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Chapter III

Of Interior Recollection

Interior recollection is a continual attention to the presence of God: the means of preserving it are assiduity in remaining in our room, the observance of silence, and the avoidance of dissipating occupations. Without interior recollection the acquisition of solid virtue is impossible. This truth will be evident when we have demonstrated: 1, the happy state of a recollected soul; 2, the miserable state of a dissipated one. In a third article we shall develop the means already indicated for the preservation of recollection.

Article I

The happy state of a recollected soul

1. It has found a powerful preservative against sin and weariness

Recollection consists, as we have already said, in a vigilant attention to the presence of God: now, the first fruit of this attention is to preserve us from numberless falls. A lively faith in this truth: God is here; He is here, “the God who shall whet His sword as the lightning, and whose hand shall take hold on vengeance.” He is the continual witness and the infallible judge of all my works. He hears my words, sees my actions, penetrates my thoughts, encompasses and pervades my whole being by His immensity. His power sustains me, His knowledge fathoms my whole being, His wisdom governs me, His love supports me, preserves me, and clasps me tenderly to His paternal bosom; He lends Himself in some sort to my will by co-operating in all my actions, of which He will one day be the remunerator or the avenger; in a word, this Sovereign Monarch of heaven and earth is intimately present to me in the grandeur of His infinite perfections; His watchful eye beholds and appreciates everything even in its minutest details; nothing escapes Him. Yes, this sole thought is an effectual and powerful curb to arrest us for ever on the path of evil.

Who would have the audacity to commit, under the eyes of an all-holy God, if he really believed Him close to him, a fault which he would be ashamed to commit in presence of a man? “Alas!” cries out the Royal Prophet, “the ways of the sinner are corrupt and abominable, because God dwells not in the thoughts of his heart.”1

From this fatal and culpable forgetfulness proceed levity, relaxation, and corruption of morals; imprudence, malignant intemperance of the tongue, the liberty of the senses, and all the untold sins which so frequently sully the conscience of man. “The fool saith in his heart”2 who sees me? “whom do I fear? no man seeth me, and the Most High will not remember my sins.”3 “The clouds are His covert, and He doth not consider our things.”4

Deplorable and fatal mistake! the sinner “driveth from his soul the fear of God.”5 Behold the fruit which he reaps from his impiety. Unfortunate man! “he understandeth not that His eye seeth all things,”6 “who will bring evil men to an evil end.”7

But, on the contrary, the continual remembrance of this truth: “The Lord seeth,”8 this Lord, “who hath on His garment and on His thigh written, King of Kings and Lord of Lords.”9 “I stand in the sight”10 of this Judge, who will one day demand a severe account of even a useless word, and who can plunge me into hell at any moment: yes, this remembrance is “the shield of salvation,”11 against which all the darts of passion are shattered; “it is a strong tower,” impregnable to all the assaults of hell, a “city of refuge”12 from the deceitful blandishments of the world.

The eye of the Divine Majesty sees all things, His ear hears all things. This salutary thought suffices to repress the strongest temptations, to cool the ardour of the passions, to place a bridle on the tongue, to restrain the hand on the point of doing evil; there is no temptation which it does not surmount, no irregular desire which it does not quell, no seduction which it does not foil, no fall which it does not prevent. “The most shameful passions,” says St. Ephrem, “vanish before the brightness of this light; they take flight as a criminal at the approach of vengeance.”

What! if the eye of the master incites the servant to labour; if the presence of the general inspires his troops with courage on the day of battle; if the person of the prince impresses his courtiers with respect; if at the sight of St. Bernardine his fellow-students ceased their licentious conversation, what power will not “the eyes of the Lord, far brighter than the sun, beholding round about all the ways of men, and looking into the hearts of men, into the most hidden parts,”13 exercise over us?

Yes, O just Judge of all our actions! were we to believe with a living faith that Thine eyes are ever upon us, with Joseph we would cry out at the first onset of temptation, How can I! ah! how can “I do this wicked thing,”14 “before the eyes”15 of the incorruptible Judge, “who will render to everyone according to his works?”16

It is certain, therefore, that the constant remembrance of God’s presence, and consequently interior recollection, which is its fruit, preserves us from innumerable faults. Oh! who will give me the wings of the great eagle of the Apocalypse, “to fly away into the desert,”17 where He alone, whose “delights are to be with the children of men,”18 comes to dwell in and take possession of my soul?

But it is equally certain that assiduity in remaining in our room, the observance of silence, and shunning of news, public reports, and over-dissipating occupations, while maintaining us in interior recollection, preserve us also from countless vexations, sufferings, and afflictions, in which too frequent communications with men almost inevitably involve us; for where men are, there likewise are vices; and we rarely hold long conversations without finding our conscience wounded by some empoisoned shafts, which inflict deep anguish on the heart, which afterwards desires to enter into itself.

The pious author of the “Imitation” acknowledges with an ancient philosopher “that as often as he had been amongst men he returned less a man.”19 The Spouse of the Canticles herself, leaves her home for a moment, and does not return till she has been struck, wounded, and despoiled of her mantle. You are not stronger than the virtuous A’Kempis, nor more holy than the Beloved of the heavenly Bridegroom; how, then, can you be astonished when you give yourself up to human conversations to find disgust, instead of the satisfaction you sought for, and to bring from them “only a weight on your conscience and dissipation of heart?”20

If you desire to keep yourself irreprehensible, “withdraw from superfluous talk and idle visits, from giving ear to news and reports; love to remain hidden; retire into your chamber and shut out the tumult of the world. The cell continually dwelt in groweth sweet, but ill-guarded begetteth weariness.”21 This is a truth we have all experienced. Who can deny that very often useless conversations have been fraught for him with regret?

“Hadst thou not quitted thy cell and hearkened to rumours, how far better wouldst thou have preserved true peace!” but “the moment thou tookest pleasure in hearing news, thou must from thence suffer disturbance of heart.”

Having then learned to be wise at thy own expense, “shut thy door, and leave to fools the pursuit of vanity,”22 for what interest canst thou have in learning what takes place in the world if thou art ignorant of what passes in thy own heart?

Finally, do not disquiet yourself with too many, perhaps, vain cares, or with the business of others. Do not seek to dispense with others in order to do everything yourself, and beware of ill-timed officiousness, if you would not be overwhelmed with difficulties. Be the master, not the slave, of the occupations to which your employment obliges you; lend, but never give yourself to them; never allow them to engross you exclusively, and never work so absolutely for creatures as to lose the remembrance of God: in this way you shall be always superior to your occupations, inaccessible to tedium, and your room will become for you an abode of tranquillity and peace.

Exterior man! how long wilt thou continue to stray away from thyself? How long wilt thou continue to exile thyself from thy own heart, to run after the world? Abide within thyself; restore thyself to thyself; occupy thyself with thy own interests; during thy sojourn on the theatre of this world, that is during the time of thy mortal life, be for thyself at once the actor and the spectator. Live for God: it is a sufficiently noble part to accomplish; whatever thou dost, do it for Him alone; let this be the great, the sole object of thy life, and thou wilt merit the applause of heaven.

Say then, with a generous determination: Henceforth “I will shun” all dissipating occupations. “I will fly away, and I will abide in the wilderness.”23 “I will sit solitary, and hold my peace.”24 “I will set the Lord always in my sight,” and never will I forget, O Sovereign Creator of the universe, that “Thou art at my right hand,”25 continually beholding all my actions. Therefore, I will make for myself a solitude in the depth of my heart, where, shielded from the shafts of sin, I will die to the world and live for Thee alone.

2. A very efficacious means of attaining perfection

Interior recollection is a very powerful means of attaining perfection in a short time. In effect our sanctification consists in the faithful accomplishment of our daily duties, since in fulfilling them well we do what God wills and as He wills. Now, there is nothing which better prepares us to perform them well than the practice of interior recollection, which is a loving and continual attention to the presence of the Supreme Judge, from whom “everyone will receive, according as he hath done whether it be good or evil.”26 “The Lord sees;”27 “God is witness; He is present, and beholdeth me.”28 The frequent remembrance of this thought possesses a marvellous power, a supernatural strength to animate our sloth, inflame our fervour, purify our intention, eradicate our faults, and invest our most ordinary and insignificant actions with value in the sight of God, and to render them meritorious for ourselves. Yes, this thought of the presence of God is a most suitable means of acquiring perfect sanctity. According to St. Bonaventure, it is even absolutely necessary; “I am convinced,” says he, “that recollection is the most requisite of all the practices of piety, and the most calculated to elevate us to a high degree of perfection.”

The masters of the spiritual life teach that without recollection there is nothing to be hoped for as regards our perfection. According to St. Ignatius, solitude of the soul is the mother and guardian of all virtues. Destitute of it, never could we either acquire or preserve them; without it, never has anyone attained, nor can anyone ever attain, perfection. On the contrary, the more faithful a person is to preserve this precious solitude, the more certain it is that he will make rapid progress in sanctity: this is a fact proved by experience, besides being quite conformable to the principles of reason.

For, unless our understanding be enlightened by the rays of grace, unless our will be animated by the salutary inspirations of the Holy Ghost, we are incapable of making one step in the way of justice. This is a dogma of faith;29 but it is likewise true that the recollected soul, like a transparent sea, always calm and tranquil in the presence of God, alone is capable of receiving these graces profitably, and consequently of advancing in virtue.

The dissipated soul, on the contrary, always a stranger to itself, is a bottomless abyss, which uselessly absorbs the divine inspirations, a rock against which the tumult of the passions stifles the voice of grace; blind, it sees not the light which is sent from on high; deaf, it hears not the breath of the Holy Spirit; hard as a rock, it is callous to celestial impressions; obdurate, it resists the most efficacious means of conversion. And as, in the road to virtue, not to advance is to recede, not alone will this soul fail to make any progress in perfection, but it will go on relapsing, till at length it falls into the greatest disorders.

How different the spectacle presented by a soul enamoured of interior recollection: it does not run, it flies in the paths of sanctity; it advances more in one day than a dissipated soul does in a century. In the sacred Canticle the Sulamitess is styled “black, small,”30 and weak at the beginning of her conversion; they “make her a bed of aromatical spices,”31 “they stay her up with flowers; they compass her about with apples”32 to sustain her; but from the moment that the King “has brought her into His storerooms,”33 that is, when, by recollection, He has admitted her to familiar communication with Him, she becomes “strong as death,” elevated as “a tower,” beautiful “as the flowers of Carmel, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as an army set in array.”34 How many graces combined! Oh, how secure and salutary a means of perfection is interior solitude!

Surely he who habitually lives in close familiarity with the Sovereign Power, Infinite Wisdom and Boundless Sanctity, could not fail either in the strength, or the light, or the zeal requisite to compass, to realise, and to desire perfection: he has no reason, therefore, to fear the three chief causes of our spiritual indigence, namely, impotence, ignorance, and sloth. Behold why it is that the heavenly Spouse teaches, by the Prophet Osee, that it is in solitude, and there alone, that He will impart to chosen souls the science of the saints. “I will lead her into the wilderness, and there I will speak to her heart.”35

Oh, adorable, omnipotent Being, higher than heaven, deeper than hell, longer than the earth, broader than the sea,36 “let Thy voice sound in my ears,”37 and let it intimate to me anew the great precept given to Abraham, “Walk before me, and be perfect.”38 But in consequence of my having “forgotten Thee,”39 “my spirit hath swooned away.”40 “My strength hath left me.”41 I dread the verification of this awful threat in my regard: “because thou art poured out like water, thou shalt not grow.”42 Avert from me, O Lord, so dire a chastisement. “I will walk in Thy sight all the days of my life.”43 “I will dispose steps in my heart to ascend incessantly from virtue to virtue.”44

3. The source of the choicest graces

Like the salutary river, “which flows from the paradise of delights,”45 interior recollection inundates the soul with innumerable and most choice graces. It is the happy source whence originate that union, that familiarity, and that incomprehensible communication with God, whose sweetness and price no one can understand, unless he have experienced it. “Many are the Lord’s visits to the man of interior life, and sweet His communications with him. His consolation is delightful: plenteous His peace, and His familiarity astonishing beyond measure.”46

2. There it is that the Holy Spirit imparts to us interiorly the firm and consolatory assurance of the remission of our sins and of God’s paternal love towards us. The sweet testimony that we are in the state of grace, and in the divine friendship, produces, in its turn, an inestimable and imperturbable interior peace and consolation, a joy which is altogether angelic.

3. From interior recollection likewise proceed heroic courage in adversity; a perfect indifference which neither ambitions nor fears anything; an unconquerable abhorrence of everything earthly, an activity which invariably tends heavenwards; an exquisite delicacy of conscience which shrinks from even the semblance of sin; a marvellous facility, a generous promptitude and an agility in the practice of virtue, especially that of corporal mortification; a noble attraction for heavenly things, the remembrance of which captivates the soul, inflames it with love, and lures it away from earth.

4. To so many priceless favours let us unite the more frequent celestial inspirations, the continual lights, the vivid and sublime knowledge of eternal truths with which a recollected soul is favoured. The Holy Ghost Himself becomes in some degree its master: He ceases not to instruct it, He dissipates its doubts, reveals to it His secrets, teaches it what it ought to do, shows it what it ought to avoid: He protects and guards it with more than a mother’s tenderness.

O happy solitude! “Thou art” truly “an infinite treasure to man.”47 Thou teachest “the knowledge of God.”48 Yes, “I am enamoured of Thy beauty; I purpose to take Thee to live with me and take Thee for my Spouse,”49 never will I permit myself any variance with or any divorce from Thee, knowing that “Thou wilt communicate to me the good things”50 in which Thou dost abound. I will allow myself no repose, “till I bring Thee into my house and into the interior”51 of my soul; for “Thy spirit is sweet above honey,”52 therefore is it that “the innocent and upright have adhered to Thee.”53

4. A paradise on earth

A soul which encloses itself in its own heart to watch over its motions emulates the blessed. By a miracle as surprising as it is uncommon, it performs here below, as far as in it lies, what the saints do in heaven. In imitation of them it beholds the adorable Trinity always present, it gives it the preference and loves it above all things. It attaches itself closely to God by the understanding and the will, uniting itself inseparably to Him “with the bands of love.”54 It is all to its Beloved, and its Beloved is all to it in all things. “God and I:” such is its device, as though He and it were alone in the universe.

Peace, consolations, fervour, joy, and an unbounded and imperturbable confidence, “have fallen to it as an inheritance.” Like the saints in heaven, it also enjoys in this valley of tears an anticipated beatitude. Inebriated in a torrent of delights, it remains happily plunged therein. Despising all things else, oblivious of self, absorbed in God, it sees but Him in all creatures, and it sees these only in their Creator. Isolated from earthly things, it tastes in a profound solitude the happy fruits of an ineffable union with its Beloved.

Like the angels, who, when deputed by the Most High to execute His behests, bear their felicity about with them; the interior soul, though engaged in various avocations, uninterruptedly possesses a paradise in its heart; never for a moment does it cease to contemplate and love the Divine Majesty. It tends to the accomplishment of the will of its God as the happy goal of its aspirations. Participating in the peace of the elect, it lives devoid of fear and anxiety, because it knows that “the eyes of the Lord are upon the just,”55 and that “He is their helper and protector.”56 In the excess of its confidence it cries out with the Royal Prophet: “Though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evils, for Thou art with me.”57 Though hell in all its fury should arise against me; no, “I will not fear.” The thought “that Thou art with me” is an impenetrable buckler. Though they should cast me like Jonas into the sea, like Daniel into the lions’ den, like Joseph into a well or a prison, still I would not fear, because “Thou wouldst go down with me into the pit and in bands, Thou wouldst not leave me;”58 well then may a recollected soul be compared to “a fair and cloudless sky.”59

What are now our sentiments? does not felicity such as this suffice to stimulate our fervour? This familiar intimacy with God, the fruit of recollection, is an antidote against sin and weariness, the focus in which the divine light concentrates, the centre towards which holy inspirations gravitate, the channel through which grace is dispensed, the couch whereon Jesus Christ reposes, the principle of sanctity, the nutriment of interior peace, a peace “which surpasseth all understanding.”60 To participate in this happiness it is not necessary to ascend into heaven, to traverse the seas, or to descend into the bosom of the earth: it suffices that, like Arsenius, we fly, conceal ourselves, keep silence, and take refuge within ourselves. “Let us always think of God, and our soul shall be transformed into a heaven inhabited by angels.”61 What! we believe that interior recollection possesses all these advantages, and we still hesitate what course to adopt! Fools that we are! we prefer a dreary exile in the midst of the world to that true country which our soul finds within itself and where it enjoys a foretaste of everlasting peace! Let us then seriously reflect on our conduct.

A soul attentive to God and to itself is that spouse adorned who elicits the admiration of the angels, who “goeth up by the desert” of interior recollection, flowing with delights “and leaning” on her Beloved, “who ascends as a pillar of smoke,”62 and constantly tends heavenwards by the ardour of her desires; and notwithstanding all this, its happy lot fails to stimulate our sloth, we have not the generosity to emulate its example! It is the chosen reservoir of the heavenly dew; the kingdom of peace where all blessings unite; a paradise on earth, rich and abounding in delights; and we have the hardihood to prefer a stormy sojourn in this valley of tears in which we are condemned to live as exiles.

Oh! how differently we shall judge, at the approach of death, of the treasures contained in the practice of interior recollection. Oh, inestimable treasure concealed in the solitude of the heart! Oh, bed strewn with flowers whereon the heavenly Bridegroom joyfully reposes! throne of ivory on which the true Solomon reigns unrivalled! “enclosed garden” where no vice has admittance! “sealed fountain,”63 whose waters are purer than crystal! charity begets thee, strength sustains thee, modesty accompanies thee, all the virtues adorn thee, “riches and glory are with thee;”64 “he that shall find thee shall find life, and shall have salvation from the Lord”65 who is its source.

How prudent is he who unreservedly sacrifices all things to purchase the blessings contained in thee! but how foolish he who lives on indifferent to so many graces! How great has been my error when I suffered these treasures to elude my grasp, and be wasted on created things when “I became as a dove that is decoyed, not having a heart;”66 “but I will return again to God: yes, I will seek Him ten times as much as I have strayed from Him.”67

My God “who art always among us,”68 permit not that, residing in my heart, Thou shouldst dwell there as in a loathsome prison, wherein Thou wouldst behold only shameful images, hear but follies, perceive but iniquity. Rather adorn with virtues and graces this heart which Thou hast chosen as Thy tabernacle, that Thou mayest not disdain “to come and make Thy abode there.”69

Article II

Unhappy state of a dissipated soul

Jesus Christ in the Gospel represents a dissipated soul under the figure of a bundle of vine branches. “He who remaineth not in me shall be cast forth as a” useless “branch, he shall wither,” they shall bind him, “they shall cast him into the fire, and he shall burn.”70 These words which express under an alarming simile the four kinds of evils with which this soul is threatened, are at the same time a salutary warning to avoid them.

1. Divine Providence in some measure rejects it

The primary misfortune of a dissipated soul is a sort of expulsion from the paternal bosom of Divine Providence, followed by an almost absolute impotence to find ingress again into its own heart. It shall be cast forth. As the branch lopped off from the trunk ceases to be the recipient of the cares of the vine dressers, as it is irrevocably cast out of the vineyard and trampled under foot by the passengers, so a soul who, weary of solitude, pours herself out on exterior things, is rejected with disgust by the Divine Father of the family from the bosom of His special providence: it is persecuted and maltreated by its enemies. It plunges, it disappears, so to speak, in the mire of its vices; it even becomes so enfeebled as to be almost incapable of ever gaining readmission into its own heart by recollection: it shall be cast forth. Oh, heavens! who would not dread so awful a malediction! But let us examine its circumstances more minutely.

A dissipated soul renders itself unworthy of that providential care and special protection of God which formed an impenetrable wall against the darts of the enemy. Nor should this surprise us: such a soul, rarely present to itself, still more rarely attentive to the presence of God, closes its eyes to the divine light; it is deaf to the divine inspirations, rebellious to grace, and gradually becomes earthly, sensual, and altogether carnal. It thinks but of vanity, relishes only sensible objects and what flatters its appetites.

Its memory is a public thoroughfare, into which all sorts of thoughts and imaginations have free admittance. Its understanding is a deserted house, whence the windows and doors have been carried off, where all temptations arrive in myriads and enter without impediment. Its will is an elastic ball which each tumultuous movement of its heart causes to bound and rebound. Is it to be wondered at that the deplorable state of this soul “fills” the compassionate Heart of the Redeemer “with bitterness,”71 and exasperates Him to such an extent as to induce Him to abandon it to itself, withdraw from it the special protection with which He had encompassed it to ensure its salvation, refuse it the tender embraces to which He formerly deigned to admit it, leave it “to walk through hard ways,”72 “after the flocks,”73 that is, “after its own lusts,”74 which make it the prey to vexations, expose it unarmed to the attacks of hell, place it in proximate danger of offending mortally, and which often really sully it with sin?

This wretched soul opens its eye, it is true, from time to time, and acknowledges its misfortune and the dangerous state of its conscience, which it deplores and endeavours to escape. Tired of sensuality, disgusted with creatures and oppressed with weariness, recalling bygone happiness, groaning beneath its present miseries, it longs, it strives to return to itself, to seek refuge once more in the delightful solitude of interior recollection.

However, as without a more than ordinarily powerful grace this return is impossible, and as the divine vengeance, by a just retaliation, often refuses, or at least postpones granting this assistance, it is compelled to endure the equitable and painful banishment from its own heart, it shall be cast forth. Wandering in a foreign country, a fugitive like the prodigal child, exiled far from itself, it has no other nutriment than the food of unclean animals; it still casts a wistful glance towards the happy interior peace which it has lost, that fertile region where manna is gathered in abundance; it would fain return, but finding the way obstructed by thorns, bereft of the efficacious succours of grace, repulsed, rejected by men, forsaken by God, and despairing of His return, it remains plunged in anguish, unable to escape this accumulation of afflictions.

Beholding the interior of its heart by a serious examination, as Ezechiel “saw the interior of the Temple through a hole that he had digged in the wall,”75 like the Prophet it sees “the abomination of desolation”76 exercising undisputed sway there. Its memory is laden with vain and shameful reminiscences, its mind is a receptacle of rash and erroneous judgments, its will is sullied by depraved and criminal desires, figured by the reptiles and animals shown to the Prophet, and which abounded in the Temple. Filled with despair, it no longer ventures to retrace its steps. Unfortunate soul! enslaved by dissipation, the habit of which waxing stronger with years, eventually becomes a kind of necessity, it is an alien to itself, oblivious of its God, devoted exclusively to exterior objects, and its degrading propensities cease only with life.

Should these considerations be insufficient to inspire us with a horror of so great an evil, let us beware lest “we perish at the time when we shall be scattered,”77 lest “our bones be scattered,” and thrown “by the side of hell;”78 in other words, lest we be exposed to commit mortal sin, because “our designs shall be brought to nothing,”79 and wasted on sensible objects.

Full well “I know that it is an evil and a bitter thing to have left the Lord, my God.”80 Oh, good Shepherd! take pity on a poor sheep who flees from Thee, and who wanders in “hard places;” should it not wish to return, lead it back in spite of itself, by sending it severe trials, restore it to itself, that it may no longer live except for Thee by the practice of recollection.

2. An interior aridity dries up its devotion

The second evil produced by dissipation is an aridity, a disgust of the soul for everything that relates to piety: “it shall wither.” The branch, separated from the vine, withers, a similar fate awaits the soul cut off from the Mystical Vine, which is Jesus Christ; the most impressive mysteries of faith, the adorable Sacrament of the Eucharist, and meditation, that fructifying dew, leave it more sterile than the rock; for it heaven possesses no charms sufficiently sweet, neither does hell nor the judgments of God possess terrors sufficiently awful. It reads and meditates unmoved eternal truths calculated to melt the hardest hearts; incapable of comprehending heavenly things, it possesses no aptitude for being moulded, save on earthly ones; its understanding is a profound darkness, its will a desolate waste, its heart the prey of a thousand tumultuous desires. Its meditations, vocal prayers, above all, the recitation of the Office, its offering of the Holy Sacrifice, its communions, examens, confessions, all its spiritual exercises, are but a tissue of distractions, an assemblage of faults, a fatal spiritual lethargy. In a word, the dissipated soul withers like the ivy of Jonas, like the barren fig-tree cursed by Jesus Christ, and like the seed cast into stony soil: an utterly useless tree, this soul produces neither the fruits of solid virtue, nor the foliage which gives promise of them. Owing to its aridity, it is but a noxious plant, injurious to itself and others: it shall wither.

Can we be surprised at this? Man can as little advance in justice without the divine aid as “the rush be green without moisture or the sedge-bush grow without water.”81 But grace penetrates with difficulty a heart whose affections are poured out on created objects. When Holofernes besieged Bethulia, “he commanded the aqueduct” which supplied the inhabitants of the city with water “to be cut off,”82 so likewise Divine Justice interrupts the course of its graces in regard to a soul which has rendered itself unworthy of them by levity and dissipation, and which has forsaken the living fountain “to dig for itself broken cisterns,” though it has repeatedly experienced “that they could hold no water.”83

Oh! how often has not the heavenly Bridegroom, knocking and waiting at the door of thy heart, tenderly solicited admittance, saying: “Open to me, my sister, my spouse, for my head is full of dew, and my locks of the drops of the night;”84 but thou, unhappy soul, a stranger to thyself, thou didst close thy ear to His voice. He persisted in His entreaties. “Return, return, O Sulamitess, that we may behold thee;”85 “and thy ear did not hear His word, admonishing thee behind thy back.”86 Thou didst refuse to return to Him, and to abide within thyself, because thou wert occupied with trifles.

What wonder, then, that driven, like another Agar, from the bosom of Abraham, “wandering in the wilderness,”87 deprived of spiritual water whereby to extinguish your thirst, you succumbed to lassitude, and have been forced to cry out in the bitterness of your heart, “my soul is as earth without water;”88 “the Lord hath made me desolate, wasted with sorrow all the day long.”89

“Thou wouldst not have the blessing, and it shall be far from thee.”90 Thou hast loathed the fortifying wine of grace, and by a just retribution thou shalt experience the ardours of a consuming thirst; thou hast chosen aridity of heart, and aridity has struck and withered up all thy faculties. “Dry bones,” hear the words of the Lord:91 “I have called,” says He, I have waited, I have offered to send dew down from heaven; “I have stretched out My hand, and there was none that regarded; I will laugh”92 in my turn; I will mock “when thou shalt have withered away like grass.”93

“Thou art just, Lord, and Thy judgment is right.”94 I acknowledge that “I have followed the wanderings of my own heart;”95 “my thoughts are dissipated,” “tormenting my heart.”96 “My soul is dry;”97 “it is consumed within me,”98 “as stubble”99 is consumed by fire. But Thou who commandest “the fountains of the deep and the flood-gates of heaven,”100 grant that what “was dry” may become “a pool, and that fountains of water may spring up to refresh my thirsty soul,”101 and that attracted by Thy divine sweetness it may return to interior solitude, to live therein henceforward.

3. It is no longer useful for the salvation of our neighbour

A soul which abandons itself to dissipation renders itself unworthy and incapable of being the instrument of God for the salvation of its brethren: it shall be cast into the fire. That such is the chastisement reserved for it is proved by this striking apostrophe of the Lord to Ezechiel: “Son of man, what shall be made of the wood of the vine,” when it shall be cut and withered? “Shall wood be taken of it, to do any work? or shall a pin be made of it, for any vessel to hang thereon?” . . . no, “behold it is cast into the fire for fuel; how shall it be useful for any work?”102

It would be impossible to express more forcibly the worthlessness of this wood compared with “all the other trees of the forest.”103 It will not even admit of being fastened to the wall, for the purpose of suspending, and thus preserving, the fragile furniture of the household; how could the most consummate skill succeed in fashioning it into a handsome piece of sculpture?

“The wood of the vine,” says St. Augustine, “when it is cut cannot serve the agriculturist for his instruments, nor can it be wrought by the artisan.” “Other wood,” says St. Jerome, “when thrown into the fire at least yields charcoal, but this leaves only worthless ashes, incapable of imparting warmth; the flame consumes it completely the moment it is exposed to the action of the fire, because this wood is very dry. ‘The fire consumes both ends thereof, and the midst thereof is reduced to ashes.’”104

Oh! sad but too faithful image of a man, given up to dissipation, and who can be of no advantage to the Divine Father of the family. More useless than finger-posts which point out the way, never will he lead back to heaven those who wander therefrom. We have already stated that without the hand of the artisan the most perfect implement is unavailing for labour. Now, it is by recollection, as well as by meditation, that we place ourselves as docile instruments in the hand of God: whoever does not carefully preserve it, therefore, does not lend himself to the operations of the divine will.

Besides, how can you, who live constantly estranged from yourself, presume to aspire to be a worthy co-operator with Jesus Christ in the salvation of souls? “You are poured out like water,”105 “and you shall gather together the dispersed of Juda!”106 Like another “Jonas, you fly from the face of the Lord,”107 “and you shall assemble the fugitives of Israel!”108 You follow the dissipation of your thoughts; you do not repent, and yet you are able to inspire others with “compunction of heart!”109 No; you “shall do no good,”110 because “you are a man abominable and unprofitable to God.”111 In the end the angels will cast you into the fire, as the vintagers are wont to abandon to the flames the withered branches they have cut off from the vine.

4. God punishes it in various other ways

It shall burn; behold the fourth chastisement with which a dissipated soul shall be visited. “Such is the fate of the branch; it either remains attached to the vine or it is cast into the fire.”112 So is it likewise with the soul; it must either attach itself to God by interior recollection, or else it shall be thrown into the fire, that is, into the scorching flames of temptations, afflictions, and finally those of purgatory. If you live in a state of dissipation, it is impossible that you should remain attached to Him, who has said, “I am the true vine;”113 therefore you shall burn.

You shall burn with the fire of temptations: vain thoughts, shameful imaginations, irregular desires “shall run to and fro” in your heart “like sparks among reeds.”114 Envy, anger, lust, shall torment you in turn. “You shall heap” the coals of detraction and calumnies “on your head.”115 You shall burn. You shall be cast into a furnace of afflictions.

The bat imprisoned in a house by its imprudence wildly flies backwards and forwards, dashing itself against the walls in every direction, in the vain attempt to escape. In a similar manner is the dissipated soul incessantly wounded, humiliated, lacerated, by the sarcasms, taunts, and reproaches of others, which cast it into an excess of sadness, bitterness, and anguish; it is satiated with gall, where it expected to find the sweetest honey. You shall burn.

Finally, you shall be condemned to long and agonising torments in the flames of purgatory. The intensity, universality, and duration of these torments are terrific; but a soul that will not apply itself to retreat augments and aggravates them beyond conception. Owing to the neglect of a guard over the senses, its daily actions only tend to fan the intensity of this fire. It shall burn; nor shall it be liberated from these flames till it has paid the last farthing.

Behold, then, the four kinds of evils, which, according to the oracle of the Saviour, shall infallibly befall a dissipated soul.

O God, whose immensity has no bounds! “In whom we live, move, and be;”116 Thou art constantly present in me by Thy nature, Thy power, Thy wisdom, and Thy providence; “Thou considerest all the steps of men,”117 “to render to every one according to his works.”118 This I firmly believe, and I adore Thee in my heart, where Thou continually residest.

Alas! Thou rememberest me at all moments with the tenderest affection, and I live entire days and months oblivious of Thy presence, and solely occupied with trifles. “Thou hast loved me with an everlasting love.”119 “Thou hast been mindful of me,”120 “to do well by me,”121 and “I have forgotten Thee days without number.”122 “I have done evil in Thy eyes.”123 I have lived as though Thou hadst no existence, as if Thou wert blind and deaf, and withdrawn to a distance from me. Oh, monstrous ingratitude!

Henceforth, “if I forget Thee, let my right hand be forgotten,” and let my “tongue cleave to my jaws, if I do not remember Thee.”124 I shall, at least, consecrate the remainder of my life to thinking of and loving Thee. “Who shall give me to find Thee”125 alone in the solitude of my heart, O my Beloved? When shall I take up my abode with Thee “in the beauty of peace, and in the tabernacles of confidence, and in perfect rest;”126 where no one can disturb me more? “May my life be hidden in Thee,”127 until Thou admit me “to partake of the saints”128 in the Eternal City, where the soul who has taken refuge in the interior “wilderness shall at length be glad and rejoice.”129

Notes

  1. Ps. xiii. 1.

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  2. Ibid.

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  3. Eccli. xxiii. 26.

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  4. Job xxii. 14.

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  5. Eccli. xxiii. 27.

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  6. Ibid.

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  7. Matt. xxi. 41.

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  8. Gen. xxii. 14.

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  9. Apoc. xix. 16.

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  10. 4 Kings iii. 14.

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  11. 2 Kings xxii. 36.

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  12. Josue xxi. 36.

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  13. Eccli. xxiii. 28.

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  14. Gen. xxxix. 9.

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  15. Ps. xvii. 25.

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  16. Apoc. xxii. 12.

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  17. Ibid. xii. 14.

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  18. Prov. viii. 31.

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  19. Imit. b. i. ch. 20.

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  20. Ibid.

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  21. Ibid.

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  22. Imit. b. i. ch. 20.

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  23. Ps. liv. 8.

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  24. Lament. iii. 28.

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  25. Ps. xv. 8.

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  26. 2 Cor. v. 10.

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  27. 1 Kings xvi. 7.

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  28. Gen. xxxi. 50.

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  29. Coun. Orange, Can. 7; Counc. Trent, Sess. vi. Can. 3.

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  30. Cant. i. 4.

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  31. Ibid. vi. 1.

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  32. Ibid. ii. 5.

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  33. Ibid. i. 3.

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  34. Ibid. vi. 9.

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  35. Osee ii. 14.

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  36. Job xi. 8, 9.

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  37. Cant. ii. 14.

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  38. Gen. xvii. 1.

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  39. Deut. xxxii. 18.

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  40. Ps. lxxvi. 4.

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  41. Ibid. xxxvi. 11.

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  42. Gen. xlix. 4.

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  43. Ibid. xxiv. 40.

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  44. Ps. lxxxiii. 7.

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  45. Gen. ii. 10.

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  46. Imit. b. ii. ch. 1.

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  47. Wisd. vii. 14.

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  48. Ibid. viii. 4.

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  49. Ibid. viii. 2, 9.

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  50. Ibid. viii. 9.

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  51. Cant. iii. 4.

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  52. Eccli. xxiv. 27.

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  53. Ps. xxiv. 21.

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  54. Osee xi. 4.

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  55. Ps. xxxiii. 16.

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  56. Ibid. xxxii. 20.

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  57. Ibid. xxii. 4.

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  58. Wisd. x. 13.

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  59. Exod. xxiv. 10.

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  60. Phil. iv. 7.

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  61. St. Nilus.

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  62. Cant. iii. 6.

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  63. Cant. iv. 12.

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  64. Prov. viii. 18.

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  65. Ibid. viii. 35.

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  66. Osee vii. 11.

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  67. Baruch iv. 28.

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  68. Jerem. xiv. 9.

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  69. John xiv. 23.

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  70. John xv. 6.

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  71. Job xxvii. 2.

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  72. Wisd. v. 7.

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  73. Cant. i. 7.

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  74. 2 Pet. iii. 3.

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  75. Ezech. viii. 7.

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  76. Mark xiii. 14.

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  77. Job vi. 17.

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  78. Ps. cxl. 7.

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  79. Prov. xv. 22.

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  80. Jerem. ii. 19.

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  81. Job viii. 11.

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  82. Judith vii. 6.

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  83. Jerem. ii. 13.

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  84. Cant. v. 2.

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  85. Cant. vi. 12.

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  86. Isaias xxx. 21.

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  87. Gen. xxi. 14.

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  88. Ps. cxlii. 6.

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  89. Lament. i. 13.

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  90. Ps. cviii. 18.

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  91. Ezech. xxxvii. 4.

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  92. Prov. i. 24.

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  93. Isaias li. 12.

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  94. Ps. cxviii. 137.

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  95. Isaias lvii. 17.

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  96. Job xvii. 11.

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  97. Numb. xi. 7.

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  98. Lament. iii. 20.

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  99. Nahum. i. 10.

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  100. Gen. viii. 2.

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  101. Isaias xxxv. 7.

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  102. Ezech. xv. 3.

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  103. Ibid. xv. 2.

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  104. Ibid. xv. 4.

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  105. Ps. xxi. 15.

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  106. Isaias xi. 12.

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  107. Jonas i. 3.

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  108. Isaias xi. 12.

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  109. Acts ii. 37.

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  110. Ezech. xv. 5.

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  111. Job xv. 16.

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  112. St. Aug. Treat. on S. John.

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  113. John xv. 1.

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  114. Wisd. iii. 7.

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  115. Prov. xxv. 22.

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  116. Acts xvii. 28.

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  117. Job xxxiv. 21.

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  118. Matt. xvi. 27.

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  119. Jerem. xxxi. 3.

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  120. Ps. cxiii. 12.

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  121. Gen. xxxii. 12.

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  122. Jerem. ii. 32.

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  123. 1 Kings xv. 19.

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  124. Ps. cxxxvi. 5.

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  125. Cant. viii. 1.

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  126. Isaias xxxii. 18.

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  127. Colos. iii. 3.

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  128. Ibid. i. 12.

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  129. Isaias xxxv. 1.

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