BOOK IX

O Lord, I am Thy servant; I am Thy servant, and the son of Thy handmaid:

Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder. I will offer to Thee the sacrifice

of praise. Let my heart and my tongue praise Thee; yea, let all my bones

say, O Lord, who is like unto Thee? Let them say, and answer Thou me,

and say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. Who am I, and what am I? What

evil have not been either my deeds, or if not my deeds, my words, or if

not my words, my will? But Thou, O Lord, are good and merciful, and Thy

right hand had respect unto the depth of my death, and from the bottom

of my heart emptied that abyss of corruption. And this Thy whole gift

was, to nill what I willed, and to will what Thou willedst. But where

through all those years, and out of what low and deep recess was my

free-will called forth in a moment, whereby to submit my neck to Thy

easy yoke, and my shoulders unto Thy light burden, O Christ Jesus, my

Helper and my Redeemer? How sweet did it at once become to me, to want

the sweetnesses of those toys! and what I feared to be parted from, was

now a joy to part with. For Thou didst cast them forth from me, Thou

true and highest sweetness. Thou castest them forth, and for them

enteredst in Thyself, sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and

blood; brighter than all light, but more hidden than all depths, higher

than all honour, but not to the high in their own conceits. Now was my

soul free from the biting cares of canvassing and getting, and weltering

in filth, and scratching off the itch of lust. And my infant tongue

spake freely to Thee, my brightness, and my riches, and my health, the

Lord my God.

And I resolved in Thy sight, not tumultuously to tear, but gently to

withdraw, the service of my tongue from the marts of lip-labour: that

the young, no students in Thy law, nor in Thy peace, but in lying

dotages and law-skirmishes, should no longer buy at my mouth arms for

their madness. And very seasonably, it now wanted but very few days unto

the Vacation of the Vintage, and I resolved to endure them, then in a

regular way to take my leave, and having been purchased by Thee, no

more to return for sale. Our purpose then was known to Thee; but to men,

other than our own friends, was it not known. For we had agreed among

ourselves not to let it out abroad to any: although to us, now ascending

from the valley of tears, and singing that song of degrees, Thou hadst

given sharp arrows, and destroying coals against the subtle tongue,

which as though advising for us, would thwart, and would out of love

devour us, as it doth its meat.

Thou hadst pierced our hearts with Thy charity, and we carried Thy words

as it were fixed in our entrails: and the examples of Thy servants,

whom for black Thou hadst made bright, and for dead, alive, being piled

together in the receptacle of our thoughts, kindled and burned up that

our heavy torpor, that we should not sink down to the abyss; and they

fired us so vehemently, that all the blasts of subtle tongues from

gainsayers might only inflame us the more fiercely, not extinguish

us. Nevertheless, because for Thy Name's sake which Thou hast hallowed

throughout the earth, this our vow and purpose might also find some to

commend it, it seemed like ostentation not to wait for the vacation now

so near, but to quit beforehand a public profession, which was before

the eyes of all; so that all looking on this act of mine, and observing

how near was the time of vintage which I wished to anticipate, would

talk much of me, as if I had desired to appear some great one. And what

end had it served me, that people should repute and dispute upon my

purpose, and that our good should be evil spoken of.

Moreover, it had at first troubled me that in this very summer my lungs

began to give way, amid too great literary labour, and to breathe deeply

with difficulty, and by the pain in my chest to show that they were

injured, and to refuse any full or lengthened speaking; this had

troubled me, for it almost constrained me of necessity to lay down that

burden of teaching, or, if I could be cured and recover, at least to

intermit it. But when the full wish for leisure, that I might see

how that Thou art the Lord, arose, and was fixed, in me; my God, Thou

knowest, I began even to rejoice that I had this secondary, and that

no feigned, excuse, which might something moderate the offence taken by

those who, for their sons' sake, wished me never to have the freedom of

Thy sons. Full then of such joy, I endured till that interval of time

were run; it may have been some twenty days, yet they were endured

manfully; endured, for the covetousness which aforetime bore a part of

this heavy business, had left me, and I remained alone, and had been

overwhelmed, had not patience taken its place. Perchance, some of Thy

servants, my brethren, may say that I sinned in this, that with a heart

fully set on Thy service, I suffered myself to sit even one hour in the

chair of lies. Nor would I be contentious. But hast not Thou, O most

merciful Lord, pardoned and remitted this sin also, with my other most

horrible and deadly sins, in the holy water?

Verecundus was worn down with care about this our blessedness, for that

being held back by bonds, whereby he was most straitly bound, he saw

that he should be severed from us. For himself was not yet a Christian,

his wife one of the faithful; and yet hereby, more rigidly than by any

other chain, was he let and hindered from the journey which we had now

essayed. For he would not, he said, be a Christian on any other terms

than on those he could not. However, he offered us courteously to remain

at his country-house so long as we should stay there. Thou, O Lord,

shalt reward him in the resurrection of the just, seeing Thou hast

already given him the lot of the righteous. For although, in our

absence, being now at Rome, he was seized with bodily sickness, and

therein being made a Christian, and one of the faithful, he departed

this life; yet hadst Thou mercy not on him only, but on us also: lest

remembering the exceeding kindness of our friend towards us, yet unable

to number him among Thy flock, we should be agonised with intolerable

sorrow. Thanks unto Thee, our God, we are Thine: Thy suggestions

and consolations tell us, Faithful in promises, Thou now requitest

Verecundus for his country-house of Cassiacum, where from the fever

of the world we reposed in Thee, with the eternal freshness of Thy

Paradise: for that Thou hast forgiven him his sins upon earth, in that

rich mountain, that mountain which yieldeth milk, Thine own mountain.

He then had at that time sorrow, but Nebridius joy. For although he

also, not being yet a Christian, had fallen into the pit of that most

pernicious error, believing the flesh of Thy Son to be a phantom: yet

emerging thence, he believed as we did; not as yet endued with any

Sacraments of Thy Church, but a most ardent searcher out of truth. Whom,

not long after our conversion and regeneration by Thy Baptism, being

also a faithful member of the Church Catholic, and serving Thee in

perfect chastity and continence amongst his people in Africa, his whole

house having through him first been made Christian, didst Thou release

from the flesh; and now he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever that be,

which is signified by that bosom, there lives my Nebridius, my sweet

friend, and Thy child, O Lord, adopted of a freed man: there he liveth.

For what other place is there for such a soul? There he liveth, whereof

he asked much of me, a poor inexperienced man. Now lays he not his ear

to my mouth, but his spiritual mouth unto Thy fountain, and drinketh as

much as he can receive, wisdom in proportion to his thirst, endlessly

happy. Nor do I think that he is so inebriated therewith, as to forget

me; seeing Thou, Lord, Whom he drinketh, art mindful of us. So were

we then, comforting Verecundus, who sorrowed, as far as friendship

permitted, that our conversion was of such sort; and exhorting him to

become faithful, according to his measure, namely, of a married estate;

and awaiting Nebridius to follow us, which, being so near, he was all

but doing: and so, lo! those days rolled by at length; for long and many

they seemed, for the love I bare to the easeful liberty, that I might

sing to Thee, from my inmost marrow, My heart hath said unto Thee, I

have sought Thy face: Thy face, Lord, will I seek.

Now was the day come wherein I was in deed to be freed of my Rhetoric

Professorship, whereof in thought I was already freed. And it was done.

Thou didst rescue my tongue, whence Thou hadst before rescued my heart.

And I blessed Thee, rejoicing; retiring with all mine to the villa. What

I there did in writing, which was now enlisted in Thy service, though

still, in this breathing-time as it were, panting from the school of

pride, my books may witness, as well what I debated with others, as what

with myself alone, before Thee: what with Nebridius, who was absent, my

Epistles bear witness. And when shall I have time to rehearse all Thy

great benefits towards us at that time, especially when hasting on to

yet greater mercies? For my remembrance recalls me, and pleasant is it

to me, O Lord, to confess to Thee, by what inward goads Thou tamedst me;

and how Thou hast evened me, lowering the mountains and hills of my high

imaginations, straightening my crookedness, and smoothing my rough ways;

and how Thou also subduedst the brother of my heart, Alypius, unto the

name of Thy Only Begotten, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which

he would not at first vouchsafe to have inserted in our writings. For

rather would he have them savour of the lofty cedars of the Schools,

which the Lord hath now broken down, than of the wholesome herbs of the

Church, the antidote against serpents.

Oh, in what accents spake I unto Thee, my God, when I read the Psalms of

David, those faithful songs, and sounds of devotion, which allow of no

swelling spirit, as yet a Catechumen, and a novice in Thy real love,

resting in that villa, with Alypius a Catechumen, my mother cleaving to

us, in female garb with masculine faith, with the tranquillity of age,

motherly love, Christian piety! Oh, what accents did I utter unto Thee

in those Psalms, and how was I by them kindled towards Thee, and on

fire to rehearse them, if possible, through the whole world, against the

pride of mankind! And yet they are sung through the whole world, nor can

any hide himself from Thy heat. With what vehement and bitter sorrow was

I angered at the Manichees! and again I pitied them, for they knew not

those Sacraments, those medicines, and were mad against the antidote

which might have recovered them of their madness. How I would they

had then been somewhere near me, and without my knowing that they were

there, could have beheld my countenance, and heard my words, when I read

the fourth Psalm in that time of my rest, and how that Psalm wrought

upon me: When I called, the God of my righteousness heard me; in

tribulation Thou enlargedst me. Have mercy upon me, O Lord, and hear

my prayer. Would that what I uttered on these words, they could hear,

without my knowing whether they heard, lest they should think I spake

it for their sakes! Because in truth neither should I speak the same

things, nor in the same way, if I perceived that they heard and saw me;

nor if I spake them would they so receive them, as when I spake by and

for myself before Thee, out of the natural feelings of my soul.

I trembled for fear, and again kindled with hope, and with rejoicing in

Thy mercy, O Father; and all issued forth both by mine eyes and voice,

when Thy good Spirit turning unto us, said, O ye sons of men, how long

slow of heart? why do ye love vanity, and seek after leasing? For I had

loved vanity, and sought after leasing. And Thou, O Lord, hadst already

magnified Thy Holy One, raising Him from the dead, and setting Him at

Thy right hand, whence from on high He should send His promise, the

Comforter, the Spirit of truth. And He had already sent Him, but I knew

it not; He had sent Him, because He was now magnified, rising again from

the dead, and ascending into heaven. For till then, the Spirit was not

yet given, because Jesus was not yet glorified. And the prophet cries

out, How long, slow of heart? why do ye love vanity, and seek after

leasing? Know this, that the Lord hath magnified His Holy One. He cries

out, How long? He cries out, Know this: and I so long, not knowing,

loved vanity, and sought after leasing: and therefore I heard and

trembled, because it was spoken unto such as I remembered myself to

have been. For in those phantoms which I had held for truths, was

there vanity and leasing; and I spake aloud many things earnestly and

forcibly, in the bitterness of my remembrance. Which would they had

heard, who yet love vanity and seek after leasing! They would perchance

have been troubled, and have vomited it up; and Thou wouldest hear them

when they cried unto Thee; for by a true death in the flesh did He die

for us, who now intercedeth unto Thee for us.

I further read, Be angry, and sin not. And how was I moved, O my God,

who had now learned to be angry at myself for things past, that I might

not sin in time to come! Yea, to be justly angry; for that it was not

another nature of a people of darkness which sinned for me, as they say

who are not angry at themselves, and treasure up wrath against the day

of wrath, and of the revelation of Thy just judgment. Nor were my good

things now without, nor sought with the eyes of flesh in that earthly

sun; for they that would have joy from without soon become vain, and

waste themselves on the things seen and temporal, and in their famished

thoughts do lick their very shadows. Oh that they were wearied out with

their famine, and said, Who will show us good things? And we would say,

and they hear, The light of Thy countenance is sealed upon us. For we

are not that light which enlighteneth every man, but we are enlightened

by Thee; that having been sometimes darkness, we may be light in Thee.

Oh that they could see the eternal Internal, which having tasted, I was

grieved that I could not show It them, so long as they brought me their

heart in their eyes roving abroad from Thee, while they said, Who will

show us good things? For there, where I was angry within myself in my

chamber, where I was inwardly pricked, where I had sacrificed, slaying

my old man and commencing the purpose of a new life, putting my trust

in Thee,--there hadst Thou begun to grow sweet unto me, and hadst put

gladness in my heart. And I cried out, as I read this outwardly, finding

it inwardly. Nor would I be multiplied with worldly goods; wasting away

time, and wasted by time; whereas I had in Thy eternal Simple Essence

other corn, and wine, and oil.

And with a loud cry of my heart I cried out in the next verse, O in

peace, O for The Self-same! O what said he, I will lay me down and

sleep, for who shall hinder us, when cometh to pass that saying which is

written, Death is swallowed up in victory? And Thou surpassingly art the

Self-same, Who art not changed; and in Thee is rest which forgetteth all

toil, for there is none other with Thee, nor are we to seek those many

other things, which are not what Thou art: but Thou, Lord, alone hast

made me dwell in hope. I read, and kindled; nor found I what to do to

those deaf and dead, of whom myself had been, a pestilent person, a

bitter and a blind bawler against those writings, which are honied

with the honey of heaven, and lightsome with Thine own light: and I was

consumed with zeal at the enemies of this Scripture.

When shall I recall all which passed in those holy-days? Yet neither

have I forgotten, nor will I pass over the severity of Thy scourge, and

the wonderful swiftness of Thy mercy. Thou didst then torment me with

pain in my teeth; which when it had come to such height that I could not

speak, it came into my heart to desire all my friends present to pray

for me to Thee, the God of all manner of health. And this I wrote on

wax, and gave it them to read. Presently so soon as with humble devotion

we had bowed our knees, that pain went away. But what pain? or how went

it away? I was affrighted, O my Lord, my God; for from infancy I had

never experienced the like. And the power of Thy Nod was deeply conveyed

to me, and rejoicing in faith, I praised Thy Name. And that faith

suffered me not to be at ease about my past sins, which were not yet

forgiven me by Thy baptism.

The vintage-vacation ended, I gave notice to the Milanese to provide

their scholars with another master to sell words to them; for that I had

both made choice to serve Thee, and through my difficulty of breathing

and pain in my chest was not equal to the Professorship. And by letters

I signified to Thy Prelate, the holy man Ambrose, my former errors and

present desires, begging his advice what of Thy Scriptures I had best

read, to become readier and fitter for receiving so great grace. He

recommended Isaiah the Prophet: I believe, because he above the rest

is a more clear foreshower of the Gospel and of the calling of the

Gentiles. But I, not understanding the first lesson in him, and

imagining the whole to be like it, laid it by, to be resumed when better

practised in our Lord's own words.

Thence, when the time was come wherein I was to give in my name, we left

the country and returned to Milan. It pleased Alypius also to be with

me born again in Thee, being already clothed with the humility befitting

Thy Sacraments; and a most valiant tamer of the body, so as, with

unwonted venture, to wear the frozen ground of Italy with his bare feet.

We joined with us the boy Adeodatus, born after the flesh, of my sin.

Excellently hadst Thou made him. He was not quite fifteen, and in wit

surpassed many grave and learned men. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts,

O Lord my God, Creator of all, and abundantly able to reform our

deformities: for I had no part in that boy, but the sin. For that we

brought him up in Thy discipline, it was Thou, none else, had inspired

us with it. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts. There is a book of ours

entitled The Master; it is a dialogue between him and me. Thou knowest

that all there ascribed to the person conversing with me were his ideas,

in his sixteenth year. Much besides, and yet more admirable, I found

in him. That talent struck awe into me. And who but Thou could be the

workmaster of such wonders? Soon didst Thou take his life from the

earth: and I now remember him without anxiety, fearing nothing for

his childhood or youth, or his whole self. Him we joined with us, our

contemporary in grace, to be brought up in Thy discipline: and we were

baptised, and anxiety for our past life vanished from us. Nor was I

sated in those days with the wondrous sweetness of considering the depth

of Thy counsels concerning the salvation of mankind. How did I weep,

in Thy Hymns and Canticles, touched to the quick by the voices of Thy

sweet-attuned Church! The voices flowed into mine ears, and the

Truth distilled into my heart, whence the affections of my devotion

overflowed, and tears ran down, and happy was I therein.

Not long had the Church of Milan begun to use this kind of consolation

and exhortation, the brethren zealously joining with harmony of voice

and hearts. For it was a year, or not much more, that Justina, mother

to the Emperor Valentinian, a child, persecuted Thy servant Ambrose, in

favour of her heresy, to which she was seduced by the Arians. The devout

people kept watch in the Church, ready to die with their Bishop Thy

servant. There my mother Thy handmaid, bearing a chief part of those

anxieties and watchings, lived for prayer. We, yet unwarmed by the heat

of Thy Spirit, still were stirred up by the sight of the amazed and

disquieted city. Then it was first instituted that after the manner of

the Eastern Churches, Hymns and Psalms should be sung, lest the people

should wax faint through the tediousness of sorrow: and from that day to

this the custom is retained, divers (yea, almost all) Thy congregations,

throughout other parts of the world following herein.

Then didst Thou by a vision discover to Thy forenamed Bishop where the

bodies of Gervasius and Protasius the martyrs lay hid (whom Thou hadst

in Thy secret treasury stored uncorrupted so many years), whence Thou

mightest seasonably produce them to repress the fury of a woman, but an

Empress. For when they were discovered and dug up, and with due honour

translated to the Ambrosian Basilica, not only they who were vexed with

unclean spirits (the devils confessing themselves) were cured, but a

certain man who had for many years been blind, a citizen, and well known

to the city, asking and hearing the reason of the people's confused joy,

sprang forth desiring his guide to lead him thither. Led thither, he

begged to be allowed to touch with his handkerchief the bier of Thy

saints, whose death is precious in Thy sight. Which when he had done,

and put to his eyes, they were forthwith opened. Thence did the fame

spread, thence Thy praises glowed, shone; thence the mind of that enemy,

though not turned to the soundness of believing, was yet turned back

from her fury of persecuting. Thanks to Thee, O my God. Whence and

whither hast Thou thus led my remembrance, that I should confess these

things also unto Thee? which great though they be, I had passed by in

forgetfulness. And yet then, when the odour of Thy ointments was so

fragrant, did we not run after Thee. Therefore did I more weep among

the singing of Thy Hymns, formerly sighing after Thee, and at length

breathing in Thee, as far as the breath may enter into this our house of

grass.

Thou that makest men to dwell of one mind in one house, didst join with

us Euodius also, a young man of our own city. Who being an officer of

Court, was before us converted to Thee and baptised: and quitting his

secular warfare, girded himself to Thine. We were together, about to

dwell together in our devout purpose. We sought where we might serve

Thee most usefully, and were together returning to Africa: whitherward

being as far as Ostia, my mother departed this life. Much I omit, as

hastening much. Receive my confessions and thanksgivings, O my God, for

innumerable things whereof I am silent. But I will not omit whatsoever

my soul would bring forth concerning that Thy handmaid, who brought me

forth, both in the flesh, that I might be born to this temporal light,

and in heart, that I might be born to Light eternal. Not her gifts, but

Thine in her, would I speak of; for neither did she make nor educate

herself. Thou createdst her; nor did her father and mother know what a

one should come from them. And the sceptre of Thy Christ, the discipline

of Thine only Son, in a Christian house, a good member of Thy Church,

educated her in Thy fear. Yet for her good discipline was she wont

to commend not so much her mother's diligence, as that of a certain

decrepit maid-servant, who had carried her father when a child, as

little ones used to be carried at the backs of elder girls. For which

reason, and for her great age, and excellent conversation, was she,

in that Christian family, well respected by its heads. Whence also the

charge of her master's daughters was entrusted to her, to which she gave

diligent heed, restraining them earnestly, when necessary, with a holy

severity, and teaching them with a grave discretion. For, except at

those hours wherein they were most temporately fed at their parents'

table, she would not suffer them, though parched with thirst, to drink

even water; preventing an evil custom, and adding this wholesome advice:

"Ye drink water now, because you have not wine in your power; but when

you come to be married, and be made mistresses of cellars and cupboards,

you will scorn water, but the custom of drinking will abide." By this

method of instruction, and the authority she had, she refrained the

greediness of childhood, and moulded their very thirst to such an

excellent moderation that what they should not, that they would not.

And yet (as Thy handmaid told me her son) there had crept upon her

a love of wine. For when (as the manner was) she, as though a sober

maiden, was bidden by her parents to draw wine out of the hogshed,

holding the vessel under the opening, before she poured the wine into

the flagon, she sipped a little with the tip of her lips; for more her

instinctive feelings refused. For this she did, not out of any desire

of drink, but out of the exuberance of youth, whereby it boils over in

mirthful freaks, which in youthful spirits are wont to be kept under by

the gravity of their elders. And thus by adding to that little, daily

littles (for whoso despiseth little things shall fall by little and

little), she had fallen into such a habit as greedily to drink off her

little cup brim-full almost of wine. Where was then that discreet old

woman, and that her earnest countermanding? Would aught avail against

a secret disease, if Thy healing hand, O Lord, watched not over us?

Father, mother, and governors absent, Thou present, who createdst, who

callest, who also by those set over us, workest something towards the

salvation of our souls, what didst Thou then, O my God? how didst Thou

cure her? how heal her? didst Thou not out of another soul bring forth a

hard and a sharp taunt, like a lancet out of Thy secret store, and with

one touch remove all that foul stuff? For a maid-servant with whom she

used to go to the cellar, falling to words (as it happens) with her

little mistress, when alone with her, taunted her with this fault, with

most bitter insult, calling her wine-bibber. With which taunt she, stung

to the quick, saw the foulness of her fault, and instantly condemned and

forsook it. As flattering friends pervert, so reproachful enemies mostly

correct. Yet not what by them Thou doest, but what themselves purposed,

dost Thou repay them. For she in her anger sought to vex her young

mistress, not to amend her; and did it in private, either for that the

time and place of the quarrel so found them; or lest herself also should

have anger, for discovering it thus late. But Thou, Lord, Governor

of all in heaven and earth, who turnest to Thy purposes the deepest

currents, and the ruled turbulence of the tide of times, didst by the

very unhealthiness of one soul heal another; lest any, when he observes

this, should ascribe it to his own power, even when another, whom he

wished to be reformed, is reformed through words of his.

Brought up thus modestly and soberly, and made subject rather by Thee

to her parents, than by her parents to Thee, so soon as she was of

marriageable age, being bestowed upon a husband, she served him as her

lord; and did her diligence to win him unto Thee, preaching Thee unto

him by her conversation; by which Thou ornamentedst her, making her

reverently amiable, and admirable unto her husband. And she so endured

the wronging of her bed as never to have any quarrel with her husband

thereon. For she looked for Thy mercy upon him, that believing in Thee,

he might be made chaste. But besides this, he was fervid, as in his

affections, so in anger: but she had learnt not to resist an angry

husband, not in deed only, but not even in word. Only when he was

smoothed and tranquil, and in a temper to receive it, she would give an

account of her actions, if haply he had overhastily taken offence. In

a word, while many matrons, who had milder husbands, yet bore even in

their faces marks of shame, would in familiar talk blame their husbands'

lives, she would blame their tongues, giving them, as in jest, earnest

advice: "That from the time they heard the marriage writings read to

them, they should account them as indentures, whereby they were

made servants; and so, remembering their condition, ought not to set

themselves up against their lords." And when they, knowing what a

choleric husband she endured, marvelled that it had never been heard,

nor by any token perceived, that Patricius had beaten his wife, or that

there had been any domestic difference between them, even for one day,

and confidentially asking the reason, she taught them her practice above

mentioned. Those wives who observed it found the good, and returned

thanks; those who observed it not, found no relief, and suffered.

Her mother-in-law also, at first by whisperings of evil servants

incensed against her, she so overcame by observance and persevering

endurance and meekness, that she of her own accord discovered to her

son the meddling tongues whereby the domestic peace betwixt her and her

daughter-in-law had been disturbed, asking him to correct them. Then,

when in compliance with his mother, and for the well-ordering of the

family, he had with stripes corrected those discovered, at her will who

had discovered them, she promised the like reward to any who, to please

her, should speak ill of her daughter-in-law to her: and none now

venturing, they lived together with a remarkable sweetness of mutual

kindness.

This great gift also thou bestowedst, O my God, my mercy, upon that good

handmaid of Thine, in whose womb Thou createdst me, that between any

disagreeing and discordant parties where she was able, she showed

herself such a peacemaker, that hearing on both sides most bitter

things, such as swelling and indigested choler uses to break out into,

when the crudities of enmities are breathed out in sour discourses to a

present friend against an absent enemy, she never would disclose aught

of the one unto the other, but what might tend to their reconcilement.

A small good this might appear to me, did I not to my grief know

numberless persons, who through some horrible and wide-spreading

contagion of sin, not only disclose to persons mutually angered things

said in anger, but add withal things never spoken, whereas to humane

humanity, it ought to seem a light thing not to foment or increase ill

will by ill words, unless one study withal by good words to quench it.

Such was she, Thyself, her most inward Instructor, teaching her in the

school of the heart.

Finally, her own husband, towards the very end of his earthly life,

did she gain unto Thee; nor had she to complain of that in him as a

believer, which before he was a believer she had borne from him. She was

also the servant of Thy servants; whosoever of them knew her, did in her

much praise and honour and love Thee; for that through the witness of

the fruits of a holy conversation they perceived Thy presence in her

heart. For she had been the wife of one man, had requited her parents,

had governed her house piously, was well reported of for good works, had

brought up children, so often travailing in birth of them, as she saw

them swerving from Thee. Lastly, of all of us Thy servants, O Lord (whom

on occasion of Thy own gift Thou sufferest to speak), us, who before her

sleeping in Thee lived united together, having received the grace of Thy

baptism, did she so take care of, as though she had been mother of us

all; so served us, as though she had been child to us all.

The day now approaching whereon she was to depart this life (which day

Thou well knewest, we knew not), it came to pass, Thyself, as I believe,

by Thy secret ways so ordering it, that she and I stood alone, leaning

in a certain window, which looked into the garden of the house where we

now lay, at Ostia; where removed from the din of men, we were recruiting

from the fatigues of a long journey, for the voyage. We were discoursing

then together, alone, very sweetly; and forgetting those things which

are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, we

were enquiring between ourselves in the presence of the Truth, which

Thou art, of what sort the eternal life of the saints was to be, which

eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of

man. But yet we gasped with the mouth of our heart, after those heavenly

streams of Thy fountain, the fountain of life, which is with Thee; that

being bedewed thence according to our capacity, we might in some sort

meditate upon so high a mystery.

And when our discourse was brought to that point, that the very highest

delight of the earthly senses, in the very purest material light,

was, in respect of the sweetness of that life, not only not worthy of

comparison, but not even of mention; we raising up ourselves with a more

glowing affection towards the "Self-same," did by degrees pass through

all things bodily, even the very heaven whence sun and moon and stars

shine upon the earth; yea, we were soaring higher yet, by inward musing,

and discourse, and admiring of Thy works; and we came to our own

minds, and went beyond them, that we might arrive at that region of

never-failing plenty, where Thou feedest Israel for ever with the food

of truth, and where life is the Wisdom by whom all these things are

made, and what have been, and what shall be, and she is not made, but

is, as she hath been, and so shall she be ever; yea rather, to "have

been," and "hereafter to be," are not in her, but only "to be," seeing

she is eternal. For to "have been," and to "be hereafter," are not

eternal. And while we were discoursing and panting after her, we

slightly touched on her with the whole effort of our heart; and we

sighed, and there we leave bound the first fruits of the Spirit; and

returned to vocal expressions of our mouth, where the word spoken

has beginning and end. And what is like unto Thy Word, our Lord, who

endureth in Himself without becoming old, and maketh all things new?

We were saying then: If to any the tumult of the flesh were hushed,

hushed the images of earth, and waters, and air, hushed also the pole of

heaven, yea the very soul be hushed to herself, and by not thinking on

self surmount self, hushed all dreams and imaginary revelations, every

tongue and every sign, and whatsoever exists only in transition, since

if any could hear, all these say, We made not ourselves, but He made us

that abideth for ever--If then having uttered this, they too should be

hushed, having roused only our ears to Him who made them, and He alone

speak, not by them but by Himself, that we may hear His Word, not

through any tongue of flesh, nor Angel's voice, nor sound of thunder,

nor in the dark riddle of a similitude, but might hear Whom in these

things we love, might hear His Very Self without these (as we two now

strained ourselves, and in swift thought touched on that Eternal Wisdom

which abideth over all);--could this be continued on, and other visions

of kind far unlike be withdrawn, and this one ravish, and absorb, and

wrap up its beholder amid these inward joys, so that life might be for

ever like that one moment of understanding which now we sighed after;

were not this, Enter into thy Master's joy? And when shall that be? When

we shall all rise again, though we shall not all be changed?

Such things was I speaking, and even if not in this very manner, and

these same words, yet, Lord, Thou knowest that in that day when we were

speaking of these things, and this world with all its delights became,

as we spake, contemptible to us, my mother said, "Son, for mine own part

I have no further delight in any thing in this life. What I do here any

longer, and to what I am here, I know not, now that my hopes in this

world are accomplished. One thing there was for which I desired to

linger for a while in this life, that I might see thee a Catholic

Christian before I died. My God hath done this for me more abundantly,

that I should now see thee withal, despising earthly happiness, become

His servant: what do I here?"

What answer I made her unto these things, I remember not. For scarce

five days after, or not much more, she fell sick of a fever; and in that

sickness one day she fell into a swoon, and was for a while withdrawn

from these visible things. We hastened round her; but she was soon

brought back to her senses; and looking on me and my brother standing by

her, said to us enquiringly, "Where was I?" And then looking fixedly on

us, with grief amazed: "Here," saith she, "shall you bury your mother."

I held my peace and refrained weeping; but my brother spake something,

wishing for her, as the happier lot, that she might die, not in a

strange place, but in her own land. Whereat, she with anxious look,

checking him with her eyes, for that he still savoured such things, and

then looking upon me: "Behold," saith she, "what he saith": and soon

after to us both, "Lay," she saith, "this body any where; let not the

care for that any way disquiet you: this only I request, that you would

remember me at the Lord's altar, wherever you be." And having delivered

this sentiment in what words she could, she held her peace, being

exercised by her growing sickness.

But I, considering Thy gifts, Thou unseen God, which Thou instillest

into the hearts of Thy faithful ones, whence wondrous fruits do spring,

did rejoice and give thanks to Thee, recalling what I before knew, how

careful and anxious she had ever been as to her place of burial, which

she had provided and prepared for herself by the body of her husband.

For because they had lived in great harmony together, she also wished

(so little can the human mind embrace things divine) to have this

addition to that happiness, and to have it remembered among men, that

after her pilgrimage beyond the seas, what was earthly of this united

pair had been permitted to be united beneath the same earth. But when

this emptiness had through the fulness of Thy goodness begun to cease in

her heart, I knew not, and rejoiced admiring what she had so disclosed

to me; though indeed in that our discourse also in the window, when she

said, "What do I here any longer?" there appeared no desire of dying

in her own country. I heard afterwards also, that when we were now

at Ostia, she with a mother's confidence, when I was absent, one day

discoursed with certain of my friends about the contempt of this life,

and the blessing of death: and when they were amazed at such courage

which Thou hadst given to a woman, and asked, "Whether she were not

afraid to leave her body so far from her own city?" she replied,

"Nothing is far to God; nor was it to be feared lest at the end of the

world, He should not recognise whence He were to raise me up." On the

ninth day then of her sickness, and the fifty-sixth year of her age, and

the three-and-thirtieth of mine, was that religious and holy soul freed

from the body.

I closed her eyes; and there flowed withal a mighty sorrow into my

heart, which was overflowing into tears; mine eyes at the same time, by

the violent command of my mind, drank up their fountain wholly dry; and

woe was me in such a strife! But when she breathed her last, the boy

Adeodatus burst out into a loud lament; then, checked by us all, held

his peace. In like manner also a childish feeling in me, which was,

through my heart's youthful voice, finding its vent in weeping, was

checked and silenced. For we thought it not fitting to solemnise that

funeral with tearful lament, and groanings; for thereby do they for

the most part express grief for the departed, as though unhappy, or

altogether dead; whereas she was neither unhappy in her death, nor

altogether dead. Of this we were assured on good grounds, the testimony

of her good conversation and her faith unfeigned.

What then was it which did grievously pain me within, but a fresh wound

wrought through the sudden wrench of that most sweet and dear custom of

living together? I joyed indeed in her testimony, when, in that her last

sickness, mingling her endearments with my acts of duty, she called me

"dutiful," and mentioned, with great affection of love, that she never

had heard any harsh or reproachful sound uttered by my mouth against

her. But yet, O my God, Who madest us, what comparison is there betwixt

that honour that I paid to her, and her slavery for me? Being then

forsaken of so great comfort in her, my soul was wounded, and that life

rent asunder as it were, which, of hers and mine together, had been made

but one.

The boy then being stilled from weeping, Euodius took up the Psalter,

and began to sing, our whole house answering him, the Psalm, I will sing

of mercy and judgments to Thee, O Lord. But hearing what we were doing,

many brethren and religious women came together; and whilst they (whose

office it was) made ready for the burial, as the manner is, I, in a part

of the house, where I might properly, together with those who thought

not fit to leave me, discoursed upon something fitting the time; and by

this balm of truth assuaged that torment, known to Thee, they unknowing

and listening intently, and conceiving me to be without all sense of

sorrow. But in Thy ears, where none of them heard, I blamed the weakness

of my feelings, and refrained my flood of grief, which gave way a little

unto me; but again came, as with a tide, yet not so as to burst out into

tears, nor to change of countenance; still I knew what I was keeping

down in my heart. And being very much displeased that these human things

had such power over me, which in the due order and appointment of our

natural condition must needs come to pass, with a new grief I grieved

for my grief, and was thus worn by a double sorrow.

And behold, the corpse was carried to the burial; we went and returned

without tears. For neither in those prayers which we poured forth unto

Thee, when the Sacrifice of our ransom was offered for her, when now the

corpse was by the grave's side, as the manner there is, previous to its

being laid therein, did I weep even during those prayers; yet was I the

whole day in secret heavily sad, and with troubled mind prayed Thee, as

I could, to heal my sorrow, yet Thou didst not; impressing, I believe,

upon my memory by this one instance, how strong is the bond of all

habit, even upon a soul, which now feeds upon no deceiving Word. It

seemed also good to me to go and bathe, having heard that the bath had

its name (balneum) from the Greek Balaneion for that it drives sadness

from the mind. And this also I confess unto Thy mercy, Father of the

fatherless, that I bathed, and was the same as before I bathed. For the

bitterness of sorrow could not exude out of my heart. Then I slept, and

woke up again, and found my grief not a little softened; and as I was

alone in my bed, I remembered those true verses of Thy Ambrose. For Thou

art the

"Maker of all, the Lord,

And Ruler of the height,

Who, robing day in light, hast poured

Soft slumbers o'er the night,

That to our limbs the power

Of toil may be renew'd,

And hearts be rais'd that sink and cower,

And sorrows be subdu'd."

And then by little and little I recovered my former thoughts of Thy

handmaid, her holy conversation towards Thee, her holy tenderness and

observance towards us, whereof I was suddenly deprived: and I was minded

to weep in Thy sight, for her and for myself, in her behalf and in my

own. And I gave way to the tears which I before restrained, to overflow

as much as they desired; reposing my heart upon them; and it found rest

in them, for it was in Thy ears, not in those of man, who would have

scornfully interpreted my weeping. And now, Lord, in writing I confess

it unto Thee. Read it, who will, and interpret it, how he will: and if

he finds sin therein, that I wept my mother for a small portion of an

hour (the mother who for the time was dead to mine eyes, who had for

many years wept for me that I might live in Thine eyes), let him not

deride me; but rather, if he be one of large charity, let him weep

himself for my sins unto Thee, the Father of all the brethren of Thy

Christ.

But now, with a heart cured of that wound, wherein it might seem

blameworthy for an earthly feeling, I pour out unto Thee, our God, in

behalf of that Thy handmaid, a far different kind of tears, flowing from

a spirit shaken by the thoughts of the dangers of every soul that dieth

in Adam. And although she having been quickened in Christ, even before

her release from the flesh, had lived to the praise of Thy name for

her faith and conversation; yet dare I not say that from what time Thou

regeneratedst her by baptism, no word issued from her mouth against Thy

Commandment. Thy Son, the Truth, hath said, Whosoever shall say unto

his brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire. And woe be even

unto the commendable life of men, if, laying aside mercy, Thou shouldest

examine it. But because Thou art not extreme in enquiring after sins, we

confidently hope to find some place with Thee. But whosoever reckons up

his real merits to Thee, what reckons he up to Thee but Thine own gifts?

O that men would know themselves to be men; and that he that glorieth

would glory in the Lord.

I therefore, O my Praise and my Life, God of my heart, laying aside for

a while her good deeds, for which I give thanks to Thee with joy, do now

beseech Thee for the sins of my mother. Hearken unto me, I entreat Thee,

by the Medicine of our wounds, Who hung upon the tree, and now sitting

at Thy right hand maketh intercession to Thee for us. I know that she

dealt mercifully, and from her heart forgave her debtors their debts; do

Thou also forgive her debts, whatever she may have contracted in so

many years, since the water of salvation. Forgive her, Lord, forgive, I

beseech Thee; enter not into judgment with her. Let Thy mercy be exalted

above Thy justice, since Thy words are true, and Thou hast promised

mercy unto the merciful; which Thou gavest them to be, who wilt have

mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy; and wilt have compassion on whom

Thou hast had compassion.

And, I believe, Thou hast already done what I ask; but accept, O Lord,

the free-will offerings of my mouth. For she, the day of her dissolution

now at hand, took no thought to have her body sumptuously wound up, or

embalmed with spices; nor desired she a choice monument, or to be buried

in her own land. These things she enjoined us not; but desired only to

have her name commemorated at Thy Altar, which she had served without

intermission of one day: whence she knew the holy Sacrifice to be

dispensed, by which the hand-writing that was against us is blotted out;

through which the enemy was triumphed over, who summing up our offences,

and seeking what to lay to our charge, found nothing in Him, in Whom we

conquer. Who shall restore to Him the innocent blood? Who repay Him

the price wherewith He bought us, and so take us from Him? Unto the

Sacrament of which our ransom, Thy handmaid bound her soul by the bond

of faith. Let none sever her from Thy protection: let neither the lion

nor the dragon interpose himself by force or fraud. For she will not

answer that she owes nothing, lest she be convicted and seized by the

crafty accuser: but she will answer that her sins are forgiven her by

Him, to Whom none can repay that price which He, Who owed nothing, paid

for us.

May she rest then in peace with the husband before and after whom she

had never any; whom she obeyed, with patience bringing forth fruit unto

Thee, that she might win him also unto Thee. And inspire, O Lord my God,

inspire Thy servants my brethren, Thy sons my masters, whom with

voice, and heart, and pen I serve, that so many as shall read these

Confessions, may at Thy Altar remember Monnica Thy handmaid, with

Patricius, her sometimes husband, by whose bodies Thou broughtest me

into this life, how I know not. May they with devout affection remember

my parents in this transitory light, my brethren under Thee our Father

in our Catholic Mother, and my fellow-citizens in that eternal Jerusalem

which Thy pilgrim people sigheth after from their Exodus, even unto

their return thither. That so my mother's last request of me, may

through my confessions, more than through my prayers, be, through the

prayers of many, more abundantly fulfilled to her.