- char_end
- 342320
- char_start
- 334344
- chunk_index
- 47
- chunk_total
- 89
- estimated_tokens
- 1994
- source_file_key
- confessions
- text
- 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of kind far unlike be withdrawn, and this one ravish, and absorb, and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sickness one day she fell into a swoon, and was for a while withdrawn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.