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| Saint Augustine |
Saint Augustine.
(354–430). The Confessions of St. Augustine.
Vol. 7, pp. 150-160 of
The Harvard Classics
The mother of St.
Augustine prayed unceasingly for her son's conversion. The most
touching, most soul-revealing writing St. Augustine did is in the
description of his mother's death.
The Ninth Book
[…]
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, and the harmony
of its members, 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 peace-maker,
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 her good works, had brought up children, 1 so
often travailing in birth of them, 2 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, 3 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. 4 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; 5 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 6 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; 7 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? 8
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
poles 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? 9 And
when shall that be? When we shall all rise again, though
we shall not all be changed? 10
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 end 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 fullness 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 judgment to Thee, O Lord. 11 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 a 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 [Greek],
for that it drives sadness from the mind. And this also I confess
unto Thy mercy, Father of the fatherless, 12 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 if 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. 13 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. 14 Thy Son, the Truth, hath
said, Whosoever shall say unto his brother, Thou fool, shall
be in danger of hell fire. 15And 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. 16
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. 17 I know that
she dealt mercifully, and from her heart forgave her debtors
their debts; do Thou also forgive her debts, 18 what
ever she may have contracted in so many years, since the water of
salvation. Forgive her, Lord, forgive, I beseech Thee; enter
not into the judgment with her. 19 Let
Thy mercy be exalted above Thy justice, 20 since
Thy words are true, and Thou hast promised mercy unto the
merciful; 21 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. 22
And, I believe, Thou hast already done what I ask;
but accept, O Lord, the free-will offerings of my
mouth. 23 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 that
holy Sacrifice to be dispensed, by which the hand-writing
that was against us is blotted out, 24 through
which the enemy was triumphed over, who summing up our offences, and
seeking what to lay to our charge,found nothing in Him, 25 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 26 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 27 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.
Note
1. Tim. v. 4, 9,
10.
Note
27. Luke viii. 15.
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