The City of God

PREFACE, EXPLAINING HIS DESIGN IN UNDERTAKING THIS WORK.

PREFACE, EXPLAINING HIS PURPOSE IN WRITING THIS WORK.

The glorious city of God is my theme in this work, which you, my dearest son Marcellinus,²⁵ suggested, and which is due to you by my promise. I have undertaken its defence against those who prefer their own gods to the Founder of this city,—a city surpassingly glorious, whether we view it as it still lives by faith in this fleeting course of time, and sojourns as a stranger in the midst of the ungodly, or as it shall dwell in the fixed stability of its eternal seat, which it now with patience waits for, expecting until "righteousness shall return unto judgment,"²⁶ and it obtain, by virtue of its excellence, final victory and perfect peace. A great work this, and an arduous; but God is my helper. For I am aware what ability is requisite to persuade the proud how great is the virtue of humility, which raises us, not by a quite human arrogance, but by a divine grace, above all earthly dignities that totter on this shifting scene. For the King and Founder of this city of which we speak, has in Scripture uttered to His people a dictum of the divine law in these words: "God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble."²⁷ But this, which is God's prerogative, the inflated ambition of a proud spirit also affects, and dearly loves that this be numbered among its attributes, to

The glorious city of God is the subject of this work. You, my dearest son Marcellinus,²⁵ suggested it, and I promised it to you. I have undertaken to defend this city against those who prefer their own gods to its founder. The city is surpassingly glorious, whether we see it living by faith in this passing age, or dwelling forever in its eternal home. For now, it lives as a stranger among the ungodly and patiently waits for that home. It waits until "righteousness shall return unto judgment,"²⁶ and until, by virtue of its excellence, it achieves final victory and perfect peace. This is a great and difficult work, but God is my helper. I know how much skill it takes to persuade the proud of the great virtue of humility. Humility raises us above all earthly honors, which totter in this changing world. It raises us not through human arrogance, but through divine grace. The king and founder of this city has given his people this rule of divine law in Scripture: "God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble."²⁷ But a proud spirit, swollen with ambition, also claims this power that belongs to God alone. It dearly loves to count among its attributes the power to

And therefore, as the plan of this work we have undertaken requires, and as occasion offers, we must speak also of the earthly city, which, though it be mistress of the nations, is itself ruled by its lust of rule.

Therefore, as the plan of this work requires and as opportunities arise, we must also speak of the earthly city. Though it rules the nations, it is itself ruled by its lust for power.

1. Of the adversaries of the name of Christ, whom the barbarians for Christ's sake spared when they stormed the city.

1. Those who opposed the name of Christ, whom the barbarians spared for Christ's sake when they attacked the city.

For to this earthly city belong the enemies against whom I have to defend the city of God. Many of them, indeed, being reclaimed from their ungodly error, have become sufficiently creditable citizens of this city; but many are so inflamed with hatred against it, and are so ungrateful to its Redeemer for His signal benefits, as to forget that they would now be unable to utter a single word to its prejudice, had they not found in its sacred places, as they fled from the enemy's steel, that life in which they now boast themselves. Are not those very Romans, who were spared by the barbarians through their respect for Christ, become enemies to the name of Christ? The reliquaries of the martyrs and the churches of the apostles bear witness to this; for in the sack of the city they were open sanctuary for all who fled to them, whether Christian or Pagan. To their very threshold the bloodthirsty enemy raged; there his murderous fury owned a limit. Thither did such of the enemy as had any pity convey those to whom they had given quarter, lest any less mercifully disposed might fall upon them. And, indeed, when even those murderers who everywhere else showed themselves pitiless came to these spots where that was forbidden which the licence of war permitted in every other place, their furious rage for slaughter was bridled, and their eagerness to take prisoners was quenched. Thus escaped multitudes who now reproach the Christian religion, and impute to Christ the ills that have befallen their city; but the preservation of their own life—a boon which they owe to the respect entertained for Christ by the barbarians—they attribute not to our Christ, but to their own good luck. They ought rather, had they any right perceptions, to attribute the severities and hardships inflicted by their enemies, to that divine providence which is wont to reform the depraved manners of men by chastisement, and which exercises with similar afflictions the righteous and praiseworthy,—either translating them, when they have passed through the trial, to a better world, or detaining them still on earth for ulterior purposes. And they ought to attribute it to the spirit of these Christian times, that, contrary to the custom of war, these bloodthirsty barbarians spared them, and spared them for Christ's sake, whether this mercy was actually shown in promiscuous places, or in those places specially dedicated to Christ's name, and of which the very largest were selected as sanctuaries, that full scope might thus be given to the expansive compassion which desired that a large multitude might find shelter there. Therefore ought they to give God thanks, and with sincere confession flee for refuge to His name, that so they may escape the punishment of eternal fire—they who with lying lips took upon them this name, that they might escape the punishment of present destruction. For of those whom you see insolently and shamelessly insulting the servants of Christ, there are numbers who would not have escaped that destruction and slaughter had they not pretended that they themselves were Christ's servants. Yet now, in ungrateful pride and most impious madness, and at the risk of being punished in everlasting darkness, they perversely oppose that name under which they fraudulently protected themselves for the sake of enjoying the light of this brief life.

The enemies against whom I must defend the city of God belong to this earthly city. Many of them have turned away from their ungodly error and become respectable citizens of the city of God. But many others burn with hatred for it. They are so ungrateful to its Redeemer for his remarkable gifts that they forget how their lives were spared. As they fled from enemy swords, they found refuge in its sacred places. Without that refuge, they could not now say a single word against it, or boast of their lives. Have not those very Romans whom the barbarians spared out of respect for Christ become enemies of his name? The shrines of the martyrs and the churches of the apostles bear witness to this. During the sack of the city, they offered sanctuary to all who fled there, whether Christian or pagan. The bloodthirsty enemy raged right up to their thresholds. There, his murderous fury met its limit. Those among the enemy who felt pity brought people they had spared to these places. They did this so that less merciful attackers would not fall upon them. Even those killers who showed no pity anywhere else came to these places. There, what was allowed everywhere else by the freedom of war was forbidden. Their raging desire to kill was restrained, and their eagerness to take prisoners was extinguished. In this way, crowds escaped who now condemn the Christian religion and blame Christ for their city's troubles. Yet they do not credit our Christ with saving their lives, though the barbarians spared them out of respect for him. Instead, they credit their own good luck. If they understood things rightly, they would see the hardships inflicted by their enemies differently. They would attribute them to divine providence, which often corrects people's corrupt ways through punishment. Providence also tests righteous and praiseworthy people with similar troubles. Once they have passed through the trial, it either takes them to a better world or keeps them on earth for further purposes. They should also credit the spirit of these Christian times for their survival. Contrary to the customs of war, those bloodthirsty barbarians spared them for Christ's sake. This mercy was shown both in ordinary places and in places specially dedicated to Christ's name. The largest of these sacred places were chosen as sanctuaries. This gave full scope to a generous compassion that sought shelter for a great multitude. Therefore, they should thank God and sincerely confess his name and seek refuge in it. Then they may escape the punishment of eternal fire. They falsely claimed that name to escape destruction in this life. Many whom you see arrogantly and shamelessly insulting Christ's servants would not have survived otherwise. They escaped destruction and slaughter by pretending that they too were his servants. Yet now, in ungrateful pride and utterly ungodly madness, they perversely oppose that name. They risk punishment in everlasting darkness by opposing the very name they falsely claimed for protection. They claimed it so that they might enjoy the light of this brief life.

2. That it is quite contrary to the usage of war, that the victors should spare the vanquished for the sake of their gods.

2. It is quite contrary to the customs of war for victors to spare the defeated for the sake of their gods.

There are histories of numberless wars, both before the building of Rome and since its rise and the extension of its dominion: let these be read, and let one instance be cited in which, when a city had been taken by foreigners, the victors spared those who were found to have fled for sanctuary to the temples of their gods;²⁹ or one instance in which a barbarian general gave orders that none should be put to the sword who had been found in this or that temple. Did not Æneas see

There are histories of countless wars, both before Rome was built and after its rise and the expansion of its rule. Let people read them and cite one case in which foreign conquerors captured a city and spared those who had fled to their gods’ temples for safety.²⁹ Or let them cite one case in which a barbarian general ordered his soldiers not to kill anyone found in a particular temple. Did Aeneas not see

Did not Diomede and Ulysses

Didn't Diomedes and Ulysses

Neither is that true which follows, that

What follows is also untrue, that

For after this they conquered and destroyed Troy with fire and sword; after this they beheaded Priam as he fled to the altars. Neither did Troy perish because it lost Minerva. For what had Minerva herself first lost, that she should perish? Her guards perhaps? No doubt; just her guards. For as soon as they were slain, she could be stolen. It was not, in fact, the men who were preserved by the image, but the image by the men. How, then, was she invoked to defend the city and the citizens, she who could not defend her own defenders?

After this, they conquered Troy and destroyed it with fire and sword. After this, they beheaded Priam as he fled to the altars. Troy did not fall because it lost Minerva. What had Minerva herself lost first, that she should be lost? Her guards, perhaps? Of course, only her guards. As soon as they were killed, she could be stolen. In fact, the image did not protect the men. The men protected the image. How, then, could she be called upon to defend the city and its people? She could not even defend her own defenders.

And these be the gods to whose protecting care the Romans were delighted to entrust their city! O too, too piteous mistake! And they are enraged at us when we speak thus about their gods, though, so far from being enraged at their own writers, they part with money to learn what they say; and, indeed, the very teachers of these authors are reckoned worthy of a salary from the public purse, and of other honours. There is Virgil, who is read by boys, in order that this great poet, this most famous and approved of all poets, may impregnate their virgin minds, and may not readily be forgotten by them, according to that saying of Horace,

And these are the gods to whose protection the Romans were delighted to entrust their city! Oh, what a terribly pitiful mistake! They are angry with us when we speak this way about their gods. Yet they are not angry with their own writers. Instead, they pay money to learn what those writers say. In fact, the teachers who teach these authors are considered worthy of public salaries and other honors. Boys read Virgil, that great poet, the most famous and admired of all poets. They read him so that he may fill their untouched minds with his words and not be easily forgotten, as Horace says,

Well, in this Virgil, I say, Juno is introduced as hostile to the Trojans, and stirring up Æolus, the king of the winds, against them in the words,

In Virgil, Juno is hostile to the Trojans. She urges Aeolus, the king of the winds, to attack them with these words,

And ought prudent men to have entrusted the defence of Rome to these conquered gods? But it will be said, this was only the saying of Juno, who, like an angry woman, did not know what she was saying. What, then, says Æneas himself,—Æneas who is so often designated "pious?" Does he not say,

Should wise men have entrusted the defense of Rome to these defeated gods? But someone will say that Juno alone said this. Like an angry woman, she did not know what she was saying. What, then, does Aeneas himself say? He is so often called "pious." Does he not say,

Is it not clear that the gods (whom he does not scruple to call "conquered") were rather entrusted to Æneas than he to them, when it is said to him,

Is it not clear that the gods were entrusted to Aeneas, rather than Aeneas to them? He does not hesitate to call these gods "conquered" when he says to Aeneas,

If, then, Virgil says that the gods were such as these, and were conquered, and that when conquered they could not escape except under the protection of a man, what madness is it to suppose that Rome had been wisely entrusted to these guardians, and could not have been taken unless it had lost them! Indeed, to worship conquered gods as protectors and champions, what is this but to worship, not good divinities, but evil omens?³⁷ Would it not be wiser to believe, not that Rome would never have fallen into so great a calamity had not they first perished, but rather that they would have perished long since had not Rome preserved them as long as she could? For who does not see, when he thinks of it, what a foolish assumption it is that they could not be vanquished under vanquished defenders, and that they only perished because they had lost their guardian gods, when, indeed, the only cause of their perishing was that they chose for their protectors gods condemned to perish? The poets, therefore, when they composed and sang these things about the conquered gods, had no intention to invent falsehoods, but uttered, as honest men, what the truth extorted from them. This, however, will be carefully and copiously discussed in another and more fitting place. Meanwhile I will briefly, and to the best of my ability, explain what I meant to say about these ungrateful men who blasphemously impute to Christ the calamities which they deservedly suffer in consequence of their own wicked ways, while that which is for Christ's sake spared them in spite of their wickedness they do not even take the trouble to notice; and in their mad and blasphemous insolence, they use against His name those very lips wherewith they falsely claimed that same name that their lives might be spared. In the places consecrated to Christ, where for His sake no enemy would injure them, they restrained their tongues that they might be safe and protected; but no sooner do they emerge from these sanctuaries, than they unbridle these tongues to hurl against Him curses full of hate.

Virgil says that these gods were defeated. Once defeated, they could escape only under the protection of a man. How mad, then, to suppose that Rome was wisely entrusted to their care! How mad to believe that Rome could not have been captured unless it had lost them! To worship defeated gods as protectors and champions is to worship not good gods, but evil omens.³⁷ Would it not be wiser to believe the opposite? Rome did not fall into such a great disaster because these gods had first perished. Rather, they would have perished long ago if Rome had not preserved them as long as she could. Anyone who thinks about it can see how foolish the assumption is. People suppose that Rome could not be defeated while defended by defeated gods. They say its people perished only because they had lost their guardian gods. In fact, the only cause of their destruction was that they chose gods doomed to perish as their protectors. When the poets wrote and sang about these defeated gods, they did not intend to invent lies. As honest men, they said what the truth forced them to say. I will discuss this carefully and at length in another, more fitting place. For now, I will briefly explain, as best I can, what I meant about these ungrateful people. They blasphemously blame Christ for the disasters they deserve because of their own wicked ways. Yet they do not even bother to notice what is spared them for Christ's sake, despite their wickedness. In their mad and blasphemous arrogance, they speak against his name with the very lips that falsely claimed it to save their lives. In places consecrated to Christ, where no enemy would harm them for his sake, they held their tongues to remain safe and protected. But as soon as they leave these sanctuaries, they let loose their tongues and hurl hateful curses at him.

Troy itself, the mother of the Roman people, was not able, as I have said, to protect its own citizens in the sacred places of their gods from the fire and sword of the Greeks, though the Greeks worshipped the same gods. Not only so, but

As I have said, Troy itself, the mother of the Roman people, could not protect its citizens in its gods' sacred places. The Greeks attacked them with fire and swords, although they worshipped the same gods. Not only that, but

In other words, the place consecrated to so great a goddess was chosen, not that from it none might be led out a captive, but that in it all the captives might be immured. Compare now this "asylum"—the asylum not of an ordinary god, not of one of the rank and file of gods, but of Jove's own sister and wife, the queen of all the gods—with the churches built in memory of the apostles. Into it were collected the spoils rescued from the blazing temples and snatched from the gods, not that they might be restored to the vanquished, but divided among the victors; while into these was carried back, with the most religious observance and respect, everything which belonged to them, even though found elsewhere. There liberty was lost; here preserved. There bondage was strict; here strictly excluded. Into that temple men were driven to become the chattels of their enemies, now lording it over them; into these churches men were led by their relenting foes, that they might be at liberty. In fine, the gentle³⁹ Greeks appropriated that temple of Juno to the purposes of their own avarice and pride; while these churches of Christ were chosen even by the savage barbarians as the fit scenes for humility and mercy. But perhaps, after all, the Greeks did in that victory of theirs spare the temples of those gods whom they worshipped in common with the Trojans, and did not dare to put to the sword or make captive the wretched and vanquished Trojans who fled thither; and perhaps Virgil, in the manner of poets, has depicted what never really happened? But there is no question that he depicted the usual custom of an enemy when sacking a city.

In other words, the place consecrated to such a great goddess was chosen not to protect anyone from capture, but to imprison all the captives. Now compare this "asylum" with the churches built in memory of the apostles. This was not the asylum of an ordinary god, or of one among the rank and file of gods. It belonged to Jove's own sister and wife, the queen of all the gods. Spoils rescued from burning temples and snatched from the gods were collected there. They were not to be returned to the defeated, but divided among the victors. By contrast, everything belonging to these churches was carried back to them, wherever it was found, with the utmost reverence and respect. There, freedom was lost. Here, it was preserved. There, captivity was strictly enforced. Here, it was strictly forbidden. Men were driven into that temple to become the property of their enemies, who now ruled over them. Men were led into these churches by enemies who had shown mercy, so that they might remain free. In short, the gentle³⁹ Greeks used that temple of Juno to satisfy their own greed and pride. Yet even the savage barbarians chose these churches of Christ as fitting places for humility and mercy. But perhaps the Greeks, in their victory, spared the temples of the gods they worshipped alongside the Trojans. Perhaps they did not dare to kill or capture the wretched, defeated Trojans who fled there. And perhaps Virgil, as poets do, described something that never really happened. But there is no doubt that he described what an enemy usually did when sacking a city.

5. Cæsar's statement regarding the universal custom of an enemy when sacking a city.

5. Caesar's statement about what an enemy always does when sacking a city.

Even Cæsar himself gives us positive testimony regarding this custom; for, in his deliverance in the senate about the conspirators, he says (as Sallust, a historian of distinguished veracity, writes⁴⁰) "that virgins and boys are violated, children torn from the embrace of their parents, matrons subjected to whatever should be the pleasure of the conquerors, temples and houses plundered, slaughter and burning rife; in fine, all things filled with arms, corpses, blood, and wailing." If he had not mentioned temples here, we might suppose that enemies were in the habit of sparing the dwellings of the gods. And the Roman temples were in danger of these disasters, not from foreign foes, but from Catiline and his associates, the most noble senators and citizens of Rome. But these, it may be said, were abandoned men, and the parricides of their fatherland.

Even Caesar himself gives clear testimony about this custom. In his speech to the senate about the conspirators, he described what happens when a city is conquered. Sallust, a historian of outstanding truthfulness, records his words:⁴⁰ "Virgins and boys are raped, children are torn from their parents’ arms, and married women are subjected to whatever the conquerors please. Temples and houses are plundered, and slaughter and burning are widespread. In short, all places are filled with weapons, corpses, blood, and cries of grief." If he had not mentioned temples, we might suppose that enemies usually spared the dwellings of the gods. Yet Roman temples were in danger of these disasters not from foreign enemies, but from Catiline and his associates. They were among the most noble senators and citizens of Rome. But, it may be said, these were wicked men who murdered their own fatherland.

6. That not even the Romans, when they took cities, spared the conquered in their temples.

6. Even the Romans did not spare the conquered in their temples when they captured cities.

Why, then, need our argument take note of the many nations who have waged wars with one another, and have nowhere spared the conquered in the temples of their gods? Let us look at the practice of the Romans themselves: let us, I say, recall and review the Romans, whose chief praise it has been "to spare the vanquished and subdue the proud," and that they preferred "rather to forgive than to revenge an injury;"⁴¹ and among so many and great cities which they have stormed, taken, and overthrown for the extension of their dominion, let us be told what temples they were accustomed to exempt, so that whoever took refuge in them was free. Or have they really done this, and has the fact been suppressed by the historians of these events? Is it to be believed, that men who sought out with the greatest eagerness points they could praise, would omit those which, in their own estimation, are the most signal proofs of piety? Marcus Marcellus, a distinguished Roman, who took Syracuse, a most splendidly adorned city, is reported to have bewailed its coming ruin, and to have shed his own tears over it before he spilt its blood. He took steps also to preserve the chastity even of his enemy. For before he gave orders for the storming of the city, he issued an edict forbidding the violation of any free person. Yet the city was sacked according to the custom of war; nor do we anywhere read, that even by so chaste and gentle a commander orders were given that no one should be injured who had fled to this or that temple. And this certainly would by no means have been omitted, when neither his weeping nor his edict preservative of chastity could be passed in silence. Fabius, the conqueror of the city of Tarentum, is praised for abstaining from making booty of the images. For when his secretary proposed the question to him, what he wished done with the statues of the gods, which had been taken in large numbers, he veiled his moderation under a joke. For he asked of what sort they were; and when they reported to him that there were not only many large images, but some of them armed, "Oh," says he, "let us leave with the Tarentines their angry gods." Seeing, then, that the writers of Roman history could not pass in silence, neither the weeping of the one general nor the laughing of the other, neither the chaste pity of the one nor the facetious moderation of the other, on what occasion would it be omitted, if, for the honour of any of their enemy's gods, they had shown this particular form of leniency, that in any temple slaughter or captivity was prohibited?

Why should our argument consider the many nations that have fought one another? They never spared the conquered in the temples of their gods. Let us look instead at the Romans themselves. Let us recall and examine their conduct. Their greatest praise has been that they “spare the conquered and subdue the proud.” They also preferred “to forgive an injury rather than avenge it.”⁴¹ They stormed, captured, and destroyed many great cities to extend their rule. Can anyone tell us which temples they usually spared, so that everyone who took refuge in them was safe? Or did they actually do this, only for historians to suppress the fact? These writers eagerly sought deeds they could praise. Can we believe they would omit what they themselves considered the clearest signs of piety? Marcus Marcellus was a distinguished Roman who captured Syracuse, a magnificently adorned city. He is said to have mourned its coming destruction. He shed his own tears over it before he shed its blood. He also took steps to protect even his enemies from sexual violation. Before ordering the assault, he issued an edict forbidding the violation of any free person. Yet the city was sacked, as was customary in war. Nowhere do we read that even this chaste and gentle commander ordered his soldiers not to harm people who had fled to a particular temple. Such an order certainly would not have been left out. After all, the historians did not pass over his tears or his edict protecting chastity. Fabius, who conquered the city of Tarentum, is praised for not taking its statues as plunder. His secretary asked what he wanted done with the many statues of gods they had captured. Fabius concealed his restraint with a joke. He asked what the statues were like. He was told that there were many large figures and that some were armed. “Oh,” he said, “let us leave the Tarentines their angry gods.” The writers of Roman history could not pass over one general’s tears or the other’s laughter. Nor could they overlook the first man’s chaste compassion or the second man’s joking restraint. So when would they have omitted this particular act of mercy, if the Romans had shown it to honor any of their enemies’ gods? They would surely have recorded it if the Romans had forbidden killing or taking captives in any temple.

All the spoiling, then, which Rome was exposed to in the recent calamity—all the slaughter, plundering, burning, and misery—was the result of the custom of war. But what was novel, was that savage barbarians showed themselves in so gentle a guise, that the largest churches were chosen and set apart for the purpose of being filled with the people to whom quarter was given, and that in them none were slain, from them none forcibly dragged; that into them many were led by their relenting enemies to be set at liberty, and that from them none were led into slavery by merciless foes. Whoever does not see that this is to be attributed to the name of Christ, and to the Christian temper, is blind; whoever sees this, and gives no praise, is ungrateful; whoever hinders any one from praising it, is mad. Far be it from any prudent man to impute this clemency to the barbarians. Their fierce and bloody minds were awed, and bridled, and marvellously tempered by Him who so long before said by His prophet, "I will visit their transgression with the rod, and their iniquities with stripes; nevertheless my loving-kindness will I not utterly take from them."⁴²

All the destruction Rome suffered in the recent disaster was the result of the customs of war. This includes all the slaughter, plundering, burning, and misery. But something new happened. Savage barbarians showed such gentleness that the largest churches were set aside to shelter those whose lives were spared. No one was killed in them or dragged from them by force. Moved to mercy, the enemies led many people into the churches to set them free. And no one was led from them into slavery by merciless enemies. Anyone who does not see that this was due to the name of Christ and the Christian spirit is blind. Anyone who sees it and gives no praise is ungrateful. Anyone who prevents others from praising it is mad. No sensible person should attribute this mercy to the barbarians themselves. Their fierce and bloody minds were awed, restrained, and wonderfully softened by God. Long before, he had said through his prophet, "I will punish their wrongdoing with the rod and their sins with blows. Nevertheless, I will not completely take my loving-kindness from them."⁴²

8. Of the advantages and disadvantages which often indiscriminately accrue to good and wicked men.

8. On the advantages and disadvantages that often come to good and wicked people alike.

Will some one say, Why, then, was this divine compassion extended even to the ungodly and ungrateful? Why, but because it was the mercy of Him who daily "maketh His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust."⁴³ For though some of these men, taking thought of this, repent of their wickedness and reform, some, as the apostle says, "despising the riches of His goodness and long-suffering, after their hardness and impenitent heart, treasure up unto themselves wrath against the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God, who will render to every man according to his deeds:"⁴⁴ nevertheless does the patience of God still invite the wicked to repentance, even as the scourge of God educates the good to patience. And so, too, does the mercy of God embrace the good that it may cherish them, as the severity of God arrests the wicked to punish them. To the divine providence it has seemed good to prepare in the world to come for the righteous good things, which the unrighteous shall not enjoy; and for the wicked evil things, by which the good shall not be tormented. But as for the good things of this life, and its ills, God has willed that these should be common to both; that we might not too eagerly covet the things which wicked men are seen equally to enjoy, nor shrink with an unseemly fear from the ills which even good men often suffer.

Someone may ask, “Why was this divine compassion shown even to the ungodly and ungrateful?” It was the mercy of God, who daily “makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust.”⁴³ Some consider this mercy, repent of their wickedness, and change their ways. Others, as the apostle says, “despise the riches of his goodness and patience. Because of their stubborn and unrepentant hearts, they store up wrath for themselves. It will come on the day of wrath, when God’s righteous judgment is revealed. He will repay everyone according to their deeds.”⁴⁴ Nevertheless, God’s patience still invites the wicked to repent, just as his discipline teaches the good to be patient. God’s mercy embraces the good and cares for them, while his severity stops the wicked and punishes them. In his providence, God has seen fit to prepare good things for the righteous in the world to come. The unrighteous will not enjoy these things. He has also prepared evil things for the wicked, by which the good will not be tormented. But God has willed that both the good and the wicked share this life’s blessings and troubles. Thus, we should not too eagerly desire blessings that wicked people also enjoy. Nor should we fearfully shrink from troubles that even good people often suffer.

There is, too, a very great difference in the purpose served both by those events which we call adverse and those called prosperous. For the good man is neither uplifted with the good things of time, nor broken by its ills; but the wicked man, because he is corrupted by this world's happiness, feels himself punished by its unhappiness.⁴⁵ Yet often, even in the present distribution of temporal things, does God plainly evince His own interference. For if every sin were now visited with manifest punishment, nothing would seem to be reserved for the final judgment; on the other hand, if no sin received now a plainly divine punishment, it would be concluded that there is no divine providence at all. And so of the good things of this life: if God did not by a very visible liberality confer these on some of those persons who ask for them, we should say that these good things were not at His disposal; and if He gave them to all who sought them, we should suppose that such were the only rewards of His service; and such a service would make us not godly, but greedy rather, and covetous. Wherefore, though good and bad men suffer alike, we must not suppose that there is no difference between the men themselves, because there is no difference in what they both suffer. For even in the likeness of the sufferings, there remains an unlikeness in the sufferers; and though exposed to the same anguish, virtue and vice are not the same thing. For as the same fire causes gold to glow brightly, and chaff to smoke; and under the same flail the straw is beaten small, while the grain is cleansed; and as the lees are not mixed with the oil, though squeezed out of the vat by the same pressure, so the same violence of affliction proves, purges, clarifies the good, but damns, ruins, exterminates the wicked. And thus it is that in the same affliction the wicked detest God and blaspheme, while the good pray and praise. So material a difference does it make, not what ills are suffered, but what kind of man suffers them. For, stirred up with the same movement, mud exhales a horrible stench, and ointment emits a fragrant odour.

There is also a great difference in the purpose served by events we call bad and those we call good. Good people are not carried away by worldly blessings or crushed by worldly troubles. But wicked people are corrupted by this world’s happiness and feel punished by its unhappiness.⁴⁵ Yet God often shows his involvement plainly, even in the way he distributes things in this life. If every sin were visibly punished now, nothing would seem to be left for the final judgment. On the other hand, if no sin received a clearly divine punishment now, people would conclude that divine providence did not exist. The same is true of the good things in this life. God gives them with obvious generosity to some who ask for them. If he did not, we would say that these good things were not his to give. And if he gave them to everyone who asked, we would suppose that they were the only rewards for serving him. Such service would make us greedy and covetous, not godly. Therefore, although good and bad people suffer alike, we must not suppose that they are no different from each other. The fact that they suffer alike does not make them alike. Even when their sufferings are the same, those who suffer remain different. Though they endure the same anguish, virtue and vice are not the same thing. The same fire makes gold glow brightly and chaff give off smoke. The same flail beats straw into small pieces while it cleans the grain. The lees do not mix with the oil, though the same pressure squeezes both from the vat. In the same way, the violence of suffering tests, purifies, and refines good people. But it condemns, ruins, and destroys the wicked. Thus, in the same suffering, the wicked hate God and blaspheme, while the good pray and praise him. It makes a great difference not what troubles people suffer, but what kind of people they are. When stirred in the same way, mud gives off a horrible stench, while ointment releases a sweet fragrance.

9. Of the reasons for administering correction to bad and good together.

9. Why both the bad and the good are corrected together.

What, then, have the Christians suffered in that calamitous period, which would not profit every one who duly and faithfully considered the following circumstances? First of all, they must humbly consider those very sins which have provoked God to fill the world with such terrible disasters; for although they be far from the excesses of wicked, immoral, and ungodly men, yet they do not judge themselves so clean removed from all faults as to be too good to suffer for these even temporal ills. For every man, however laudably he lives, yet yields in some points to the lust of the flesh. Though he do not fall into gross enormity of wickedness, and abandoned viciousness, and abominable profanity, yet he slips into some sins, either rarely or so much the more frequently as the sins seem of less account. But not to mention this, where can we readily find a man who holds in fit and just estimation those persons on account of whose revolting pride, luxury, and avarice, and cursed iniquities and impiety, God now smites the earth as His predictions threatened? Where is the man who lives with them in the style in which it becomes us to live with them? For often we wickedly blind ourselves to the occasions of teaching and admonishing them, sometimes even of reprimanding and chiding them, either because we shrink from the labour or are ashamed to offend them, or because we fear to lose good friendships, lest this should stand in the way of our advancement, or injure us in some worldly matter, which either our covetous disposition desires to obtain, or our weakness shrinks from losing. So that, although the conduct of wicked men is distasteful to the good, and therefore they do not fall with them into that damnation which in the next life awaits such persons, yet, because they spare their damnable sins through fear, therefore, even though their own sins be slight and venial, they are justly scourged with the wicked in this world, though in eternity they quite escape punishment. Justly, when God afflicts them in common with the wicked, do they find this life bitter, through love of whose sweetness they declined to be bitter to these sinners.

What, then, did Christians suffer in that disastrous time that would not benefit anyone who considered these things carefully and faithfully? First, they must humbly consider the sins that provoked God to fill the world with such terrible disasters. They may be far from the excesses of wicked, immoral, and ungodly people. Yet they do not consider themselves so free from faults that they are too good to suffer even earthly troubles for them. Everyone, however well they live, gives in at some point to the desires of the flesh. They may not commit gross acts of wickedness, unrestrained vice, or hateful irreverence. Yet they fall into some sins, either rarely or more often when those sins seem less serious. But even setting this aside, where can we readily find someone who judges such people as they deserve? Their revolting pride, luxury, greed, accursed wrongdoing, and ungodliness have brought God’s blows upon the earth, as he foretold. Where is the person who deals with them as we should? We often wrongly ignore opportunities to teach and advise them, and sometimes even to correct and rebuke them. We may shrink from the effort or be ashamed to offend them. Or we may fear losing valuable friendships that could help us advance or benefit us in worldly matters. In our greed, we may desire these benefits, or in our weakness, we may fear losing them. Good people dislike the conduct of the wicked. They therefore do not share the damnation that awaits such people in the next life. Yet they leave their damnable sins unchallenged out of fear. So, even though their own sins are slight and forgivable, they are justly punished alongside the wicked in this world. In eternity, however, they escape punishment altogether. When God afflicts them along with the wicked, they justly find this life bitter. For love of its sweetness, they refused to speak bitterly to these sinners.

If any one forbears to reprove and find fault with those who are doing wrong, because he seeks a more seasonable opportunity, or because he fears they may be made worse by his rebuke, or that other weak persons may be disheartened from endeavouring to lead a good and pious life, and may be driven from the faith; this man's omission seems to be occasioned not by covetousness, but by a charitable consideration. But what is blameworthy is, that they who themselves revolt from the conduct of the wicked, and live in quite another fashion, yet spare those faults in other men which they ought to reprehend and wean them from; and spare them because they fear to give offence, lest they should injure their interests in those things which good men may innocently and legitimately use,—though they use them more greedily than becomes persons who are strangers in this world, and profess the hope of a heavenly country. For not only the weaker brethren, who enjoy married life, and have children (or desire to have them), and own houses and establishments, whom the apostle addresses in the churches, warning and instructing them how they should live, both the wives with their husbands, and the husbands with their wives, the children with their parents, and parents with their children, and servants with their masters, and masters with their servants,—not only do these weaker brethren gladly obtain and grudgingly lose many earthly and temporal things on account of which they dare not offend men whose polluted and wicked life greatly displeases them; but those also who live at a higher level, who are not entangled in the meshes of married life, but use meagre food and raiment, do often take thought of their own safety and good name, and abstain from finding fault with the wicked, because they fear their wiles and violence. And although they do not fear them to such an extent as to be drawn to the commission of like iniquities, nay, not by any threats or violence soever; yet those very deeds which they refuse to share in the commission of, they often decline to find fault with, when possibly they might by finding fault prevent their commission. They abstain from interference, because they fear that, if it fail of good effect, their own safety or reputation may be damaged or destroyed; not because they see that their preservation and good name are needful, that they may be able to influence those who need their instruction, but rather because they weakly relish the flattery and respect of men, and fear the judgments of the people, and the pain or death of the body; that is to say, their non-intervention is the result of selfishness, and not of love.

If someone refrains from correcting and criticizing wrongdoers, it may be because he is waiting for a better opportunity. He may fear that his rebuke would make them worse. Or he may fear that other weak people would lose heart in trying to live good and godly lives. They might even be driven away from the faith. In such a case, his silence seems to come not from selfish desire, but from loving concern. But others are to blame. They shrink from the conduct of the wicked and live quite differently themselves. Yet they excuse faults in others that they ought to criticize and help them overcome. They do this because they fear giving offense and harming their own interests. These interests involve things that good people may use innocently and lawfully. Yet they pursue them more eagerly than is fitting for those who are strangers in this world and hope for a heavenly home. The apostle addresses the weaker brothers and sisters in the churches. They enjoy married life, have children or want them, and own homes and households. He warns and instructs wives and husbands, children and parents, and servants and masters how to live with one another. These weaker believers are glad to gain many earthly and temporary things and reluctant to lose them. For their sake, they dare not offend people whose corrupt and wicked lives deeply displease them. But the same is often true of those who live at a higher level. They are not caught in the entanglements of married life, and they live on simple food and clothing. Yet they often worry about their own safety and reputation. They refrain from criticizing the wicked because they fear their schemes and violence. They do not fear the wicked so much that they are drawn into committing similar sins. No threat or violence could make them do that. Yet they often refuse to criticize the very deeds they would not commit themselves. Their criticism might perhaps prevent those deeds. They do not intervene because they fear failure could damage or destroy their own safety or reputation. It is not because they see that their safety and good name are needed to influence those who need their instruction. Rather, they are weakly drawn to human flattery and respect. They fear public judgment, bodily pain, and death. Their failure to act comes from selfishness, not love.

Accordingly, this seems to me to be one principal reason why the good are chastised along with the wicked, when God is pleased to visit with temporal punishments the profligate manners of a community. They are punished together, not because they have spent an equally corrupt life, but because the good as well as the wicked, though not equally with them, love this present life; while they ought to hold it cheap, that the wicked, being admonished and reformed by their example, might lay hold of life eternal. And if they will not be the companions of the good in seeking life everlasting, they should be loved as enemies, and be dealt with patiently. For so long as they live, it remains uncertain whether they may not come to a better mind. These selfish persons have more cause to fear than those to whom it was said through the prophet, "He is taken away in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at the watchman's hand."⁴⁶ For watchmen or overseers of the people are appointed in churches, that they may unsparingly rebuke sin. Nor is that man guiltless of the sin we speak of, who, though he be not a watchman, yet sees in the conduct of those with whom the relationships of this life bring him into contact, many things that should be blamed, and yet overlooks them, fearing to give offence, and lose such worldly blessings as may legitimately be desired, but which he too eagerly grasps. Then, lastly, there is another reason why the good are afflicted with temporal calamities—the reason which Job's case exemplifies: that the human spirit may be proved, and that it may be manifested with what fortitude of pious trust, and with how unmercenary a love, it cleaves to God.⁴⁷

This, then, seems to me one main reason why the good are punished along with the wicked. It happens when God chooses to punish a community in this life for its corrupt ways. They are punished together, not because their lives have been equally corrupt. Rather, the good, like the wicked, love this present life, though not as much. They should value it less. Then the wicked might take their example as a warning, reform, and gain eternal life. If the wicked will not join the good in seeking eternal life, they should be loved as enemies and treated patiently. As long as they live, it remains uncertain whether they may change for the better. These selfish people have more reason to fear than those addressed through the prophet: "He is taken away in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at the watchman's hand."⁴⁶ Watchmen, or overseers of the people, are appointed in churches to rebuke sin without holding back. Yet even someone who is not a watchman may be guilty of the sin we are discussing. He may see much to blame in those he meets through the relationships of this life, yet overlook it. He fears offending them and losing worldly blessings. These blessings may rightly be desired, but he clings to them too eagerly. Finally, there is another reason why the good suffer disasters in this life, as the case of Job shows. Their suffering tests the human spirit. It reveals how firmly it clings to God with faithful trust and love that seeks no reward.⁴⁷

10. That the saints lose nothing in losing temporal goods.

10. The saints lose nothing when they lose earthly possessions.

These are the considerations which one must keep in view, that he may answer the question whether any evil happens to the faithful and godly which cannot be turned to profit. Or shall we say that the question is needless, and that the apostle is vapouring when he says, "We know that all things work together for good to them that love God?"⁴⁸

We must keep these considerations in mind when answering a question. Can any evil happen to faithful and godly people that cannot be turned to their benefit? Or is the question needless? Is the apostle talking nonsense when he says, "We know that all things work together for good to those who love God"?⁴⁸

They lost all they had. Their faith? Their godliness? The possessions of the hidden man of the heart, which in the sight of God are of great price?⁴⁹ Did they lose these? For these are the wealth of Christians, to whom the wealthy apostle said, "Godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. And having food and raiment, let us be therewith content. But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil; which, while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows."⁵⁰

They lost everything they had. But did they lose their faith? Their godliness? Did they lose the treasures of their inner selves, which are so precious in God’s sight?⁴⁹ These are the riches of Christians. The wealthy apostle said to them, "Godliness with contentment is great gain. We brought nothing into this world, and we can certainly carry nothing out. If we have food and clothing, let us be content with them. But those who want to be rich fall into temptation and a trap. They fall into many foolish and harmful desires that drown people in ruin and destruction. For the love of money is the root of all evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many sorrows."⁵⁰

They, then, who lost their worldly all in the sack of Rome, if they owned their possessions as they had been taught by the apostle, who himself was poor without, but rich within,—that is to say, if they used the world as not using it,—could say in the words of Job, heavily tried, but not overcome: "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; as it pleased the Lord, so has it come to pass: blessed be the name of the Lord."⁵¹ Like a good servant, Job counted the will of his Lord his great possession, by obedience to which his soul was enriched; nor did it grieve him to lose, while yet living, those goods which he must shortly leave at his death. But as to those feebler spirits who, though they cannot be said to prefer earthly possessions to Christ, do yet cleave to them with a somewhat immoderate attachment, they have discovered by the pain of losing these things how much they were sinning in loving them. For their grief is of their own making; in the words of the apostle quoted above, "they have pierced themselves through with many sorrows." For it was well that they who had so long despised these verbal admonitions should receive the teaching of experience. For when the apostle says, "They that will be rich fall into temptation," and so on, what he blames in riches is not the possession of them, but the desire of them. For elsewhere he says, "Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not high-minded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life."⁵² They who were making such a use of their property have been consoled for light losses by great gains, and have had more pleasure in those possessions which they have securely laid past, by freely giving them away, than grief in those which they entirely lost by an anxious and selfish hoarding of them. For nothing could perish on earth save what they would be ashamed to carry away from earth. Our Lord's injunction runs, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."⁵³ And they who have listened to this injunction have proved in the time of tribulation how well they were advised in not despising this most trustworthy teacher, and most faithful and mighty guardian of their treasure. For if many were glad that their treasure was stored in places which the enemy chanced not to light upon, how much better founded was the joy of those who, by the counsel of their God, had fled with their treasure to a citadel which no enemy can possibly reach! Thus our Paulinus, bishop of Nola,⁵⁴ who voluntarily abandoned vast wealth and became quite poor, though abundantly rich in holiness, when the barbarians sacked Nola, and took him prisoner, used silently to pray, as he afterwards told me, "O Lord, let me not be troubled for gold and silver, for where all my treasure is Thou knowest." For all his treasure was where he had been taught to hide and store it by Him who had also foretold that these calamities would happen in the world. Consequently those persons who obeyed their Lord when He warned them where and how to lay up treasure, did not lose even their earthly possessions in the invasion of the barbarians; while those who are now repenting that they did not obey Him have learnt the right use of earthly goods, if not by the wisdom which would have prevented their loss, at least by the experience which follows it.

Some people lost all their worldly possessions in the sack of Rome. If they had held those possessions as the apostle taught, they could speak as Job did. The apostle himself was outwardly poor but inwardly rich. He taught them to use the world as though they did not use it. Job, though severely tested, was not overcome. He said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will return there. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. What pleased the Lord has come to pass. Blessed be the name of the Lord."⁵¹ Like a good servant, Job counted his Lord's will as his greatest possession. By obeying it, he enriched his soul. He did not grieve over losing during his life the goods he would soon have to leave at death. Others were weaker in spirit. They could not be said to value earthly possessions more than Christ, yet they were too attached to them. The pain of losing these things showed them how much they had sinned by loving them. They brought their grief upon themselves. In the apostle's words, quoted above, "they have pierced themselves through with many sorrows." They had ignored these warnings in words for so long. It was therefore good for them to learn through experience. When the apostle says, "Those who want to be rich fall into temptation," and so on, he is not condemning the possession of riches, but the desire for them. Elsewhere he says, "Tell those who are rich in this world not to be proud or trust in uncertain riches. Let them trust instead in the living God, who richly gives us everything to enjoy. Tell them to do good, to be rich in good works, to give freely and share willingly. In this way, they will store up a good foundation for the future and take hold of eternal life."⁵² Those who used their property in this way found comfort for small losses in great gains. They had safely stored up possessions by giving them away freely. These gave them more pleasure than they felt grief over what they had completely lost through anxious and selfish hoarding. For nothing could be lost on earth except what they would be ashamed to take with them when they left it. Our Lord commands, "Do not store up treasures for yourselves on earth, where moth and rust destroy them and thieves break in and steal. Instead, store up treasures for yourselves in heaven. There, neither moth nor rust destroys them, and thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."⁵³ Those who obeyed this command learned in their time of trouble how wise they had been. They had not ignored this most trustworthy teacher, the most faithful and powerful guardian of their treasure. Many were glad that their treasure was stored where the enemy happened not to find it. How much better founded was the joy of those who followed God's counsel! They had fled with their treasure to a fortress no enemy could possibly reach. Our Paulinus, bishop of Nola,⁵⁴ gave up vast wealth of his own free will. He became quite poor, though abundantly rich in holiness. When the barbarians sacked Nola and took him prisoner, he prayed silently. He later told me that he prayed, "O Lord, let me not be troubled about gold and silver, for you know where all my treasure is." All his treasure was where he had been taught to hide and store it. His teacher was the same Lord who had foretold that these disasters would happen in the world. Those who obeyed the Lord's warning about where and how to store treasure did not lose even their earthly possessions in the barbarian invasion. Others now regret that they did not obey him. They have learned the right use of earthly goods, if not through the wisdom that would have prevented their loss, then at least through the experience that followed it.

But some good and Christian men have been put to the torture, that they might be forced to deliver up their goods to the enemy. They could indeed neither deliver nor lose that good which made themselves good. If, however, they preferred torture to the surrender of the mammon of iniquity, then I say they were not good men. Rather they should have been reminded that, if they suffered so severely for the sake of money, they should endure all torment, if need be, for Christ's sake; that they might be taught to love Him rather who enriches with eternal felicity all who suffer for Him, and not silver and gold, for which it was pitiable to suffer, whether they preserved it by telling a lie, or lost it by telling the truth. For under these tortures no one lost Christ by confessing Him, no one preserved wealth save by denying its existence. So that possibly the torture which taught them that they should set their affections on a possession they could not lose, was more useful than those possessions which, without any useful fruit at all, disquieted and tormented their anxious owners. But then we are reminded that some were tortured who had no wealth to surrender, but who were not believed when they said so. These too, however, had perhaps some craving for wealth, and were not willingly poor with a holy resignation; and to such it had to be made plain, that not the actual possession alone, but also the desire of wealth, deserved such excruciating pains. And even if they were destitute of any hidden stores of gold and silver, because they were living in hopes of a better life,—I know not indeed if any such person was tortured on the supposition that he had wealth; but if so, then certainly in confessing, when put to the question, a holy poverty, he confessed Christ. And though it was scarcely to be expected that the barbarians should believe him, yet no confessor of a holy poverty could be tortured without receiving a heavenly reward.

But some good Christians were tortured to force them to hand over their possessions to the enemy. Yet they could neither surrender nor lose the good that made them good. If they chose torture rather than surrender their worldly wealth, then I say they were not good people. They should instead have been reminded how severely they suffered for money. They should have been told to endure any torment, if necessary, for Christ’s sake. They needed to learn to love him rather than silver and gold. He enriches all who suffer for him with eternal happiness. But it was pitiable to suffer for silver and gold, whether they kept them by lying or lost them by telling the truth. Under torture, no one lost Christ by confessing him. No one kept their wealth except by denying that they had it. So perhaps the torture was more useful than those possessions. It taught them to set their hearts on something they could not lose. Their possessions, by contrast, troubled and tormented their anxious owners without producing any benefit. But we are reminded that some people were tortured who had no wealth to surrender. They were not believed when they said so. Yet perhaps they too had some desire for wealth and had not willingly accepted poverty with holy resignation. Such people needed to see that not only possessing wealth, but also desiring it, deserved such excruciating pain. Some may have had no hidden stores of gold and silver because they lived in hope of a better life. I do not know whether anyone like this was tortured because he was thought to have wealth. But if so, then surely, by confessing his holy poverty under interrogation, he confessed Christ. The barbarians could hardly be expected to believe him. Yet no one who confessed a holy poverty could be tortured without receiving a heavenly reward.

Again, they say that the long famine laid many a Christian low. But this, too, the faithful turned to good uses by a pious endurance of it. For those whom famine killed outright it rescued from the ills of this life, as a kindly disease would have done; and those who were only hunger-bitten were taught to live more sparingly, and inured to longer fasts.

They also say that the long famine killed many Christians. But the faithful made good use of this suffering by enduring it with devotion. For those who died of hunger were freed from the troubles of this life, just as a merciful illness might have freed them. Those who suffered hunger but survived learned to live on less and became accustomed to longer fasts.

11. Of the end of this life, whether it is material that it be long delayed.

11. On the end of this life, and whether it matters if it is delayed for a long time.

But, it is added, many Christians were slaughtered, and were put to death in a hideous variety of cruel ways. Well, if this be hard to bear, it is assuredly the common lot of all who are born into this life. Of this at least I am certain, that no one has ever died who was not destined to die some time. Now the end of life puts the longest life on a par with the shortest. For of two things which have alike ceased to be, the one is not better, the other worse—the one greater, the other less.⁵⁵ And of what consequence is it what kind of death puts an end to life, since he who has died once is not forced to go through the same ordeal a second time? And as in the daily casualties of life every man is, as it were, threatened with numberless deaths, so long as it remains uncertain which of them is his fate, I would ask whether it is not better to suffer one and die, than to live in fear of all? I am not unaware of the poor-spirited fear which prompts us to choose rather to live long in fear of so many deaths, than to die once and so escape them all; but the weak and cowardly shrinking of the flesh is one thing, and the well-considered and reasonable persuasion of the soul quite another. That death is not to be judged an evil which is the end of a good life; for death becomes evil only by the retribution which follows it. They, then, who are destined to die, need not be careful to inquire what death they are to die, but into what place death will usher them. And since Christians are well aware that the death of the godly pauper whose sores the dogs licked was far better than of the wicked rich man who lay in purple and fine linen, what harm could these terrific deaths do to the dead who had lived well?

But, some add, many Christians were slaughtered and killed in a terrible variety of cruel ways. If this is hard to bear, it is surely the common fate of everyone born into this life. Of this at least I am certain: no one has ever died who was not destined to die someday. The end of life puts the longest life on the same footing as the shortest. When two things have both ceased to exist, neither is better or worse, greater or smaller than the other.⁵⁵ And what does it matter what kind of death ends a life? Someone who has died once will not be forced to go through the same ordeal again. In the everyday hazards of life, everyone is threatened, as it were, by countless deaths. As long as we do not know which one awaits us, is it not better to suffer one and die than to live in fear of them all? I know that a fainthearted fear makes us prefer to live long in fear of so many deaths rather than die once and escape them all. But the weak and cowardly recoil of the flesh is one thing. The soul’s thoughtful and reasonable judgment is quite another. A death that ends a good life should not be judged an evil. Death becomes evil only because of the punishment that follows it. Those who are destined to die should not concern themselves with how they will die. They should ask instead where death will take them. Christians know that the death of the godly beggar, whose sores the dogs licked, was far better than that of the wicked rich man, who lay dressed in purple and fine linen. So what harm could these terrible deaths do to those who had lived well?

12. Of the burial of the dead: that the denial of it to Christians does them no injury.⁵⁶

12. On the burial of the dead: denying Christians burial does them no harm.⁵⁶

Further still, we are reminded that in such a carnage as then occurred, the bodies could not even be buried. But godly confidence is not appalled by so ill-omened a circumstance; for the faithful bear in mind that assurance has been given that not a hair of their head shall perish, and that, therefore, though they even be devoured by beasts, their blessed resurrection will not hereby be hindered. The Truth would nowise have said, "Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul,"⁵⁷ if anything whatever that an enemy could do to the body of the slain could be detrimental to the future life. Or will some one perhaps take so absurd a position as to contend that those who kill the body are not to be feared before death, and lest they kill the body, but after death, lest they deprive it of burial? If this be so, then that is false which Christ says, "Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do;"⁵⁸ for it seems they can do great injury to the dead body. Far be it from us to suppose that the Truth can be thus false. They who kill the body are said "to do something," because the death-blow is felt, the body still having sensation; but after that, they have no more that they can do, for in the slain body there is no sensation. And so there are indeed many bodies of Christians lying unburied; but no one has separated them from heaven, nor from that earth which is all filled with the presence of Him who knows whence He will raise again what He created. It is said, indeed, in the Psalm: "The dead bodies of Thy servants have they given to be meat unto the fowls of the heaven, the flesh of Thy saints unto the beasts of the earth. Their blood have they shed like water round about Jerusalem; and there was none to bury them."⁵⁹ But this was said rather to exhibit the cruelty of those who did these things, than the misery of those who suffered them. To the eyes of men this appears a harsh and doleful lot, yet "precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints."⁶⁰ Wherefore all these last offices and ceremonies that concern the dead, the careful funeral arrangements, and the equipment of the tomb, and the pomp of obsequies, are rather the solace of the living than the comfort of the dead. If a costly burial does any good to a wicked man, a squalid burial, or none at all, may harm the godly. His crowd of domestics furnished the purple-clad Dives with a funeral gorgeous in the eye of man; but in the sight of God that was a more sumptuous funeral which the ulcerous pauper received at the hands of the angels, who did not carry him out to a marble tomb, but bore him aloft to Abraham's bosom.

We are also reminded that, in the slaughter that took place, the bodies could not even be buried. But those who trust in God are not shaken by such a troubling circumstance. The faithful remember the assurance that not a hair of their heads will perish. So even if beasts devour them, this will not prevent their blessed resurrection. The Truth would never have said, "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul,"⁵⁷ if anything an enemy could do to a dead body could harm its future life. Or will someone perhaps take the absurd position that we should not fear killers before death, but should fear them afterward, because they might deny the body burial? If so, then Christ's words are false: "Do not be afraid of those who kill the body and afterward can do no more."⁵⁸ For it would seem that they can do great harm to the dead body. Far be it from us to suppose that the Truth could be false in this way. Those who kill the body are said to "do something" because the death blow is felt while the body still has feeling. But afterward they can do no more, because the dead body has no feeling. And so many Christian bodies do lie unburied. But no one has separated them from heaven, or from the earth, which is filled everywhere with the presence of God. He knows where to find what he created when he raises it again. The Psalm does say: "They have given the dead bodies of your servants as food to the birds of the sky, the flesh of your saints to the beasts of the earth. They have poured out their blood like water around Jerusalem, and there was no one to bury them."⁵⁹ But this was said to show the cruelty of those who did these things, rather than the misery of those who suffered them. To human eyes, this appears a harsh and sorrowful fate. Yet "the death of his saints is precious in the sight of the Lord."⁶⁰ Therefore, all the final duties and ceremonies for the dead are more a comfort to the living than to the dead. These include careful funeral arrangements, the furnishing of the tomb, and the splendor of the funeral rites. If a costly burial does any good to a wicked man, then a poor burial, or none at all, may harm the godly. A crowd of servants gave Dives, clothed in purple, a funeral that looked magnificent to human eyes. But in God's sight, the sore-covered beggar received a more splendid funeral from the angels. They did not carry him to a marble tomb, but bore him up to Abraham's bosom.

The men against whom I have undertaken to defend the city of God laugh at all this. But even their own philosophers⁶¹ have despised a careful burial; and often whole armies have fought and fallen for their earthly country without caring to inquire whether they would be left exposed on the field of battle, or become the food of wild beasts. Of this noble disregard of sepulture poetry has well said: "He who has no tomb has the sky for his vault."⁶² How much less ought they to insult over the unburied bodies of Christians, to whom it has been promised that the flesh itself shall be restored, and the body formed anew, all the members of it being gathered not only from the earth, but from the most secret recesses of any other of the elements in which the dead bodies of men have lain hid!

The men against whom I have undertaken to defend the city of God laugh at all this. Yet even their own philosophers⁶¹ have scorned the care taken over burial. Often, whole armies have fought and fallen for their earthly country without worrying about what would happen to their bodies. They did not ask whether they would be left exposed on the battlefield or become food for wild beasts. A poet has spoken well of this noble disregard for burial: "He who has no tomb has the sky for his vault."⁶² How much less, then, should they mock the unburied bodies of Christians! Christians have been promised that their very flesh will be restored and their bodies made whole again. Every part will be gathered not only from the earth, but also from the deepest hidden places of any other element where human bodies have lain concealed.

13. Reasons for burying the bodies of the saints.

13. Reasons for burying the bodies of saints.

Nevertheless the bodies of the dead are not on this account to be despised and left unburied; least of all the bodies of the righteous and faithful, which have been used by the Holy Ghost as His organs and instruments for all good works. For if the dress of a father, or his ring, or anything he wore, be precious to his children, in proportion to the love they bore him, with how much more reason ought we to care for the bodies of those we love, which they wore far more closely and intimately than any clothing! For the body is not an extraneous ornament or aid, but a part of man's very nature. And therefore to the righteous of ancient times the last offices were piously rendered, and sepulchres provided for them, and obsequies celebrated;⁶³ and they themselves, while yet alive, gave commandment to their sons about the burial, and, on occasion, even about the removal of their bodies to some favourite place.⁶⁴ And Tobit, according to the angel's testimony, is commended, and is said to have pleased God by burying the dead.⁶⁵ Our Lord Himself, too, though He was to rise again the third day, applauds, and commends to our applause, the good work of the religious woman who poured precious ointment over His limbs, and did it against His burial.⁶⁶ And the Gospel speaks with commendation of those who were careful to take down His body from the cross, and wrap it lovingly in costly cerements, and see to its burial.⁶⁷ These instances certainly do not prove that corpses have any feeling; but they show that God's providence extends even to the bodies of the dead, and that such pious offices are pleasing to Him, as cherishing faith in the resurrection. And we may also draw from them this wholesome lesson, that if God does not forget even any kind office which loving care pays to the unconscious dead, much more does He reward the charity we exercise towards the living. Other things, indeed, which the holy patriarchs said of the burial and removal of their bodies, they meant to be taken in a prophetic sense; but of these we need not here speak at large, what we have already said being sufficient. But if the want of those things which are necessary for the support of the living, as food and clothing, though painful and trying, does not break down the fortitude and virtuous endurance of good men, nor eradicate piety from their souls, but rather renders it more fruitful, how much less can the absence of the funeral, and of the other customary attentions paid to the dead, render those wretched who are already reposing in the hidden abodes of the blessed! Consequently, though in the sack of Rome and of other towns the dead bodies of the Christians were deprived of these last offices, this is neither the fault of the living, for they could not render them; nor an infliction to the dead, for they cannot feel the loss.

Nevertheless, we should not despise the bodies of the dead or leave them unburied. This is especially true of the bodies of the righteous and faithful. The Holy Spirit used their bodies as his organs and instruments for all good works. A father's clothes, ring, or anything else he wore are precious to his children, according to their love for him. How much more should we care for the bodies of those we love? They wore their bodies far more closely and intimately than any clothing. The body is not an external ornament or aid. It is part of human nature itself. For this reason, people reverently performed the last rites for the righteous in ancient times. They provided tombs and held funeral ceremonies for them.⁶³ While still alive, the righteous gave their children instructions about their burial. Sometimes they even instructed them to move their bodies to a favored place.⁶⁴ According to the angel's testimony, Tobit is praised and said to have pleased God by burying the dead.⁶⁵ Our Lord himself was to rise again on the third day. Yet he praised the devout woman who poured precious ointment over his body to prepare it for burial. He also calls us to praise her good work.⁶⁶ The Gospel also praises those who took care to bring his body down from the cross. They lovingly wrapped it in costly burial cloths and saw to its burial.⁶⁷ These examples certainly do not prove that dead bodies can feel anything. But they show that God's care extends even to the bodies of the dead. They also show that such reverent acts please him because they nurture faith in the resurrection. We can draw another sound lesson from them. God does not forget even a single act of loving care for the unconscious dead. How much more, then, does he reward the charity we show to the living? The holy patriarchs also said other things about the burial and removal of their bodies. They intended these words to be understood as prophecies. But we need not discuss them at length here. What we have already said is enough. People may lack necessities such as food and clothing. Though painful and difficult, such hardship does not break the courage and virtuous endurance of good people. Nor does it uproot their devotion from their souls. Instead, it makes that devotion more fruitful. How much less can the lack of a funeral and other customary care for the dead make them wretched? They are already resting in the hidden places of the blessed. During the sack of Rome and other towns, the bodies of Christians were denied these last rites. This was not the fault of the living, since they could not perform them. Nor was it a harm to the dead, since they cannot feel the loss.

14. Of the captivity of the saints, and that divine consolation never failed them therein.

14. How God’s comfort never failed the saints during their captivity.

But, say they, many Christians were even led away captive. This indeed were a most pitiable fate, if they could be led away to any place where they could not find their God. But for this calamity also sacred Scripture affords great consolation. The three youths⁶⁸ were captives; Daniel was a captive; so were other prophets: and God, the comforter, did not fail them. And in like manner He has not failed His own people in the power of a nation which, though barbarous, is yet human,—He who did not abandon the prophet⁶⁹ in the belly of a monster. These things, indeed, are turned to ridicule rather than credited by those with whom we are debating; though they believe what they read in their own books, that Arion of Methymna, the famous lyrist,⁷⁰ when he was thrown overboard, was received on a dolphin's back and carried to land. But that story of ours about the prophet Jonah is far more incredible,—more incredible because more marvellous, and more marvellous because a greater exhibition of power.

But, they say, many Christians were even taken captive. This would indeed be a most pitiable fate if they could be taken somewhere they could not find their God. But sacred Scripture offers great comfort for this disaster too. The three young men⁶⁸ were captives. Daniel was a captive, as were other prophets. And God, the comforter, did not fail them. In the same way, he has not failed his own people under the power of a nation that, though barbarous, is still human. He did not abandon the prophet⁶⁹ in the belly of a monster. Those we are debating ridicule these things rather than believe them. Yet they believe what they read in their own books. They believe that Arion of Methymna, the famous lyre player,⁷⁰ was thrown overboard, and a dolphin carried him to land on its back. But our story about the prophet Jonah is far more incredible. It is more incredible because it is more marvelous, and more marvelous because it displays greater power.

But among their own famous men they have a very noble example of the voluntary endurance of captivity in obedience to a religious scruple. Marcus Attilius Regulus, a Roman general, was a prisoner in the hands of the Carthaginians. But they, being more anxious to exchange their prisoners with the Romans than to keep them, sent Regulus as a special envoy with their own ambassadors to negotiate this exchange, but bound him first with an oath, that if he failed to accomplish their wish, he would return to Carthage. He went, and persuaded the senate to the opposite course, because he believed it was not for the advantage of the Roman republic to make an exchange of prisoners. After he had thus exerted his influence, the Romans did not compel him to return to the enemy; but what he had sworn he voluntarily performed. But the Carthaginians put him to death with refined, elaborate, and horrible tortures. They shut him up in a narrow box, in which he was compelled to stand, and in which finely sharpened nails were fixed all round about him, so that he could not lean upon any part of it without intense pain; and so they killed him by depriving him of sleep.⁷¹ With justice, indeed, do they applaud the virtue which rose superior to so frightful a fate. However, the gods he swore by were those who are now supposed to avenge the prohibition of their worship, by inflicting these present calamities on the human race. But if these gods, who were worshipped specially in this behalf, that they might confer happiness in this life, either willed or permitted these punishments to be inflicted on one who kept his oath to them, what more cruel punishment could they in their anger have inflicted on a perjured person? But why may I not draw from my reasoning a double inference? Regulus certainly had such reverence for the gods, that for his oath's sake he would neither remain in his own land, nor go elsewhere, but without hesitation returned to his bitterest enemies. If he thought that this course would be advantageous with respect to this present life, he was certainly much deceived, for it brought his life to a frightful termination. By his own example, in fact, he taught that the gods do not secure the temporal happiness of their worshippers; since he himself, who was devoted to their worship, was both conquered in battle and taken prisoner, and then, because he refused to act in violation of the oath he had sworn by them, was tortured and put to death by a new, and hitherto unheard of, and all too horrible kind of punishment. And on the supposition that the worshippers of the gods are rewarded by felicity in the life to come, why, then, do they calumniate the influence of Christianity? why do they assert that this disaster has overtaken the city because it has ceased to worship its gods, since, worship them as assiduously as it may, it may yet be as unfortunate as Regulus was? Or will some one carry so wonderful a blindness to the extent of wildly attempting, in the face of the evident truth, to contend that though one man might be unfortunate, though a worshipper of the gods, yet a whole city could not be so? That is to say, the power of their gods is better adapted to preserve multitudes than individuals,—as if a multitude were not composed of individuals.

Among their own famous men, they have a noble example of someone who willingly endured captivity to honor a religious obligation. Marcus Attilius Regulus, a Roman general, was a prisoner of the Carthaginians. They were more eager to exchange prisoners with the Romans than to keep them. So they sent Regulus as a special envoy with their own ambassadors to negotiate an exchange. First, however, they made him swear that he would return to Carthage if he failed to secure the exchange. He went to Rome and persuaded the senate to do the opposite. He believed that exchanging prisoners would not benefit the Roman republic. After he had persuaded the senate, the Romans did not force him to return to the enemy. But he willingly kept his oath. The Carthaginians then put him to death with calculated, elaborate, and horrible tortures. They shut him in a narrow box where he was forced to stand. Sharp nails were fixed all around him, so he could not lean against any part without intense pain. In this way, they killed him by depriving him of sleep.⁷¹ They are right to praise the virtue that rose above such a dreadful fate. Yet the gods he swore by are the very gods now said to be punishing humanity with these present disasters. They are supposedly taking revenge because their worship has been forbidden. These gods were worshipped especially to bring happiness in this life. But they either willed or allowed these punishments to fall on a man who kept his oath to them. What crueler punishment could they, in their anger, have inflicted on someone who broke an oath? But why should I not draw two conclusions from this argument? Regulus certainly had such reverence for the gods that he would not break his oath. He would not stay in his own country or go elsewhere. Instead, he returned without hesitation to his bitterest enemies. If he thought this would benefit him in his present life, he was certainly badly mistaken. It brought his life to a terrible end. His example showed that the gods do not secure their worshippers’ happiness in this life. He was devoted to their worship, yet he was defeated in battle and taken prisoner. Then, because he refused to break an oath sworn by them, he was tortured and killed. His punishment was new, unheard of until then, and all too horrible. Suppose, then, that the gods’ worshippers are rewarded with happiness in the life to come. Why, in that case, do they slander Christianity’s influence? Why do they claim that disaster has struck the city because it stopped worshipping its gods? However faithfully it worships them, it may still be as unfortunate as Regulus was. Or could someone be so blind as to argue wildly against the obvious truth? Would they claim that one worshipper of the gods might be unfortunate, but a whole city could not be? That would mean their gods are better able to protect crowds than individuals. It is as if a crowd were not made up of individuals.

But if they say that M. Regulus, even while a prisoner and enduring these bodily torments, might yet enjoy the blessedness of a virtuous soul,⁷² then let them recognise that true virtue by which a city also may be blessed. For the blessedness of a community and of an individual flow from the same source; for a community is nothing else than a harmonious collection of individuals. So that I am not concerned meantime to discuss what kind of virtue Regulus possessed: enough, that by his very noble example they are forced to own that the gods are to be worshipped not for the sake of bodily comforts or external advantages; for he preferred to lose all such things rather than offend the gods by whom he had sworn. But what can we make of men who glory in having such a citizen, but dread having a city like him? If they do not dread this, then let them acknowledge that some such calamity as befell Regulus may also befall a community, though they be worshipping their gods as diligently as he; and let them no longer throw the blame of their misfortunes on Christianity. But as our present concern is with those Christians who were taken prisoners, let those who take occasion from this calamity to revile our most wholesome religion in a fashion not less imprudent than impudent, consider this and hold their peace; for if it was no reproach to their gods that a most punctilious worshipper of theirs should, for the sake of keeping his oath to them, be deprived of his native land without hope of finding another, and fall into the hands of his enemies, and be put to death by a long-drawn and exquisite torture, much less ought the Christian name to be charged with the captivity of those who believe in its power, since they, in confident expectation of a heavenly country, know that they are pilgrims even in their own homes.

But suppose they say that M. Regulus could still enjoy the happiness of a virtuous soul, even as a prisoner suffering bodily torture.⁷² Then let them recognize the true virtue that can also make a city happy. A community’s happiness and an individual’s happiness come from the same source. A community is nothing more than a harmonious group of individuals. For now, I need not discuss what kind of virtue Regulus possessed. His very noble example is enough to force them to admit that the gods should not be worshipped for bodily comforts or external advantages. He preferred to lose all such things rather than offend the gods by whom he had sworn. But what are we to make of people who take pride in such a citizen, yet fear having a city like him? If they do not fear this, let them acknowledge that a community may suffer a calamity like that of Regulus. It may happen even if they worship their gods as diligently as he did. Let them no longer blame Christianity for their misfortunes. But our present concern is with Christians who were taken prisoner. Some use this calamity as an occasion to attack our most wholesome religion, with as much foolishness as shamelessness. Let them consider this and hold their peace. One of the gods’ most scrupulous worshippers kept his oath to them. For this, he lost his homeland without hope of finding another. He fell into enemy hands and was put to death by prolonged and extreme torture. If this brought no disgrace on their gods, there is still less reason to blame the Christian name for the captivity of those who believe in its power. They confidently expect a heavenly homeland and know that they are pilgrims even in their own homes.

But they fancy they bring a conclusive charge against Christianity, when they aggravate the horror of captivity by adding that not only wives and unmarried maidens, but even consecrated virgins, were violated. But truly, with respect to this, it is not Christian faith, nor piety, nor even the virtue of chastity, which is hemmed into any difficulty: the only difficulty is so to treat the subject as to satisfy at once modesty and reason. And in discussing it we shall not be so careful to reply to our accusers as to comfort our friends. Let this, therefore, in the first place, be laid down as an unassailable position, that the virtue which makes the life good has its throne in the soul, and thence rules the members of the body, which becomes holy in virtue of the holiness of the will; and that while the will remains firm and unshaken, nothing that another person does with the body, or upon the body, is any fault of the person who suffers it, so long as he cannot escape it without sin. But as not only pain may be inflicted, but lust gratified on the body of another, whenever anything of this latter kind takes place, shame invades even a thoroughly pure spirit from which modesty has not departed,—shame, lest that act which could not be suffered without some sensual pleasure, should be believed to have been committed also with some assent of the will.

They think they have a decisive charge against Christianity. They add to the horror of captivity by pointing out that wives, unmarried women, and even consecrated virgins were raped. But this puts neither Christian faith, nor piety, nor even the virtue of chastity in doubt. The only difficulty is discussing the subject in a way that satisfies both modesty and reason. In doing so, we will be less concerned with answering our accusers than with comforting our friends. First, let us establish a truth that cannot be challenged. The virtue that makes a life good is rooted in the soul. From there it governs the body, which becomes holy through the holiness of the will. While the will remains firm and unshaken, nothing another person does with or to the body is the victim’s fault. This holds as long as the victim cannot escape it without sinning. But a person’s body may be used not only to inflict pain, but also to satisfy another’s lust. When the latter happens, even a thoroughly pure spirit that remains modest feels shame. It fears that an act suffered with some physical pleasure will be thought to have had the will’s consent as well.

17. Of suicide committed through fear of punishment or dishonour.

17. On suicide committed out of fear of punishment or disgrace.

And consequently, even if some of these virgins killed themselves to avoid such disgrace, who that has any human feeling would refuse to forgive them? And as for those who would not put an end to their lives, lest they might seem to escape the crime of another by a sin of their own, he who lays this to their charge as a great wickedness is himself not guiltless of the fault of folly. For if it is not lawful to take the law into our own hands, and slay even a guilty person, whose death no public sentence has warranted, then certainly he who kills himself is a homicide, and so much the guiltier of his own death, as he was more innocent of that offence for which he doomed himself to die. Do we justly execrate the deed of Judas, and does truth itself pronounce that by hanging himself he rather aggravated than expiated the guilt of that most iniquitous betrayal, since, by despairing of God's mercy in his sorrow that wrought death, he left to himself no place for a healing penitence? How much more ought he to abstain from laying violent hands on himself who has done nothing worthy of such a punishment! For Judas, when he killed himself, killed a wicked man; but he passed from this life chargeable not only with the death of Christ, but with his own: for though he killed himself on account of his crime, his killing himself was another crime. Why, then, should a man who has done no ill do ill to himself, and by killing himself kill the innocent to escape another's guilty act, and perpetrate upon himself a sin of his own, that the sin of another may not be perpetrated on him?

So even if some of these virgins killed themselves to avoid such disgrace, who with any human feeling would refuse to forgive them? Others refused to end their lives, so they would not seem to escape another person’s crime by committing a sin themselves. Anyone who accuses them of great wickedness for this is himself guilty of folly. We may not take the law into our own hands and kill even a guilty person without a public sentence authorizing death. So a person who kills himself is certainly a murderer. The more innocent he was of the offense for which he condemned himself to die, the more guilty he is of his own death. We rightly condemn Judas’s deed. Truth itself declares that by hanging himself, he made his guilt for that utterly wicked betrayal worse rather than making amends for it. In his sorrow, which led to death, he despaired of God’s mercy and left himself no room for repentance that could heal him. How much more, then, should a person refrain from killing himself when he has done nothing deserving such punishment? When Judas killed himself, he killed a wicked man. But he left this life guilty not only of Christ’s death but also of his own. Although he killed himself because of his crime, killing himself was another crime. Why, then, should someone who has done no wrong harm himself? Why should he kill an innocent person to escape another’s guilty act? Why should he commit a sin against himself to prevent another person from sinning against him?

18. Of the violence which may be done to the body by another's lust, while the mind remains inviolate.

18. On the violence another person’s lust may inflict on the body, while the mind remains unharmed.

But is there a fear that even another's lust may pollute the violated? It will not pollute, if it be another's: if it pollute, it is not another's, but is shared also by the polluted. But since purity is a virtue of the soul, and has for its companion virtue the fortitude which will rather endure all ills than consent to evil; and since no one, however magnanimous and pure, has always the disposal of his own body, but can control only the consent and refusal of his will, what sane man can suppose that, if his body be seized and forcibly made use of to satisfy the lust of another, he thereby loses his purity? For if purity can be thus destroyed, then assuredly purity is no virtue of the soul; nor can it be numbered among those good things by which the life is made good, but among the good things of the body, in the same category as strength, beauty, sound and unbroken health, and, in short, all such good things as may be diminished without at all diminishing the goodness and rectitude of our life. But if purity be nothing better than these, why should the body be perilled that it may be preserved? If, on the other hand, it belongs to the soul, then not even when the body is violated is it lost. Nay more, the virtue of holy continence, when it resists the uncleanness of carnal lust, sanctifies even the body, and therefore when this continence remains unsubdued, even the sanctity of the body is preserved, because the will to use it holily remains, and, so far as lies in the body itself, the power also.

But should we fear that another person’s lust can defile someone who has been violated? It cannot defile them if the lust belongs to another person. If it does defile them, the lust is not another person’s alone. The defiled person shares in it too. Purity is a virtue of the soul. Its companion is courage, which would rather endure all suffering than consent to evil. No one, however noble and pure, always has control over their own body. They can control only what their will accepts or refuses. So what sane person could believe that someone loses purity when another person forcibly uses their body to satisfy lust? If purity could be destroyed in this way, it would surely not be a virtue of the soul. Nor could it be counted among the good things that make life good. Instead, it would be a good thing of the body. It would belong in the same category as strength, beauty, and sound, unbroken health. In short, it would be like all those good things that can diminish without diminishing our life’s goodness and integrity. But if purity is no better than these things, why risk the body to preserve it? If, on the other hand, purity belongs to the soul, it is not lost even when the body is violated. More than that, the virtue of holy self-restraint resists the uncleanness of physical lust. In doing so, it makes even the body holy. So when this self-restraint remains unconquered, the holiness of the body is preserved too. The will to use the body in a holy way remains. And, as far as the body itself is concerned, the ability to do so remains too.

For the sanctity of the body does not consist in the integrity of its members, nor in their exemption from all touch; for they are exposed to various accidents which do violence to and wound them, and the surgeons who administer relief often perform operations that sicken the spectator. A midwife, suppose, has (whether maliciously or accidentally, or through unskilfulness) destroyed the virginity of some girl, while endeavouring to ascertain it: I suppose no one is so foolish as to believe that, by this destruction of the integrity of one organ, the virgin has lost anything even of her bodily sanctity. And thus, so long as the soul keeps this firmness of purpose which sanctifies even the body, the violence done by another's lust makes no impression on this bodily sanctity, which is preserved intact by one's own persistent continence. Suppose a virgin violates the oath she has sworn to God, and goes to meet her seducer with the intention of yielding to him, shall we say that as she goes she is possessed even of bodily sanctity, when already she has lost and destroyed that sanctity of soul which sanctifies the body? Far be it from us to so misapply words. Let us rather draw this conclusion, that while the sanctity of the soul remains even when the body is violated, the sanctity of the body is not lost; and that, in like manner, the sanctity of the body is lost when the sanctity of the soul is violated, though the body itself remain intact. And therefore a woman who has been violated by the sin of another, and without any consent of her own, has no cause to put herself to death; much less has she cause to commit suicide in order to avoid such violation, for in that case she commits certain homicide to prevent a crime which is uncertain as yet, and not her own.

The sanctity of the body does not depend on its parts remaining intact or untouched. The body is exposed to various accidents that injure and wound it. Surgeons who provide relief often perform operations that make those watching feel sick. Suppose a midwife examines a girl to determine whether she is a virgin. In doing so, she damages the physical sign of her virginity. She may do this maliciously, accidentally, or through lack of skill. Surely no one is foolish enough to believe that this damage has diminished the girl's bodily sanctity. So long as the soul keeps the firm purpose that sanctifies the body, another person's lustful violence cannot diminish that sanctity. The person's own continuing self-restraint preserves it intact. Now suppose a virgin breaks the vow she has made to God. She goes to meet her seducer, intending to yield to him. Should we say that she still has bodily sanctity as she goes? She has already lost and destroyed the sanctity of soul that sanctifies the body. We must not misuse words in that way. Instead, let us draw this conclusion. If the sanctity of the soul remains when the body is violated, the sanctity of the body is not lost. Likewise, when the sanctity of the soul is violated, the sanctity of the body is lost, even if the body remains intact. Therefore, a woman who has been violated by another person's sin, without any consent of her own, has no reason to kill herself. Still less does she have reason to kill herself to avoid such a violation. In that case, she commits a certain act of killing to prevent a crime that is still uncertain and would not be her own.

19. Of Lucretia, who put an end to her life because of the outrage done her.

19. About Lucretia, who took her own life because of the assault against her.

This, then, is our position, and it seems sufficiently lucid. We maintain that when a woman is violated while her soul admits no consent to the iniquity, but remains inviolably chaste, the sin is not hers, but his who violates her. But do they against whom we have to defend not only the souls, but the sacred bodies too of these outraged Christian captives,—do they, perhaps, dare to dispute our position? But all know how loudly they extol the purity of Lucretia, that noble matron of ancient Rome. When King Tarquin's son had violated her body, she made known the wickedness of this young profligate to her husband Collatinus, and to Brutus her kinsman, men of high rank and full of courage, and bound them by an oath to avenge it. Then, heart-sick, and unable to bear the shame, she put an end to her life. What shall we call her? An adulteress, or chaste? There is no question which she was. Not more happily than truly did a declaimer say of this sad occurrence: "Here was a marvel: there were two, and only one committed adultery." Most forcibly and truly spoken. For this declaimer, seeing in the union of the two bodies the foul lust of the one, and the chaste will of the other, and giving heed not to the contact of the bodily members, but to the wide diversity of their souls, says: "There were two, but the adultery was committed only by one."

This, then, is our position, and it seems clear enough. When a woman is violated without consenting to the wrong, her soul remains completely chaste. The sin is not hers, but belongs to the man who violates her. We must defend both the souls and the sacred bodies of these violated Christian captives. Do our opponents perhaps dare to dispute our position? Yet everyone knows how loudly they praise the purity of Lucretia, that noble woman of ancient Rome. After King Tarquin's son violated her body, she told her husband Collatinus and her kinsman Brutus about his wicked act. Both men were of high rank and great courage. She made them swear to avenge it. Then, sick at heart and unable to bear the shame, she took her own life. What should we call her? An adulteress, or chaste? There is no question which she was. A speaker once described this sad event as aptly as he did truthfully: "Here was a marvel: there were two, and only one committed adultery." Those words are both powerful and true. In the joining of their bodies, he saw the foul lust of one and the chaste will of the other. He looked beyond their physical contact to the great difference between their souls. So he said: "There were two, but the adultery was committed only by one."

But how is it, that she who was no partner to the crime bears the heavier punishment of the two? For the adulterer was only banished along with his father; she suffered the extreme penalty. If that was not impurity by which she was unwillingly ravished, then this is not justice by which she, being chaste, is punished. To you I appeal, ye laws and judges of Rome. Even after the perpetration of great enormities, you do not suffer the criminal to be slain untried. If, then, one were to bring to your bar this case, and were to prove to you that a woman not only untried, but chaste and innocent, had been killed, would you not visit the murderer with punishment proportionably severe? This crime was committed by Lucretia; that Lucretia so celebrated and lauded slew the innocent, chaste, outraged Lucretia. Pronounce sentence. But if you cannot, because there does not compear any one whom you can punish, why do you extol with such unmeasured laudation her who slew an innocent and chaste woman? Assuredly you will find it impossible to defend her before the judges of the realms below, if they be such as your poets are fond of representing them; for she is among those

But why does she, who took no part in the crime, suffer the heavier punishment? The adulterer was only banished with his father. She suffered the ultimate penalty. If she was not made impure by being raped against her will, then it is not just to punish her, since she was chaste. I appeal to you, laws and judges of Rome. Even after terrible crimes, you do not allow the criminal to be killed without a trial. Suppose someone brought this case before your court. Suppose they proved that a woman had been killed without a trial, though she was chaste and innocent. Would you not punish the murderer with matching severity? Lucretia committed this crime. That much-celebrated and praised Lucretia killed the innocent, chaste, violated Lucretia. Pass judgment. But perhaps you cannot, because there is no one before you to punish. Why, then, do you praise so extravagantly the woman who killed an innocent and chaste woman? Surely you will find it impossible to defend her before the judges of the underworld, if they are as your poets like to portray them. For she is among those

And if she with the others wishes to return,

And if she wants to return with the others,

Or perhaps she is not there, because she slew herself conscious of guilt, not of innocence? She herself alone knows her reason; but what if she was betrayed by the pleasure of the act, and gave some consent to Sextus, though so violently abusing her, and then was so affected with remorse, that she thought death alone could expiate her sin? Even though this were the case, she ought still to have held her hand from suicide, if she could with her false gods have accomplished a fruitful repentance. However, if such were the state of the case, and if it were false that there were two, but one only committed adultery; if the truth were that both were involved in it, one by open assault, the other by secret consent, then she did not kill an innocent woman; and therefore her erudite defenders may maintain that she is not among that class of the dwellers below "who guiltless sent themselves to doom." But this case of Lucretia is in such a dilemma, that if you extenuate the homicide, you confirm the adultery: if you acquit her of adultery, you make the charge of homicide heavier; and there is no way out of the dilemma, when one asks, If she was adulterous, why praise her? if chaste, why slay her?

Or perhaps she is not there because she killed herself knowing she was guilty, not innocent? Only she knows her reason. But what if she was overcome by pleasure and gave some consent to Sextus, despite his violent assault? What if she then felt such remorse that she thought only death could atone for her sin? Even if that were true, she still should not have killed herself, if she could have repented fruitfully with her false gods. But suppose that was what happened. Suppose it was false that two people were involved, but only one committed adultery. Suppose instead that both were involved, one through open assault, the other through secret consent. Then she did not kill an innocent woman. Her learned defenders may therefore claim that she is not among those dwelling below “who guiltless sent themselves to doom.” But Lucretia’s case presents a dilemma. If you lessen the charge of murder, you confirm the adultery. If you clear her of adultery, you make the charge of murder heavier. There is no way out of this dilemma when one asks: If she was unfaithful, why praise her? If she was chaste, why kill her?

Nevertheless, for our purpose of refuting those who are unable to comprehend what true sanctity is, and who therefore insult over our outraged Christian women, it is enough that in the instance of this noble Roman matron it was said in her praise, "There were two, but the adultery was the crime of only one." For Lucretia was confidently believed to be superior to the contamination of any consenting thought to the adultery. And accordingly, since she killed herself for being subjected to an outrage in which she had no guilty part, it is obvious that this act of hers was prompted not by the love of purity, but by the overwhelming burden of her shame. She was ashamed that so foul a crime had been perpetrated upon her, though without her abetting; and this matron, with the Roman love of glory in her veins, was seized with a proud dread that, if she continued to live, it would be supposed she willingly did not resent the wrong that had been done her. She could not exhibit to men her conscience, but she judged that her self-inflicted punishment would testify her state of mind; and she burned with shame at the thought that her patient endurance of the foul affront that another had done her, should be construed into complicity with him. Not such was the decision of the Christian women who suffered as she did, and yet survive. They declined to avenge upon themselves the guilt of others, and so add crimes of their own to those crimes in which they had no share. For this they would have done had their shame driven them to homicide, as the lust of their enemies had driven them to adultery. Within their own souls, in the witness of their own conscience, they enjoy the glory of chastity. In the sight of God, too, they are esteemed pure, and this contents them; they ask no more: it suffices them to have opportunity of doing good, and they decline to evade the distress of human suspicion, lest they thereby deviate from the divine law.

Still, our purpose is to answer those who cannot understand true holiness and therefore mock Christian women who have been raped. For this, it is enough to recall the praise given to that noble Roman woman: "There were two, but the adultery was the crime of only one." People firmly believed that Lucretia had not consented to the adultery, even in thought. Since she killed herself after suffering a violation in which she bore no guilt, her motive is clear. It was not love of purity, but the crushing weight of shame. She was ashamed that such a foul crime had been committed against her, although she had not helped bring it about. Like other Romans, she loved glory. She proudly feared that, if she lived, people would think she had willingly accepted the wrong done to her. She could not show others her conscience. But she believed that punishing herself would reveal what she felt. She burned with shame at the thought that enduring another person's foul assault might be mistaken for taking part in it. The Christian women who suffered as Lucretia did, yet still live, made a different choice. They refused to punish themselves for the guilt of others. They would not add crimes of their own to crimes in which they had no share. That is what they would have done if shame had driven them to kill themselves, as their enemies' lust had driven them to adultery. In their own souls, with their consciences as witnesses, they enjoy the glory of chastity. God also regards them as pure, and that is enough for them. They ask for nothing more. It is enough to have the chance to do good. They refuse to escape the pain of human suspicion if doing so would lead them away from God's law.

20. That Christians have no authority for committing suicide in any circumstances whatever.

20. Christians have no authority to take their own lives under any circumstances.

It is not without significance, that in no passage of the holy canonical books there can be found either divine precept or permission to take away our own life, whether for the sake of entering on the enjoyment of immortality, or of shunning, or ridding ourselves of anything whatever. Nay, the law, rightly interpreted, even prohibits suicide, where it says, "Thou shalt not kill." This is proved specially by the omission of the words "thy neighbour," which are inserted when false witness is forbidden: "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour." Nor yet should any one on this account suppose he has not broken this commandment if he has borne false witness only against himself. For the love of our neighbour is regulated by the love of ourselves, as it is written, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." If, then, he who makes false statements about himself is not less guilty of bearing false witness than if he had made them to the injury of his neighbour; although in the commandment prohibiting false witness only his neighbour is mentioned, and persons taking no pains to understand it might suppose that a man was allowed to be a false witness to his own hurt; how much greater reason have we to understand that a man may not kill himself, since in the commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," there is no limitation added nor any exception made in favour of any one, and least of all in favour of him on whom the command is laid! And so some attempt to extend this command even to beasts and cattle, as if it forbade us to take life from any creature. But if so, why not extend it also to the plants, and all that is rooted in and nourished by the earth? For though this class of creatures have no sensation, yet they also are said to live, and consequently they can die; and therefore, if violence be done them, can be killed. So, too, the apostle, when speaking of the seeds of such things as these, says, "That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die;" and in the Psalm it is said, "He killed their vines with hail." Must we therefore reckon it a breaking of this commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," to pull a flower? Are we thus insanely to countenance the foolish error of the Manichæans? Putting aside, then, these ravings, if, when we say, Thou shalt not kill, we do not understand this of the plants, since they have no sensation, nor of the irrational animals that fly, swim, walk, or creep, since they are dissociated from us by their want of reason, and are therefore by the just appointment of the Creator subjected to us to kill or keep alive for our own uses; if so, then it remains that we understand that commandment simply of man. The commandment is, "Thou shalt not kill man;" therefore neither another nor yourself, for he who kills himself still kills nothing else than man.

It is significant that nowhere in the holy canonical books does God command or permit us to take our own lives. This holds whether we seek to enjoy immortality or to avoid or escape anything at all. Indeed, rightly understood, the law forbids suicide when it says, “You shall not kill.” This is clear especially because it does not add the words “your neighbor.” Those words appear in the commandment against false witness: “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.” Still, no one should suppose that bearing false witness only against himself leaves him innocent of breaking this commandment. Our love for our neighbor is measured by our love for ourselves, as Scripture says, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” A person who makes false statements about himself is just as guilty of bearing false witness as one who harms his neighbor by doing so. This is true even though the commandment mentions only the neighbor. Someone who makes no effort to understand it might suppose that a person may bear false witness to his own harm. How much more reason, then, do we have to understand that no one may kill himself? The commandment “You shall not kill” adds no limitation and makes no exception for anyone, least of all for the person receiving the command! Some try to extend this commandment even to animals and livestock, as though it forbade us to kill any creature. But if so, why not extend it to plants and everything rooted in and nourished by the earth? These creatures have no sensation, yet they too are said to live and therefore can die. So, if violence is done to them, they can be killed. Thus the apostle says of the seeds of such things, “What you sow does not come to life unless it dies.” And the Psalm says, “He killed their vines with hail.” Must we therefore consider it a breach of “You shall not kill” to pick a flower? Are we to be so mad as to support the foolish error of the Manichaeans? Let us put aside these ravings. We do not understand “You shall not kill” to apply to plants, since they have no sensation. Nor do we apply it to irrational animals that fly, swim, walk, or crawl. Their lack of reason sets them apart from us. The Creator has therefore justly placed them under our authority, to kill or keep alive for our own uses. It follows that we must understand the commandment to apply simply to human beings. The commandment is, “You shall not kill a human being.” It therefore forbids killing either another person or yourself, because whoever kills himself still kills a human being.

21. Of the cases in which we may put men to death without incurring the guilt of murder.

21. When we may kill people without being guilty of murder.

However, there are some exceptions made by the divine authority to its own law, that men may not be put to death. These exceptions are of two kinds, being justified either by a general law, or by a special commission granted for a time to some individual. And in this latter case, he to whom authority is delegated, and who is but the sword in the hand of him who uses it, is not himself responsible for the death he deals. And, accordingly, they who have waged war in obedience to the divine command, or in conformity with His laws have represented in their persons the public justice or the wisdom of government, and in this capacity have put to death wicked men; such persons have by no means violated the commandment, "Thou shalt not kill." Abraham indeed was not merely deemed guiltless of cruelty, but was even applauded for his piety, because he was ready to slay his son in obedience to God, not to his own passion. And it is reasonably enough made a question, whether we are to esteem it to have been in compliance with a command of God that Jephthah killed his daughter, because she met him when he had vowed that he would sacrifice to God whatever first met him as he returned victorious from battle. Samson, too, who drew down the house on himself and his foes together, is justified only on this ground, that the Spirit who wrought wonders by him had given him secret instructions to do this. With the exception, then, of these two classes of cases, which are justified either by a just law that applies generally, or by a special intimation from God Himself, the fountain of all justice, whoever kills a man, either himself or another, is implicated in the guilt of murder.

However, divine authority makes some exceptions to its own law against putting people to death. These exceptions are of two kinds. They are justified either by a general law or by a special commission granted to an individual for a time. In the latter case, the person given authority is only a sword in the hand of the one who uses it. He is not himself responsible for the death he inflicts. Accordingly, some have waged war in obedience to God's command. Others have carried out public justice or the wise decisions of government in accordance with his laws. Those who have put wicked people to death in these roles have by no means violated the commandment, "Thou shalt not kill." Abraham was not merely considered innocent of cruelty. He was even praised for his devotion because he was ready to kill his son in obedience to God, not from his own passion. It is reasonable to ask whether Jephthah killed his daughter in obedience to a command from God. She met him after he had vowed to sacrifice to God whatever first met him on his victorious return from battle. Samson brought the house down on himself and his enemies together. He is justified only because the Spirit who worked wonders through him had secretly instructed him to do this. Apart from these two classes of cases, whoever kills a person, whether himself or another, is guilty of murder. These cases are justified either by a just law that applies generally or by a special instruction from God himself, the source of all justice.

22. That suicide can never be prompted by magnanimity.

22. Suicide can never be motivated by greatness of spirit.

But they who have laid violent hands on themselves are perhaps to be admired for their greatness of soul, though they cannot be applauded for the soundness of their judgment. However, if you look at the matter more closely, you will scarcely call it greatness of soul, which prompts a man to kill himself rather than bear up against some hardships of fortune, or sins in which he is not implicated. Is it not rather proof of a feeble mind, to be unable to bear either the pains of bodily servitude or the foolish opinion of the vulgar? And is not that to be pronounced the greater mind, which rather faces than flees the ills of life, and which, in comparison of the light and purity of conscience, holds in small esteem the judgment of men, and specially of the vulgar, which is frequently involved in a mist of error? And, therefore, if suicide is to be esteemed a magnanimous act, none can take higher rank for magnanimity than that Cleombrotus, who (as the story goes), when he had read Plato's book in which he treats of the immortality of the soul, threw himself from a wall, and so passed from this life to that which he believed to be better. For he was not hard pressed by calamity, nor by any accusation, false or true, which he could not very well have lived down: there was, in short, no motive but only magnanimity urging him to seek death, and break away from the sweet detention of this life. And yet that this was a magnanimous rather than a justifiable action, Plato himself, whom he had read, would have told him; for he would certainly have been forward to commit, or at least to recommend suicide, had not the same bright intellect which saw that the soul was immortal, discerned also that to seek immortality by suicide was to be prohibited rather than encouraged.

Those who have killed themselves may perhaps be admired for their greatness of spirit. But they cannot be praised for their sound judgment. On closer examination, it is hard to call it greatness of spirit. Why should someone kill himself rather than endure hardship or wrongdoing in which he had no part? Is it not a sign of a weak mind to be unable to endure bodily enslavement or ordinary people’s foolish opinions? Is not the greater mind the one that faces life’s troubles rather than fleeing them? Such a mind values the judgment of others little, especially that of ordinary people, who are often clouded by error. It values a clear and pure conscience far more. If suicide is considered a noble act, no one can rank higher in nobility than Cleombrotus. As the story goes, he read Plato’s book about the immortality of the soul. Then he threw himself from a wall, passing from this life to one he believed was better. He was not driven by disaster or by any accusation, true or false, that he could not have lived down. In short, only nobility of spirit prompted him to seek death and break free from this life’s sweet hold. Yet Plato himself, whose work Cleombrotus had read, would have told him that the act was noble rather than justifiable. Plato would certainly have been ready to kill himself, or at least recommend suicide, if he had not thought otherwise. The same brilliant mind that saw the soul was immortal also saw that seeking immortality through suicide should be forbidden rather than encouraged.

Again, it is said many have killed themselves to prevent an enemy doing so. But we are not inquiring whether it has been done, but whether it ought to have been done. Sound judgment is to be preferred even to examples, and indeed examples harmonize with the voice of reason; but not all examples, but those only which are distinguished by their piety, and are proportionately worthy of imitation. For suicide we cannot cite the example of patriarchs, prophets, or apostles; though our Lord Jesus Christ, when He admonished them to flee from city to city if they were persecuted, might very well have taken that occasion to advise them to lay violent hands on themselves, and so escape their persecutors. But seeing He did not do this, nor proposed this mode of departing this life, though He were addressing His own friends for whom He had promised to prepare everlasting mansions, it is obvious that such examples as are produced from the "nations that forget God," give no warrant of imitation to the worshippers of the one true God.

Again, it is said that many people have killed themselves to prevent an enemy from killing them. But we are not asking whether this has happened. We are asking whether it should have happened. Sound judgment is more important than examples. Indeed, examples agree with reason, but not all examples. Only those marked by devotion to God agree with reason and are correspondingly worthy of imitation. We cannot cite the example of any patriarch, prophet, or apostle in support of suicide. Our Lord Jesus Christ told his followers to flee from city to city if they were persecuted. He could easily have used that occasion to advise them to kill themselves and escape their persecutors. But he did not do this or suggest this way of leaving life. He was speaking to his own friends, for whom he had promised to prepare eternal homes. Clearly, then, examples drawn from the "nations that forget God" give worshippers of the one true God no reason to imitate them.

23. What we are to think of the example of Cato, who slew himself because unable to endure Cæsar's victory.

23. What we should think of Cato's example. He killed himself because he could not bear Caesar's victory.

Besides Lucretia, of whom enough has already been said, our advocates of suicide have some difficulty in finding any other prescriptive example, unless it be that of Cato, who killed himself at Utica. His example is appealed to, not because he was the only man who did so, but because he was so esteemed as a learned and excellent man, that it could plausibly be maintained that what he did was and is a good thing to do. But of this action of his, what can I say but that his own friends, enlightened men as he, prudently dissuaded him, and therefore judged his act to be that of a feeble rather than a strong spirit, and dictated not by honourable feeling forestalling shame, but by weakness shrinking from hardships? Indeed, Cato condemns himself by the advice he gave to his dearly loved son. For if it was a disgrace to live under Cæsar's rule, why did the father urge the son to this disgrace, by encouraging him to trust absolutely to Cæsar's generosity? Why did he not persuade him to die along with himself? If Torquatus was applauded for putting his son to death, when contrary to orders he had engaged, and engaged successfully, with the enemy, why did conquered Cato spare his conquered son, though he did not spare himself? Was it more disgraceful to be a victor contrary to orders, than to submit to a victor contrary to the received ideas of honour? Cato, then, cannot have deemed it to be shameful to live under Cæsar's rule, for had he done so, the father's sword would have delivered his son from this disgrace. The truth is, that his son, whom he both hoped and desired would be spared by Cæsar, was not more loved by him than Cæsar was envied the glory of pardoning him (as indeed Cæsar himself is reported to have said⁷⁴); or if envy is too strong a word, let us say he was ashamed that this glory should be his.

Apart from Lucretia, about whom enough has already been said, those who defend suicide struggle to find another authoritative example. The only one they might offer is Cato, who killed himself at Utica. They appeal to his example not because he was the only man to do this. They appeal to it because he was so highly regarded as a learned and excellent man. It could therefore plausibly be argued that what he did was, and still is, a good thing to do. But what can I say about his action? His own friends, who were as enlightened as he was, wisely urged him not to do it. They judged his act to be the work of a weak spirit rather than a strong one. They believed it came not from an honorable desire to avoid disgrace, but from weakness in the face of hardship. Indeed, Cato condemns himself by the advice he gave his dearly loved son. If living under Caesar’s rule was disgraceful, why did Cato urge his son to accept that disgrace? He encouraged him to trust completely in Caesar’s generosity. Why did he not persuade his son to die with him? Torquatus was praised for putting his son to death. His son had fought the enemy against orders, even though he had won. Why, then, did the defeated Cato spare his defeated son, though he did not spare himself? Was winning against orders more disgraceful than submitting to a victor against accepted ideas of honor? Cato, then, cannot have thought it shameful to live under Caesar’s rule. If he had, the father’s sword would have saved his son from that disgrace. The truth is that Cato loved his son, whom he hoped and wanted Caesar to spare. Yet he was just as unwilling to let Caesar have the glory of pardoning him. Caesar himself is reported to have said as much.⁷⁴ Or, if envy is too strong a word, let us say that Cato was ashamed to let Caesar have this glory.

24. That in that virtue in which Regulus excels Cato, Christians are pre-eminently distinguished.

24. Christians stand out above all in the virtue in which Regulus surpasses Cato.

Our opponents are offended at our preferring to Cato the saintly Job, who endured dreadful evils in his body rather than deliver himself from all torment by self-inflicted death; or other saints, of whom it is recorded in our authoritative and trustworthy books that they bore captivity and the oppression of their enemies rather than commit suicide. But their own books authorize us to prefer to Marcus Cato, Marcus Regulus. For Cato had never conquered Cæsar; and when conquered by him, disdained to submit himself to him, and that he might escape this submission put himself to death. Regulus, on the contrary, had formerly conquered the Carthaginians, and in command of the army of Rome had won for the Roman republic a victory which no citizen could bewail, and which the enemy himself was constrained to admire; yet afterwards, when he in his turn was defeated by them, he preferred to be their captive rather than to put himself beyond their reach by suicide. Patient under the domination of the Carthaginians, and constant in his love of the Romans, he neither deprived the one of his conquered body, nor the other of his unconquered spirit. Neither was it love of life that prevented him from killing himself. This was plainly enough indicated by his unhesitatingly returning, on account of his promise and oath, to the same enemies whom he had more grievously provoked by his words in the senate than even by his arms in battle. Having such a contempt of life, and preferring to end it by whatever torments excited enemies might contrive, rather than terminate it by his own hand, he could not more distinctly have declared how great a crime he judged suicide to be. Among all their famous and remarkable citizens, the Romans have no better man to boast of than this, who was neither corrupted by prosperity, for he remained a very poor man after winning such victories; nor broken by adversity, for he returned intrepidly to the most miserable end. But if the bravest and most renowned heroes, who had but an earthly country to defend, and who, though they had but false gods, yet rendered them a true worship, and carefully kept their oath to them; if these men, who by the custom and right of war put conquered enemies to the sword, yet shrank from putting an end to their own lives even when conquered by their enemies; if, though they had no fear at all of death, they would yet rather suffer slavery than commit suicide, how much rather must Christians, the worshippers of the true God, the aspirants to a heavenly citizenship, shrink from this act, if in God's providence they have been for a season delivered into the hands of their enemies to prove or to correct them! And, certainly, Christians subjected to this humiliating condition will not be deserted by the Most High, who for their sakes humbled Himself. Neither should they forget that they are bound by no laws of war, nor military orders, to put even a conquered enemy to the sword; and if a man may not put to death the enemy who has sinned, or may yet sin against him, who is so infatuated as to maintain that he may kill himself because an enemy has sinned, or is going to sin, against him?

Our opponents object when we prefer the holy Job to Cato. Job endured terrible suffering in his body rather than end all his torment by killing himself. They also object when we prefer other saints to Cato. Our authoritative and trustworthy books say that these saints endured captivity and oppression by their enemies rather than commit suicide. But the Romans’ own books give us reason to prefer Marcus Regulus to Marcus Cato. Cato had never defeated Caesar. When Caesar defeated him, Cato refused to submit and killed himself to avoid doing so. Regulus, by contrast, had once defeated the Carthaginians. As commander of the Roman army, he had won a victory for the Roman republic that no citizen could mourn. Even the enemy was compelled to admire it. Yet later, when the Carthaginians defeated him, he chose captivity rather than escape their reach by suicide. He patiently endured Carthaginian rule and remained steadfast in his love for the Romans. He did not deprive the Carthaginians of his conquered body or the Romans of his unconquered spirit. It was not love of life that kept Regulus from killing himself. He made this clear when he returned without hesitation to those same enemies, keeping his promise and his oath. His words in the senate had provoked them even more deeply than his weapons had in battle. He cared so little for life that he chose to end it through whatever torments his enraged enemies might devise. He preferred that to ending it by his own hand. He could not have shown more clearly how great a crime he considered suicide. Among all their famous and remarkable citizens, the Romans can boast of no better man. Prosperity did not corrupt him. He remained very poor after winning such victories. Nor did hardship break him. He returned without fear to a most miserable death. These brave and renowned heroes had only an earthly country to defend. Though their gods were false, they worshipped them sincerely and carefully kept their oaths to them. By the customs and laws of war, they killed conquered enemies. Yet even when their enemies conquered them, they shrank from ending their own lives. Though they did not fear death at all, they would rather suffer slavery than commit suicide. How much more, then, must Christians shrink from this act? They worship the true God and seek citizenship in heaven. In his providence, God may hand them over to their enemies for a time to test or correct them. Even in this humiliating condition, the Most High will not abandon them. For their sake, he humbled himself. Christians must also remember that no laws of war or military orders require them to kill even a conquered enemy. A person may not kill an enemy who has sinned, or may yet sin, against him. Who, then, is so deluded as to claim that he may kill himself because an enemy has sinned, or is going to sin, against him?

25. That we should not endeavour by sin to obviate sin.

25. We should not try to prevent sin by committing sin.

But, we are told, there is ground to fear that, when the body is subjected to the enemy's lust, the insidious pleasure of sense may entice the soul to consent to the sin, and steps must be taken to prevent so disastrous a result. And is not suicide the proper mode of preventing not only the enemy's sin, but the sin of the Christian so allured? Now, in the first place, the soul which is led by God and His wisdom, rather than by bodily concupiscence, will certainly never consent to the desire aroused in its own flesh by another's lust. And, at all events, if it be true, as the truth plainly declares, that suicide is a detestable and damnable wickedness, who is such a fool as to say, Let us sin now, that we may obviate a possible future sin; let us now commit murder, lest we perhaps afterwards should commit adultery? If we are so controlled by iniquity that innocence is out of the question, and we can at best but make a choice of sins, is not a future and uncertain adultery preferable to a present and certain murder? Is it not better to commit a wickedness which penitence may heal, than a crime which leaves no place for healing contrition? I say this for the sake of those men or women who fear they may be enticed into consenting to their violator's lust, and think they should lay violent hands on themselves, and so prevent, not another's sin, but their own. But far be it from the mind of a Christian confiding in God, and resting in the hope of His aid; far be it, I say, from such a mind to yield a shameful consent to pleasures of the flesh, howsoever presented. And if that lustful disobedience, which still dwells in our mortal members, follows its own law irrespective of our will, surely its motions in the body of one who rebels against them are as blameless as its motions in the body of one who sleeps.

But, we are told, there is reason to fear when an enemy violates someone’s body. The deceptive pleasure of the senses may tempt the soul to consent to the sin. Steps must be taken to prevent such a disastrous outcome. Is suicide not the right way to prevent both the enemy’s sin and the sin of the Christian so tempted? First, a soul guided by God and his wisdom, rather than by bodily desire, will certainly never consent to the desire awakened in its flesh by another’s lust. In any case, the truth plainly declares that suicide is a detestable and damnable evil. Who, then, is foolish enough to say, “Let us sin now to prevent a possible sin later”? Who would say, “Let us commit murder now, so that we may not perhaps commit adultery afterward”? If evil controls us so completely that innocence is impossible and we can only choose between sins, is future, uncertain adultery not better than present, certain murder? Is it not better to commit a wrong that repentance can heal than a crime that leaves no opportunity for healing remorse? I say this for the sake of those men or women who fear they may be tempted to consent to their violator’s lust. They think they should kill themselves to prevent not another’s sin, but their own. But a Christian who trusts in God and hopes for his help should never consent shamefully to pleasures of the flesh, however they are presented. Lustful rebellion still lives in our mortal bodies. It follows its own law regardless of our will. If it stirs in the body of someone who resists it, surely those stirrings are as blameless as they are in the body of someone asleep.

26. That in certain peculiar cases the examples of the saints are not to be followed.

26. In certain special cases, the examples of the saints should not be followed.

But, they say, in the time of persecution some holy women escaped those who menaced them with outrage, by casting themselves into rivers which they knew would drown them; and having died in this manner, they are venerated in the church catholic as martyrs. Of such persons I do not presume to speak rashly. I cannot tell whether there may not have been vouchsafed to the church some divine authority, proved by trustworthy evidences, for so honouring their memory: it may be that it is so. It may be they were not deceived by human judgment, but prompted by divine wisdom, to their act of self-destruction. We know that this was the case with Samson. And when God enjoins any act, and intimates by plain evidence that He has enjoined it, who will call obedience criminal? Who will accuse so religious a submission? But then every man is not justified in sacrificing his son to God, because Abraham was commendable in so doing. The soldier who has slain a man in obedience to the authority under which he is lawfully commissioned, is not accused of murder by any law of his state; nay, if he has not slain him, it is then he is accused of treason to the state, and of despising the law. But if he has been acting on his own authority, and at his own impulse, he has in this case incurred the crime of shedding human blood. And thus he is punished for doing without orders the very thing he is punished for neglecting to do when he has been ordered. If the commands of a general make so great a difference, shall the commands of God make none? He, then, who knows it is unlawful to kill himself, may nevertheless do so if he is ordered by Him whose commands we may not neglect. Only let him be very sure that the divine command has been signified. As for us, we can become privy to the secrets of conscience only in so far as these are disclosed to us, and so far only do we judge: "No one knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him."⁷⁵ But this we affirm, this we maintain, this we every way pronounce to be right, that no man ought to inflict on himself voluntary death, for this is to escape the ills of time by plunging into those of eternity; that no man ought to do so on account of another man's sins, for this were to escape a guilt which could not pollute him, by incurring great guilt of his own; that no man ought to do so on account of his own past sins, for he has all the more need of this life that these sins may be healed by repentance; that no man should put an end to this life to obtain that better life we look for after death, for those who die by their own hand have no better life after death.

But, they say, during times of persecution, some holy women were threatened with sexual violence. They escaped by throwing themselves into rivers they knew would drown them. Having died this way, they are honored as martyrs in the Catholic Church. I do not presume to speak rashly about them. Perhaps God gave the church authority to honor their memory, and trustworthy evidence established this authority. It may be so. Perhaps their decision to end their lives was not a mistake of human judgment, but an act prompted by divine wisdom. We know this was true of Samson. When God commands an act and makes his command clear, who would call obedience a crime? Who would condemn such devout submission? But Abraham’s praiseworthy act does not justify everyone in sacrificing his son to God. A soldier may kill someone in obedience to the authority under which he lawfully serves. No law of his state accuses him of murder for doing so. Indeed, if he does not kill, he is accused of betraying the state and defying the law. But if he acts on his own authority and impulse, he is guilty of shedding human blood. He is punished for doing without orders the very thing he would be punished for failing to do when ordered. If a general’s commands make such a difference, will God’s commands make none? Someone who knows it is wrong to kill himself may nevertheless do so if God commands it. We must not disregard God’s commands. But he must be very sure that God has made the command known. We can know the secrets of conscience only as far as they are revealed to us. We can judge only as far as we know them: "No one knows a person’s thoughts except that person’s own spirit."⁷⁵ But we affirm, maintain, and declare in every way that no one should deliberately end his own life. To do so is to escape the troubles of this life by plunging into those of eternity. No one should do so because of another person’s sins. That would be escaping guilt that could not stain him, only to incur great guilt of his own. No one should do so because of his own past sins. He needs this life all the more so that those sins may be healed through repentance. No one should end this life to gain the better life we hope for after death. Those who die by their own hand have no better life after death.

27. Whether voluntary death should be sought in order to avoid sin.

27. Whether one should choose death to avoid sin.

There remains one reason for suicide which I mentioned before, and which is thought a sound one,—namely, to prevent one's falling into sin either through the blandishments of pleasure or the violence of pain. If this reason were a good one, then we should be impelled to exhort men at once to destroy themselves, as soon as they have been washed in the laver of regeneration, and have received the forgiveness of all sin. Then is the time to escape all future sin, when all past sin is blotted out. And if this escape be lawfully secured by suicide, why not then specially? Why does any baptized person hold his hand from taking his own life? Why does any person who is freed from the hazards of this life again expose himself to them, when he has power so easily to rid himself of them all, and when it is written, "He who loveth danger shall fall into it?"⁷⁶ Why does he love, or at least face, so many serious dangers, by remaining in this life from which he may legitimately depart? But is any one so blinded and twisted in his moral nature, and so far astray from the truth, as to think that, though a man ought to make away with himself for fear of being led into sin by the oppression of one man, his master, he ought yet to live, and so expose himself to the hourly temptations of this world, both to all those evils which the oppression of one master involves, and to numberless other miseries in which this life inevitably implicates us? What reason, then, is there for our consuming time in those exhortations by which we seek to animate the baptized, either to virginal chastity, or vidual continence, or matrimonial fidelity, when we have so much more simple and compendious a method of deliverance from sin, by persuading those who are fresh from baptism to put an end to their lives, and so pass to their Lord pure and well-conditioned? If any one thinks that such persuasion should be attempted, I say not he is foolish, but mad. With what face, then, can he say to any man, "Kill yourself, lest to your small sins you add a heinous sin, while you live under an unchaste master, whose conduct is that of a barbarian?" How can he say this, if he cannot without wickedness say, "Kill yourself, now that you are washed from all your sins, lest you fall again into similar or even aggravated sins, while you live in a world which has such power to allure by its unclean pleasures, to torment by its horrible cruelties, to overcome by its errors and terrors?" It is wicked to say this; it is therefore wicked to kill oneself. For if there could be any just cause of suicide, this were so. And since not even this is so, there is none.

One reason for suicide remains, which I mentioned earlier and which some consider sound. It is that suicide can prevent a person from falling into sin through the temptations of pleasure or the violence of pain. If this were a good reason, we should urge people to kill themselves immediately after baptism. For they have been washed in the bath of regeneration and received forgiveness for all their sins. When all past sin has been wiped away, that is the time to escape all future sin. If suicide is a lawful way to secure that escape, why not do it then above all? Why does any baptized person hold back from taking his own life? He has been freed from the dangers of this life. Why does he expose himself to them again when he can so easily rid himself of them all? For it is written, "He who loves danger will fall into it."⁷⁶ Why does he love, or at least face, so many serious dangers by remaining in this life, when he may lawfully leave it? Can anyone be so blind and twisted in his moral nature, and so far from the truth, as to think this? He thinks a man should kill himself for fear that oppression by one man, his master, might lead him into sin. Yet he thinks that same man should go on living, exposed to this world’s temptations every hour. These include all the evils involved in oppression by one master, and countless other miseries this life inevitably brings upon us. Why, then, do we spend time urging baptized people to remain chaste as virgins, to practice continence as widows, or to be faithful in marriage? We would have a much simpler and quicker way to deliver them from sin. We could persuade those newly baptized to end their lives and pass to their Lord pure and in good standing. If anyone thinks we should try to persuade them, I say he is not foolish but mad. How, then, can he have the face to say to anyone, "Kill yourself, so that you do not add a terrible sin to your small sins while living under an unchaste master who behaves like a barbarian"? He cannot say the following without wickedness: "Kill yourself, now that you have been washed clean of all your sins. Otherwise, you may fall again into similar or even worse sins while living in a world with such power to lure you with its unclean pleasures, torment you with its horrible cruelties, and overcome you with its errors and terrors." It is wicked to say this. Therefore, it is wicked to kill oneself. If there could be any just cause for suicide, this would be one. Since not even this is a just cause, there is none.

28. By what judgment of God the enemy was permitted to indulge his lust on the bodies of continent Christians.

28. By what judgment of God the enemy was allowed to satisfy his lust on the bodies of sexually abstinent Christians.

Let not your life, then, be a burden to you, ye faithful servants of Christ, though your chastity was made the sport of your enemies. You have a grand and true consolation, if you maintain a good conscience, and know that you did not consent to the sins of those who were permitted to commit sinful outrage upon you. And if you should ask why this permission was granted, indeed it is a deep providence of the Creator and Governor of the world; and "unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out."⁷⁷ Nevertheless, faithfully interrogate your own souls, whether ye have not been unduly puffed up by your integrity, and continence, and chastity; and whether ye have not been so desirous of the human praise that is accorded to these virtues, that ye have envied some who possessed them. I, for my part, do not know your hearts, and therefore I make no accusation; I do not even hear what your hearts answer when you question them. And yet, if they answer that it is as I have supposed it might be, do not marvel that you have lost that by which you can win men's praise, and retain that which cannot be exhibited to men. If you did not consent to sin, it was because God added His aid to His grace that it might not be lost, and because shame before men succeeded to human glory that it might not be loved. But in both respects even the fainthearted among you have a consolation, approved by the one experience, chastened by the other; justified by the one, corrected by the other. As to those whose hearts, when interrogated, reply that they have never been proud of the virtue of virginity, widowhood, or matrimonial chastity, but, condescending to those of low estate, rejoiced with trembling in these gifts of God, and that they have never envied any one the like excellences of sanctity and purity, but rose superior to human applause, which is wont to be abundant in proportion to the rarity of the virtue applauded, and rather desired that their own number be increased, than that by the smallness of their numbers each of them should be conspicuous;—even such faithful women, I say, must not complain that permission was given to the barbarians so grossly to outrage them; nor must they allow themselves to believe that God overlooked their character when He permitted acts which no one with impunity commits. For some most flagrant and wicked desires are allowed free play at present by the secret judgment of God, and are reserved to the public and final judgment. Moreover, it is possible that those Christian women, who are unconscious of any undue pride on account of their virtuous chastity, whereby they sinlessly suffered the violence of their captors, had yet some lurking infirmity which might have betrayed them into a proud and contemptuous bearing, had they not been subjected to the humiliation that befell them in the taking of the city. As, therefore, some men were removed by death, that no wickedness might change their disposition, so these women were outraged lest prosperity should corrupt their modesty. Neither those women, then, who were already puffed up by the circumstance that they were still virgins, nor those who might have been so puffed up had they not been exposed to the violence of the enemy, lost their chastity, but rather gained humility: the former were saved from pride already cherished, the latter from pride that would shortly have grown upon them.

Faithful servants of Christ, do not let life become a burden to you, even though your enemies violated your chastity for their amusement. You have a great and true consolation if you keep a clear conscience. You know that you did not consent to the sins of those who were permitted to assault you. If you ask why they were permitted to do this, it is part of the deep providence of the Creator and ruler of the world. “Unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out.”⁷⁷ Still, examine your souls honestly. Ask whether you have been overly proud of your integrity, self-restraint, and chastity. Ask whether you have wanted human praise for these virtues so much that you have envied others who possessed them. I do not know your hearts, so I make no accusation. I cannot even hear how your hearts answer when you question them. But if they answer as I have suggested they might, do not be surprised. You have lost what could win human praise, but kept what cannot be shown to others. If you did not consent to sin, it was because God added his help to his grace, so that it would not be lost. It was also because shame before others replaced human glory, so that glory would not be loved. In both respects, even the fainthearted among you have consolation. One experience has tested and approved you, while the other has disciplined you. One has justified you, while the other has corrected you. Others may question their hearts and find that they have never been proud of their virginity, widowhood, or marital chastity. Instead, they associated humbly with those of low standing and rejoiced with trembling in these gifts of God. They never envied anyone for having the same holiness and purity. They rose above human praise, which tends to be greater when the virtue praised is rare. They wanted their number to grow, rather than each of them to stand out because they were few. Even these faithful women, I say, must not complain that the barbarians were permitted to violate them so horribly. Nor should they believe that God overlooked their character when he permitted these acts. No one who commits such acts will escape punishment. For some especially outrageous and wicked desires are now given free rein by God’s secret judgment. They are reserved for his public and final judgment. Moreover, some Christian women may be unaware of any undue pride in their virtuous chastity. They suffered their captors’ violence without sin. Yet they may have had some hidden weakness that could have led them to act proudly and with contempt. The humiliation they suffered when the city was captured may have prevented this. Some people were taken away by death so that no wickedness might change their character. In the same way, these women were violated to prevent prosperity from corrupting their modesty. Some women were already proud that they were still virgins. Others might have become proud if they had not been exposed to the enemy’s violence. Neither group lost its chastity. Instead, both gained humility. The first were saved from pride they already cherished. The second were saved from pride that would soon have grown in them.

We must further notice that some of those sufferers may have conceived that continence is a bodily good, and abides so long as the body is inviolate, and did not understand that the purity both of the body and the soul rests on the stedfastness of the will strengthened by God's grace, and cannot be forcibly taken from an unwilling person. From this error they are probably now delivered. For when they reflect how conscientiously they served God, and when they settle again to the firm persuasion that He can in nowise desert those who so serve Him, and so invoke His aid; and when they consider, what they cannot doubt, how pleasing to Him is chastity, they are shut up to the conclusion that He could never have permitted these disasters to befall His saints, if by them that saintliness could be destroyed which He Himself had bestowed upon them, and delights to see in them.

We must also consider that some of those who suffered may have thought that continence is a bodily good. They may have believed that it lasts only as long as the body remains unviolated. They did not understand that purity of body and soul rests on a steadfast will strengthened by God’s grace. It cannot be taken by force from someone against their will. They have probably now been freed from this error. They can reflect on how faithfully they served God. They can regain their firm conviction that he can never abandon those who serve him and call on his help. They can also consider how pleasing chastity is to him, which they cannot doubt. They must therefore conclude that he would never have allowed these disasters to befall his saints if they could destroy their holiness. For he himself had given them that holiness and delights to see it in them.

The whole family of God, most high and most true, has therefore a consolation of its own,—a consolation which cannot deceive, and which has in it a surer hope than the tottering and falling affairs of earth can afford. They will not refuse the discipline of this temporal life, in which they are schooled for life eternal; nor will they lament their experience of it, for the good things of earth they use as pilgrims who are not detained by them, and its ills either prove or improve them. As for those who insult over them in their trials, and when ills befall them say, "Where is thy God?"⁷⁸ we may ask them where their gods are when they suffer the very calamities for the sake of avoiding which they worship their gods, or maintain they ought to be worshipped; for the family of Christ is furnished with its reply: our God is everywhere present, wholly everywhere; not confined to any place. He can be present unperceived, and be absent without moving; when He exposes us to adversities, it is either to prove our perfections or correct our imperfections; and in return for our patient endurance of the sufferings of time, He reserves for us an everlasting reward. But who are you, that we should deign to speak with you even about your own gods, much less about our God, who is "to be feared above all gods? For all the gods of the nations are idols; but the Lord made the heavens."⁷⁹

The whole family of the most high and most true God has its own comfort. This comfort cannot deceive them. It offers a surer hope than the unstable and failing affairs of earth can provide. They do not reject the discipline of this temporary life, where they are trained for eternal life. Nor do they lament their experience of it. They use the good things of earth like pilgrims who are not held back by them. Earth’s troubles either test them or make them better. Some people mock them in their trials. When troubles come, they ask, "Where is your God?"⁷⁸ We may ask where their gods are when they suffer the very disasters their worship is meant to prevent. These are the disasters for whose sake they worship their gods, or claim those gods should be worshipped. The family of Christ has an answer ready. Our God is present everywhere, fully present in every place, and confined to none. He can be present without being perceived and absent without moving. When he exposes us to troubles, he does so either to test our strengths or to correct our imperfections. In return for patiently enduring the sufferings of this life, he has prepared an everlasting reward for us. But who are you, that we should even agree to speak with you about your own gods? Why should we speak with you about our God, who is "to be feared above all gods? For all the gods of the nations are idols; but the Lord made the heavens."⁷⁹

30. That those who complain of Christianity really desire to live without restraint in shameful luxury.

30. Those who complain about Christianity really want to live without restraint in shameful luxury.

If the famous Scipio Nasica were now alive, who was once your pontiff, and was unanimously chosen by the senate, when, in the panic created by the Punic war, they sought for the best citizen to entertain the Phrygian goddess, he would curb this shamelessness of yours, though you would perhaps scarcely dare to look upon the countenance of such a man. For why in your calamities do you complain of Christianity, unless because you desire to enjoy your luxurious licence unrestrained, and to lead an abandoned and profligate life without the interruption of any uneasiness or disaster? For certainly your desire for peace, and prosperity, and plenty is not prompted by any purpose of using these blessings honestly, that is to say, with moderation, sobriety, temperance, and piety; for your purpose rather is to run riot in an endless variety of sottish pleasures, and thus to generate from your prosperity a moral pestilence which will prove a thousand-fold more disastrous than the fiercest enemies. It was such a calamity as this that Scipio, your chief pontiff, your best man in the judgment of the whole senate, feared when he refused to agree to the destruction of Carthage, Rome's rival; and opposed Cato, who advised its destruction. He feared security, that enemy of weak minds, and he perceived that a wholesome fear would be a fit guardian for the citizens. And he was not mistaken: the event proved how wisely he had spoken. For when Carthage was destroyed, and the Roman republic delivered from its great cause of anxiety, a crowd of disastrous evils forthwith resulted from the prosperous condition of things. First concord was weakened, and destroyed by fierce and bloody seditions; then followed, by a concatenation of baleful causes, civil wars, which brought in their train such massacres, such bloodshed, such lawless and cruel proscription and plunder, that those Romans who, in the days of their virtue, had expected injury only at the hands of their enemies, now that their virtue was lost, suffered greater cruelties at the hands of their fellow-citizens. The lust of rule, which with other vices existed among the Romans in more unmitigated intensity than among any other people, after it had taken possession of the more powerful few, subdued under its yoke the rest, worn and wearied.

If the famous Scipio Nasica were alive today, he would restrain your shameless behavior. He was once your high priest. During the panic of the Punic War, the senate unanimously chose him as Rome’s best citizen to receive the Phrygian goddess. You would perhaps scarcely dare to look such a man in the face. Why do you blame Christianity for your misfortunes? Is it not because you want to indulge your luxurious desires without restraint? You want to live a corrupt and extravagant life, undisturbed by anxiety or disaster. Surely you do not desire peace, prosperity, and plenty so that you can use these blessings rightly. That would mean living with moderation, sobriety, self-control, and devotion. Instead, you want to indulge endlessly in every kind of drunken pleasure. Your prosperity would breed a moral plague a thousand times more disastrous than the fiercest enemies. Scipio feared just such a disaster. He was your high priest and, in the judgment of the whole senate, your best citizen. For this reason, he refused to support the destruction of Carthage, Rome’s rival. He opposed Cato, who urged its destruction. Scipio feared security, the enemy of weak minds. He saw that a healthy fear would help guard the citizens. He was not mistaken. Events proved how wisely he had spoken. After Carthage was destroyed, the Roman republic was freed from its great cause of anxiety. But its prosperity immediately gave rise to a host of disastrous evils. First, harmony was weakened and then destroyed by fierce and bloody uprisings. A chain of destructive causes then led to civil wars. These brought massacres, bloodshed, and such lawless and cruel outlawry and plunder. In their virtuous days, the Romans had expected harm only from their enemies. Now that they had lost their virtue, they suffered greater cruelties from their fellow citizens. The Romans had a lust for power which, like other vices, was more intense and less restrained among them than among any other people. Once it had taken hold of the powerful few, it brought the rest, worn and exhausted, under its yoke.

31. By what steps the passion for governing increased among the Romans.

31. How the Romans' desire to rule grew.

For at what stage would that passion rest when once it has lodged in a proud spirit, until by a succession of advances it has reached even the throne? And to obtain such advances nothing avails but unscrupulous ambition. But unscrupulous ambition has nothing to work upon, save in a nation corrupted by avarice and luxury. Moreover, a people becomes avaricious and luxurious by prosperity; and it was this which that very prudent man Nasica was endeavouring to avoid when he opposed the destruction of the greatest, strongest, wealthiest city of Rome's enemy. He thought that thus fear would act as a curb on lust, and that lust being curbed would not run riot in luxury, and that luxury being prevented avarice would be at an end; and that these vices being banished, virtue would flourish and increase, to the great profit of the state; and liberty, the fit companion of virtue, would abide unfettered. For similar reasons, and animated by the same considerate patriotism, that same chief pontiff of yours—I still refer to him who was adjudged Rome's best man without one dissentient voice—threw cold water on the proposal of the senate to build a circle of seats round the theatre, and in a very weighty speech warned them against allowing the luxurious manners of Greece to sap the Roman manliness, and persuaded them not to yield to the enervating and emasculating influence of foreign licentiousness. So authoritative and forcible were his words, that the senate was moved to prohibit the use even of those benches which hitherto had been customarily brought to the theatre for the temporary use of the citizens.⁸⁰ How eagerly would such a man as this have banished from Rome the scenic exhibitions themselves, had he dared to oppose the authority of those whom he supposed to be gods! For he did not know that they were malicious devils; or if he did, he supposed they should rather be propitiated than despised. For there had not yet been revealed to the Gentiles the heavenly doctrine which should purify their hearts by faith, and transform their natural disposition by humble godliness, and turn them from the service of proud devils to seek the things that are in heaven, or even above the heavens.

Once that passion takes hold of a proud spirit, where will it stop? Will it not keep advancing until it reaches the throne? Only ruthless ambition can bring such advancement. But ruthless ambition can succeed only among a people corrupted by greed and luxury. Prosperity makes a people greedy and fond of luxury. That was what the very prudent Nasica was trying to prevent. He opposed the destruction of the greatest, strongest, and wealthiest city belonging to Rome’s enemy. He thought fear would restrain desire. Once restrained, desire would not run wild in luxury. Without luxury, greed would end. With these vices gone, virtue would flourish and grow, greatly benefiting the state. Liberty, virtue’s natural companion, would remain free from restraint. For similar reasons, and with the same thoughtful love of country, that same chief pontiff of yours opposed another proposal. I still mean the man unanimously judged to be Rome’s best. The senate had proposed building a circle of seats around the theater. In a powerful speech, he warned against allowing luxurious Greek customs to weaken Roman manliness. He persuaded the senators not to give in to the weakening and emasculating influence of foreign excess. His words carried such authority and force that the senate banned even the benches previously brought for citizens’ temporary use at the theater.⁸⁰ How eagerly such a man would have banished the theatrical performances themselves from Rome! But he did not dare oppose the authority of those he believed to be gods. He did not know they were malicious devils. Or, if he did know, he thought they should be appeased rather than despised. For the heavenly teaching had not yet been revealed to the Gentiles. It would cleanse their hearts through faith and transform their natural disposition through humble devotion to God. It would turn them from serving proud devils to seeking the things of heaven, or even those above the heavens.

32. Of the establishment of scenic entertainments.

32. On the introduction of theatrical performances.

Know then, ye who are ignorant of this, and ye who feign ignorance be reminded, while you murmur against Him who has freed you from such rulers, that the scenic games, exhibitions of shameless folly and licence, were established at Rome, not by men's vicious cravings, but by the appointment of your gods. Much more pardonably might you have rendered divine honours to Scipio than to such gods as these. The gods were not so moral as their pontiff. But give me now your attention, if your mind, inebriated by its deep potations of error, can take in any sober truth. The gods enjoined that games be exhibited in their honour to stay a physical pestilence; their pontiff prohibited the theatre from being constructed, to prevent a moral pestilence. If, then, there remains in you sufficient mental enlightenment to prefer the soul to the body, choose whom you will worship. Besides, though the pestilence was stayed, this was not because the voluptuous madness of stage-plays had taken possession of a warlike people hitherto accustomed only to the games of the circus; but these astute and wicked spirits, foreseeing that in due course the pestilence would shortly cease, took occasion to infect, not the bodies, but the morals of their worshippers, with a far more serious disease. And in this pestilence these gods find great enjoyment, because it benighted the minds of men with so gross a darkness, and dishonoured them with so foul a deformity, that even quite recently (will posterity be able to credit it?) some of those who fled from the sack of Rome and found refuge in Carthage, were so infected with this disease, that day after day they seemed to contend with one another who should most madly run after the actors in the theatres.

You who do not know this, learn it now. And you who pretend not to know it, be reminded. You complain against him who freed you from such rulers. Yet the stage games at Rome, those displays of shameless folly and indecency, were established at your gods' command. They were not established because of people's corrupt desires. You would have had much better grounds for honoring Scipio as a god than for honoring gods like these. The gods were less moral than their own high priest. Now pay attention, if your mind, drunk on deep draughts of error, can grasp any sober truth. The gods ordered games in their honor to stop a plague of the body. Their high priest forbade the building of a theater to prevent a plague of the soul. If you have enough understanding left to value the soul above the body, choose whom you will worship. The plague did stop, but not because the sensual frenzy of stage plays had seized a warlike people. Until then, they had been accustomed only to the games of the circus. These cunning and wicked spirits foresaw that the plague would soon end in its natural course. They took the opportunity to infect their worshippers with a far worse disease, not of the body, but of their morals. And the gods take great pleasure in this plague. It darkened people's minds so deeply and corrupted them so shamefully that even quite recently, some who fled Rome's sack and found refuge in Carthage were infected by it. Will future generations be able to believe it? Day after day, they seemed to compete with one another to see who could run most madly after the actors in the theaters.

33. That the overthrow of Rome has not corrected the vices of the Romans.

33. The fall of Rome has not corrected the Romans' vices.

Oh infatuated men, what is this blindness, or rather madness, which possesses you? How is it that while, as we hear, even the eastern nations are bewailing your ruin, and while powerful states in the most remote parts of the earth are mourning your fall as a public calamity, ye yourselves should be crowding to the theatres, should be pouring into them and filling them; and, in short, be playing a madder part now than ever before? This was the foul plague-spot, this the wreck of virtue and honour that Scipio sought to preserve you from when he prohibited the construction of theatres; this was his reason for desiring that you might still have an enemy to fear, seeing as he did how easily prosperity would corrupt and destroy you. He did not consider that republic flourishing whose walls stand, but whose morals are in ruins. But the seductions of evil-minded devils had more influence with you than the precautions of prudent men. Hence the injuries you do, you will not permit to be imputed to you; but the injuries you suffer, you impute to Christianity. Depraved by good fortune, and not chastened by adversity, what you desire in the restoration of a peaceful and secure state, is not the tranquillity of the commonwealth, but the impunity of your own vicious luxury. Scipio wished you to be hard pressed by an enemy, that you might not abandon yourselves to luxurious manners; but so abandoned are you, that not even when crushed by the enemy is your luxury repressed. You have missed the profit of your calamity; you have been made most wretched, and have remained most profligate.

You foolish people, what blindness, or rather madness, has taken hold of you? We hear that even the eastern nations are grieving over your ruin. Powerful states in the most distant parts of the earth mourn your fall as a disaster for all. Yet you crowd into the theaters and fill them. In short, you are behaving more madly now than ever before. This was the filthy plague, this destruction of virtue and honor, that Scipio tried to protect you from. That is why he forbade the building of theaters. It is also why he wanted you to have an enemy to fear. He saw how easily prosperity would corrupt and destroy you. He did not consider a republic prosperous when its walls stood but its morals lay in ruins. But the temptations of malicious devils influenced you more than the precautions of wise men. So you refuse to accept blame for the harm you do, but blame Christianity for the harm you suffer. Good fortune has corrupted you, and hardship has not corrected you. When you wish for peace and security to return, you do not seek the well-being of the commonwealth. You want to indulge your own vicious luxury without consequences. Scipio wanted an enemy to press hard upon you, so that you would not give yourselves over to luxury. But you are so given over to it that even defeat by an enemy does not restrain your luxury. You have gained nothing from your disaster. You have been made utterly miserable, yet you remain utterly depraved.

34. Of God's clemency in moderating the ruin of the city.

34. How God's mercy lessened the city's destruction.

And that you are yet alive is due to God, who spares you that you may be admonished to repent and reform your lives. It is He who has permitted you, ungrateful as you are, to escape the sword of the enemy, by calling yourselves His servants, or by finding asylum in the sacred places of the martyrs.

You are still alive because of God. He spares you so that you may be urged to repent and change your lives. Though you are ungrateful, he allowed you to escape the enemy’s sword. You escaped by calling yourselves his servants or by taking refuge in places sacred to the martyrs.

It is said that Romulus and Remus, in order to increase the population of the city they founded, opened a sanctuary in which every man might find asylum and absolution of all crime,—a remarkable foreshadowing of what has recently occurred in honour of Christ. The destroyers of Rome followed the example of its founders. But it was not greatly to their credit that the latter, for the sake of increasing the number of their citizens, did that which the former have done, lest the number of their enemies should be diminished.

It is said that Romulus and Remus opened a sanctuary to increase the population of the city they founded. There, any man could find refuge and be pardoned for all crimes. This remarkably foreshadowed what has recently happened in honor of Christ. The destroyers of Rome followed the example of its founders. But the founders deserve little credit for acting to increase their number of citizens. The destroyers did the same to keep the number of their enemies from decreasing.

35. Of the sons of the church who are hidden among the wicked, and of false Christians within the church.

35. Church members hidden among the wicked, and false Christians within the church.

Let these and similar answers (if any fuller and fitter answers can be found) be given to their enemies by the redeemed family of the Lord Christ, and by the pilgrim city of King Christ. But let this city bear in mind, that among her enemies lie hid those who are destined to be fellow-citizens, that she may not think it a fruitless labour to bear what they inflict as enemies until they become confessors of the faith. So, too, as long as she is a stranger in the world, the city of God has in her communion, and bound to her by the sacraments, some who shall not eternally dwell in the lot of the saints. Of these, some are not now recognised; others declare themselves, and do not hesitate to make common cause with our enemies in murmuring against God, whose sacramental badge they wear. These men you may to-day see thronging the churches with us, to-morrow crowding the theatres with the godless. But we have the less reason to despair of the reclamation even of such persons, if among our most declared enemies there are now some, unknown to themselves, who are destined to become our friends. In truth, these two cities are entangled together in this world, and intermixed until the last judgment effect their separation. I now proceed to speak, as God shall help me, of the rise, progress, and end of these two cities; and what I write, I write for the glory of the city of God, that, being placed in comparison with the other, it may shine with a brighter lustre.

Let the redeemed family of the Lord Christ and the pilgrim city of King Christ give these answers to their enemies. They may give fuller and more suitable answers if any can be found. But the city should remember that some of its enemies are destined to become fellow citizens. Then it will not think it pointless to endure their attacks until they come to profess the faith. Likewise, while the city of God remains a stranger in this world, some people within its fellowship will not live forever among the saints, though they are bound to the city by the sacraments. Some of these people are not yet recognized. Others reveal themselves and do not hesitate to join our enemies in complaining against God, even though they bear the sacramental mark of belonging to him. Today you may see them crowding into churches with us. Tomorrow they may crowd into theaters with the godless. Yet we have less reason to despair of bringing even such people back. For some of our most open enemies are destined to become our friends, though they do not yet know it themselves. In truth, these two cities are tangled and mixed together in this world until the last judgment separates them. With God’s help, I will now speak of their beginning, progress, and end. I write for the glory of the city of God, so that it may shine more brightly when compared with the other city.

36. What subjects are to be handled in the following discourse.

36. What topics will be discussed in the following discourse.

But I have still some things to say in confutation of those who refer the disasters of the Roman republic to our religion, because it prohibits the offering of sacrifices to the gods. For this end I must recount all, or as many as may seem sufficient, of the disasters which befell that city and its subject provinces, before these sacrifices were prohibited; for all these disasters they would doubtless have attributed to us, if at that time our religion had shed its light upon them, and had prohibited their sacrifices. I must then go on to show what social well-being the true God, in whose hand are all kingdoms, vouchsafed to grant to them that their empire might increase. I must show why He did so, and how their false gods, instead of at all aiding them, greatly injured them by guile and deceit. And, lastly, I must meet those who, when on this point convinced and confuted by irrefragable proofs, endeavour to maintain that they worship the gods, not hoping for the present advantages of this life, but for those which are to be enjoyed after death. And this, if I am not mistaken, will be the most difficult part of my task, and will be worthy of the loftiest argument; for we must then enter the lists with the philosophers, not the mere common herd of philosophers, but the most renowned, who in many points agree with ourselves, as regarding the immortality of the soul, and that the true God created the world, and by His providence rules all He has created. But as they differ from us on other points, we must not shrink from the task of exposing their errors, that, having refuted the gainsaying of the wicked with such ability as God may vouchsafe, we may assert the city of God, and true piety, and the worship of God, to which alone the promise of true and everlasting felicity is attached. Here, then, let us conclude, that we may enter on these subjects in a fresh book.

I still have more to say against those who blame the disasters of the Roman republic on our religion. They blame it because it forbids sacrifices to the gods. To answer them, I must recount all, or as many as seem sufficient, of the disasters that struck Rome and its subject provinces before these sacrifices were forbidden. They would certainly have blamed all these disasters on us if our religion had already brought them its light and forbidden their sacrifices. I must then show what social well-being the true God granted them so that their empire might grow. All kingdoms are in his hands. I must show why he granted them this well-being. I must also show how their false gods, far from helping them, greatly harmed them through trickery and deceit. Finally, I must answer those who have been convinced and refuted on this point by irrefutable proofs. They try to maintain that they worship the gods not for benefits in this life, but for those enjoyed after death. If I am not mistaken, this will be the hardest part of my task. It will call for the highest level of argument. We must then debate philosophers, not the ordinary sort, but the most renowned. On many points they agree with us. They agree that the soul is immortal, that the true God created the world, and that he rules all he has created through his providence. But they differ from us on other points. We must not shrink from exposing their errors. With whatever ability God grants us, we must refute the objections of the wicked. Then we may uphold the city of God, true piety, and the worship of God. Only to these is the promise of true and everlasting happiness attached. Let us conclude here, then, so that we may begin these subjects in a new book.