provided forthwith for my initiation and washing by thy life-
giving sacraments, confessing thee, O Lord Jesus, for the 
forgiveness of sins.  So my cleansing was deferred, as if it were 
inevitable that, if I should live, I would be further polluted; 
and, further, because the guilt contracted by sin after baptism 
would be still greater and more perilous.

     Thus, at that time, I "believed" along with my mother and the 
whole household, except my father.  But he did not overcome the 
influence of my mother's piety in me, nor did he prevent my 
believing in Christ, although he had not yet believed in him.  For 
it was her desire, O my God, that I should acknowledge thee as my 
Father rather than him.  In this thou didst aid her to overcome 
her husband, to whom, though his superior, she yielded obedience.  
In this way she also yielded obedience to thee, who dost so 
command.

     18.  I ask thee, O my God, for I would gladly know if it be 
thy will, to what good end my baptism was deferred at that time?  
Was it indeed for my good that the reins were slackened, as it 
were, to encourage me in sin?  Or, were they not slackened?  If 
not, then why is it still dinned into our ears on all sides, "Let 
him alone, let him do as he pleases, for he is not yet baptized"?  
In the matter of bodily health, no one says, "Let him alone; let 
him be worse wounded; for he is not yet cured"!  How much better, 
then, would it have been for me to have been cured at once -- and 
if thereafter, through the diligent care of friends and myself, my 
soul's restored health had been kept safe in thy keeping, who gave 
it in the first place!  This would have been far better, in truth.  
But how many and great the waves of temptation which appeared to 
hang over me as I grew out of childhood!  These were foreseen by 
my mother, and she preferred that the unformed clay should be 
risked to them rather than the clay molded after Christ's 
image.[24]

                          CHAPTER XII

     19.  But in this time of childhood -- which was far less 
dreaded for me than my adolescence -- I had no love of learning, 
and hated to be driven to it.  Yet I was driven to it just the 
same, and good was done for me, even though I did not do it well, 
for I would not have learned if I had not been forced to it.  For 
no man does well against his will, even if what he does is a good 
thing.  Neither did they who forced me do well, but the good that 
was done me came from thee, my God.  For they did not care about 
the way in which I would use what they forced me to learn, and 
took it for granted that it was to satisfy the inordinate desires 
of a rich beggary and a shameful glory.  But thou, Lord, by whom 
the hairs of our head are numbered, didst use for my good the 
error of all who pushed me on to study: but my error in not being 
willing to learn thou didst use for my punishment.  And I -- 
though so small a boy yet so great a sinner -- was not punished 
without warrant.  Thus by the instrumentality of those who did not 
do well, thou didst well for me; and by my own sin thou didst 
justly punish me.  For it is even as thou hast ordained: that 
every inordinate affection brings on its own punishment.

                         CHAPTER XIII

     20.  But what were the causes for my strong dislike of Greek 
literature, which I studied from my boyhood?  Even to this day I 
have not fully understood them.  For Latin I loved exceedingly -- 
not just the rudiments, but what the grammarians teach. For those 
beginner's lessons in reading, writing, and reckoning, I 
considered no less a burden and pain than Greek.  Yet whence came 
this, unless from the sin and vanity of this life?  For I was "but 
flesh, a wind that passeth away and cometh not again."[25]  Those 
first lessons were better, assuredly, because they were more 
certain, and through them I acquired, and still retain, the power 
of reading what I find written and of writing for myself what I 
will.  In the other subjects, however, I was compelled to learn 
about the wanderings of a certain Aeneas, oblivious of my own 
wanderings, and to weep for Dido dead, who slew herself for love.  
And all this while I bore with dry eyes my own wretched self dying 
to thee, O God, my life, in the midst of these things.

     21.  For what can be more wretched than the wretch who has no 
pity upon himself, who sheds tears over Dido, dead for the love of 
Aeneas, but who sheds no tears for his own death in not loving 
thee, O God, light of my heart, and bread of the inner mouth of my 
soul, O power that links together my mind with my inmost thoughts?  
I did not love thee, and thus committed fornication against 
thee.[26]  Those around me, also sinning, thus cried out: "Well 
done!  Well done!"  The friendship of this world is fornication 
against thee; and "Well done!  Well done!"  is cried until one 
feels ashamed not to show himself a man in this way.  For my own 
condition I shed no tears, though I wept for Dido, who "sought 
death at the sword's point,"[27] while I myself was seeking the 
lowest rung of thy creation, having forsaken thee; earth sinking 
back to earth again.  And, if I had been forbidden to read these 
poems, I would have grieved that I was not allowed to read what 
grieved me.  This sort of madness is considered more honorable and 
more fruitful learning than the beginner's course in which I 
learned to read and write.

     22.  But now, O my God, cry unto my soul, and let thy truth 
say to me: "Not so, not so!  That first learning was far better." 
For, obviously, I would rather forget the wanderings of Aeneas, 
and all such things, than forget how to write and read.  Still, 
over the entrance of the grammar school there hangs a veil.  This