To Studius, the Prefect of the City, on the Death of his Brother.
(From Kucusus, A.D. 404. Benedictine Edition, cxcvii., t. iii., p. 710.)
I know that you have understanding and can reason, and that before my letter reaches you you will have heard in meekness of your happy brother’s departure, for I would not call it death. Now, since we, too, must do our part, I invite you, my most honoured Lord, to show yourself as you are at this time; not that you should not grieve, for this is impossible, being a man clothed in flesh and looking in vain for such a brother, but that you should restrain your sorrow. You know the perishableness of human things, how worldly business is like flowing rivers, and how we should call blessed only those who depart this life with good hope. They go not to death, but from combat to rewards, from wrestlings to crowns, from a storm-tossed sea to a calm harbour. Pondering on these things, be consoled, since my own grief is not small, and we have a sovereign consolation in it—his goodness, which, I think, must offer you true solace. If the departed had been bad and full of evil, we ought to weep and mourn for him; but being what he was, after a life of mildness and goodness, as all the city knew it to be, fearing what was just, showing a fitting courage, independence, and fortitude, despising present things, a stranger to worldly cares, we should rejoice with him and with you that you have sent before you this brother, who may place the treasure which was his on his departure in a sure and safe place. Do not, then, my most honoured Lord, have any thoughts unworthy of yourself, or be broken by grief, but show now what you are, and let me see for my comfort that even my letter has done something for you. So, at our great distance from each other, I shall be proud to have overcome much of your sadness by a mere letter.
To Malchus on the Death of his Daughter.
(Μαλχῳ, lxxi., t. iii., p. 632.)
Do not be sad; do not put down the beautiful death of your happy daughter to your sins. She has reached the waveless shore and come to everlasting life. Removed from the troubled waters of this present life, she stands upon the rock, and whatever good things she has gathered together, those she holds as a most secure treasure. You should rejoice and exult and be glad that, like an intelligent gardener gathering the ripe fruit, you have offered her soul to the common Lord of all. Applying the remedy of such thoughts as these to yourself and to my most honoured lady, her mother, increase the reward reserved to you under these circumstances, so that not only on account of her excellent early training, but also for humbly and thankfully bearing her happy departure hence, you may receive a great crown from our merciful God.
To Olympias, A.D. 404.
(On the Virginal Life, ii., t. iii., p. 542.)
· · · · · · ·
Virginity is so great a thing, and requires so much labour, that when Christ had come down from heaven in order to make men angels, and to sow the heavenly life on earth, He did not venture even then to enjoin it or to make a law of it, but He did teach death to self, than which there is nothing harder. He taught men to crucify themselves, always to do good to their enemies, yet He did not make a law of virginity. He left it to the free-will of His hearers, saying, Let him who can, take it. It is a weighty undertaking: it has arduous wrestlings with the sweat of combat, and its path is rugged and precipitous. This is plainly shown by those in the Old Law, who were full of good deeds. For Moses, that great man who summed up the prophets in his person, the intimate friend of God, who enjoyed so much favour with Him as to be able to snatch six hundred thousand from the chastisement of a divine stroke, and was so great as to command the sea, who parted the ocean, drew water from the rock, and transformed the atmosphere, who changed the Nile’s waters into blood, who opposed Pharaoh with an army of frogs and locusts, and changed the whole face of creation, and worked a thousand other wonders, and many virtuous deeds,—for he was remarkable in every way,—yet he could not even look at these wrestlings, but needed marriage and the society of his wife, with its security. He dared not launch himself on the ocean of virginity fearing its waves. Then there was the patriarch who immolated his son and was strong enough to tread upon the most tyrannical of nature’s feelings. He had courage to sacrifice his son, that son being Isaac, in the bloom of his age, in the very flower of his youth, his own and only-begotten son, vouchsafed to him contrary to all hope, and full of righteousness, his one stay in his old age. He it was who led this son forth to the mountain for that consummation, and prepared the altar and laid the wood upon it, who placed the victim in readiness, and drew the sword and held it to his son’s neck. For he who was of adamant, or rather harder than adamant, both held him for slaughter and drew the knife. He who was thus firm by nature increased his natural fortitude by the mortification of his will, and gave proof of angelical calmness in his deeds. Yet the man who could encounter so great a battle, and go beyond nature itself, dared not face the combats of virginity. He also dreaded its wrestlings, and took to himself the comfort of marriage.
· · · · · · ·
The Blessedness of Suffering.
(To Olympias, A.D. 404 or 405. Ὀλυμπίαδι, xvii., t. iii., p. 604.)
Nothing strange or out of the way is happening to you, but it is extremely fitting and proper that the strength of your spirit should be increased by constant temptations, and your fervour and power in combat become greater, and that you should reap therefrom much sweetness. It is the nature of tribulation, when it encounters a brave and ardent soul, to bring about these results. And as the fire refines gold by its action, so does tribulation purify and refine golden souls. Therefore Paul says, Tribulation worketh patience and patience probation. Hence, I too am in joy and gladness, and in this vast solitude am consoled by this fortitude of yours. Therefore, even if thousands of wolves hem you in and endless evil plottings, I have no fear; but it is my prayer that present temptation may pass away and that you may not encounter others, thus fulfilling the divine law, which bids us pray not to fall into temptation. And if, perchance, it should happen again, I have confidence in your soul of gold, and in the great riches which you would gain for yourself. With what threat will they who act against their own interests be able to frighten you? By loss of money? But this, I know well, is like smoke in your eyes, and is accounted more worthless than mud by the way. Is it by exile from home and country? But you are able to live in great and populous cities as well as in deserts, and to pass your time in peace and quiet, and to put away worldly visions. Or do they threaten you with death? This, too, has been always in your thoughts, and if they should drag you to execution they will find a dead body in their hands. Why need I say more? No one will be able to do anything to you which you have not already borne with much patience. You, who have ever walked on a steep and thorny path, have accustomed yourself to all these things; you, who have shown consummate skill under training, now appear more radiant in the combat: not only are you not troubled by what has taken place, but you are soaring above the earth and rejoicing. You are glad to have a part now in those combats for which you had prepared yourself, and this in your woman’s body, which is weaker than a spider’s web. Whilst men are raging and gnashing their teeth, you are treading their madness under foot in much cheerfulness, and you would be ready to suffer many more things than they could prepare against you. Blessed and thrice-blessed are you by reason of the crowns to come, or rather by those very wrestlings. For these struggles, even before the reward, and in the oppression of the fight, have their present rewards, and compensations, and sweetness; they have contentedness, and fortitude, and steadfastness, and patience in making you invincible, unconquerable, far above all; they so exercise you that you can suffer no evil from anyone, and make you stand upon the rock in spite of angry waves, and bear a furious ocean with great peacefulness. These are the rewards of tribulation, even before the kingdom of heaven. I know that, already, you account yourself divested of the body, on the wings of sweetness, but that if called upon you would put it off more easily than others do the clothes which they wear. Rejoice, then, and be glad both over yourself and over those who die the blessed death, who die not in their bed, not in their houses, but in prisons, and chains, and torments. Grieve only for the doers of these things, and weep for them: this is worthy of your virtue. Since you wish to hear about my bodily health, I have so far got rid of the illness which troubled me and am better now, if only winter when it comes does not affect my weakness of stomach. We are also in perfect security from Isaurian invasions.