First Oration.161
FIRST ORATION
e have brought here, beloved brethren, my sacri fice in the person of my lord and brother Satyrus, an untainted victim and one pleasing to God. I was mindful that he was subject to death and the thought was not false, but grace has abounded beyond measure.1
Consequently, far from complaining, I even have reason to thank God. For my desire has ever been that, in any troubles awaiting either the Church or me, they should fall rather upon me and my household. Thanks be to God, therefore, that in the present state of universal apprehension, when barbarian invasions make for every sort of misgiving,2 my personal sorrow has put an end to public grieving, and there has been visited upon me the kind of calamity that we were fearing for all. I only wish that this has been fully accom plished here, namely, that my sorrow is the price paid for ransoming the people from their sorrow.
(2) I have considered nothing, dear brethren, in human relationships more priceless than such a brother, nothing worthier of my affection, nothing more dear. But public
1 Cf. 1 Tim. 1.14.
2 The barbarian peril referred to would seem to be the threatened invasion of Italy by the Quadi and Sarmatians in 374-375, which, however, did not materialize
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concerns come before personal matters. Were someone also to sound my brother's sentiments, it would be discovered that he would prefer to be slain for others than to live for himself, since for that reason Christ according to the flesh died for all, so that we might learn to live not for ourselves alone.3
(3) Furthermore, I cannot be ungrateful to God. For it should be a cause for joy that I had such a brother rather than a source of sorrow for having lost him. For to have had him was a gift; to have lost him was the price to be paid.
Hence, so long as it was permitted, I enjoyed the loan en trusted to me. Now, He who deposited the loan has withdrawn it. There is no difference between swearing that no loan has been made and grieving because it has been returned. In either case, faith wavers and salvation is in peril. If refusal to repay a debt is a fault, is refusal to make a sacrifice an act of virtue? Granted a lender of money can be tricked out of his wealth, the Author of nature, who lends us our kinsmen, cannot be cheated. The greater the amount of the sum loaned, the more handsome must be the interest to be paid on the capital.
(4) Hence, I cannot be ungrateful over my brother. He has given back only what is common to nature and he has merited the reward which belongs to grace alone. For who can raise objection to a condition universal in application?
Who can grieve because a security especially dear to him has been taken away, when for our comfort the Father delivered
His only Son unto death for us?4 Who should fancy that he ought to be exempted from dying, if he has not been exempted from being born? It is a great mystery of divine love that not even Christ was exempted from bodily death and that, even though Lord of nature, He did not object to the law of the flesh which He had taken upon Himself. I must die. For 3 Cf. 2 Cor. 5.15.
4 Cf. Rom. 8.32.
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Him there was no such necessity. Could not He who said of a servant: 'If I wish him to remain until I come, what is it to thee?'3 have Himself remained alive if He had so wished?
But by his continuance in this life, he would have lost his reward and nullified my sacrifice. What greater comfort have we, therefore, than the fact that even Christ died according to the flesh? Or why should I weep excessively over my brother, so long as I know that the divine love of Christ could not die?
(5) Why should I be the one to show more grief for my brother than all you other mourners? I have dissolved my personal grief in the public sorrow, especially since mine is of no avail, while yours builds up faith and provides comfort.
You who are wealthy mourn, and by your mourning you show that accumulated riches are no aid to salvation. For death cannot be put off with a payment of money, and the last day carries off rich and poor alike. You who are old mourn, because in this situation you fear for the lot of your children. Since, then, you cannot prolong human life, train your children not for the enjoyment of the body but for the service of virtue. Even you who are in the bloom of youth grieve, because the end of life is not ripe old age. The poor, too, have mourned, and, what is much more valuable and fruitful, they have washed away his transgressions by their tears. These are ransoming tears, these are groans that conceal the sorrow of death, this is the grief which hides the feeling of former grief by the fullness of an unending joy. Therefore, while the funeral is that of a private individual, there is general mourning. Hence, that mourning cannot last long which is hallowed by the affection of all.
(6) Why, indeed, should I weep for you, my dearest brother, when you were thus taken away from me that all might have you in common? I have not lost you; I have simply altered my manner of enjoying you. Before, we were
5 John 21.22.
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inseparable in a corporeal sense; now, we are undivided in our affection. For you abide with me, and you will abide with me forever. When you were living among us, our country never took you away from me. You yourself never preferred our country to me, and now you have given me our other country. For I have begun to be no longer a stranger in the land where the better portion of myself now is. I really never lived for myself alone, since the better part of both of us was in each other. Yet we were both in Christ, in whom is the sum of all things and the portion of every individual. This grave, within which is the fruit not of nature but of grace, is more precious to me than our native soil. In your body, which now lies lifeless, is the better effort of my life, and in this body also, which I carry about, the richer portion belongs to you.
(7) As I recall you with gratitude, so I wish that I could breathe into your life whatever of vital spirit I possess, and that half of my days might be cut off and be available for your enjoyment! For it would seem proper that we who al ways kept our paternal inheritance undivided should not have our span of years divided, or, at least, that we who have lived inseparable lives should not have separate appointments with death.
(8) But now, brother, what progress can I make, in what direction shall I turn! If ever an ox has sought the stricken mate with which it was accustomed to be yoked to the plow, and has felt that a part of itself is missing, and has given proof of its tender affection by frequent bellowing, why, brother, should I not long for you? How can I ever forget the one with whom I always drew the plow of this life? In labor
I was inferior to you, but in love no less united. I was not suitable so much because of my own strength as endurable through your patience. With anxious and devoted affection you always protected my side with yours as a brother in
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love, as a father in your care, as an elder in solicitude, and as a younger person in respect. Hence, in one relationship you so exercised the offices of several toward me that in you I seek, not one, but many lost dear ones. In you, flattery was unknown, and dutiful affection was manifest. Your love was so all-embracing that you had nothing to add by resorting to guile. Thus, you could not receive an increase and you did not look forward to reciprocation.
(9) But where is such unrestrained sorrow carrying me in my recollection of kindness and forgetfulness of duty? The Apostle recalls me and puts a curb on my grief, saying, as you recently heard: 'We would not, brethren, have you ignorant concerning those who are asleep, lest you should grieve, even as others who have no hope.'6 7 Forgive me, dear brethren.
For not all of us can say: 'Be ye imitators of me, as I am of Christ.'' But if you seek a model to imitate, you have one whom you can imitate. Though we are not all suited to teach, would that we were all apt to learn!
(10) But we have not committed a serious fault by our weeping. Not every display of sorrow is a sign either of a lack of trust in God or of weakness in ourselves. Natural grief is one thing, sorrow which comes from lack of hope is another, and there is a great difference between longing for what you had and grieving because you have lost it. Not only does sorrow beget tears, but joy does, also. Piety excites tears, prayer waters the couch, and supplication, as the Prophet has said, washes the bed.8 Whenever a patriarch was buried, his people wept profusely. Tears are, therefore, indicators of devoted ness, not inciters of grief. Hence, I frankly allow that I, too, have wept, but the Lord also wept. He wept for a stranger;
6 1 Thess. 4.12.
7 1 Cor. 4.16.
8 Cf. Ps. 6.7.
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I weep for my brother.9 In one He wept for all; I will weep for you, my brother, through all.
(11) He wept not through His feeling of emotion but through ours, for the Godhead knows no tears. He wept in the human nature in which He was sad.10 He wept in the human nature in which He was crucified, in which He died, in which He was buried. He wept in that nature of which today the Prophet spoke, saying: 'Shall not Mother Sion say: Man and man is born in her and the Highest Himself hath founded her?'* 11 He wept in the nature in which He called Sion
Mother, being conceived of the Virgin and born in Judaea.
He could not, however, have a mother according to His divine nature, because He is his mother's Creator. He was made, not by divine, but by human generation. Because He was made man, God was born.
(12) So we have in another place: 'A child is born to us, and a son is given to us.'12 In the term 'child' there is an indication of age; in the term 'son' a reference to the fullness of Godhead. He was made of His mother, and born of the Father, but, as the same Person, He was both born and given. Do not think of two but of one. For the Son of God is one Person, both born of the Father and sprung from the Virgin. The names differ in order but unite in one, just as the Scriptural lesson just read teaches: 'Man was made in her and the Highest Himself hath founded her.'13 He was man indeed in body, but the Highest in power. And while
He is both God and man through diversity of nature, He is the same person, hot two persons, though being both God and man. He has, therefore, something peculiar to His own nature
9 C.f. John 11.35.
10 Cf. Matt. 26.38.
II Ps. 86.5 (Septuagint).
12 Isa. 9.6.
13 Ps. 86.5.
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and something in common with us, but in both cases He is one and in both He is perfect.
(13) It should not, therefore, be a cause for wonder that God made Him both Lord and Christ. He, therefore, made
Him Jesus, Him indeed who received the name in His human nature. God made Him of whom also the patriarch
David writes: 'Shall not Mother Sion say: Man and man is born in her and the Highest Himself hath founded her?'14
He is unlike the Father, not, of course, in divinity, but in His body. He is not distinct from the Father except in function.
He remains His associate in power, though separated from Him in the mystery of the Passion.
(14) A discussion of this topic calls for further exposition to show the authority of the Father, the attributes of the Son, and the unity of the whole Trinity.10 But today I have assumed the task, not of theological discussion, but of giving con solation, even though it is customary in consoling to distract the soul from sorrow by fixing the attention on discussion. Yet I wish to temper my grief rather than to destroy my feeling of affection, to assuage my longing rather than to remove it from my mind. For I do not want to digress too far from my brother and be distracted with other matters, since I have undertaken this address for the sake of being, as it were, his traveling companion, that in spirit I may attend him longer on his journey, and embrace with my mind him whom my eyes behold. I like to fix my whole gaze upon him, to linger with him, and show him all the offices of the heart, to address him with all endearing terms. Meanwhile, my mind is numbed into believing that I have not lost him whom I am still able to see present. I cannot realize that he is dead, and I am
14 Ps. 86.5.
15 It should be recalled that St. Ambrose was speaking when Ariamsm was at its height. Hence his preoccupation with the attributes and position of Christ in the Trinity.
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still not seeking in vain for those services of his to which I attributed my life and every breath.
(15) How, then, can I make a return for such kind ness and such labors? I, brother, had made you my heir, and you left me yours. I wanted you to survive me, and I am your survivor. That I might make some return for your kindnesses, I used to extend my best wishes. Though I am now deprived of the opportunity even of wishing you well,
I have not lost your benefits to me. As successor to my own heir, what shall I do? As one who has outlived his own life, what shall I do? As one with no right to this light which I still enjoy, what shall I do? What gratitude and what favors can I show you in return? From me you receive nothing save tears. Or, perhaps, the tears, which are all I have left, you do not seek, because you are secure in your reward. For even when you were still alive, you used to forbid tears and to state that our grief was a greater cause of pain to you than the thought of your own death. Tears prevent my going further, and weeping restrains me. But for your sake they forbid also lest, while we shed tears for our own loss, we seem to be despairing of your deserts.
(16) Certainly, for me at least, you have lessened the pangs even of this grief. I, who once feared for you, have now no cause for fear, and I no longer have anything for the world to take from me. Though your holy sister is still living, reverenced for her purity, your equal in character and no less your rival in kindness and duty, we both used to fear more for your sake, because we thought that our joy in this life was centered in you. For your sake it was a pleasure to live, and for your sake the thought of death caused us no pain. We both prayed that you would survive us, and the thought of our surviving you was a forbidding one. Did not our hearts shrink when a fear of this kind scarcely touched
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us? Were our minds not completely stunned at the news of your sickness?
(17) What a sorry notion of things we had! We thought that you, whom we see taken away, were restored to us. Now we realize that it was your vows to the holy martyr Lawrence that obtained for you a return home.16 And would that you had obtained not only a safe passage, but also greater length of days! Since you were able to obtain the privilege of coming hither, you certainly could have obtained many more years of life. But truly I thank Thee, almighty and everlasting
God, that Thou didst not refuse us at least these last con solations, and that Thou didst grant us the longed-for return of our most beloved brother from Sicily and Africa. He was snatched away so quickly after he came back that his death would almost seem to have been delayed to enable him to return to his brother and sister.
(18) I now have my precious treasure, and no journeying can again tear him from me. I possess his relics to embrace, his grave to cover with my body, and his sepulchre to lie upon.
And I believe that I shall become more pleasing to God for resting above the bones of this holy body. Would that I had been able in similar fashion to employ my body to prevent his death! Had you been attacked with swords, I would rather have offered myself to be pierced in your stead. Had I been able to recall your departing soul, I would rather have offered my own.
(19) It availed me nothing to have caught your last breath and to have breathed into your mouth as you were dying.17 For my thought was that I could either receive your death or transfuse my life into you. Oh, how sad, and yet 16 Satyrus had recently made a successful trip to Africa to recover family property which had been taken over illegally by a certain Prosper. On falling ill after shipwreck and exposure, he petitioned St. Lawrence that he might be granted the favor of being able to reach home.
17 Cf. Vergil, Aeneid 4.684,685.
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how sweet, were the pledges of our last kisses! How sorrowful those embraces, in the midst of which your dying body grew tense and your last breath vanished! I tightened my arms about you, but, as I took the last breath from your mouth that I might share in your death, I had already lost you as I held you. In a manner which I cannot explain, that breath became a source of life to me, and diffused, even in death, a richer odor of affection. Even if I could not prolong your life by my breath, I wish, at least, that the vigor of your own last breath might have been transfused into my mind, and that our attitude would now be reflecting the noble in nocence and purity of your heart. Then, dearest brother, you would have left me an inheritance which would confer note worthy honor and favor on your heir.
(20) What, therefore, shall I do, now that I have lost all the sweetness, all the consolations, in fine, all the charm of this life? For you alone were my comfort at home, my glory abroad. You, I repeat, advised me in counsels, shared my cares, relieved my anxiety, dispelled my sadness, supported my acts, and defended my thoughts. Upon you alone, finally, rested domestic responsibilities and public cares. I call your holy soul to witness that in my work of church-building I was often afraid of displeasing you. Thus, upon your last return, you reproved me for delay. At home and abroad you thus assumed the role of teacher and adviser to the bishop, that you would not allow him to think about domestic mat ters and would advise him to devote himself to public con cerns. Hence, I have no fear of seeming to speak boastfully— for this is your just meed of praise—when I say that you managed the home of your brother without offense to any one, and that you won honor and favor for his episcopate.
(21) I perceive, indeed, that my heart is filled with emotion as I recount your services and enumerate your virtues. But I find respite in my very emotion itself, and, al-
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though these recollections renew my grief, they also afford me pleasure. Is it possible for me either not to think of you, or ever to think of you without tears? And shall I ever be able either not to remember such a brother, or to remember him without a kind of tearful joy? For what delight was ever mine that did not proceed from you? What enjoyment, I repeat, was mine without you, or yours without me? What experience did we not have in common, including almost our very sight and sleep? Were our wills ever in disagreement?
Were even our steps not common? Truly, when I raised my foot, did you not seem to be moving my body or I, yours?
(22) But if ever one of us had to journey forth without the other, you would fancy that his side was unprotected, you would see his troubled countenance, and you would judge that his soul was sad. That accustomed affability, that usual vigor, was no longer conspicuous. The appearance of one of us alone aroused the suspicion and fear of some illness—so strange it seemed to everyone when we were apart! As for myself, in fact, forgetting my brother's absence, I would often turn my head to speak to him as if he were present, and I seemed to be seeing him and talking with him. But whenever I was disappointed in my hopes I used to imagine that I was carrying, as it were, a heavy yoke upon my neck.
I found it difficult to proceed, I was self-conscious at being seen, and I would hurry back home, because I did not like ^ to go farther without you.
(23) But when both of us had to journey forth together there was a word for every step we took, our speech was as unbroken as our pace, and we had no thought of our walking but only of the pleasure of conversation, for each of us hung on the lips of the other. We gave no attention to our sur roundings as we passed along, but listened to each other with mutual interest, drinking in the love in each other s eyes and reflecting our radiant pleasure in each other s sight and
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presence. How I used secretly within myself to admire your virtues! How I used to congratulate myself that the Lord had given me such a brother, so modest, so capable, so inno cent, so simple of heart! When I would think of your inno cence I would begin to have doubts of your capability, and when I would see your ability for getting things done I could hardly think of innocence as being one of your traits.
Yet you combined both qualities through your unusual strength and perfection of character.
(24) Hence, whatever business we had not been able to settle together you carried through successfully alone. Prosper, as I hear, was congratulating himself because, since I had become a bishop, he did not imagine that he would have to restore what he had stolen. But he found your ability alone more formidable than that of both of us combined. And so he paid all, fully appreciative of your moderation and without adopting a mocking attitude toward your native shyness. He was even grateful that you were so retiring, nor, in the face of your competence, was he arrogant. But for whom, brother, did you strive to get what you did? We intended that the reward for your efforts should be in full keeping with their demonstration. You finished everything to the last detail and, when your work was done, you came home. Now you alone, who are dearer to me than all, are snatched away, just as if you had postponed death to give full realization to your love for me and to carry off the palm for effective action.
(25) What little pleasure, dearest brother, did we take in the honors of this world, since they kept us separated! Con sequently, we accepted them, not because we wanted to do so, but because we feared that a lack of interest on our part might seem reprehensible. Or perhaps they were given to us in order that, since your sudden death was to destroy our pleasure, we might already learn how to live without each other.
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(26) When I reread again and again my letters to you, I realize what deep forebodings occupied my mind. I tried to dissuade you, brother, from going to Africa and urged, rather, that you send someone else. I was afraid to have you begin this journey and to entrust you to the deep. Even a greater apprehension than usual oppressed my mind. But you made the trip, settled the business at hand, and once more entrusted yourself to the sea in a vessel, as I hear, which was old and full of leaks. Since you had set your mind on a speedy re turn, you neglected all caution, eagerly desiring our company again and ignoring your own danger.
(27) How deceitful is joy, and how uncertain the course of human life! I thought that because you got back from Africa, were restored from the sea, and saved from shipwreck, you could no longer be taken from us. But we, though we are on land, are experiencing a more grievous shipwreck. For the death of my brother, who saved himself from perishing in shipwreck through his strong swimming, has become a shipwreck for us. What enjoyment is left to us, now that we have lost such a dear and glorious ornament, now that our light in the darkness of this world has been extinguished? In him not only the glory of our family but also that of our whole country has perished.
(28) Naturally, I am most grateful to you, beloved brethren, my holy people, that you consider my sorrow as your own sorrow, that you think that our bereavement has fallen upon yourselves, and that with this new and wonderful exhibition of affection you are offering the tears of the whole city, of every age, and of all orders. This is not the sorrow proper to private sympathy, but a public offering and service inspired by general good will. Yet, if you feel any sympathy for me personally because I have lost such a brother, I derive a rich recompense from this, since I have the pledge of your love. I wish my brother were alive. But I must grant that,
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while proof of public kindness is pleasant in prosperity, it is especially welcome in adversity.
(29) Indeed, it strikes me that such a wealth of kindness deserves more than the usual form of gratitude. For it is not without point that, in the Acts of the Apostles, widows are de scribed as weeping when Tabitha died,18 or that, in the Gospel, a crowd is represented as moved by a widow's tears and as joining the funeral procession of the young man who was soon to be raised from the dead.19 Widows alone wept for Tabitha; the whole city weeps for Satyrus. It is certain, there fore, that the protection of the Apostles is obtained. It is certain, I repeat, that Christ was moved to pity when He saw you weeping. Though He has not now touched the coffin,
He has received the spirit commended to Him. Though He has not summoned the dead with a human voice, by virtue of His divine power He has liberated his soul from the pains of death and the assaults of evil spirits. Though the deceased has not sat up in the coffin, he has found rest in Christ.
Though he has not spoken to us, he sees the things which are above us and he already rejoices in his superior knowledge.
For by the words which we read in the Gospel we understand what is in store for us, and what we behold in this life is an indication of what shall be.
(30) He for whom is reserved a restoration of life for eternity has no need of being restored for a little while in time. Why should he fall back into this miserable and wretched corruption? Why should he return to this life of tears? Should we not be more than happy that he has been rescued from such impending evils and threatening perils?
For, if no one mourned for Henoch after he was taken up bodily to heaven20 in an age of peace and cessation of war,
18 Cf. Acts 9.36-39.
19 Cf. Luke 7.14,15.
20 Cf. Gen. 5.24.
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and if, on the contrary, the Prophet gave praise, as Scripture says of him: 'He was taken away lest wickedness should alter his understanding,'21 how much more justly must this be said now, when to the alluring dangers of the world there is added the uncertainty of life! He was taken away so that he might not fall into the hands of the barbarians; he was taken away so that he might not witness the destruction of the whole earth, the end of the world, the burials of his relatives, the death of his fellow citizens, and, last but not least, something more painful than any death, the pollution of virgins and widows.
(31) Therefore, brother, I count you fortunate, both in the glory of your life and in the opportuneness of your death.
Not from us were you taken away, but from perils. You did not lose your life; you escaped the fear of impending afflic tions. What holy compassion you would feel for your family if you knew that Italy was now threatened by an enemy who is so near! How you would groan and lament that our greatest safety lay in the barrier of the Alps and that purity's last de fence consisted of barricades of wood! With what anguish would you grieve at the sight of your friends being so poorly protected from a lustful and cruel enemy, who spares neither chastity nor life!
(32) How, I repeat, could you bear what we shall be compelled to endure and perhaps, what is worse, to witness: virgins ravaged, infants dragged from their mothers arms and tossed upon spears, the violation of bodies consecrated to God, and even aged widows made to serve the purposes of lust? How, I ask, could you endure these things? Even with your last breath, unmindful of self but much concerned for us, you repeatedly warned us of the danger of barbarian invasion and said that you had good reason for urging that we should flee. You did this, perhaps, because you saw that we
21 Wisd. 4.11.
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would be left destitute by your death. And you did it, not out of timidity, but out of love for us. While always courageous in yourself, you felt timid out of anxiety in our behalf. When you were called home by the noble Symmachus,22 your kins man, because Italy was reported to be aflame with war, be cause you were hastening into peril, and because you might fall into the hands of the enemy, you replied that you were coming for this reason only, namely, that you might not fail us in our danger and that you might be a sharer in your brother's peril.
(33) You were fortunate, therefore, in such an opportune death and in not being saved to witness our present calamities.
Certainly you have been more fortunate than your holy sister,23 for she is deprived of your comfort and is in fear of violence to her modesty. Recently happy through having two brothers, she is now miserable because of both. She can neither follow the one nor leave the other. Your grave is her lodging, and your body's sepulchre her home. And would that even this lodging place were safe! Our food is in weeping and our drink is in tears.24 For Thou hast given us the bread of tears for nourishment and Thou hast given us drink in tears in measure, or perhaps beyond measure.
(34) What am I to say of myself? I cannot die without leaving my sister, and I have no pleasure in life separated from you. For what can be pleasant to me without you, since you were ever the source of all my pleasure? What joy is there in remaining longer in this life, and in tarrying where we lived happily as long as we lived together? Even if there were anything which could give us delight here, it could not do so without your presence. If ever I rashly wished my life to 22 L. Avianius Symmachus, father of Symmachus the orator and opponent of St. Ambrose in the Altar of Victory controversy.
23 Marcellina.
24 Cf. Ps. 79.6.
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be prolonged, now, at any rate, I would not wish to live with out you.
(35) The present situation is unbearable. How can I bear to go on without you, the excellent companion of my life and the partner in all my labors and duties? I could not make his loss more bearable by reflecting on its possibility, so much did my mind dread even to think of such a thing! Not that I was unaware of his condition, but my constant prayer and desire had so dulled the sense of our common weakness that I could not think, about him at all except in terms of continued hap piness.
(36) Therefore, when I was recently quite ill—and would that it had been the end for me!—my sole regret was that you were not by my bedside to lend your fingers in assisting our holy sister in tenderly closing my lifeless eyes. What had
I desired? What service am I not giving in return? What prayers and wishes lack fulfillment? What offices now follow?
I was preparing for one thing; now I am compelled to carry out another. I am no longer the object of funeral rites, but their minister. Oh, what unfeeling eyes are mine, that could witness a brother dying! What rough and cruel hands, that closed the eyes in which I saw so much! What even more unfeeling neck, that could carry so sad a burden, however consoling a duty it was!
(37) You, brother, would have done these things more appropriately for me. I looked forward to these offices at your hands, and longed for them. But now, as the surviver of my own life, what comfort can I obtain without you? You alone were wont to comfort me in sorrow, arousing joy and dis pelling sadness. How do I now look upon you, brother, no longer speaking to me, no longer giving me your kiss of af fection? Yet our mutual attachment was always so deeply rooted that it was fostered rather by interior affection than
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manifested by public displays of endearment. Having such a deep love for each other, we did not seek the testimony of others. The virile strength of our relationship as brothers permeated both of us to such a degree that we did not need to demonstrate our love by caresses. Since we were conscious of our mutual affection we were content with our internal love, and there appeared no need for outward parade of af fection when even the very image of the other fostered our mutual love. Whether it was the way we both thought, or the way we both looked, we certainly seemed to be one in the other.
(38) Who looked at you and did not imagine he saw me?
How often have I bade the time of day to persons who, having previously greeted you, would say that they had al ready been greeted by me? How many made some remark to you and mentioned that they had spoken to me? What amusement I would get, and what frequent delight, when
I would perceive that they had mistaken us! What a pleasant mistake, what a delightful slip, what a harmless deceit, what a charming misrepresentation! For there was nothing for me to be embarrassed about in either your words or your deeds, and I was glad to have them ascribed to me.
(39) Upon occasion, when individuals would emphat ically assert that they had discussed some matter with me, I would answer pleasantly and with a smile: 'Be sure you have not been talking with my brother.' But, while we had all things in common and were undivided in thought and af fection, we never shared the confidences of friends, not out of any fear of danger resulting therefrom, but simply because we aimed to keep our pledged word. Yet, if it was necessary to consult together on some matter, our counsel was always in common, but the confidential element was not always shared. Although our friends conversed with either of us, hoping that what they said might reach the other, I know
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that confidences by mutual agreement were usually kept so faithfully that they were not imparted even to a brother.
This, indeed, was convincing proof that what had not been made known to a brother was certainly not betrayed to some stranger.
(40) Through the possession of so many benefits and en joyments such as these I confess my mind was raised to a kind of ecstasy; I ceased to have any fear of surviving him, because I deemed him more worthy to live than I. Therefore,
I have been dealt an intolerable blow. For the wounds in flicted by such deep anguish are more easily endured when there is a premonition than when they come without warning.
Who will now console me in my grief? Who will lift me up from my affliction? With whom shall I share my troubles?
Who will free me from the cares of this world? You were the manager of my business affairs, you took charge of the servants, you were the arbiter between a brother and a sister, an arbiter, not in strife, but in matters of affection.
(41) If there was ever any discussion between my holy sister and myself, we would choose you to judge which opinion seemed the better. You offended neither, and you aimed to satisfy both. You retained your loving affection and observed such moderation in judging that you sent each of us away pleased, and you gained the gratitude of both. And if you your self presented some matter for discussion, how pleasantly did you argue, and how free was even your indignation from all bitterness! How mild your correction seemed to the servants themselves, since you were wont rather to defer to brethren than to be zealous in punishing! Our profession repressed our zeal for correcting. Or rather, you, brother, with your promise to punish and your eagerness to be lenient, turned me away from every intention to chastise.
(42) He gave proof, then, of no ordinary prudence. This virtue is defined by the wise as follows. The first of good things
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is to know God and with pious mind to venerate that true and divine Being and with the whole affection of the soul to de light in the lovable and ardently to be desired beauty of eternal Truth. The second is to draw from that divine and heavenly source of nature love toward our neighbors. This teaching, also, the wise of this world have derived from our laws, for they could not have obtained these principles for the education of mankind except from the source of the divine
Law in heaven.25
(43) What, therefore, shall I say about his reverence for the worship of God? Before he was initiated in the more perfect Mysteries, he experienced the dangers of shipwreck.
The vessel upon which he was voyaging struck a rocky shal low, and the waves, tossing it hither and thither, were breaking it up. Though he did not fear death, he was, how ever, deeply concerned about dying without the Eucharist.
So he asked members of the faithful, whom he knew were fully initiated, for the Blessed Sacrament,26 not out of a prying curiosity to look upon it, but to obtain aid and assistance for his faith. He had it wrapped in a napkin, and tied the napkin around his neck, and so cast himself into the sea. He did not look for a plank loosened from the ship's structure, floating upon which he might save himself, for he had sought the arms of faith alone. And so believing that he was adequately protected and defended by these arms, he desired no other aid.
(44) We may look upon his courage at the same time, because as the ship was breaking up he did not, as a ship wrecked man, seize a floating piece of debris, but as a brave man he found support for his courage in himself. Nor did
25 Many of the Fathers regarded the Book of Wisdom, for example, as much earlier than Plato and as a definite but unacknowledged source of Platonic teaching on the cardinal virtues.
26 On the custom, still widespread in the fourth century, of reserving a portion of the Eucharistic Bread in private homes or of carrying it as a special protection on journeys, cf. Catholic Encyclopedia IV 176.
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his hope fail, nor his judgment deceive him. In short, he was the first rescued from the waves and brought ashore. He was fully conscious of his debt to the Protector to whom he had entrusted himself, and at once, when he had either rescued the rest of his servants or found that this had been done, without concern for his goods or regret for his losses, he sought out a church of God to return thanks for his de liverance and to be fully initiated in the eternal Mysteries.
For he declared that no greater duty was incumbent upon him for returning thanks. If ingratitude to man has been likened to murder, what an enormous crime is ingratitude to God!
(45) It is the mark of a prudent man to know himself and, as the wise have put it, to live according to nature. But what is so much in accord with nature as to give thanks to the Creator? Look at the heaven over your head. Does it not render thanks to its Creator when we behold it? For 'the heavens show forth the glory of God, and the firmament declareth the works of his hands.'27 The sea itself, when it is quiet and tranquil, gives proof of the divine tranquility; when it is in violent movement, the wrath on high causes terror. Do we not all rightly marvel at the thanks due to God when we observe that irrational nature checks its waves in a kind of rational manner and the waters know their own limits? And what shall I say of the earth, which in obedience to divine command gladly provides food for all living things, and of the fields, which, in payment of accumulating interest, as it were, make heaping and manifold returns for what they have received?
(46) In consequence, my brother, who under nature's guidance grasped with his vigorous and ardent mind the character of God's work, realized that his first duty was to render thanks to his Preserver. While he could not make full
27 Ps. 18.2.
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recompense, he could at least have a sense of gratitude. For the quality of gratitude is this, that when a favor is returned it is felt, and through being felt it is returned. Hence, he gave thanks, and he received the gift of faith. For he who expe rienced such wonderful protection from the divine Mystery wrapped in a napkin realized how much it would mean to him if he could receive It with his mouth and consume It in the very depths of his heart. If It was so helpful to him when protected by a napkin, how much more profitable, he thought,
It would be to him when taken into his inmost being.
(47) However, unlike so many overzealous souls, his zeal did not ignore caution. Convinced as he was that there is no genuine thankfulness outside the true faith, he summoned the bishop and asked him whether he was in union with the Catholic bishops, that is, with the Roman Church. The Church in that locality was possibly in schism, for at that time its bishop, Lucifer,28 had separated from our com munion. So, despite the fact that Lucifer had been an exile for the faith and had left heirs of his faith, my brother never theless thought there could be no true faith in schism. Al though they had faith in God, they had no faith in the Church of God, for they suffered her limbs, as it were, to be divided and torn. Since Christ suffered for the Church, and since the Church is the Body of Christ,29 it is apparent that they show no faith in Christ who repudiate His passion and tear His
Body asunder.
(48) Consequently, even though he owed a debt of gratitude and feared to set sail as a debtor for so vast an amount, he thought it better to proceed to some place where he could make payment safely. For in his judgment payment for God's grace consists of love and faith. Nor did he put
28 The bishop was apparently an adherent of Lucifer of Cagliari, who had withdrawn from communion with the Roman Catholic Church.
29 Cf. Col. 1.18.
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off making this payment the moment he had free access to a church. The grace of God, which he longed for, he received, and what he received he preserved. Nothing, therefore, ev idences more wisdom than the type of prudence that distin guishes between divine and human matters.
(49) Why should I speak of his brilliant eloquence in the exercise of his forensic duties? What incredible admiration did he not attract to himself in the court of the highest pre fecture? But I prefer to speak of those things which, once he received the Mysteries of God, he deemed of more importance than human affairs.
(50) Anyone wishing a fuller view of his courage should consider how often after shipwreck he crossed the sea with almost a dauntless disregard for this life. In his travels he covered widespread localities, and, to the very last, he did not seek an escape from danger but met it. I wish he had been as solicitous in taking precautions as he was patient when hurt or unconcerned about cold. But he was happy in this, that, so long as his bodily strength allowed and he could carry out what he wished to do, he spent his life performing tasks proper to youth and had no regard for his physical weakness.
(51) What words have I to describe his simplicity or, shall I call it, moderation in conduct and restraint of mind?
If I allow myself to speak somewhat at length about one with whom I am no longer permitted to converse, kindly pardon me and forgive my show of grief. Surely, it is for your advantage also to observe that you are doing this kind ness, not out of weakness and sympathy, but because you have been moved by sound judgment and honor for the deceased. Every simple soul is blessed. But his simplicity was so marked that, having become a child, as it were, he radiated the simplicity of that innocent age and was conspicuous as a living image of perfect virtue and as a mirror of blameless
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life. Therefore, he has entered the kingdom of heaven, both because he believed the word of God and because, like a child,30 he put aside the art of flattery. When some wrong was done to him, rather than avenge himself sharply he ac cepted it quietly. He was more disposed to listen to complaints that to tolerate deceit; he was easily conciliated, but was in accessible to ambition; and he was so reverent toward modesty that sometimes it might be said he had more of that virtue than he needed.
(52) But we can never have more than enough of fun damental goodness. For modesty does not hinder, but rather graces, the performance of duties. A blush of virginal modesty suffused his countenance and betrayed his inward feeling whenever he suddenly chanced to meet some female relative.
As if overwhelmed and cast to the gound—although his con duct was the same even in the company of men—he rarely lifted his head, or raised his eyes, or mingled in conversation.
The bashful modesty of his mind was reflected in his actions, and with it the chastity of his body was in full harmony. He guarded unsullied the gifts of holy baptism, pure of body, but even purer of heart. He shrank no less from obscene speech as from bodily impurity, and he thought that respect should be paid to modesty no less by wholesome conversation than by personal chastity.
(53) Accordingly, he loved continence so much that he never sought a wife, partly because of his pursuit of chastity, partly, also, because of his love for us. It was astonishing how he concealed his true feeling and avoided any ostentation regarding his resolution. So carefully, indeed, did he veil his attitude that we, who encouraged him to marry, fancied he was putting it off rather than avoiding it. Accordingly, this was one matter he confided neither to his brother nor to his
30 Cf. Matt. 18.3.
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sister, not out of any hesitation or doubt, but because of his re tiring modesty.
(54) Who, therefore, does not wonder at a man situated in age between a sister and a brother, the one a virgin, the other a bishop, who although thus competing with the two highest callings, was so unexcelled in magnanimity that he reflected the chastity proper to the one and the holiness proper to the other, not under the bond of profession, but as an exercise in virtue? If, then, lust and anger produce the other vices, surely, I may say, chastity and gentleness are, as it were, the parents of virtues, allowing, as we do, that, just as piety is the source of all good things, so it is also the seed bed of all the other virtues.
(55) What shall I say about his frugality, and his chaste restraints, as it were, regarding possessions. He who takes care of his own property does not seek other men's goods, nor is he puffed up by immoderate wealth who is content with his own. Therefore, he did not want to recover anything except his own, and that, too, because he did not relish being cheated rather than out of any desire to get richer. He rightly used to call those who seek other people's property
'money vultures.' But if covetousness is the root of all evils,31 surely he strips himself of vices who does not seek money.
(56) Unless he invited friends, he never enjoyed elaborate meals or dinners with many courses. He sought to satisfy nature, not superabundance to gratify pleasure. Certainly he was not poor in this world's goods, but he was poor in spirit.3
We ought have no doubt whatever about the happiness of a man who in wealth took no pleasure in riches, and in poverty did not consider what he had as scanty.
(57) To complete our treatment of his exemplification of 31 Cf. 1 Tim. 6.10.
32 Cf. Matt. 5.3.
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the cardinal virtues, it remains for us to note in him the role of justice. Now, although virtues are closely interrelated, a distinct sketch of each is desirable, especially of justice. For this virtue, while somewhat grudging to itself, is devoted wholly to what is outside itself, and whatever it acquires through a kind of harshness toward itself, swept onward by its love for all, it pours forth upon its neighbors.
(58) This virtue expresses itself in many forms: in one, toward friends and acquaintances; in another, toward all men; in a third, toward the worship of God, or assistance to those in need. So, what he was toward all is quite patent through the affection of the provincials over whom he was governor. They used to say he was more like one's own father than a governor, a kind judge among devoted subjects, and a steadfast dispenser of equal justice.
(59) Although his good will embraced the whole human race, our undivided patrimony shows what kind of man he was in his attitude toward his brother and sister, for our inheritance was not distributed or lessened, but was preserved for us. For he refused to admit love as a reason for making a will. Indeed, he signified this in his parting remarks and final expressions of his desires to his loved ones. He said it was by his own free choice that he had not married, since he feared to be separated from us, and he did not want to draw up a will, lest our freedom of action might in some way be im paired. Accordingly, even after we had begged and pleaded with him, he remained convinced that he should make no testamentary dispositions. He did not forget the poor, but only asked that they be given as much as we thought just.
(60) By this alone he gave sufficient proof of his fear of God and furnished an example of the proper religious attitude toward men. What he gave to the poor he offered to God, since 'he that giveth bountifully to the poor, lendeth to
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God.,J' By earnestly requesting us to give what was just, he left to the poor, not a scanty portion, but all. That is the sum of justice, to sell what one has and to give it to the poor.34
For he who 'hath distributed and hath given to the poor, his justice remaineth forever and ever.'30 Therefore, he did not leave us heirs, but stewards. An inheritance is sought for an heir, but a stewardship entails an obligation to the poor.
(61) Hence, not unmeetly has the Holy Spirit declared today through the voice of the little reader36 what a splendid man my brother was: 'The innocent in hands, and the clean of heart, who hath not taken his soul in vain, nor sworn deceitfully to his neighbor, this is the generation of them that seek God.'37 Such a one, therefore, shall ascend into the mountain of the Lord, and shall dwell in the tabernacle of God.38 For 'he that walketh without blemish and worketh justice, that hath spoken the truth and not deceived his neighbor.'39 'Nor did he put out his money to usury'40 who always wished only to recover an inheritance. I recognize the voice of God: what no testamentary disposition provided for, the Spirit has revealed.
(62) Why should I recount how his affection carried him even beyond the requirements of justice? When he thought that, out of consideration for my being a bishop, something should be given to the unlawful possessor of our property, he lauded me as the author of the grant and the income from his own share he turned into the common fund.
(63) These as well as similar instances, once such a 33 Prov. 19.17.
34 Cf. Matt. 19.21.
35 Ps. 111.9.
36 On the admission of even young boys to the rank of lector in the fourth century, cf. Cabrol-Leclercq, DACL 82, col. 2247.
37 Ps. 23.4,5.
38 Cf. Ps. 23.3.
39 Ps. 14.2,3.
40 Ps. 14.5.
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source of great pleasure to me, now through recollection sharpen my grief. But they abide with me and ever shall abide, and they never pass away like shadows. For the beauty of virtue does not die with the body, and natural life and supernatural merit do not have the same end, although natural life itself does not perish forever, but is at rest for a time by a kind of a release from its activities.
(64) Hence, I shall weep more out of longing than for the loss of a man who exemplified such virtues and has been rescued from dangers. The very timeliness of his death sug gests that we attend his funeral rather with gratitude than with sorrow. For it is written that private grief should cease in time of public mourning.41 Now, the Prophet does not make his recommendation to that one woman only who is figured there, but to each and every one, since he seems to have ad dressed the Church.
(65) Therefore, I too, am addressed, and holy Scripture asks: 'Is this what you teach? Do you not know that your example is a danger to others? Or is it possible that you are complaining that God has not heard your prayer? In the first place, your wish to merit alone what you know has been denied even to many saints is shameless arrogance, for everyone knows 'that God is not a respecter of persons.'42
Even if God is merciful, were He always granting the prayers of all He would seem no longer to act freely, but, as it were, like someone under compulsion. Then, since all ask, if He were to hear all, no one would die. How many things do you not ask for daily? Must God's design be destroyed because of you? When you know that a petition cannot always be granted, why do you grieve that sometimes your petition is not obtained?
41 Cf. 4 Esd. 10.11. The fourth Book of Esdras was one of the most influential and widely used of the Apocrypha. Cf. 'Apocrypha,' in Catholic Encyclopedia I 603-604.
42 Acts 10.34.
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(66) 'Thou fool,' Scripture says, 'above all women seest thou not our mourning, and what has happened to us, how that Sion our mother is saddened with all sadness, and humbled with humbling? Mourn now, also very sore, since we all mourn, and be sad since we are all sad, and thou art grieved' for a brother. 'Ask the earth and she shall tell thee that it is she who ought to mourn, outliving so many that grow upon her. Out of her were all born in the beginning, and out of her shall others come, and behold they walk al most all into destruction. And a multitude of them is utterly rooted out. Who, then, ought to make more mourning than she that hath lost so great a multitude, and not thou, who art sorry but for one.'43
(67) So, let the common sorrow swallow up our sorrow and shut out the bitterness of our own grief. We ought not grieve for those whom we see have been set free, for we realize that it is with design at this time that such a number of holy souls have been released from the bonds of the body. For, seemingly by divine decree, we see that so many revered widows have died within the same short time that it is like a setting out upon a journey, not the stroke of death, lest their chastity, proven by long and faithful observance, should now fall into danger. What groans and what lamentation do not so bitter recollections arouse in me! Even if I had no time for grief, yet in private sorrow itself, and in the loss of the very flower of such noble merits, the common condition of nature consoled me, and the mourning, centered as it was on one, veiled the bitterness of a public funeral by the ex hibition of a piety characteristic rather of the family circle.
(68) So, once again, O sacred Scripture, I seek your consolations, for I like to dwell upon your precepts and your sayings. How 'easier it is for heaven and earth to pass away than for one tittle of the Law to fail!'44 But now let us hear
43 4 Esd. 10.6-11.
44 Luke 16.17.
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what is written: 'Now,' it says, 'keep the sorrow to thyself, and bear with a good courage the things which have befallen thee. For if thou shalt acknowledge the determination of God to be just, thou shalt both receive thy son in time, and shalt be praised among women.'45 If such advice is given to a woman, how much more so to a bishop? If such words are said about a son, it is surely not improper to regard them as applicable at the loss of a brother, who, had he been my son, could not have been dearer to me. For, just as when children die, the labors expended and the worries endured to no avail appear to increase grief, so, too, among brothers the long intimacy and close association accentuate the poignancy of sorrow.
(69) But again I hear Scripture saying: 'Do not con tinue this discourse, but allow yourself to be persuaded. For how great are the misfortunes of Sion! Be comforted out of regard for the sorrow of Jerusalem. For thou seest that our holy places are polluted and the name that was called upon us is almost profaned, and our sons have suffered shame. Our priests are burned, our levites gone into captivity, our wives are defiled, our virgins suffer violence, our just men carried off, our little ones given up, our young men made slaves, and our strong men made weak. And, which is the greatest of all misfortunes, the seal of Sion has lost her glory, because she is now delivered into the hands of men that hate us. Do thou, then, shake off thy great heaviness, and put from thee the multitude of sorrows, so that the Mighty One may be merciful to you again, and the Most High give you rest and surcease from sorrow.'46
(70) My tears, therefore, shall cease. I must accept whole some remedies, since there must be some difference between believers and unbelievers. Let them weep, then, who cannot
45 4 Esd. 10.15,16.
46 4 Esd. 10.20-24.
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have the hope of the resurrection. And they are deprived of it, not by divine decree, but by the hardness of faith. Let there be a difference between the servants of Christ and the wor shipers of idols. Let idolaters mourn over their dead, con vinced they have perished forever. Let them not cease from weeping, let them obtain no rest from sorrow, who believe that there is no rest for the dead. As for ourselves, however, death is not the end of our nature, but only of this life. Hence, since our nature indeed is restored in a better way,47 let the coming of death wipe away all tears.
(71) Surely, if certain men found some consolation in thinking that death marks the end of consciousness and ces sation of our nature, how much more should we have, to whom the knowledge of our good deeds gives the promise of better rewards after death? The heathen find satisfaction in looking upon death as a rest from all evils. And as they lack the fruit of life, so also they imagine they become freed from all sense or feeling of those heavy and continual sufferings which we endure in this life. But as for ourselves, as we are ennobled by our recompense, so we ought to be more patient through our consolation. For our dead do not seem to be lost but to be sent on before us, not to be swallowed up by death but to be received by eternity.
(72) My tears, therefore, shall cease, or, if they cannot cease, I will weep for you, my brother, in our public lam entation, concealing my personal anguish under the cloak of public grief. For how can my tears cease when at every mention of your name tears well up, either when habit itself recalls your memory, or when my affection brings back your likeness, or when remembrance renews my sorrow. For when are you separated from me, since you are present again in so many of my occupations? You are here, I say, and you are ever presenting yourself at my side. With my whole mind
47 Cf. 1 Cor. 15.44.
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and soul I embrace you, I gaze upon you, I speak to you, I caress you, and I am aware of your presence in the very quiet of the night or in the clear light of day, when you vouchsafe to come back to see and console me in my grief.
Hence, now, the very nights which, when you were alive, seemed irksome because they denied us opportunity to look upon each other, and now sleep itself, long the annoying interrupter of our conversations, have both begun to be sweet, for they restore you to me. Those whose mutual presence is never interrupted, whose concern for each other is not lessened, and whose esteem for each other is increased, are, therefore, not wretched, but happy. For sleep is the likeness and image of death.
(73) But if in the quiet of the night souls still held by the chains of the body, and fettered, as it were, behind the prison bars of their members, can nevertheless discern higher and more hidden things, how much more do they see these, when they now enjoy pure and ethereal mental powers and no longer suffer from the disabilities of bodily corruption? When, as a certain day was drawing to its close, I was justly com plaining about your not coming to visit me in my rest, all the while you were so actually and undividedly present that, although I was sound asleep as regards my limbs, I was awake to you and you were alive to me, and I said: 'Brother, what is death?' Certainly you are not separated from me for an instant, for you will be so present to me everywhere that the enjoyment of each other which we could not have in this life we now possess without interruption and in all places. Pre viously, indeed, not everything was possible in our relations.
Embraces, the sight of each other, and sweet caresses could not be enjoyed at all times and places. But even when we were not together physically, our images were always present in each other's minds. These have not disappeared even now,
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but they constantly recur, and with greater frequency and clearness the more they are longed for.
(74) I still have you, then, brother, and neither death nor time shall tear you from me. Even tears are sweet, even weeping is pleasant, for they cool the burning longing of the soul, and pent up emotion is relieved and calmed. I cannot be without you, or ever forget you, or remember you without tears. O bitter days, that proclaim that the union with my brother has been broken! O tearful nights, that have taken from me such an excellent sharer of my rest and my insepar able companion! What tortures you would be inflicting upon me unless the image of him as if present were appearing to me, unless the visions of the mind were representing him who can no longer be seen with the eyes of the body!
(75) At last, brother most dear to my heart, although you have departed too early from this life, you are now none theless fortunate in escaping the burden of these sorrows. You do not have to mourn the loss of a brother from whom you could never long endure to be separated, and whom you hastened to see again as soon as possible. If in times past you used to hurry back to dispel my wearisome loneliness, and to relieve the sadness of a brother's heart, how much oftener ought you now revisit my afflicted soul and by so doing al leviate my sorrow begotten of your death!
(76) Yet my duties give me some respite, and devotion to my episcopal obligations occupies my mind. But what is to become of our holy sister? Although she tempers her affection because of her fear of God, she kindles the grief itself arising from her love by her religious zeal. She prostrates herself upon the ground, she embraces her brother's tomb, she is worn out from restless walking, she is constantly sad, and day and night she renews her grief. Even if conversation often stops her weeping, she weeps again at prayer. More-
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over, although in her knowledge of Scripture she excels those who are wont to bring consolation, she offsets her longing to weep by her constant prayer, and then especially, when no one can interrupt her, she renews her heavy weeping. So in her we have an object of pity rather than of censure, for to weep at prayer is a mark of virtue. Young women, because they belong to the gentler sex and have greater tenderness in their affection, break out into tears, as we well know, at the sight of our common weakness, even when their own families are not mourning a loved one. Hence, when there is a greater cause for grieving, no limit can be set for that grief.
(77) The way of consolation, therefore, is wanting, since there is an abundance of good excuses. For we cannot forbid what we teach, especially when she bases her tears, not upon sorrow, but upon religious devotion, and for fear of shame hides the natural cause of her lamentation. Console her, then, brother, you who can visit her soul and enter her mind. Let her see that you are present; let her not think of you as dead. Thus, assured of your merit and having received your consolation, let her learn not to mourn so intensely for one who admonished us that he was not to be mourned.
(78) But why am I delaying, brother? Why am I waiting for my address to die with you and, as it were, be buried with you? Even though the sight and form of your lifeless body give solace, and your abiding and unchanging grace and beauty comfort my eyes, I will delay no longer, I repeat; let us proceed to the tomb. But first, in the presence of the people, I bid you the last farewell. I give you peace, and I pay the last kiss. Go before us to that common abode to which we must all go, and which I now long for beyond all others. Prepare a common dwelling for us, and just as here we had all things in common, so there let us also not know divided rights.
(79) Do not, I beg you, forsake one who pines for you;
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expect one who is hurrying, help him as he hastens, and if you think he tarries too much, urge him on. Never, indeed, were we really long separated from each other, and you always came to us on your return. Now, since you can no longer come back to me, I will go to you. It is only fair that I should repay your kindness and now take my turn. There was never much difference in the way we lived, and we were always well or ill together. When one of us got sick, the other ran a fever, too, and when one recovered, both were up and about. Why have we lost our common right? Even recently we were both sick together. Why did we not both die to gether?
(80) To Thee, Almighty God, I now commend a guile less soul, to Thee I offer my oblation. Receive favorably and kindly a brother's gift, the sacrifice of Thy priest. By anti cipation, I now offer these libations of myself. I am coming to Thee with my brother as a surety, not with a pledge of money but of a life. Do not make me remain in debt for so great a sum too long. The interest on a brother's love is high and nature's principal is large when both accumulate through increments of virtue. I can bear the burden if I shall be re quired to pay quickly.
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