Dies on the Eve of Her Son’s Conversion (Dec. 17)

Dies on the Eve of Her Son’s Conversion
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.
Read from CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE Vol. 7, pp. 150-160


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 worlds, 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 T hy
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
MTim. v. 4, 9, 10 17Gal. iv. 19. "Phil. iii. 13.

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*1 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
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
** 1 Cor. u. 9. 40 Ps. xxxvi. 9. 41 Ps. lxxx. 1. 42 Rom. viii. 22. 41 Wisd. vii. 27.

having uttered this, they too should be hushed, having roused only
our ears to H im 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 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,
4 4 Matt. xxv. II. 45 i Cor. xv. 51.—Vulg., etc.

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 litde 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-andthirtieth
of mine, was that religious and holy soul freed from the
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, / will sing of mercy and judgment 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
"Pi. ci.

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 1 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 f)a.\avtiov, 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 ten-
4 7 Ps. lxviii. 5.

derness 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 dicth 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.4*
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 Lard?
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 interces-
** I Cor. xv. 22. "Matt. xii. 36. 50Matt. v. 22. 51 1 Cor. x. 17.

sion 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? 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? 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 that 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*1 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*1 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 re-
**Rom. viii. 34. MMatt. xviii. 35; vi. 12. 54 Ps. cxliii. 2. 5 5 James ii. 13.
"Matt. v. 7. "Rom. ix. 15. 58 Ps. cxix. 108. 59 Col. ii. 14.
"John xiv. 30. " Ps. xci. 1. "Luke viii. 15.

member 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.

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