. Augustine could not endure the insufferable consequences of his own
doctrine. Hence, in writing to his great friend, St. Jerome, he said, "in
all sincerity: when I come to treat of the punishment of infants, believe
_that I find myself in great embarrassment, and I absolutely know not what
to reply_." Writing against Julian, he adds: "_I do not say that those who
die without baptism will be punished with a torment such that it would be
better for them if they had never been born._" And again: "Those who,
besides original sin which they have contracted, have not committed any
other, will be subjected to a pain the most mild of all."(186) Thus by
adopting a wrong interpretation, the principles of which were but little
understood in his time, St. Augustine banished all unbaptized infants from
the kingdom of light; but yet he could hardly find it in his heart to
condemn them to the outer darkness. He had too great a regard for the word
of God, as he understood it, to permit non-elect infants to reign with
Christ in heaven; and, on the other hand, he was too severely pressed by
the generous impulses of his nature, nay, by the eternal dictates of truth
and goodness, to permit him to consign them really to the "fire prepared
for the devil and his angels." Hence, although Christ knew of "but two
places," he fitted up a third, to see them in which, was, as Edwards would
say, "more agreeable to his imagination."

It was the sublime but unsteady genius of St. Augustine that caused this
doctrine of the damnation of infants to be received into the Christian
world, and find its way into the council of Trent. That celebrated council
not only adopted the views of St. Augustine on this subject, but also most
perfectly reflected all his hesitation and inconsistency. Widely as its
members differed on other points, they all agreed that unbaptized infants
should be excluded from the kingdom of heaven. There was but little
unanimity however, as to the best method of disposing of them. The
Dominicans fitted up a dark, subterraneous cavern for them, in which there
is no fire, at least none such as that of the infernal regions, and in
which they might be at least as happy as monks. This place was called
_Limbo_--which, we suppose, is to Purgatory, about what the varioloid is to
the smallpox. The Franciscans, more humane in their doctrine, determined
that "dear little infants," though they had never felt the sanctifying
influences of holy water,