Chapter III
Of the Hope of the Goods That Are to Be Obtained by the Practice of Solid Virtue
Having awakened in our soul a salutary fear of the dangers to which those are exposed who neglect their salvation, it is necessary to stimulate its courage and incite it to labour unremittingly for its sanctification by the hope of the rewards promised to solid virtue, and by the contemplation of the sweetness with which the practice of it abounds. The thought of the advantages which a true and perseverant piety obtains for us even in this life, is assuredly a powerful incentive to induce us to tend to sanctity. Witness the ancient patriarchs, and particularly the Royal Prophet, for whom the precious advantages attached to acts of virtue was an unfailing solace in adversity, a repose in fatigue, a refuge in danger, a shield in persecutions, an anchor, a port, a beacon in tempests, a spur and incentive to virtue. This confidence animated them in their spiritual weakness, strengthened them in their dejection, sustained them in their weakness, and stimulated them to walk constantly in the way of virtue.
To excite ourselves to follow constantly in the paths of sanctity, let us endeavour to understand the inestimable value of the fruits which we would reap from this confidence, and which are happiness in this life and peace and tranquillity at the hour of death. Such is the anticipated recompense which the goodness of God reserves for us as a foretaste of heaven. I say, therefore, that it is only those who devote themselves to their perfection who live happy and die in peace.
Article I
Those alone live happy who devote themselves to their perfection
It is impossible to conceive anything more dark, gloomy, and even dismal, than the picture which worldlings sometimes form to themselves of the life of persons devoted to virtue. They persist in refusing to view piety under any other aspect but that of an austere, emaciated spectre, furrowed with wrinkles, enveloped in hair-cloth, cruelly torn with the discipline, attenuated with fasts, plunged in affliction, and drowned in tears, always holding the stone in hand, to strike its breast, ignoring consolation, and, in fine, strangers to all the pleasure and sweetness of life.
But how false is such a supposition! We are about to prove, on the contrary, that, despite the tempests and storms of this life, those who devote themselves to solid piety pass their days in an uninterrupted tranquillity and perfect happiness, based on the graces with which they are enriched, the true consolation with which they are inundated, and the care with which a divine and paternal Providence defends, governs, and preserves them. For God Himself labours for the happiness of His faithful servants, bestowing on them, even in this valley of tears, a foretaste of future blessings, with that loving tenderness which He testified to His people in the desert by feeding them with manna; with that exuberance of delight with which Jesus Christ inebriated His disciples on Mount Thabor.
First proof.—The graces with which those are enriched who apply themselves to their perfection
Those graces which, by an anticipated recompense, God bestows here below on perfect souls in a manner proportioned to their nature, bear an admirable relation to the four qualities with which glorified bodies shall one day shine. They are as four magnificent gates through which ‘that peace’ of conscience which ‘surpasseth all understanding’1 triumphantly enters our heart; and even as the darkness of our understanding, the apathy of our will, the revolt of our passions, the humiliating dulness of our memory, completely absorbed in the recollection of terrestrial things, like the ‘four’ devastating ‘winds’2 mentioned by Jeremias, blowing simultaneously from the four extremities of heaven, excite violent tempests in our soul, banish peace and serenity from our heart; so, on the other hand, the clearness of our understanding for the comprehension of eternal truths, the alacrity of the will for the practice of good works, the subtlety of the memory for calling up ideas altogether divine, lastly, the impassibility of the heart, if we may so speak, acquired by a perpetual mortification of our irregular appetites, like to the four rivers of Paradise, fertilise the spiritual garden of our soul by the abundance of their waters, and establish there that kingdom of peace and felicity, the possession of which renders us a thousand times happier than earth’s mightiest potentates. Yes, I repeat, it will be easily demonstrated that the four qualities of glorified bodies are, by a special privilege, appropriated and communicated, even in this life, to those souls who apply themselves to solid virtue.
Their understanding, illumined by the heavenly light with which it is so frequently favoured, distinguishes the true from the false, it accurately discerns good from evil. For such souls the Gospel is a brilliant sun whose light reveals to them the truth and sanctity of the maxims it contains. The beatitudes which others regard as an insupportable burden, they esteem as alone worthy their ambition. Enlightened by faith, they find glory in contempt, true riches in poverty, solid consolation in adversity; while worldlings, incapable of understanding such sentiments, shrink from everything that savours of privation and suffering. Reputation, bodily comforts, sensual pleasures, appear to those souls as such utter vanity and hollowness that they can scarcely suppress their astonishment at beholding Christians esteem, love, and desire such worthless baubles.
From this clearness of the understanding emanates an admirable promptitude of the will for all that is good, a holy eagerness for the speedy and unreserved accomplishment of the will of God. Like those angels who with reins girt surround the throne of the Divinity, ready to execute all His commands, fervent souls find the burden light which seems insupportable to others, and the yoke sweet which others can scarcely bear. With courageous hand they gather the thorns of injury, they eagerly exhaust the chalice of contempt, they amass and treasure up as diamonds the calumnies which are hurled against them. They elicit and reiterate acts of the theological and moral virtues with so much ease and fervour that their life appears to be an uninterrupted succession, a precious chain, whose continuous links seem to attach earth to heaven. They mortify their body and fulfil their ordinary exercises of piety and the duties of their office, not with the regret, the reluctance, and the dastardly spirit of a slave, but with alacrity, perseverance, and fervour, consoled by the remembrance that ‘God loves the cheerful giver.’3 Far from being disheartened at what thwarts their inclination, sensuality, and self-love, they generously accept and even sincerely desire it. ‘They do not walk, they run,’ says St. Bernard, ‘in the faithful discharge of a truly religious life; what do I say? they fly! vigils appear short to them, the coarsest food too dainty; painful labour not merely tolerable, but even pleasing.’4 Privileged souls! who can express the happiness which your fidelity merits for you, what pen depict the charms of the paradise which you possess interiorly? To the promptitude of the will is united a singular subtlety of memory by which the state of the conscience is ascertained, the divine inspirations are embraced and followed, and God shows Himself in the sanctuary of their hearts, hearing and beholding all that passes there. They remember their past faults with the utmost accuracy, for the purpose of bewailing them; they are able to investigate their source with discrimination, to recognise their depraved appetites, to perceive the obstacles to their sanctification, especially those which are most opposed to the amendment of their life, and which most retard their spiritual progress; but they contrive to impart so much sweetness to their efforts that the interior peace with which they are inundated, far from being weakened by them, becomes more perfect, and betrays itself, so to speak, by the heavenly calm of their exterior.
Spiritual impassibility is another of their privileges. Clothed with ‘the breastplate of justice,’ defended by ‘the shield of faith,’ protected by ‘the helmet of salvation,’ armed with ‘the sword of the spirit,’5 they victoriously repulse the deceitful blandishments of the world, the assaults of the devil, and the seductions of the flesh. Neither the allurements of an illicit desire, nor the inordinate love of the creature, nor the incitements of concupiscence, can find admission into or inflict any wound upon their heart. So fortified are they against the most unexpected events, so superior to all trials, that neither prosperity nor adversity effects the least change in their position: neither can adversity deject nor prosperity elate them. The dominion they possess over all their affections is absolute, and their peace imperturbable. St. John Chrysostom had frequently observed this impassibility of solidly virtuous souls: ‘Their virtue,’ says he, ‘is so firm, that resisting all earthly vicissitudes, soaring above the snares which concupiscence lays for them, they regard with contempt, as from a lofty tower, all that appertains to earth.’ ‘The virtue of these souls,’ adds the same saint, ‘modelled on that of the Divine Sun of Justice, goes still further: it renders them so invincible, it makes them to enjoy such perpetual delights, that they are inaccessible to all sublunary vicissitudes. If fire is cast into the sea, it is immediately extinguished; so in like manner all the sufferings that can assail a soul whose conscience is well-regulated soon disappear. Witness the great apostle: a tempest of temptations accumulated on him, and yet Paul rejoiced and superabounded in consolations as though he already experienced the joys of Paradise.’6 But it is not granted to the pen of a writer to express of what solid peace, what unalloyed felicity, those graces which we have already described are the principle and source. Experience alone can realise it. Oh, a thousand times privileged the souls who possess in this valley of tears the glorious prerogatives with which the bodies of the saints shall be honoured during eternity! They equal the archangels by the brightness of their understanding, the Seraphim by the alacrity of their will, the Cherubim by the subtlety of their memory, and the Thrones by the impassibility, the constancy of their heart. Who will not acknowledge with St. John Chrysostom that, ‘retained on earth by the bonds of the body, in spirit they already abide in heaven,’7 and begin, even in their exile, to enjoy an abundance of the sweetest consolations?
Second proof.—The consolations which they enjoy
They are of two kinds: interior consolations, which appertain to the soul; and exterior consolations, which communicate themselves even to the body, and captivate all its senses. How great, how excessive are the joys to which the body itself is frequently admitted. Of this the Anthonys, the Ephrems, the Ignatiuses, the Xaviers, and countless other saints are illustrations. So copious was the torrent of heavenly delights with which they were frequently inundated, that they publicly confessed that all the sufferings, the labours, and the anxieties one might have to undergo during several years in the pursuit of virtue are usuriously repaid by one single drop from this ocean of delights.
It is related of Archimedes that so great was his joy at having discovered the solution of a mathematical problem that, quite beside himself, he immediately quitted the bath in which he was, and ran to his house, repeating incessantly: ‘I have found it, I have found it!’ Oh, what then shall be our joy when the vision of eternal Truth shall shine upon our heart with the vividness of lightning? Who can explain the tender emotions, the pure, rapturous delight of a soul intimately united to its Beloved by the bond of love, and repeating with the Sulamitess: ‘I have found Him whom my soul loveth; I hold Him, and I will not let Him go.’8 Ah! it is only the Philip Neris, the Teresas, the Stanislauses, the Catherines of Siena, that can fully comprehend and realise this by a happy experience. However, it is only to some souls solidly virtuous, and only at intervals even to them, that God communicates these exterior consolations, because they are rarely free from danger; for this reason we should esteem more the interior consolations of which the soul alone is susceptible, to which we can all aspire, and the acquisition of which should form one of our chief motives for labouring in the work of our sanctification. The source whence these spiritual delights flow is the incomparable glory and rich treasure of which we are put in possession in the service of God. The more abundantly we participate in this glory and treasure, the more our heart is inundated with the affluence of these holy consolations, after the example of the saints who enjoy perfect happiness in heaven, because they possess sovereign glory and exhaustless treasures. Now, according to the divine oracles, the virtuous soul becomes, even in this life, the mother and sister of Jesus Christ, His Beloved and His Spouse.9 Can we image to ourselves anything more glorious than so close an alliance, so near a relationship with Jesus Christ?
It has ‘the kingdom of heaven,’10 ‘the riches and salvation of God Himself,’11 for its treasure and inheritance, so that it can say with Solomon: ‘all goods came to me’ with sanctity, and I have acquired ‘innumerable riches through its hands.’12
Not only does the soul possess the inappreciable treasure of the friendship of God, but by its strict union with Jesus Christ it contracts a kind of affinity, a mysterious relationship, and a right to a community of goods with the adorable Trinity. Is it surprising, then, that in the possession of their felicity they ‘rejoice with a joy unspeakable?’ On earth persons are esteemed happy in proportion as they are exalted in dignity and endowed with great wealth; but is it not incontestable that the most enviable position here below bears not the remotest comparison with that of a virtuous soul? There is no one, therefore, who can experience such true consolation and live in such perfect happiness as he who is holy.
Let not this surprise us: self-will and self-love, these two sources of all our troubles and disquietudes are dried up and exhausted, these two enemies of all peace and tranquillity are vanquished in his heart. Yes, experience teaches us that this twofold disorder, of self-love and self-will, is the fatal cause of our interior strifes. In reality, whence proceed those interior storms and tempests of such frequent recurrence, if not from this: that something has been done contrary to our wishes, or something omitted of the accomplishment of which we are desirous? if not some event that has occurred injurious to our honour or painful to our sensuality? something that mars our plans, thwarts our desires, denies our gratifications, frustrates and ruins our efforts? This it is that excites us, afflicts us, and transports us out of ourselves. Thence arises the noxious vapour which originates all our disquietudes and sadness.
On the contrary, a soul devoted to virtue despoils itself of its own will, no longer to follow any will but that of God. It voluntarily renounces the esteem of men and the gratification of the senses; its only wish is to desire nothing; its only ambition to possess an absolute empire over self. As nothing happens without the permission of God, and as the holy soul wishes nothing but what God wishes, so nothing can occur contrary to its desires. It thirsts for contempt, loves its own affliction; therefore contempt cannot disturb nor adversity deject it. It desires nothing, or at least very little; it desires and receives without eagerness; so that, come what may, its peace of heart is never compromised. It consequently enjoys a pure and unalterable interior joy incomprehensible to those who have not experienced it.
Can virtuous souls be otherwise than happy? ‘They have placed their felicity in the imperishable Being,’13 their trust in Him who is immortal, and their confidence in the Infallible: they therefore necessarily enjoy true delights, they are established in solid happiness, and, like the inhabitants of heaven, raised above all human vicissitudes, they live in constant serenity. If there is any happiness on earth it is the inheritance of a soul which labours zealously for its sanctification. And yet, who would believe it? The greater number of men hear these truths without being moved by them, without experiencing any pious emotion; they meditate upon them without being inflamed with a love of virtue; they deem it too difficult to ‘crop off the twigs of the cedar to take away the marrow,’14 ‘to go up into the palm-tree to take hold of the fruit thereof,’15 ‘to refuse the vile flesh-pots of Egypt, in order to feed on the celestial manna.’ O heavens! we believe that ‘a soul’ zealous for its sanctification is as ‘a perpetual banquet,’16 and yet, like the prodigal child, we prefer to live in the society of unclean animals, to feed on their disgusting food rather than aspire to the delicious nutriment granted to virtue. Lord, ‘enlighten my darkness,’17 inspire me with an utter abhorrence of earthly things, and an ardent desire for those of heaven.
Third proof.—God’s special Providence over them for their defence, government, and preservation
The soul that labours at its perfection is also an object of the special attention, care, and protection, of divine Providence. This, we may say, is the chief recompense with which God completes, even in this life, the glory and felicity of the true disciples of virtue. Clasped in the arms of, and to the heart of, their God as a child on the bosom of a tender and watchful mother; placed as a feeble ward under the protection of a faithful guardian; received as an interesting passenger on board the ship of a skilful and charitable pilot, they live tranquilly, repose securely, and enter the port in safety. For it is certain that the divine Providence watches with an especial affection over the welfare of those who constantly and seriously endeavour to acquire perfection. I shall quote one proof out of the thousand which might be cited of this truth.
What is of less price than a sparrow? ‘Two’ of these birds ‘are sold for a farthing.’ And yet Jesus Christ assures us ‘not one of them falls to the ground’ without the permission of His heavenly Father. What is more insignificant than a hair? it is trodden under foot when it falls from the head; and nevertheless, says the Gospel, ‘all our hairs are numbered.’18 What is of less value than ‘a lily and the grass of the field which is to-day, and to-morrow is cast into the oven?’19 and yet, ‘God doth so clothe them, that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as one’ of those weak plants. Finally, what are more worthless than ravens? ‘they neither sow, nor do they reap, nor gather into barns, and yet God feedeth them.’20 But if the heavenly Father provides food with so much solicitude for these birds, ‘how much more,’21 oh, faithful souls (and it is Jesus Christ Himself who draws this conclusion), shall He not be your guide and protector, shall He not preserve you whom ‘He has loved with an everlasting love,’22 whom He holds captive in ‘the bands of His tenderness for human nature,’23 you ‘whom He bears engraven on His hands,’24 of whom He has entire possession; since the ‘souls of the just are in the hands of God?’25
Yes, Lord, ‘Thy Providence governs’26 all things, ‘Thou disposest of us with a kind of reverence, for Thy power is at hand when Thou wilt;’27 ‘Thou hast care of all men,’28 but particularly of those who on their part tend faithfully to their perfection. ‘Thou occupiest Thyself about each of us as if he were alone, and about all at once, with the same solicitude as about each individually,’29 but Thou hast a special care of those who are striving after perfection. ‘Thou carriest them in Thy bosom,’30 ‘Thou guardest them as the apple of Thine eye,’31 Thou guidest them through dangers. In their behalf Thou turnest aside the stumbling-blocks, breakest the arrows of temptation, repulsest the assaults of hell, and so wisely directest the different events, that ‘all things,’ even their faults, ‘co-operate to their good, because they love Thee.’ It would be impossible to express of what consolation, what a plenitude of peace, what a treasure of hope, the intimate faith, but above all the practical experience of these paternal cares are the source and principle. For ‘what can man fear,’ says St. Augustine, ‘when he reposes on the bosom of God?’32 What is wanting to him who is replenished with the Divinity, what remains for that heart to desire, which is inebriated with the full possession of its Beloved? ‘It is the Lord who guideth me,’ joyfully exclaims the soul, ‘it is the Lord who guideth me, I shall want for nothing.’33 ‘He hath given His angels charge over me to bear me up in their hands: I am certain, therefore, of not dashing my foot against a stone,’34 ‘I shall walk unscathed on the asp and the basilisk, I shall trample under foot the lion and the dragon’35 without danger, ‘and if I drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt me.’36 ‘The Lord is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear? The Lord is the protector of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?’37 No, ‘never will He permit anything to happen to me but what is useful, though I do not always know’38 how to discern it. ‘There is no father like God,’ says Tertullian; ‘He knows what is best for me, because He is infinitely wise, and He can bestow it on me, because He is all-powerful. He will then undoubtedly grant it to me, since He loves me without bounds.’ ‘I will throw myself into His arms, and He will not withdraw them to let me fall.’39 ‘I will cast all my care and uneasiness upon Him, for He hath care of me;’40 ‘for my Beloved is mine and I am His.’41 Oh, happy lot! He is mine. . . . I am His. . . . He is mine to find His delights in me. . . . I am His to centre in Him all my love. He is mine to be my salvation. . . . I am His to be the object of His solicitude. My wishes, therefore, have been accomplished; what more shall I ask? I am satiated with blessings, what more can I desire? What remains for me but to ‘rest’ fearlessly on His bosom, ‘to sleep’ there ‘in peace’42 in the most perfect security. Such are the sentiments of a soul which tends unswervingly to sanctity. Oh, enviable happiness! Oh, unheard-of favour of divine Providence! Oh, exhaustless source of joy. No, not the most thrilling eloquence, not the most copious and imaginative writers, could adequately extol the felicity found in the cares of this adorable Providence, and the merit of those heroic hearts who know how to despise adversity. Though, tempted like Job, they see ‘their house thrown down by a violent wind, their flocks and those who had charge of them struck by lightning and reduced to ashes,’ though all that belongs to them ‘be invaded, plundered, and carried away by rapacious strangers,’43 though their fortune be swallowed by the waves, though their possessions be inundated and ravaged ‘by the breaking up of the foundations of the great deep and the opening of the flood-gates of heaven,’44 still they remain calm in the midst of all these trials. Invariable as the mariner’s compass, they constantly turn towards the pole of the divine will: amid these violent storms, they, faithful satellites of the Sun of Justice, follow Him with an irresistible attraction, even when He is enveloped in clouds. ‘The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away,’ shall be ever on their lips; ‘as it hath pleased the Lord, so is it done; blessed be the name of the Lord;’45 for they are well aware that all that happens to them is by the permission of Him ‘who commands the winds and the waves,’46 ‘who holdeth the keys of the abyss,’47 who ‘bindeth up the waters in His clouds.’48 They know that it is ‘from the throne’ of His merciful Providence ‘proceed lightnings and thunders,’49 ‘and the flame of devouring fire.’50
If the chalice of sickness is presented to them they do not refuse to drink it, because they firmly believe that it has been prepared for them by the divine Physician Himself. Should all hell conspire against them they are not appalled, because they are confident that ‘God who is faithful will not suffer them to be tempted above that which they are able.’51 Dejection, sadness, and inconstancy are unknown to them; their life flows on in peaceful serenity even in the midst of the clouds in which it is sometimes enshrouded. The words of the Psalmist: ‘the Lord watcheth over me:’52 the pious sighs of St. Ignatius: ‘Lord, govern me according to the dictates of Thy wisdom, for I know that Thou lovest me,’ are their most habitual expressions, the shield with which they ward off sorrow and uneasiness.
Oh, enviable lot of the virtuous soul! it renounces creatures to devote and consecrate itself unreservedly unto God; it possesses nothing which it has not presented to its Creator, it abandons itself wholly and confidently to Him, and it mixes no rapine in the holocaust. Dead to self-will, it lives only for the divine will. Confiding in God, it seeks and desires only His grace; abhorring, shunning sin, it fears and hates itself. Leaning on its Beloved, it dares all, hopes all; and in the ‘name of its God it passes over the wall’53 which they oppose to it. Inflamed with a heavenly ardour, this soul flies in the paths of virtue, it lives in the tranquil atmosphere where weariness cannot approach it; resting on the bosom of divine providence, clasped in the embraces of its heavenly Father, it enjoys an inexpressible happiness, which is the assured pledge of the eternal peace which awaits it. As it gives itself wholly to God, so also God communicates Himself unreservedly to it, so that even in this life it is happy in every respect, both on account of the graces with which it is enriched, the consolations with which it is inundated, and the special care with which divine providence defends, governs, and preserves it.
What are now our thoughts? What sentiments have these reflections awakened in our soul? How culpable shall we be if, recognising the value of this perfect felicity, we experience no desire to merit it!
Fools that we are! we run to broken cisterns, sigh for spoiled grapes, pine for the flesh-pots of Egypt, and close our hearts to that torrent of delights with which truly devout souls are inundated even in this valley of tears. We reck not those inestimable gifts which correspond to the qualities of glorified bodies: we despise those consolations one single drop of which is infinitely more delicious than all the pleasures of earth; we fly from the paternal bosom of divine providence, and thus preferring dross to gold, we become our own worst enemies.
Yes, my God! we forfeit all these graces because we do not belong wholly to Thee. Thou withdrawest Thy heavenly gifts from us, because we refuse Thee our earthly goods. Thou withholdest Thy bounty from us because we are too avaricious with Thee. But we are filled with confusion for having acted so unworthily towards Thee up to this; we repent of having given our perfection the lowest place in our esteem. O Jesus! who desirest that we be perfect, ‘as Thy heavenly Father is perfect,’54 grant us grace at length generously to break the chains which bind us to earth, render us the slaves of our vices, and estrange us from the paths of virtue. Grant that, admitted to the liberty of the children of God, we may, by a truly happy life, enjoy, even in this world, the anticipated reward promised to sanctity.
Notes
Philip. iv. 7.
↩Jerem. xlix. 26.
↩2 Cor. ix. 7.
↩St. Bern. Serm. on Ascen.
↩Eph. vi. 14.
↩Homil. on 2 Cor.
↩Homil. on St. Matt.
↩Cant. iii. 4.
↩‘He who does the will of my Father is my brother, my sister, and my mother’ (Matt. xii. 50).
↩Matt. iii. 2.
↩Isaias xxxiii. 6.
↩Wisd. vii. 11.
↩St. August. on Ps. lxxxiv.
↩Ezech. xvii. 4.
↩Cant. vii. 8.
↩Prov. xv. 15.
↩Ps. xvii. 29.
↩Matt. x. 29, 30.
↩Ibid. vi. 29.
↩Luke xxii. 24.
↩Matt. vi. 30.
↩Jerem. xxxi. 3.
↩Osee xi. 14.
↩Isaias xlix. 6.
↩Wisd. iii. 1.
↩Ibid. xiv. 3.
↩Ibid. xii. 18.
↩Ibid. xii. 13.
↩Conf. St. Aug. b. iii. ch. 11.
↩Numb. xi. 12.
↩Deut. xxxii. 6.
↩Con. b. ii. ch. 10.
↩Ps. xxii. 1.
↩Ps. xc. 12.
↩Ibid. xc. 12.
↩Mark xvi. 18.
↩Ps. xxvi. 1.
↩St. Aug. Solil. ch. 15.
↩Ibid. Conf. b. ii. ch. 10.
↩1 Pet. v. 7.
↩Cant. ii. 16.
↩Ps. iv. 9.
↩Job i. 19, 16.
↩Gen. vii. 11.
↩Job i. 21.
↩Luke viii. 25.
↩Apoc. xii. 1.
↩Job xxvi. 8.
↩Apoc. iv. 6.
↩Isaias xxix. 6.
↩1 Cor. x. 13.
↩Ps. xxxix. 18.
↩Ps. xvii. 32.
↩Matt. v. 48.
↩