In a former essay I devoted an elaborate discussion to the comparison of the royal and the unroyal form of parliamentary government. I showed that at the formation of a ministry, and during the continuance of a ministry, a really sagacious monarch might be of rare use. I ascertained that it was a mistake to fancy that at such times a constitutional monarch had no rôle and no duties. But I proved likewise that the temper, the disposition, and the faculties then needful to fit a constitutional monarch for usefulness were very rare, at least as rare as the faculties of a great absolute monarch, and that a common man in that place is apt to do at least as much harm as good – perhaps more harm. But in that essay I could not discuss fully the functions of a king at the conclusion of an administration, for then the most peculiar parts of the English government – the power to dissolve the House of Commons, and the power to create new peers – come into play, and until the nature of the House of Lords and the nature of the House of Commons had been explained, I had no premises for an argument as to the characteristic action of the King upon them. We have since considered the functions of the two Houses, and also the effects of changes of ministry on our administrative system; we are now, therefore, in a position to discuss the functions of a king at the end of an administration.

Cabinet government is rare because its prerequisites are many. It requires the co-existence of several national characteristics which are not often found together in the world, and which should be perceived more distinctly than they often are. It is fancied that the possession of a certain intelligence, and a few simple virtues, are the sole requisites. These mental and moral qualities are necessary, but much else is necessary also. A cabinet government is the government of a committee elected by the legislature, and there are therefore a double set of conditions to it: first, those which are essential to all elective governments as such; and second, those which are requisite to this particular elective government. There are prerequisites for the genus, and additional ones for the species.

The first prerequisite of elective government is the mutual confidence of the electors. We are so accustomed to submit to be ruled by elected ministers, that we are apt to fancy all mankind would readily be so too. Knowledge and civilisation have at least made this progress, that we instinctively, without argument, almost without consciousness, allow a certain number of specified persons to choose our rulers for us. It seems to us the simplest thing in the world. But it is one of the gravest things.

The peculiar marks of semi-barbarous people are diffused distrust and indiscriminate suspicion. People, in all but the most favoured times and places, are rooted to the places where they were born, think the thoughts of those places, can endure no other thoughts.

There is one error as to the English Constitution which crops up periodically. Circumstances which often, though irregularly, occur naturally suggest that error, and as surely as they happen it revives. The relation of Parliament, and especially of the House of Commons, to the executive government is the specific peculiarity of our constitution, and an event which frequently happens much puzzles some people as to it.

That event is a change of ministry. All our administrators go out together. The whole executive government changes – at least, all the heads of it change in a body, and at every such change some speculators are sure to exclaim that such a habit is foolish. They say, ‘No doubt Mr Gladstone and Lord Russell may have been wrong about Reform; no doubt Mr Gladstone may have been cross in the House of Commons; but why should either or both of these events change all the heads of all our practical departments? What could be more absurd than what happened in 1858? Lord Palmerston was for once in his life over-buoyant; he gave rude answers to stupid inquiries; he brought into the cabinet a nobleman concerned in an ugly trial about a woman; he, or his Foreign Secretary, did not answer a French despatch by a despatch, but told our ambassador to reply orally. And because of these trifles, or at any rate, these isolated un-administrative mistakes, all our administration had fresh heads.

The use of the Queen, in a dignified capacity, is incalculable. Without her in England, the present English government would fail and pass away. Most people when they read that the Queen walked on the slopes at Windsor – that the Prince of Wales went to the Derby – have imagined that too much thought and prominence were given to little things. But they have been in error; and it is nice to trace how the actions of a retired widow and an unemployed youth become of such importance.

The best reason why monarchy is a strong government is, that it is an intelligible government. The mass of mankind understand it, and they hardly anywhere in the world understand any other. It is often said that men are ruled by their imaginations; but it would be truer to say they are governed by the weakness of their imaginations. The nature of a constitution, the action of an assembly, the play of parties, the unseen formation of a guiding opinion, are complex facts, difficult to know, and easy to mistake. But the action of a single will, the fiat of a single mind, are easy ideas; anybody can make them out, and no one can ever forget them. When you put before the mass of mankind the question, ‘Will you be governed by a king, or will you be governed by a constitution?’ the inquiry comes out thus – ‘Will you be governed in a way you understand, or will you be governed in a way you do not understand?’

Why letters and sermons?

‘I beg you as a Christian to a judge and I warn you as a bishop to a Christian’, wrote Augustine in a letter to Apringius, proconsul of Africa. In the City of God Augustine lays out on a vast canvas the themes of Christianity and paganism, providence and power, empire and church, and divine and human justice, writing as a learned Christian apologist, an intellectual addressing his peers. It is easy to forget that he was also, and before all else, a Christian pastor. As a bishop, he struggled with the daily reality of political life in a society in which ‘church’ and ‘state’ had never been, and could not conceivably be, disentangled. In this context, ‘justice’ referred not to the rise and fall of empires, but to the decision whether to punish or to pardon a Donatist thug who had beaten up one of his priests. ‘War’ was not merely a theological construct: an instrument of divine wrath or divine education. It was happening in the next province, where one of Augustine's old acquaintances was responsible for warding off the barbarian raiders. ‘Civic power’ may have been embodied symbolically in the emperor in distant Rome, but here in north Africa it was men like Augustine's correspondent Apringius who made the decisions that mattered.

Letters 133, 134 and 139

In the following set of letters Augustine writes to Apringius, proconsul of Africa, and to his brother Marcellinus, urging mercy for the Donatists who have been convicted of the murder and mutilation respectively of two Catholic priests.

Letter 133

(1) I have been informed that the Circumcellions and clergy of Donatus' sect who were taken from the diocese of Hippo by those responsible for public order to stand trial for their activities have in fact been heard by your noble self. Most of them have confessed to committing the murder of Restitutus, the Catholic priest, and to beating Innocent, another Catholic priest, and to gouging out the latter's eye and cutting off his finger. Consequently, I am deeply stricken by the worry that your exalted self might decide to have them punished so harshly by law that the sufferings they will endure correspond to those they have inflicted. I write, therefore, to beg you by the faith you have in Christ, through the mercy of our Lord Christ himself, neither to do this yourself nor to allow it to be done at all.

Now it might be possible for us to turn a blind eye to their deaths, when they were clearly not summoned to trial because we accused them; rather, those responsible for keeping an eye on the preservation of public peace indicted them.

Some time before 312, Caecilian, an archdeacon of Carthage, was elected and consecrated bishop. There is evidence of a pre-existing dispute which began during the persecution under the emperor Diocletian, from 303. Some Christians refused any compromise with the authorities, and even courted martyrdom; others, to whom Caecilian seems to have been sympathetic, recommended evasive action short of directly betraying the faith. At any rate, the election was opposed by certain Carthaginians, and a council of bishops from Numidia and elsewhere investigated. This council deposed Caecilian and elected Maiorinus in his place, on the grounds that the former's consecration had been invalid. This was because of the participation of Felix, bishop of Apthugni, who, they alleged, had been guilty during the persecution of handing over the sacred scriptures to the authorities to be burnt. Caecilian refused to accept the council's decision and remained as bishop. The Carthaginian church was divided, and the Donatist controversy had begun.

In 313, the opponents of Caecilian requested the proconsul, Anulinus, to forward their charges against him to Constantine for his judgement (see Letter 88). Constantine left the matter to the church authorities, and a council in Rome ruled in favour of Caecilian. His opponents appealed, and the matter was referred to a second council, in Arles in 314, which repeated the decision of the Roman council. However, the decision was not accepted by Maiorinus' supporters.

The sacking of the city of Rome

The sacking of the city of Rome by Alaric in 410 led pagans to blame Christianity for the loss of the gods' favour. Even some Christians sympathised with this view, while others were led to question the justice of God. Augustine's City of God will eventually provide an extensive reply to the first problem; here he deals more immediately and more concisely with the second.

The sacking of the city of Rome

(1) Let us now turn our attention to the first reading, from the holy prophet Daniel. There we heard him praying; and we were amazed to hear him confessing his own sins, and not just the sins of the people. Now after this prayer – and his words show that he was not simply pleading but also confessing – after this prayer, then, he said, When I was praying and confessing my sins, and the sins of my people, to the Lord my God [Dan 9.20]. Can anyone claim to be sinless when Daniel confesses his own sins? Surely it was to a proud man that the following words were addressed through the prophet Ezekiel: Are you wiser than Daniel? [Ezek 28.3].

Again, God placed Daniel among the three holy men whom he used as symbols of the three types of human beings he intends to free when the great trial comes upon the human race; he added that no one would be set free from it except Noah, Daniel and Job [Ezek 14.14].

There has been consultation and collaboration between us on every aspect and at every stage. The primary division of responsibility, however, is as follows. The Introduction was the joint responsibility of Robert Dodaro and Margaret Atkins. Robert Dodaro furnished the list of Principal dates, the Bibliography, the Biographical notes, and most of the annotations on the text. The translation was the work of Margaret Atkins, who also prepared the Translator's notes and the map. She also contributed to the annotations.

Three scholars deserve our particular thanks: Peter Garnsey read the whole manuscript and gave invaluable advice at each stage; George Lawless also commented helpfully on the entire manuscript; Peter Glare read a draft of the translation and suggested numerous improvements. In addition, we are grateful to Caroline Humfress for advice on Roman law, Claire Sotinel for help with the Biographical notes, and Aldo Bazan and Allan Fitzgerald for technical assistance and advice.

This volume is dedicated with gratitude to our respective parents.