Augustine in His Own Words
in full view of the crowd of believers), an offer was made by the presbyters to Victorinus—Simplicianus said—to do it privately. It was customary to make this concession to such people as seemed likely to be frightened by embarrassment. However, he preferred to profess his salvation in the sight of the holy congregation. For what he taught as a rhetorician was not productive of salvation, yet he had professed that in public. How much less, then, had he to fear Your meek flock when he uttered Your word since he was not afraid of crowds of madmen when uttering his own words? Thus, when he got up to make his profession, everyone who knew him and all the people whispered his name among themselves with murmurs of thanksgiving. Who was there who did not know him? From the mouths of those gathered rejoicing together, there resounded the sound of a suppressed shout: "Victorinus! Victorinus!" Quickly they applauded in exultation at seeing him, and quickly they fell into an intense silence in order to hear him. He proclaimed the true faith with admirable confidence, and all experienced the desire to snatch him to their hearts. This they did with love and joy, for these were the hands by which they caught him up.36
Antony and Early Monasticism
Augustine's decisive conversion was catalyzed by the story of the Egyptian hermit Antony (d. 356), one of the pioneers of Christian monasticism. The Life of Antony, authored by Athanasius (d. 373), the much-exiled bishop of Alexandria, is one of the classics of Western spirituality and did much to popularize monasticism in both the Greek East and the Latin West.37 Augustine recounts how in August 386 he and his close friend Alypius spent the summer break at a villa outside Milan. There they heard Antony's story from a fellow African, Ponticianus, who worked in the government. Ponticianus went on to tell them how several members of the imperial intelligence service were converted to monasticism from reading Antony's story. From Confessions, Book 8:
(6.14) So on a certain day (I do not recall the reason why Nebridius was away), a man named Ponticianus came to visit me and Alypius at our house. He was a compatriot of ours in the sense that he was from Africa, and the holder of an important position at court. I do not remember what he deredditio symboli ("handing back of the Creed"). That ceremony is what Augustine alludes to here. On this, see Harmless, Augustine and the Catechumenate, 274–86.
36. Conf. 8.2.3–2.5 (CCL 27:114–16); trans. Bourke, FOTC 21:198–202. 37. On the Life of Antony and early Egyptian monasticism, see William Harmless, Desert Christians: An Introduction to the Literature of Early Monasticism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), esp. 57–104; Columba Stewart, "Anthony of the Desert," in The Early Christian World, ed. Philip F. Esler (New York: Routledge, 2000) 2:1088–101.
Confessions 23 sired of us. We sat down together to have a talk. Just by chance, he noticed a book on the games table before us. He picked it up, opened it, and to his surprise, no doubt, discovered that it was [the letters of] the Apostle Paul. He had thought it one of the books that I was wearing myself out with in teaching. He looked at me with a smile and expressed his congratulations and surprise at unexpectedly finding this work, and only this work, before my eyes. In fact, he was a Christian and a faithful one, accustomed to go on his knees before You, our God, in frequent and lengthy prayers in church. When I pointed out to him that I was devoting much attention to these writings, he began to tell the story of Antony the Egyptian monk whose name shone very brilliantly among Your servants but was unknown to us up to that time. When he discovered this, he dwelt upon this point in his conversation, giving much information to us, who were ignorant, about this man and expressing surprise at this ignorance of ours. We were amazed, of course, to hear of Your miracles, of such recent memory and almost in our own times, which were well supported by testimony—miracles performed in the right faith and in the Catholic Church. We were all in a condition of wonder: we two, because these things were so important, and he, because we had not heard of them.
(6.15) From this, his conversation turned to the flocks [of monks] in monasteries, to their manner of living, sweet with Your scent, and to their fruitful populating of desert wastes: of all this, we knew nothing. There was even a monastery at Milan, outside the city walls, filled with good brothers under the patronage of Ambrose, and we did not know of it. He went right on speaking of his subject, while we remained silent and engrossed. Then he happened to tell how he and three companions (I do not know at what time, but certainly it was at Trier), during the time of the afternoon that the emperor was attending the show in the circus, went out for a walk in the gardens beside the city walls. There they happened to pair off, he taking one companion with him, and the other two wandering off likewise, but in another direction. This second pair, strolling along, happened upon a hut where were dwelling some of Your servants who are "poor in spirit, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven" (Mt 5:3). There they found a book in which the life of Antony had been written. One of them began to read it, and to wonder, and to catch the spark. As he read, he thought of embracing such a life and of giving up secular affairs to serve You. (They belonged to the group of officials called "special agents.")38 Then suddenly filled with a holy love and angry at him-
38. "Special agents" (agentes in rebus): Officers who, at the lower levels, served as couriers of imperial dispatches and, at higher levels, managed the public postal system; they eventually earned a (perhaps exaggerated) reputation as a sort of secret police. See Jean-Michel Carrié, "Agens in rebus," in G. W. Bowersock, Peter Brown, and Oleg Grabar, eds., Late Antiquity: A Guide to the Postclassical World (Cambridge, MA: Belknap/ Harvard University Press, 1999), 278–79.