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and interesting work, honourable position, and delightful social surroundings made his lot outwardly enviable. But he pronounces, and apparently with some truth, that at this period he touched his lowest moral level (Conf. VI. xvii., VII. i., VIII. v.). At any rate the contrast between his actual life and his habitual idealism was never more painfully realized. His ideal was the philosophic life, and but for his matrimonial plans and his still active ambition, he would probably have joined his friends in founding a small philosophic community with a common purse and household (Conf. VI. xiv.; c. Academ. II. ii. 4, de Beat. Vit. i. 4, ne in philosophiae gremium celeriter advolarem, uxoris honorisque illecebra detinebar). But his enthusiasm burned low (c. Acad. II. ii. 5), until it was kindled afresh by his study of the Platonic philosophy. A friend (apparently Theodorus, who became consul in 399—see Retr. I. ii. Displicet autem, etc., and Conf. VII. ix. immanissimo typho turgidum) put into his hands (Conf. VII. ix., de Beat. Vit. i. 4) some translations of the neo-Platonist authors, probably by Victorinus. The effect was rapid and profound. Much Christian truth he found there, but not inward peace: the eternal Word, but not Christ the Word made flesh. But his flagging idealism was braced, he was once for all lifted out of materialism, and his tormenting doubts as to the origin of evil were laid to rest by the conviction that evil has its origin in the will, that evil is but the negation of good, and that good alone has a substantive existence (Conf. VII. vii. xiv.). His first impulse was to give up all earthly ties ("omnes illas ancoras," Vit. Beat. 4), resign his professorship, and live for philosophy alone. But this he delayed to do, until, after his conversion, a serious lung-attack gave him what was now a welcome excuse (Conf. IX. ii., cf. Solil. I. i. 1; c. Acad. I. i. 3; de Beat. Vit. i. 4). Meanwhile he read with care the Epistles of St. Paul, in which he found a provision for the disease of sin, which he had vainly sought in the Platonic books. But his life remained unregenerate, and his distress thickened. He then laid his case before Simplicianus, the spiritual adviser, and eventually the successor, of Ambrose. Simplicianus described to him the conversion of the aged Victorinus, to whose translation of the Platonists he had owed so much (Conf. VIII. ii.). Augustine longed to follow the example of his public profession of faith, but the flesh still held him back, like a man heavy with drowsiness who sinks back to sleep though he knows that the hour for rising has struck. So he went on with his usual life.

§ 6. Conversion (386‒387).—One day a Christian fellow-townsman, Pontitianus, who held an appointment at court, called to visit Alypius. Observing with pleasure a volume of St. Paul's Epistles, he went on to talk to his friends of the wonderful history of the hermit Anthony, whose ascetic life had begun from hearing in church a passage of the gospel (Matt. xix. 21), on which he had promptly acted; he then described the spread of the monastic movement, and informed his astonished hearers that even at Milan there was a monastery in existence. As Pontitianus

told his tale, Augustine was filled with self-reproach. Conscience shamed him that after ten years of study he was still carrying a burden which men wearied by no research had already cast aside. When Pontitianus had gone, he poured out his incoherent feelings to the astonished Alypius, and then, followed by his friend, fled into the garden. "Let it be now—let it be now," he said to himself: but the vanities of his life plucked at his clothes and whispered, "Do you think you can live without us?" Then again the continence of the monks and virgins confronted him with the question, "Can you not do as these have done?" Alypius watched him in silence. At last he broke down and, in a torrent of tears, left his friend alone. He threw himself down under a fig-tree, crying passionately, "Lord, how long?—to-morrow and to-morrow!—why not now?" Suddenly he heard a child's voice from the next house repeating, in a sing-song voice, "Take and read" (tolle, lege). He tried to think whether the words were used in any kind of children's game; but no, it must be a divine command to open the Bible and read the first verse that he should happen upon. He thought of Anthony and the lesson in church. He ran back to Alypius and opened "the Apostle" at Rom. xii. 13, 14, "Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof." "No further would I read, nor was it necessary." The peace of God was in his heart, and the shadows of doubt melted away. He marked the passage and told Alypius, the friends exchanged confidences, and Alypius applied to himself the words, a little further on, "Him that is weak in the faith receive" (Rom. xv. 1). They went in, and filled the heart of Monnica with joy at the news (Conf. VIII. viii.). It was now the beginning of the autumn vacation. Augustine decided to resign his chair before the next term, and meanwhile wrote to Ambrose to announce his desire for baptism. His friend Verecundus, who was himself on the eve of conversion, lent his country house at Cassiciacum, near Milan, to Augustine and his party; there they spent the vacation and the months which were to elapse before baptism (winter 386‒387). At Cassiciacum he spent a restful, happy time with his mother and brother, his son Adeodatus, Alypius, and his two pupils, Licentius and Trygetius, the former a son of his old patron Romanianus. He wrote several short books here, "in a style which, though already enlisted in Thy service, still breathed, in that time of waiting, the pride of the School" (Conf. IX. iv.). These were the three books contra Academicos, two de Ordine, the de Beata Vita, and two books of Soliloquies; to this period also belong letters 1‒4, of which 3 and 4 are the beginning of his correspondence with Nebridius (Conf. IX. iii.). Ambrose had, in answer to his request for advice, recommended him to read Isaiah. But he found the first chapter so hard that he put it aside till he should be more able to enter into its meaning. The Psalms, however, kindled his heart at this time. To him, as to many in most diverse conditions,