No More Learning

Marquis-And you shall lose your name-I promise you.
A SEVERE YOUNG JUDGE
From The Adventuress>
Look at her clear eyes.
Annibal-Yes, yes, yes! [He sits down in a corner. ]
Clorinde [approaching Célie, who has paused in the doorway]-
My child, you would not avoid me to-day if you knew how happy
you make me!
LORINDE [softly] - Here's Célie.
love her, innocent child!
C
Célie-My father has ordered me to come to you.
Clorinde-Ordered you? Did you need an order?
I
Are we
really on such terms? Tell me, do you think I do not love you,
upon me as your enemy? Dear, if you
that you should look


## p. 1005 (#431) ###########################################

ÉMILE AUGIER
1005
could read my heart you would find there the tenderest attach-
ment.
Célie I do not know whether you are sincere, Madame.
hope that you are not, for it distresses one to be loved by those
Clorinde-Whom one does not love? They must have painted
me black indeed, that you are so reluctant to believe in my
friendship.
-
Célie They have told me what I have heard, thanks to
you, Madame, was not fit for my young ears. This interview is
cruel Please let me -
-
-
I
―
Clorinde- No, no!
Stay, Mademoiselle.
painful to us both, nevertheless concerns us both.
Célie I am not your judge, Madame.
Clorinde-Nevertheless you do judge me, and severely! Yes,
For this interview,
my life has been blameworthy; I confess it. But you know noth-
ing of its temptations. How should you know, sweet soul, to
whom life is happy and goodness easy? Child, you have your
family to guard you. You have happiness to keep watch and
ward for you. How should you know what poverty whispers
to young ears on cold evenings! You, who have never been
hungry, how should you understand the price that is asked for a
mouthful of bread?
Célie - I don't know the pleadings of poverty, but one need
not listen to them. There are many poor girls who go hungry
and cold and keep from harm.
Clorinde- Child, their courage is sublime. Honor them if
you will, but pity the cowards.
death!
Célie-Yes, for choosing infamy rather than work, hunger, or
Yes, for losing the respect of all honest souls! Yes, I
can pity them for not being worthier of pity.
Clorinde-So that's your Christian charity! So nothing in the
world-bitter repentance or agonies of suffering, or vows of
sanctity for all time to come-may obliterate the past?
Célie You force me to speak without knowledge.
-
But-
since I must give judgment-who really hates a fault will hate
the fruit of it. If you keep this place, Madame, you will not
expect me to believe in the genuineness of your renunciations.
Clorinde-I do not dishonor it. There is no reason why I
should leave it. I have already proved my sincerity by high-
minded and generous acts. I bear myself as my place demands.
My conscience is at rest.


## p. 1006 (#432) ###########################################

1006
ÉMILE AUGIER
Célie Your good action-for I believe you-is only the
beginning of expiation. Virtue seems to me like a holy tem-
ple. You may leave it by a door with a single step, but to
enter again you must climb up a hundred on your knees, beating
your breast.
Clorinde-How rigid you all are, and how your parents train
their first-born never to open the ranks! Oh, fortunate race!
impenetrable phalanx of respectability, who make it impossible
for the sinner to reform! You keep the way of repentance so
rough that the foot of poor humanity cannot tread it. God will
demand from you the lost souls whom your hardness has driven
back to sin.
Célie - God, do you say? When good people forgive they
betray his justice. For punishment is not retribution only, but
the acknowledgment and recompense of those fighting ones that
brave hunger and cold in a garret, Madame, yet do not sur-
render.
Clorinde-Go, child! I cannot bear more—
Célie - I have said more than I meant to say. Good-by. This
is the first and last time that I shall ever speak of this.
[She goes. ]
A CONTENTED IDLER
From M. Poirier's Son-in-Law
[The party are leaving the dining-room. ]
The house
G
Do you
ASTON -Well, Hector! What do you think of it?
is just as you see it now, every day in the year.
believe there is a happier man in the world than I?
Duke-Faith! I envy you; you reconcile me to marriage.
Antoinette [in a low voice to Verdelet]-Monsieur de Mont-
meyran is a charming young man!
Verdelet [in a low voice]-He pleases me.
Gaston [to Poirier, who comes in last]-Monsieur Poirier, I
must tell you once for all how much I esteem you. Don't think
I'm ungrateful.
Poirier-Oh! Monsieur!
Gaston Why the devil don't you call me Gaston? And you,
too, dear Monsieur Verdelet, I'm very glad to see you.


## p. 1007 (#433) ###########################################

ÉMILE AUGIER
1007
-
Antoinette
Gaston Shake hands then, Uncle.
Verdelet [aside, giving him his hand]-He's not a bad fellow.
Gaston Agree, Hector, that I've been lucky. Monsieur Poi-
rier, I feel guilty. You make my life one long fête and never
give me a chance in return. Try to think of something I can
do for you.
-
He is one of the family, Gaston.
Poirier - Very well, if that's the way you feel, give me a
quarter of an hour. I should like to have a serious talk with
you.
Poirier
some idea.
Duke I'll withdraw.
Poirier - No, stay, Monsieur. We are going to hold a kind
of family council. Neither you nor Verdelet will be in the way.
Gaston - The deuce, my dear father-in-law. A family coun-
cil! You embarrass me!
Poirier-Not at all, dear Gaston. Let us sit down.
[They seat themselves around the fireplace. ]
-
Gaston Begin, Monsieur Poirier.
Poirier - You say you are happy, dear Gaston, and that is my
greatest recompense.
Gaston-I'm willing to double your gratification.
Poirier-But now that three months have been given to the
joys of the honeymoon, I think that there has been romance
enough, and that it's time to think about history.
Certainly, we'll think about
Gaston - You talk like a book.
history if you wish. I'm willing.
Poirier-What do you intend to do?
Gaston-To-day?
―――――――
And to-morrow, and in the future. You must have
Gaston-True, my plans are made. I expect to do to-day
what I did yesterday, and to-morrow what I shall do to-day.
I'm not versatile, in spite of my light air; and if the future is
only like the present I'll be satisfied.
Poirier - But you are too sensible to think that the honey-
moon can last forever.
Gaston Too sensible, and too good an
astronomer. But
you've probably read Heine?
Poirier - You must have read that, Verdelet ?
Verdelet - Yes; I've read him.


## p. 1008 (#434) ###########################################

1008
ÉMILE AUGIER
Poirier - Perhaps he spent his life at playing truant.
Gaston - Well, Heine, when he was asked what became of the
old full moons, said that they were broken up to make the stars.
Poirier I don't understand.
Gaston - When our honeymoon is old, we'll break it up and
there'll be enough to make a whole Milky Way.
Poirier-That is a clever idea, of course.
Gaston Its only merit is simplicity.
Poirier But seriously, don't you think that the idle life you
lead may jeopardize the happiness of a young household?
Gaston - Not at all.
Verdelet - A man of your capacity can't mean to idle all his
life.
Gaston-With resignation.
Antoinette - Don't you think you'll find it dull after a time,
Gaston?
______
Gaston-You calumniate yourself, my dear.
Antoinette- I'm not vain enough to suppose that I can fill
your whole existence, and I admit that I'd like to see you follow
the example of Monsieur de Montmeyran.
Gaston [rising and leaning against the mantelpiece] - Perhaps
you want me to fight?
Antoinette-No, of course not.
Gaston What then?
Poirier - We want you to take a position worthy of your
name.
―――――
Gaston-There are only three positions which my name per-
mits me: soldier, bishop, or husbandman. Choose.
Poirier-We owe everything to France.
France is our mother.
Verdelet -I understand the vexation of a son whose mother
remarries; I understand why he doesn't go to the wedding: but
if he has the right kind of heart he won't turn sulky. If the
second husband makes her happy, he'll soon offer him a friendly
hand.
Poirier The nobility cannot always hold itself aloof, as it
begins to perceive. More than one illustrious name has set the
example: Monsieur de Valcherrière, Monsieur de Chazerolles,
Monsieur de Mont Louis-
-
Gaston - These men have done as they thought best. I don't
judge them, but I cannot imitate them.
Antoinette-Why not, Gaston?


## p. 1009 (#435) ###########################################

EMILE AUGIER
1009
Gaston-Ask Montmeyran.
Verdelet - The Duke's uniform answers for him.
Duke-Excuse me, a soldier has but one opinion-his duty;
but one adversary- the enemy.
Poirier However, Monsieur-
Gaston-Enough, it isn't a matter of politics, Monsieur Poi-
rier. One may discuss opinions, but not sentiments. I am bound
by gratitude. My fidelity is that of a servant and of a friend.
Not another word. [To the Duke. ] I beg your pardon, my dear
fellow. This is the first time we've talked politics here, and I
promise you it shall be the last.
The Duke [in a low voice to Antoinette] — You've been forced
into making a mistake, Madame.
―
Antoinette-I know it, now that it's too late.
Verdelet [softly, to Poirier]-Now you're in a fine fix.
Poirier [in same tone] - He's repulsed the first assault, but I
don't raise the siege.
Gaston I'm not resentful, Monsieur Poirier. Perhaps I spoke
a little too strongly, but this is a tender point with me, and
unintentionally you wounded me. Shake hands.
Poirier-You are very kind.
A Servant-There are some people in the little parlor who
say they have an appointment with Monsieur Poirier.
Poirier - Very well, ask them to wait a moment. [The serv-
ant goes out. ] Your creditors, son-in-law.
Gaston - Yours, my dear father-in-law. I've turned them over
to you.
Duke-As a wedding present.
THE FEELINGS OF AN ARTIST
From M. Poirier's Son-in-Law›
POIR
OIRIER [alone] - How vexatious he is, that son-in-law of mine!
and there's no way to get rid of him. He'll die a noble-
man, for he will do nothing and he is good for nothing.
-There's no end to the money he costs me. -
He is master
of my house. .
I'll put a stop to it. [He rings. Enter a serv-
ant. ] Send up the porter and the cook. We shall see my son-
in-law! I have set up my back. I've unsheathed my velvet
II-64


## p. 1010 (#436) ###########################################

1010
ÉMILE AUGIER
paws. You will make no concessions, eh, my fine gentleman?
Take your comfort! I will not yield either: you may remain
marquis, and I will again become a bourgeois. At least I'll have
the pleasure of living to my fancy.
The Porter-Monsieur has sent for me?
Poirier - Yes, François, Monsieur has sent for you. You can
put the sign on the door at once.
The Porter-The sign?
Poirier "To let immediately, a magnificent apartment on the
first floor, with stables and carriage houses. "
The Porter-The apartment of Monsieur le Marquis?
Poirier - You have said it, François.
The Porter-But Monsieur le Marquis has not given the order.
Poirier - Who is the master here, donkey? Who owns this
mansion?
The Porter-You, Monsieur.
Poirier Then do what I tell you without arguing.
The Porter-Yes, Monsieur. [Enter Vatel. ]
――――
heart.
Poirier-Go, François. [Exit Porter. ] Come in, Monsieur
Vatel: you are getting up a big dinner for to-morrow?
It is
Vatel - Yes, Monsieur, and I venture to say that the menu
would not be disowned by my illustrious ancestor himself.
really a work of art, and Monsieur Poirier will be astonished.
Poirier Have you the menu with you?
Vatel-No, Monsieur, it is being copied; but I know it by
-
Poirier Then recite it to me.
Vatel-Le potage aux ravioles à l'Italienne et le potage à
l'orge à la Marie Stuart.
Poirier - You will replace these unknown concoctions by a
good meat soup, with some vegetables on a plate.
-―
Vatel-What, Monsieur?
Poirier-I mean it. Go on.
Vatel- Relevé. La carpe du Rhin à la Lithuanienne, les
poulardes à la Godard- le filet de boeuf braisé aux raisins à la
Napolitaine, le jambon de Westphalie, rotie madère.
Poirier Here is a simpler and far more sensible fish course:
brill with caper sauce-then Bayonne ham with spinach, and a
savory stew of bird, with well-browned rabbit.
Vatel But, Monsieur Poirier-I will never consent.
Poirier I am master- do you hear? Go on.
――


## p. 1011 (#437) ###########################################

ÉMILE AUGIER
IOII
Vatel-Entrées. Les filets de volaille à la concordat - les
croustades de truffe garniés de foies à la royale, le faison étoffe
à la Montpensier, les perdreaux rouges farcis à la bohemienne.
Poirier - In place of these side dishes we will have nothing
at all, and we will go at once to the roast,- that is the only
essential.
Vatel-That is against the precepts of art.
Poirier - I'll take the blame of that: let us have your roasts.
Vatel-It is not worth while, Monsieur: my ancestor would
have run his sword through his body for a less affront.
my resignation.
I offer
name.
Poirier And I was about to ask for it, my good friend; but
as one has eight days to replace a servant —
But in the mean
Vatel - A servant, Monsieur? I am an artist!
Poirier - I will fill your place by a woman.
time, as you still have eight days in my service, I wish you to
prepare my menu.
Vatel- I will blow my brains out before I dishonor my
-
Poirier [aside]- Another fellow who adores his name! [Alou 1. ]
You may burn your brains, Monsieur Vatel, but don't burn your
sauces. — Well, bon jour! [Exit Vatel. ] And now to write invi-
tations to my old cronies of the Rue des Bourdonnais. Monsieur
le Marquis de Presles, I'll soon take the starch out of you.
M
[He goes out whistling the first couplet of Monsieur and
Madame Denis. ']
A CONTEST OF WILLS
From The Fourchambaults>
ADAME FOURCHAMBAULT
Why do you follow me?
Fourchambault- I'm not following you: I'm accompany-
yacht!
―
ing you.
Madame Fourchambault- I despise you; let me alone. Oh!
my poor mother little thought what a life of privation would be
mine when she gave me to you with a dowry of eight hundred
thousand francs!
Fourchambault-A life of privation-because I refuse you a
:


## p. 1012 (#438) ###########################################

1012
ÉMILE AUGIER
Madame Fourchambault I thought my dowry permitted me
to indulge a few whims, but it seems I was wrong.
Fourchambault-A whim costing eight thousand francs!
. Madame Fourchambault-Would you have to pay for it?
Fourchambault-That's the kind of reasoning that's ruining
me.
Madame Fourchambault — Now he says I'm ruining him! His
whole fortune comes from me.
Fourchambault-Now don't get angry, my dear. I want you
to have everything in reason, but you must understand the sit-
uation.
Madame Fourchambault-The situation?
Fourchambault -I ought to be a rich man; but thanks to the
continual expenses you incur in the name of your dowry, I can
barely rub along from day to day. If there should be a sudden
fall in stocks, I have no reserve with which to meet it.
Madame Fourchambault That can't be true! Tell me at
once that it isn't true, for if it were so you would be without
excuse.
―
Fourchambault-I or you?
Madame Fourchambault-This is too much! Is it my fault
that you don't understand business? If you haven't had the wit
to make the best use of your way of living and your family con-
nections-any one else—
Fourchambault-Quite likely! But I am petty enough to be
a scrupulous man, and to wish to remain one.
Madame Fourchambault-Pooh! That's the excuse of all the
dolts who can't succeed. They set up to be the only honest fel-
lows in business. In my opinion, Monsieur, a timid and mediocre
man should not insist upon remaining at the head of a bank, but
should turn the position over to his son.
Fourchambault-You are still harping on that? But, my
dear, you might as well bury me alive!
cipher in my family.
Already I'm a mere
Madame Fourchambault. You do not choose your time well
to pose as a victim, when like a tyrant you are refusing me a
mere trifle.
-
Fourchambault-I refuse you nothing. I merely explain my
position. Now do as you like. It is useless to expostulate.
Madame Fourchambault - At last! But you have wounded
me to the heart, Adrien, and just when I had a surprise for you-


## p. 1013 (#439) ###########################################

ÉMILE AUGIER
1013
Fourchambault - What is your surprise? [Aside: It makes
me tremble. ]
Madame Fourchambault
―
are going to triumph over the Duhamels.
Fourchambault - How?
Thanks to me, the Fourchambaults
Madame Fourchambault-Madame Duhamel has been deter-
mined this long time to marry her daughter to the son of the
prefect.
Fourchambault- I knew it. What about it?
Madame Fourchambault-While she was making a goose of
herself so publicly, I was quietly negotiating, and Baron Rasti-
boulois is coming to ask our daughter's hand.
Fourchambault-That will never do! I'm planning quite a
different match for her.
Madame Fourchambault - You?
-You? I should like to know-
Fourchambault-He's a fine fellow of our own set, who loves
Blanche, and whom she loves if I'm not mistaken.
man?
Madame Fourchambault-You are entirely mistaken. You
mean Victor Chauvet, Monsieur Bernard's clerk?
Fourchambault- His right arm, rather. His alter ego.
Madame Fourchambault - Blanche did think of him at one
time. But her fancy was just a morning mist, which I easily
dispelled. She has forgotten all about him, and I advise you to
follow her example.
Fourchambault-What fault can you find with this young
Madame Fourchambault — Nothing and everything. Even his
name is absurd. I never would have consented to be called Ma-
dame Chauvet, and Blanche is as proud as I was. But that is
only a detail; the truth is, I won't have her marry a clerk.
Fourchambault - You won't have! You won't have! But
there are two of us.
Madame Fourchambault - Are you going to portion Blanche ?
Fourchambault -I? No.
Madame Fourchambault - Then you see there are not two of
us. As I am going to portion her, it is my privilege to choose
my son-in-law.
Fourchambault - And mine to refuse him. I tell you I won't
have your little baron at any price.
Madame Fourchambault Now it is your turn. What fault
can you find with him, except his title ?
-


## p. 1014 (#440) ###########################################

1014
ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO
Fourchambault-He's fast, a gambler, worn out by dissipa-
tion.
Madame Fourchambault - Blanche likes him just as he is.
Fourchambault - Heavens! He's not even handsome.
Madame Fourchambault - What does that matter? Haven't I
been the happiest of wives?
Fourchambault - What? One word is as good as a hundred.
I won't have him. Blanche need not take Chauvet, but she
shan't marry Rastiboulois either. That's all I have to say.
Madame Fourchambault - But, Monsieur—
Fourchambault - That's all I have to say.
[He goes out. ]
ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO
(354-430)
BY SAMUEL HART
T. AUGUSTINE of Hippo (Aurelius Augustinus) was born at
Tagaste in Numidia, November 13th, 354. The story of his
life has been told by himself in that wonderful book ad-
dressed to God which he called the 'Confessions. ' He gained but
little from his father Patricius; he owed almost everything to his
loving and saintly mother Monica. Though she was a Christian, she
did not venture to bring her son to baptism; and he went away
from home with only the echo of the name of Jesus Christ in his
soul, as it had been spoken by his mother's lips. He fell deeply into
the sins of youth, but found no satisfaction in them, nor was he
satisfied by the studies of literature to which for a while he devoted
himself. The reading of Cicero's 'Hortensius' partly called him
back to himself; but before he was twenty years old he was carried
away into Manichæism, a strange system of belief which united
traces of Christian teaching with Persian doctrines of two antagonis-
tic principles, practically two gods, a good god of the spiritual world
and an evil god of the material world. From this he passed after a
while into less gross forms of philosophical speculation, and presently
began to lecture on rhetoric at Tagaste and at Carthage. When
nearly thirty years of age he went to Rome, only to be disappointed.
in his hopes for glory as a rhetorician; and after two years his
mother joined him at Milan.


## p. 1015 (#441) ###########################################

ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO
1015
The great Ambrose had been called from the magistrate's chair
to be bishop of this important city; and his character and ability.
made a great impression on Augustine. But Augustine was kept
from acknowledging and submitting to the truth, not by the intellect-
ual difficulties which he propounded as an excuse, but by his unwill-
ingness to submit to the moral demands which Christianity made
upon him. At last there came one great struggle, described in a pass-
age from the 'Confessions' which is given below; and Monica's hopes
and prayers were answered in the conversion of her son to the faith
and obedience of Jesus Christ. On Easter Day, 387, in the thirty-
third year of his life, he was baptized, an unsubstantiated tradition
assigning to this occasion the composition and first use of the Te
Deum. His mother died at Ostia as they were setting out for Africa;
and he returned to his native land, with the hope that he might
there live a life of retirement and of simple Christian obedience.
But this might not be: on the occasion of Augustine's visit to Hippo
in 391, the bishop of that city persuaded him to receive ordination to
the priesthood and to remain with him as an adviser; and four years
later he was consecrated as colleague or coadjutor in the episcopate.
Thus he entered on a busy public life of thirty-five years, which
called for the exercise of all his powers as a Christian, a metaphysi-
cian, a man of letters, a theologian, an ecclesiastic, and an adminis-
trator.
Into the details of that life it is impossible to enter here; it must
suffice to indicate some of the ways in which as a writer he gained
and still holds a high place in Western Christendom, having had an
influence which can be paralleled, from among uninspired men, only
by that of Aristotle. He maintained the unity of the Church, and its
true breadth, against the Donatists; he argued, as he so well could
argue, against the irreligion of the Manichæans; when the great Pela-
gian heresy arose, he defended the truth of the doctrine of divine
grace as no one could have done who had not learned by experi-
ence its power in the regeneration and conversion of his own soul;
he brought out from the treasures of Holy Scripture ample lessons
of truth and duty, in simple exposition and exhortation; and in full
treatises he stated and enforced the great doctrines of Christianity.
Augustine was not alone or chiefly the stern theologian whom men
picture to themselves when they are told that he was the Calvin of
those early days, or when they read from his voluminous and often
illogical writings quotations which have a hard sound. If he taught
a stern doctrine of predestinarianism, he taught also the great power
of sacramental grace; if he dwelt at times on the awfulness of the
divine justice, he spoke also from the depths of his experience of the
power of the divine love; and his influence on the ages has been


## p. 1016 (#442) ###########################################

1016
ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO
-
rather that of the 'Confessions' — taking their key-note from the
words of the first chapter, "Thou, O Lord, hast made us for Thy-
self, and our heart is unquiet until it find rest in Thee"-than that
of the writings which have earned for their author the foremost place
among the Doctors of the Western Church. But his greatest work,
without any doubt, is the treatise on the 'City of God. ' The Roman
empire, as Augustine's life passed on, was hastening to its end.
Moral and political declension had doubtless been arrested by the
good influence which had been brought to bear upon it; but it was
impossible to avert its fall. "Men's hearts," as well among the
heathen as among the Christians, were "failing them for fear and for
looking after those things that were coming on the earth. " And
Christianity was called to meet the argument drawn from the fact
that the visible declension seemed to date from the time when the
new religion was introduced into the Roman world, and that the
most rapid decline had been from the time when it had been ac-
cepted as the religion of the State. It fell to the Bishop of Hippo
to write in reply one of the greatest works ever written by a Christ-
ian. Eloquence and learning, argument and irony, appeals to history
and earnest entreaties, are united to move enemies to acknowledge
the truth and to strengthen the faithful in maintaining it. The
writer sets over against each other the city of the world and the city
of God, and in varied ways draws the contrast between them; and
while mourning over the ruin that is coming upon the great city that
had become a world-empire, he tells of the holy beauty and endur-
ing strength of "the city that hath the foundations. "
Apart from the interest attaching to the great subjects handled by
St. Augustine in his many works, and from the literary attractions of
writings which unite high moral earnestness and the use of a culti-
vated rhetorical style, his works formed a model for Latin theolo-
gians as long as that language continued to be habitually used by
Western scholars; and to-day both the spirit and the style of the
great man have a wide influence on the devotional and the contro-
versial style of writers on sacred subjects.
He died at Hippo, August 28th, 430.
Ониловав
The selections are from the Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers,' by
permission of the Christian Literature Company


## p. 1017 (#443) ###########################################

ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO
1017
THE GODLY SORROW THAT WORKETH REPENTANCE
From the Confessions'
SUC
UCH was the story of Pontitianus: but thou, O Lord, while he
was speaking, didst turn me round towards myself, taking
me from behind my back, when I had placed myself,
unwilling to observe myself; and setting me before my face, that
I might see how foul I was, how crooked and defiled, bespotted
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 relation, and thou didst
again set me over against myself, and thrusted 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 healthful
affections I heard of, that they had resigned themselves wholly
to thee to be cured, the more did I abhor myself when compared
with them. For many of my years (some twelve) had now run
out with me since my nineteenth, when, upon the reading of
Cicero's 'Hortensius,' I was stirred to an earnest love of wisdom;
and still I was deferring to reject mere earthly felicity and to
give myself to search out that, whereof not the finding only, but
the very search, was to be preferred to the treasures and king-
doms of the world, though already found, and to the pleasures
of the body, though spread around me at my will. But I,
wretched, most wretched, in the very beginning 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 concupiscence,
which I wished to have satisfied, rather than extinguished. And
I had wandered through crooked ways in a sacrilegious super-
stition, not indeed assured thereof, but as preferring it to the
others which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously.
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. And that I might pour it forth wholly in its
natural expressions, I rose from Alypius: solitude was suggested
to me as fitter for the business of weeping and I retired so far


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1018
ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO
that even his presence could not be a burden to me. Thus was
it then with me, and he perceived something of it; for some-
thing I suppose he 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 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, O Lord,
how long? how long, Lord, wilt thou be angry-forever? Re-
member not our former iniquities," for I felt that I was held by
them. I sent up these sorrowful words: "How long? how long?