Caesar left the city, lie 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 Romans 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 exj>ended, as Cff-sar, not long after, was obliged to borrow money 
 from his officers to pay his soldiers.
 
 JULIUS CAESAR 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. Caesar, 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 arid 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, Porapey's army had advanced further than 
 usual from his intrenchments, so that it appeared possible 
 to come to an action on equal ground. Then Caesar 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 Caesar'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 Caesar'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 Caesar 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. 
 
 Cgesar, 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 Caesar, 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 CLESAR 121 
 
 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 Caesar'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 Caesar'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 
 
 '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 Rome, dreaded a scar in the face more than 
 death itself.
 
 JULIUS CLESAR 
 
 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 Csesar 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 Ca?sar 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 Cassar.
 
 JULIUS CJESAR 125 
 
 THE OVERTHROW OF THE GALLIC NATION OP THE NERVH, 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 
 inarch 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 Ca?sar 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 Ca?sar, 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 CJESAR 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 Roman soldiers: probably it here refers especially to the 
 devices upon the helmets. 
 
 * It was the practice of the Roman soldiers when on the march not to 
 wear their helmets, but to carry them slung over their backs, or chests. 
 
 4 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.
 
 18 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. 
 
 The Roman camp had four gates: "porta pr&toria," nearest to the 
 enemy; "porta Decumana," opposite to that, and thus furthest from 
 them; "porta principals dextra," and "porta principal sinistra."
 
 JULIUS CLESAR 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. 
 
 Ctesar 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. 
 
 Ceesar, 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 
 Xervii 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 (LESAR 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, Phrenicians, and Cicilians: and as Caesar's 
 fleet was divided into two parts, Publius Sulpicius the praetor 
 commanding one division at Vibo near the straits, 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 
 
 wore 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. 
 
 Ciusar thought he ought to postpone all business and pur- 
 sue Ponipey, 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. lie 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- 
 
 "Antiochin, or Antioch, now called Antnkia, was founded by Seloucus 
 Nicanor, who named it after his father. Tt 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 Roman 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 Galila-ans; it was the birth- 
 place of St. Luke, the evangelist.
 
 JULIUS C^SAK 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-
 
 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 ing kindly addressed by them, and deluded by an acquaint- 
 ance with Septiraius, 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 Ctesar 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 Ca?sar's arrival, and had made 
 his escape. Thus, on two occasions, Cresar 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 Ca?sar 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 Ptoleraais; 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, Ca?sar, 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 CJESAR 135 
 
 length of their march, could not follow him. But Caesar, 
 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 Ca?sar, 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. 
 Ciesar'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, Caesar 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 C/ESAR 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 b7 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 Caesar 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 cpnsent of those who are masters of the 
 Pharos, no vessels can enter the harbor, on account of its 
 narrowness. Ctesar 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 
 w ? as 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 CJESAR 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 Csesar'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 OP THE COMMENTARIES ON THE CIVIL WAE
 
 AUGUSTUS CJESAR
 
 AUGUSTUS 
 
 THE FIRST EMPEROR OF ROME 
 
 63 B. C.-14 A. D. 
 
 (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) 
 
 Gaius Juliua Caesar Octavianus is more commonly known by his title 
 of Augustus, which means the ' ' august " or " consecrated ' ' Caesar. He 
 was the grandnephew of Julius Caesar and as such became his adopted 
 son and heir. The young heir, at first publicly known as Octavian, waa 
 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 Roman 
 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 Rome and copies of it were set up in other cities. All of these 
 records were supposed to have perished in the destruction of the Roman 
 civilization. Recently, 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
 
 142 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 lifef If so 
 applaud me now." 
 
 THE ' ' MONUMENTUM ANCYRANUM" OR INSCRIPTION OP AUGUS- 
 TUS AT ANCYRA * 
 
 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 Gains 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. 
 
 '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 prtrtorian rank in speaking." 
 
 * The formula by which in emergencies, extraordinary powers were 
 given to the ordinary magistrates.
 
 AUGUSTUS CJESAR 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 
 
 8 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. 
 
 * 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.
 
 H4- 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 Cnaeus 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. Tn 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 prince ps of the senate through 
 forty years. I have been pontifex maximus, augur, a member 
 of the quindecemviral college of the sacred rites, of the 
 scptemviral college of the banquets, an Arval Brother, a mem- 
 ber of the Titian sodality, and a fetial. 
 
 VIII 
 
 IN my fifth consulship, by order of the people and the senate, 
 I increased the number of the patricians. Three times I have
 
 AUGUSTUS C/ESAR 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 Ca?sar 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- 
 
 * During most of the republican history the senate numbered, ideally, 
 three hundred. In Cicero ' time it hud over tour hundred members. 
 Julius Caesar raised it t about nine hundred. Suet. Aug., 35, says: "By 
 two separate scrutinies ).e (Augustus) reduced to their former number 
 and splendor the senate, .vhich had been swamped by -i disorderly crowd ; 
 tor they were now more than a thousand, and some it them very mean 
 j-orsons, who, after Caesar's death, had been chosen by dint of interest 
 and bribery, sc that they had the name 01 Orcini among the people." 
 They were also called Charonites, because they owed their elevation to 
 the last will of Caesar, who had gone into Orcus to Charon. 
 A. V. 110
 
 146 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 dered me that priesthood which ray 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 
 praters 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. 
 
 xm 
 
 JANUS QUIBINUS, which it was the purpose of our fathers to 
 close when there was peace won by victory* 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. 
 
 * Tho 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 Ecs Gestce.
 
 AUGUSTUS (LESAR 147 
 
 XIV 
 
 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 Roman 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 plcbs 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 plets 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 Cnreus Lentulus, the 
 augur, I assigned to soldiers, I paid money to the municipia. 
 
 10 "He (Caesar) bequeathed to the Roman people his 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 Laelius, and in that of Gaius Calvisius and 
 Lucius Pasienus, and in that of Lucius Lentulus and Marcus 
 Messala, and in that of Lucius Cauinius 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 Cnasus 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. 
 
 XIX 
 
 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 CJESAR 149 
 
 Minerva and Juno Regina 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; ift 
 these exhibitions about ten thousand men have fought. Twice 
 in my own name, and three times in that of my grandson, 1 
 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. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 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 Roman 
 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 he seen in his time (c. 200 A. D.), and that the fight 
 represented a battle of Athenians and Persians, in which the former were 
 victorious.
 
 AUGUSTUS CAESAR 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 Rome.
 
 152 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 xx vn 
 
 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. AVhen 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. 
 
 xxvin 
 
 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 brougbt them under subjection to the empire of the Roman
 
 AUGUSTUS C^SAR 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. 
 
 xxxn 
 
 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
 
 FLAVIVS JOSEPHUS
 
 JOSEPHUS 
 
 THE ABLE JEWISH GENERAL AND REBEL AGAINST ROME 
 
 37-100 A. D. 
 (INTRODUCTORY NOTE) 
 
 Flavius Josephus 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 Eoman 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 Caesar. 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 lie had put into bonds, and sent to Rome 
 to plead their cause before Caesar. These I was desirous to 
 procure deliverance for; and that especially because I was 
 informed that they were not unmindful of rjiety 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, Cassar'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 [Florus] 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
 
 HJO 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 Phoenicia, 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 entirety 
 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 Csesar, arid 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 Romans 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. iii
 
 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 Cassarea 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 Coesarea 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
 
 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 mo, 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 domestic's. 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 
 guided by him down to the lake, where I seized a ship, and 
 got into it, and escaped my enemies unexpectedly, and came 
 to Tarichese. 
 
 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 Ptolemais, 
 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 
 Xeopolitanus, 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 inake 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 Romans, 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-w T ill 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 \vife 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 Tariehere, 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, "O 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. 
 
 AVhen, therefore, silence was made by the whole multitude, 
 I spake thus to them: "0 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 [Tarichete] 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 mo, 
 while yet it was to be expended in building your own walls." 
 Upon my saying this, the people of Taricheas 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 
 thej r 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 w r as 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 
 homos ; 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 drachmae 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 
 
 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 w r ith 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, hut 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 ahle 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. lie 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. Xow 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, "O 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 provornment. 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 ; * 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, O Justus! thou most sagacious of writers, (that I 
 may address myself to him as if he were here present,) for 
 
 '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 Vespasian, 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 Ctesar 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 Sepphoria 
 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 bafk. 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 Taricheae. 
 
 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 
 Tarichete 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 Tarichea?, 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 Cassar 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 Cnesar 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 ; 
 
 * 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 Cyrene, 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 Ilyrcanus, 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
 
 MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS
 
 '?/<)'{//. r'fl.I'IH I/ ^ '! 'I!'/!.'
 
 MARCUS 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 'a name was Domitia Calvilla. The emperor T. Antoninus Pius 
 married the paternal aunt of Marcus Aurclius, 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, 
 lie 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 
 vas 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 
 
 1 L. Junius Rusticus was a Stoic philosopher who was put to death by 
 Domitian. 
 1 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 * 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. 
 
 Cinna Catulus was a Stoic philosopher. 
 
 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 
 
 '(Jlaudiua Maximua was a Stoic philosopher.
 
 806 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 
 
 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 
 
 ' 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 
 
 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, axe 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. 
 
 Moninnis, th'e 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
 
 2U 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 be 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 III 
 
 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 w 7 ith 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 215 
 
 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 Cassar, 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 it 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 
 i.i 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- 
 J.:i:s us to do nothing rashly, and to be kindly disposed 
 tjy/anls men, and to submit willingly to the gods. 
 
 As for other speculations, throw them all out of your 
 h^arl, 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 boldly 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 
 
 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
 
 222 
 
 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 hoth 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
 
 224 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 7 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 w r ander 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 223 
 
 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. \. 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 
 
 1 The Greek word for Universe and Order is the same kosmos.
 
 MARCUS AURELIUS 227 
 
 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 
 limes. 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 Camillas, 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 yon 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 ar^ 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, aud 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
 
 232 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 V 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 ? WTiy 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. 
 
 ^Esculapius, 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 JEsculapius. 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 
 w r hat 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 w r ill 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 
 lie 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 w r ould 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 24-3 
 
 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 Ccesar, and Pompey, what were they in 
 comparison of Diogenes, Heraclitus, and Socrates? These 
 philosophers looked through things and their causes, and their
 
 244 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 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 elbpw-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 you 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. 
 
 THE END OF THE TWELFTH AND LAST BOOK OP THE "MEDITA- 
 TIONS"
 
 
 ^-fclt 1 "
 
 SAINT AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO
 
 SAINT AUGUSTINE 
 
 THE GREATEST "FATHER" OF THE CHRISTIAN CHUECH 
 
 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 Koman 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 
 Roman 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 
 
 THE CONFESSIONS OF SAINT AUGUSTINE 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 Great art Thou, O 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 f 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, 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 
 
 '8. Ambrose; from whom were the beginnings of his conversion, and 
 by whom he was baptized.
 
 SAINT AUGUSTINE 253 
 
 if I go down into hell, Thou, art there. I could not be then, 
 O niy God, could not be at all, wert Thou not in me; or, 
 rather, unless I were in Thee, of whom are all things, &?/ 
 whom are all things, in wham 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 upliftest 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 tut 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 
 
 2 Against the Manichces.
 
 254 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 gains; never covetous, yet exacting usury. Thou receives! 
 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 am 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 8 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 itf 
 
 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, 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, arid so receive the mold of their degree 
 of being. But Thou, art still the same, and all tilings 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, 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. 117
 
 258 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 functions, Thou coramandest 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 I 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. 
 
 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, Lord God, the Creator and 
 Disposer of all things in nature, of sin the Disposer only, 
 O 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 
 
 * 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 / 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 JEneas, 
 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 yEneas, but weeping not his own death for want of love 
 to Thee, O 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 
 ^Eneas 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 "^Eneas" 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 
 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 thce, 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, 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 / 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, 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 II 
 
 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, O 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, 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, 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-
 
 272 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 st9le 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, 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 lie 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. dc 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 evermt>re. 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 1 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. rottenness, 
 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? 
 / mil love Thee, 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 his 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, 
 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 raay 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 things f 
 
 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, 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 
 
 2 Kversores. This appears to have been a name which a pestilent and 
 savage set of persons gave themselves, licentious alike in speech and 
 :'.(( i. n. Thry seem to lin.ve 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 dwellcth 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, 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 :! 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. O 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
 
 284 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 T)e 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 w r as 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 mind; 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, 4 that psaltery of ten strings, Thy Ten Com- 
 
 * S. 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 boon 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 
 
 mandmcnts, 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 w r e return to Thee; and Thou cleansest us from 
 our evil habits, and art merciful to their sins who confess, 
 and hcarcst 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 psaltrry of ten strings .sin/7 a new sonfj. If yc do it out of love, ye 
 sing n 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 boar 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, Lord; Thou 
 
 A. V. 1 19
 
 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, 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 \vith 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 perish eth 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 wind, 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. 
 
 Tnere 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 followest 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 w r ere strong enough for 
 me to deal with him, as I would. But he was taken away 
 
 a The Manichajans, 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? 
 
 Hut 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 ! 
 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 
 
 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, O 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 learn'ed, 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,' 5 of which I have given some specimens, or 
 under that chief Predicament of Substance. 
 
 1 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' 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, O 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, ray 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. O 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, O 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 Thau 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 Manicheus 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 ray 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 Home 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, 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 
 TJiou, 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 * 
 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 Manichieus 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,
 
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 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 
 Manichgean 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
 
 3U 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 youth, 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, 1 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 forbare 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 imago 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. 
 
 Boing led, however, from this to prefer the Catholic doc-
 
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 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 Manic-hees 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 Khetoric there. 
 A. v. 121
 
 822 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
 
 324 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 f 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 
 \vas 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 rny 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, O 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 us 
 meat in due season, and to open Thy hand, and to fill our souls 
 with blessing. 
 
 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 andeavoring 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, 
 O 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, 
 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 *hey 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, abidest 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 mierM 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, I 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
 
 840 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; bea&ts, 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
 
 342 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, 7 
 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 * 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 Manichees thought.
 
 344 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 teinplating, 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 Jesusf 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 bf 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 drago-n: 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 tormont. These things did wonderfully sink 
 into my bowels, when T read that least of Thy Apostles, and 
 had meditated upon Thy works, and trembled exceedingly.
 
 346 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 BOOK vm 
 
 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 
 Thcc, 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 I 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 w r ho 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 
 J'fe; yea now that my desires no longer inflamed me, as of 
 (Id, 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 
 Inrrrf, those things delighted me no longer. But still I was 
 enthralled with the love of woman ; nor did the Apostle for- 
 
 1 Simplicianus became a successor of the moat blessed Ambrose, Bishop 
 of t!.' Church of Milan.
 
 SAINT AUGUSTINE 34-7 
 
 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 ivho 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-
 
 34-8 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 conic 
 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 co-nfess
 
 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- 
 
 '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 makcst 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, than 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 deliver 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. 123
 
 354 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 now Thine, were building the tower at the necessary cost, the 
 forsaking all that they had, and following Thee. Then 
 Pontitiauus 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, 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 ray 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 
 by 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, O 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 859 
 
 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 
 Avhere 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 
 
 O 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 
 itokr, and my shoulders unto Thy light burthen, Christ 
 Jesus, my Helper and my Redeemer? 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 
 
 served me, that people should repute and dispute upon 
 my purpose, and that by them our good should be evil spoken 
 
 off 
 
 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, 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, 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 1 
 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 a*
 
 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 makest 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? O 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, God 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, O 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 CC9 
 
 BOOK X 
 
 LET me know Thee, 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
 
 870 LIBRARY OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 how know they, when from myself they hear of myself, 
 whether I say true; seeing no man knows what is in man, 
 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, 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 w-ilt 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. T!:o-i w -vt with mo, 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. Is 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. love, whoever burnest and never consumest !
 
 372 
 
 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, 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, 
 resist eth 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 
 suflficeth 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 strengtheneth 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. 7 can do all 
 things (saith he) through Him that strengthened me. 
 Strengthen me, that 7 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 I 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, 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 foresignified ; 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, 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 
 prmid, and givest grace to the humble: yea, Thou thunderest 
 down upon the ambitions of the world, and the faundations 
 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, 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, 
 Lord, lest mine own mouth be to me the sinner's ail 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 covetousness, 
 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 
 
 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 sin 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 
 lie 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 sparcdst not
 
 SAINT AUGUSTINE 387 
 
 Thine only Son, but deliver 'edst 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. 
 
 GRATIAS TIBI, DOMINE 
 
 THE END
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHIES IN THE 
 UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 IN VOLUME 
 
 Abelard II 
 
 Alficri, 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, Sir 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 
 
 Russia VIII 
 
 Cellini Ill 
 
 Charles the Fifth of Ger- 
 many Ill 
 
 Cibber, Colley.. VI 
 
 Comines, Sir Philip do II 
 
 Dante.. II 
 
 IN VOLUME 
 
 Darwin, Charles XIV 
 
 De Quincey, Thomas XII 
 
 Dickens XIV 
 
 Digby, Sir Kenelm IV 
 
 Drake, Sir Francis IV 
 
 Fouch6, Joseph XI 
 
 Fox, George V 
 
 Franklin, Benjamin VI 
 
 Frederick the Great of 
 
 Prussia 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 Phili- 
 
 bert 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 
 
 Holbcrg, Lewis VI 
 
 Hugo, Victor XIII 
 
 Hume, David VII
 
 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 Th6rese of France . . XII 
 
 Marmontcl, Jean Francois. VIII 
 
 Marshall, John X 
 
 Mary Queen of Scots IV 
 
 Metternich, Prince von . . . XI 
 
 Mill, John Stuart XIII 
 
 Milton V 
 
 Mohammed All 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 
 
 Kenan, Ernest XV 
 
 IN VOLUME 
 
 Robinson, Mrs. Mary X 
 
 Roland, Madame X 
 
 Rousseau, Jean Jacques . . . VH 
 
 Ruskin, John XTV 
 
 Saint Simon, Due de VI 
 
 Salimbene II 
 
 Sargon, King of Babylon. . I 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter XI 
 
 Sennacherib, King I 
 
 Sinuhit, Prince of Egypt. . I 
 
 Socrates I 
 
 Sophia, Princess, of Han- 
 over 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 VH 
 
 Wilde, Oscar XV 
 
 Wilhehnine, Margravine of 
 
 Baireuth VII 
 
 Wordsworth, William XI 
 
 Xenophon 'I
 
 
 
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