Letter 9

If I should think that thanks could be returned to you by me, I would have no sense. God is able, over and above my own poor person, to repay your holy soul what it deserves. For I, unworthy as I am, could never have reckoned on or even hoped for so great a love as you would lavish on me in Christ. And although certain people think me a criminal, overwhelmed with every disgrace—and even these are too little for my sins—yet you do well in that out of your own goodness you think even the wicked good. For it is dangerous to pass judgment on another man's servant, and there is no easy pardon for having spoken ill of the upright. That day will come, it will come, when you will grieve with me that not a few are burning.

I, the backslider, the turncoat, the slippery one; I, the liar, deceiving by Satan's art! Which is the more cunning: to have believed or invented such things about the innocent, or to have refused to believe them even of the guilty? Some men kissed my hands and with viperous mouth disparaged me; they grieved with their lips, while in their heart they rejoiced. The Lord saw it and mocked them, and was reserving his wretched servant to be judged together with them at the last. Another slandered my gait and my laughter; one found fault with my expression; a woman suspected something other than what simplicity intended. For nearly three full years I lived among them; many a time a throng of virgins surrounded me; I often expounded the divine books to some of them as best I could. Reading produced constant attendance, attendance produced intimacy, intimacy produced trust. Let them say what they ever thought of me that was otherwise than befitted a Christian. Whose money did I take? Did I scorn gifts, whether small or great? Did anyone's coin chink in my hand? Was my speech crooked, my eye wanton? Nothing else is laid to my charge but my sex, and even this is never laid to my charge except when Paula sets out for Jerusalem. So be it: they believed me when I lied; why do they not believe me when I deny? It is the same man he ever was: the one who a little while ago called me guilty now confesses me innocent; and surely torments draw out the truth more than smiles do—except that what is either gladly heard, if it is invented, or not wept over, so that it may be invented, is the more readily believed.

Before I came to know the household of holy Paula, the whole city was in agreement in its zeal for me. In the judgment of almost everyone I was deemed worthy of the highest priesthood. My speech was on the lips of Damasus of blessed memory. I was called holy, I was called humble and eloquent. Did I ever enter the house of any too wanton woman? Did silken garments, gleaming gems, a painted face, the ambition for gold ever lay hold of me? There was no other matron at Rome who could subdue my mind but one who mourned and fasted, squalid with dirt, almost blinded with weeping, whom, as she prayed through whole nights for the Lord's mercy, the sun often surprised at her prayers; whose song is the psalms, whose speech the Gospel, whose delight is continence, whose life is fasting. No other could give me pleasure but the one whom I never saw eating; and after I had begun to venerate, to cherish, to look up to her, for the merit of her holiness, all my virtues forthwith deserted me.

O envy, first to gnaw at your own self! O cunning of Satan, ever persecuting what is holy! No other women furnished a tale for the city of Rome but Paula and Melania, who, having despised their fortunes and abandoned their children, raised the cross of the Lord as a kind of banner of piety. Had they made for Baiae, chosen perfumes, kept their riches and their widowhood—the materials of luxury and license—they would have been called great ladies and saints; but now, in sackcloth and ashes, they wish to be seen as beautiful, and to go down with their fastings and their squalor into the fire of hell. No doubt it is not permitted them, with the people's applause, to perish along with the crowds. If the heathen carped at this life of theirs, or the Jews, I would have the comfort of not pleasing those whom Christ displeases; but as it is—oh, the shame!—those who bear the name of Christian neglect the care of their own houses, and, overlooking the beam in their own eye, look for the mote in another's. They tear a holy resolve to pieces, and reckon it a remedy for their own punishment if no one is holy, if everyone is disparaged, if there is a great crowd of the perishing, a multitude of sinners.

It pleases you to bathe every day; another thinks such refinements filthy. You belch up moorfowl and boast of the sturgeon you have eaten; I fill my belly with beans. Troops of cacklers delight you, but Paula and Melania those who weep. You long for others' goods; they despise their own. Wines flavored with honey delight you; they drink cold water that they find sweeter. You think you have lost whatever you do not in the present moment swallow down, eat up, devour; and they long for things to come and believe that the things which are written are true. So be it: foolishly and like old wives, you say, are those persuaded of the resurrection of bodies; what is that to you? To us, on the contrary, your way of life is displeasing. Be fat, much good may it do you; leanness and pallor delight me. You think such men wretched; we think you the more wretched. Each in turn seems mad to the other.

These things, my lady Asella, I wrote in haste, weeping and grieving, just as I was about to go aboard ship; and I give thanks to my God that I am counted worthy to be one whom the world hates. But pray that I may return from Babylon to Jerusalem, and that Nebuchadnezzar may not rule over me, but Jesus, the son of Josedech; that Ezra, whose name is interpreted "helper," may come and bring me back to my own homeland. Foolish was I, who wished to sing the Lord's song in a foreign land, and, having deserted Mount Zion, begged the help of Egypt. I did not remember the Gospel: that the man who goes down from Jerusalem at once falls among robbers, is stripped, wounded, and left for dead. But although priest and Levite pass him by, that Samaritan is merciful—to whom, when it was said, "You are a Samaritan and have a demon," he denied the demon but did not deny that he was a Samaritan, for whom we call the Keeper the Hebrews call the Samaritan. Some chatter that I am a worker of magic; I, a servant, acknowledge the title of faith; the Jews too called my Lord a magician, and the apostle was called a seducer. No temptation has laid hold of me but such as is common to man. How small a portion of hardships have I endured, I who serve the cross? They have brought against me the infamy of a false charge, but I know that it is through good report and ill report that one comes to the kingdom of heaven.

Greet Paula and Eustochium—whether the world will it or not, they are mine in Christ—greet the mother Albina and the sisters, the two Marcellas, Marcellina too, and holy Felicity, and say to them: "We shall stand before the judgment seat of Christ; there it will be made plain in what spirit each one has lived." Remember me, you pattern of chastity and signal example of virginity, and calm the waves of the sea with your prayers.