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Chapter IV

Of the Predominant Passion

The predominant passion is, according to the masters of the spiritual life, one of the chief obstacles to the acquisition of solid virtue. Like the Dragon of the Apocalypse, ‘who persecuted the woman in great wrath,’1 this tyrannical vice cruelly harasses the soul it desires to conquer, tormenting it without intermission till it has subjected it to its despotic control by a thousand disastrous defeats. Then, become formidable as a strong army, it insolently ‘keepeth possession’ of the house in which it has taken up its abode, and it rarely happens that ‘a stronger than it’ comes to dispute its title.2

Of all our enemies it is the most implacable and dangerous. To animate ourselves to an unrelenting and successful war against it we must make ourselves fully cognisant of the injury it may do us, endeavour to discover its artifices, and above all, remove and overthrow all such obstacles towards its defeat as may proceed from ourselves.

Article I

How detrimental the Predominant Passion is to our soul

1. It is a universal enemy

The predominant passion violently assails all men in every action of their lives. In all conditions, in every state of life we are exposed to its deadly and insidious attacks.

It is a domestic enemy which possesses a kind of omnipotence, a universal power to injure us. We meet it everywhere: it makes war on the most confirmed virtue: attaches itself to the holiest works to render them defective in their commencement, continuance, or, at least, in their end; it intrudes itself into everything we do, and never allows an opportunity of attacking us to pass. We may say with truth that it is the origin of the greater number of our sins, as well as of all the evils that afflict mankind. The predominant passion tends to deteriorate all that is good; and as there is no evil from which it recoils, so there is no crime of which it is not in some manner the source, the sustenance, and the support.

The demon himself, mark well this truth, the demon who day and night, ‘as a roaring lion goeth about seeking whom he may devour,’3 cannot, despite his rage, do us any harm should we constantly resist the unhappy but too seductive importunities of the predominant passion.

How great and universal, then, is the empire of this vice over men!

Let us resume this article, and with the sacred history in our hand confirm every proposition of it by striking illustrations.

In no condition or state of life are we beyond the reach of the assaults of the predominant passion. The very disciples of the Saviour had to be on their guard against it. This passion it was which inspired the ambitious dispute as to ‘which amongst them should be the greatest;’4 which caused St. Peter to fall from presumption into perjury, and led Thomas from a haughty reliance on his own lights into incredulity; but still more appallingly are its dismal effects exemplified in the unhappy Judas, whose avarice transformed him from an apostle into an execrable renegade, a deicide, a demon!

Kings on their thrones, priests and pontiffs in the sanctuary, religious in the cloister, have to be on the defensive against its snares. It attacks all men indiscriminately, and there is no one living exempt from the empire of some predominant passion, or who does not at least experience its unremitting efforts to subjugate him.

2. This passion, by the guilty connivance of its slaves, equally profanes the holiest places and most venerated objects. This it was which led Heliodorus into the temple of Jerusalem to rifle it of its treasures; caused the sacrilegious Jeroboam to ascend the altar erected at Bethel; instigated Ozias to usurp the priestly functions and lay an impious hand upon ‘the censer to burn incense’5 before the Lord. It was this passion which, descending to the baseness of envy, incited the Jews to their unjust hatred of our Lord, whom they vilified as guilty of the most odious crimes, accusing Him of being a man addicted to wine, a seducer of the people, an impious person who desired to destroy the temple. It had previously ascended into heaven above ‘the stars of God’ and had deposited in the heart of Lucifer the germ of rebellion and the criminal desire ‘of being like to the Most High, of placing his throne on the Mount of the Covenant in the sides of the north.’6 No; there is no place or object so sacred that this passion does not defile, no sanctity so eminent that it does not assail, nor any virtue so steadfast that it does not seek to overthrow. This passion it was that incited Cain to the murder of Abel, David to adultery, Solomon to the worship of idols, Jezabel to the unjust slaughter of Naboth, and Herod to the massacre of the Innocents. These great crimes originated in the hatred, the ambition, the unchaste desires or the avarice which reigned in the hearts of the perpetrators of them. The most enormous crimes, the most frightful calamities which have desolated the earth have had their source in the predominant passion.

This vice carried fire and sword into the fairest provinces; it formerly delivered up Italy to the Vandals, Spain to the Moors, and Asia to the Mahometans. By a deplorable schism it has wrested England, Greece, and many other flourishing Churches from the centre of unity. The envy which animated the children of Jacob was ‘the wild beast which devoured Joseph,’7 and wrung his father’s heart with anguish. The fear which enslaved the timid Aaron was the criminal artisan of the Golden Calf, the infamous object of the idolatry of the Israelites. The jealousy which predominated over the hearts of the Pharisees, the hatred which swayed the priests, the contemptible weakness which governed Pilate, were the real executioners of Jesus Christ, the cruel ministers of the bloody drama of Calvary. How many heresies have had their source in the obstinate pride of their authors! How many states have been delivered up to the most frightful calamities by the unrestrained ambition of the great! How many scandals have desolated the Church through the negligence of its pastors! Finally, how many religious orders have perished by the tepidity which, having penetrated into their bosom, sapped the foundations of discipline! How true it is that the predominant passion is a universal power, since there is no condition, state of life, or place, so holy as to be impervious to its attacks. And yet we lovingly cherish this monster in our hearts, we allow it to impose its laws upon us. The evil it does us, the wounds we have received from it, our manifold experiences, fail to arouse our hatred against it. But how long shall we submit to so humiliating and impious a bondage? How long remain the willing slaves of so execrable a tyrant? Shall we still persist in subjecting reason to concupiscence, the mistress to the slave, ‘the son of the free woman to the son of the bond woman?’8 It is ample time to form a generous resolution. Let us remember ‘we are not the children of Agar,’ but of her mistress. Let us ‘shake off, let us loose from our neck the yoke’9 that oppresses us, and let us at length possess ‘the freedom wherewith Christ has made us free.’10

My God, Thou who didst deliver Daniel from the lions’ den, rescue me from the evil propensity which tyrannises over me and which is more to be feared by me than even ‘the teeth of wild beasts.’ Grant me the grace utterly to detest it during my whole life, as the iniquitous source of the misfortunes which can befall me.

2. It is an obstinate enemy

The predominant passion attacks us with the most consummate cunning, and the most obstinate pertinacity. 1. Proteus-like, it assumes all kinds of forms, but particularly that of virtue. It disguises itself now under the mask of charity, now under that of prudence. Its profusion, ambition, irregularities, avarice, anger, all its vices, in fine, it characterises as liberality, temperance, magnanimity, and other equally laudable qualities. ‘Transforming itself into an Angel of light,’11 it seeks to justify in itself what it condemns in others. At the very moment that it forcibly constrains our will to drag it into the paths of vice, and labours unremittingly for the ruin of our soul, it simulates the sincerest friendship, the kindest intentions in our regard. It dazzles and deceives our reason by the false colouring with which it invests things, and is repaid by the sophisms with which the latter seeks to conceal its baseness and encourage its criminal evagations. Let us but refer to some of the numerous instances afforded by Scripture of the captious disguises under which the predominant passion cloaks itself.

Nabuchodonosor wished ‘to subject all the land to his laws,’ but his pretensions being resisted, ‘this prince being angry, swore by his throne and kingdom that he would defend himself and would avenge himself on those countries,’12 to punish their obstinacy. Behold to what an excess of arrogance passion is capable of leading a heart over which it reigns. This ambitious and brutal conqueror declares an unjust war. Though no nation has attacked him, he speaks only of defending himself. He terms an unjust aggression the preservation of his legitimate rights, and places the subjugation and destruction of unoffending nations amongst the catalogue of royal virtues!

Dathan and Abiron, and two hundred and fifty of the children of Israel, all princes of the Synagogue, instigated by jealousy and anger, rise up against Moses, alleging their anxiety to overthrow a usurped and tyrannical government as the plea for the revolt, thus attributing to zeal their impious sedition.

‘Ananias kept back part of the price of a piece of land he had sold, his wife being privy thereunto: and bringing a certain part of it, laid it at the feet of the Apostles.’13 Both saw in this action only a reasonable care of their interests, a prudential foresight against future contingencies, whilst in reality it was a base falsehood and a sordid attachment to earthly goods. Judas qualified as compassion for the poor the insatiable avarice and cupidity which led him to blame Magdalen for pouring the perfume on the feet of our Redeemer.

Thus it is that the predominant passion, always fruitful in subterfuges, borrows the mantle of virtue, under which it so artfully conceals the most censurable faults, that even with the utmost vigilance it is exceedingly difficult to guard against its treachery.

2. Neither does its pertinacity cede to its subtlety in injuring us. Of this the prophet Jonas is an instance. Inordinate attachment to his reputation, the loss or diminution of which would, he feared, ensue should his predictions fail to be verified, induced him to rise up and flee to ‘Tharsis from the face of the Lord,’ who had commanded him to go to ‘Ninive the great city’ to denounce threats of divine vengeance against the inhabitants.14 But the justice of God pursues him; ‘a great tempest was raised in the sea, the lot fell on Jonas; he was cast into the sea and immediately swallowed by a fish, which, three days afterwards, cast him back upon the shore.’ Insensible to so severe a lesson, he resists a second time, and, instead of repairing at once to Ninive to execute the orders of the Almighty, he waits for ‘a reiteration of the divine command. Then, and not till then, does he arise and go to Ninive.’15 But what an unpitiable enemy is the predominant passion! Unappeased by this first fall of the prophet, it persists in making violent assaults upon his virtue. Moved by his preachings, the Ninivites turned from ‘their evil ways, and God had mercy on them’ and did not destroy their city. Then Jonas ‘was exceedingly troubled and was angry to such a degree as to desire death;’ ‘Lord,’ said he, ‘I beseech Thee take my life from me: for it is better for me to die than to live.’16 Why all this anguish? Oh! my soul, it is that thou mayest understand all the obstinacy of the predominant passion.

According to the prophet’s own avowal, excessive attachment to his reputation, and the fear of passing for a false prophet, because Ninive had not been destroyed as he had predicted, were the sole cause of his affliction. How difficult of cure, therefore, are the effects of the poison which this vice instils into the soul! Jonas sees that in punishment of his disobedience the waves rise up to engulf him, he is cast into the sea and swallowed up alive by a monster, and yet he will not yield. On the contrary, when God asks him, ‘Dost thou think thou hast reason to be angry?’ he has the audacity to reply, ‘I am angry with reason even unto death.’17 Thus does he anticipate the maxim of St. Augustine, that ‘no one will acknowledge that his anger is unjust.’

It is then certain that the predominant passion is an inveterate disease, which is often proof against even the most effectual remedies. It is an enemy which no concessions can mollify, which never wearies with time, and increases its exactions in proportion to the advances that are made to it. It imbibes new strength from its defeats. A thousand times vanquished, a thousand times it returns to the charge. The struggle with it ends only with our life: it redoubles its fury in our last moments, and lends all its forces to the devil to compel us to relapse into our sins of habit. How can it be difficult to detest this universal, artful, and implacable enemy of man?

3. It is a dearly-loved enemy

How should we not lament our folly! We love this treacherous foe, we foster it in our bosom, we take up its defence on every occasion.

Voluntarily blind, we will neither acknowledge its malice, nor try to discover its wiles. We applaud the success of its artifices and triumphs over us. We cherish the wounds it has inflicted on us, shut our eyes to avoid seeing the precipice whither it is hurrying us, and close our ears to the voice of conscience, and of the Holy Spirit that admonishes us of our danger. This it is that renders the combat so difficult, and the danger of defeat so imminent. For we do not zealously defend ourselves against an adversary whom we love. We aim our blows very cautiously when there is nothing we dread so much as the being conquerors. We resemble a sick man, who, satisfied with his disease, will only accept of agreeable remedies without concerning himself as to whether they are salutary, and who prefers the attention bestowed on him in a tedious illness to the recovery of his health by nauseous draughts. Meantime the evil strikes deeper roots, it grows stronger, it daily extends its empire over the soul, whilst the will, on the contrary, continually grows weaker, and grace incessantly diminishes.

Since our enemy keeps up a correspondence with our heart, how imperative is it not on us to declare open war against it, and to arm ourselves for the conquest with a continual mortification? Unless we recur to these measures, we shall make no progress in virtue, and shall remain plunged in our vices. Ah! let us promptly re-animate our courage, let us prepare for the battle, and re-echo the victorious war-cry, ‘who is like to God?’ Let us fearlessly commence the attack. What! do we still hesitate? Reason prohibits our ‘obeying our concupiscence,’ and the Almighty commands us ‘to subdue and conquer it.’18 Let us at length shake off the yoke of an unjust tyranny and restore to our soul that liberty which is its heritage. The vice which reigns in our heart is a ‘serpent of a hundred windings,’19 whose bite, like a virulent gangrene, spreads and becomes incurable if we defer to apply remedies for even the briefest period. To work, therefore, at once. Let us, from this very day, apply the axe to the root of the tree; and avenge ourselves on this iniquitous usurper. The victory is already won, should we but commence generously, but if ‘we give our souls their desires they will make us a joy to our enemies.’20

‘Most Mighty, the God of the spirits of all flesh,’21 my resolution is taken, aided by Thy grace, ‘I Thy servant will go and I will fight against this Philistine,’22 nor will I abstain from doing so till I have conquered and forced him to surrender. Do Thou, ‘Lord, the strength of my salvation, protect me in the day of battle,’23 that my efforts may be crowned with victory.

Article II

1. Of the knowledge of the predominant passion

1. Of the motions of the soul and how they are to be distinguished

Before seeking the means to recognise our predominant passion for the purpose of annihilating it, I deem it necessary to explain what is meant by the movement or passion of the soul, and into how many kinds it is distinguished. Passion, says St. Thomas, ‘is a movement’24 experienced in the inferior part of the soul and ‘excited by the representation of the good or evil that we perceive in an object.’25 According as this object appears advantageous or injurious we love and desire, or hate and reject it. The passions, according to the same holy doctor, ‘are divided into two classes: the one has for its object sensible good or evil considered as such; they are six in number: love and hatred, desire and flight, joy and sadness. The others have also sensible good or evil for object; but considered as difficult of acquisition or avoidance, they are reckoned as five, namely: hope and despair, courage and fear, and lastly, anger, which alone has no contrary passion. All the other passions relate to those as to their principle.’26 Men chiefly esteem as sensible good, riches, honours, and sensual gratification, and regard as evil, poverty, contempt, and suffering.

Our soul, under the impression of the passions of the first class, loves and desires this sensible good and rejoices at its possession; it hates and rejects evil, and is distressed when it befalls it. Under the impression of passions of the second class it hopes to obtain this good, pursues it ardently, and also sometimes despairs of the success of its efforts. On the contrary it fears evil and is irritated when unable to avoid it.

2. Different means of discovering the predominant passion

First means.—When we feel an extraordinary increase of sadness or joy, let us examine its cause.

1. We will perceive to what species of evil we must attribute this augmentation of sadness, according to the sentiments of fear, aversion, dismay, and even anger which our soul experiences; because it is always the apprehension of some evil that incites and produces these kinds of affections. 2. In like manner we shall discover to what description of good we are to refer the increase of joy by the interior sentiments of desire, love, hope, ardour, or, in fine, despair; since these other sorts of affections originate in the thought of some good which we are solicitous to obtain. It is true, then, as St. Thomas remarks, that all the movements of the soul ‘terminate in sadness or in joy.’27 We rejoice when we escape the evil which excites our fear, hatred, or aversion; or when we obtain the good which forms the object of our hope, love, and desires. On the contrary, we fall into dejection when we are unable either to avert that evil or procure that good. An unerring guide, therefore, in the discovery of the predominant passion is to trace our affections to the source of our joy or sadness by a diligent examination. If, for example, we take pleasure in praise, honours, and elevated employments, and are grieved when we are despised, blamed, or insulted, we may be convinced that pride has usurped the empire of our heart and reigns there as master.

When Jonas is grieved because the Lord, appeased by the repentance of the Ninivites, does not accomplish his prediction by destroying their city, the pride which inspires him with an inordinate attachment to his honour and reputation is the real source of his sadness. When, on the contrary, he rejoices at the shade afforded him by the ivy and is angry when this shrub withers, these two so different affections proceed from self-love which causes him to rejoice at the sensual good afforded him and to despond at the inconvenience incidental to its withdrawal.

Second means.—A second means of discerning our predominant passion is seriously to examine the dispositions of our heart. It will be easy to perceive that our impressions of love or hatred, desire or aversion, hope or fear, are concentrated on some particular object, which constantly and exclusively occupies our thoughts and is the source of nearly all the sins which form the subject of our confessions. It is some honour, convenience, or pleasure that we covet; some pain, vexation, or slight that we apprehend. We may recognise our predominant passion by these signs; for this insatiable anxiety to preserve or augment our reputation, this inordinate attachment to bodily comforts, are the exhaustless sources of our daily faults.

Pride engenders boasting, haughtiness, envy, calumny, ambition, hatred, and quarrels. Self-love, that is to say, an irregular attachment to our reputation and corporal gratification, is the origin of sloth, of the depraved inclinations, of gluttony, murmuring, secret injustices, violation of the vows, and of numberless other vices which dishonour our soul.

Third means.—The third means of discovering our predominant passion bears a near affinity to the first: it consists in examining what most strongly influences the affections of our heart, what angers, intimidates, pleases, disturbs, or disquiets us. For example, rarely to think of anything except the gratification of the senses and the comforts of life; to be grieved or disturbed by the anticipation of illness or the responsibility of an onerous employment; to be displeased at the conduct and defects of others, is an unmistakable sign of our being the slaves of self-love which shrinks from sufferings and discomfort, and impetuously desires gratifications of every description. In like manner, the man who is ruled by ambition, dreams of nothing but applause and honours; he is pre-occupied and anxious concerning the success which he expects from a composition, a carefully prepared discourse, or some business that has been intrusted to him; he fears being placed in the lowest ranks or employed in lowly offices.

But let us continue our examen, and, by applying it to each of our actions, we shall find that the desire of the applause and esteem of men, of which our heart is the slave, gives rise almost insensibly to human respect, this enemy of all virtue which ceaselessly strives to beguile our weakness into the worship of its disgraceful idol. ‘What will men say of it?’ We shall also find that when the concupiscence of sensual pleasures predominates in us, it is the real cause of our cowardice and sloth, in conquering sleep and rising at the appointed time. Human respect and sloth, in their turn, engender tepidity, and produce those daily and numberless faults which we bemoan, and sometimes even make us fall into very serious sins.

Fourth means.—The predominant passion is a crafty serpent which lurks in the grass the better to deceive us, but, notwithstanding its artifices, its presence may be easily detected by the following tokens.

1. Like the air which insinuates itself everywhere through which it can find an opening, the predominant passion penetrates with an inconceivable subtilty into all our actions, but particularly the more important ones, in order to usurp at least some portion of them, should it be foiled in its efforts to obtain the whole. It intrudes itself everywhere, profits by every event, everywhere finds nutriment for its life. We may judge of this by the conduct of a man whose heart is under the dominion of pride: he acts only through self-complacency, lauds himself in his discourses, his very errors furnish food for his vanity, he even glories in the contempt of which he is the object, and prides himself on the humiliations which befall him. It was thus that the apostles were weak enough to be puffed up ‘because the devils were subject to them,’28 and to yield to vain-glory at the very moment that they were ‘banishing’ the demon of pride from the bodies of the possessed.

2. The predominant passion invariably triumphs over the opposition which it meets with from the other passions of the soul. Placing itself at their head, it compels them to obey and recognise its sovereignty. In vain will pride, avarice, and self-love, cry out to the slave of gluttony that he is compromising his honour, fortune, and life; he turns a deaf ear to their remonstrances and perseveres in his intemperance. Thus gluttony silences all the other passions, which cede to it the victory.

From the moment that hatred took possession of the heart of Aman, and that he resolved to destroy Mardochai, he ceased to sacrifice to ambition, to riches, and to honours, he became insensible to the attention and flattery of his friends and the affection of his wife. ‘Whereas I have all these things,’ he exclaimed, in the bitterness of his heart, ‘I think I have nothing so long as I see Mardochai the Jew.’29 The longing after liberty which tyrannised over the Prodigal Son, rendered him so ungrateful as to trample under foot the love which he owed to his father and his country, and despise all the dangers of exile. Ambition held unrivalled sway over the brutal and suspicious Herod. Avarice, pride, licentiousness, the voice of flesh and blood itself possessed no power over this sanguinary and ferocious tyrant. Rather than lose his kingdom, he despoiled himself of his treasures, despatched enormous sums to Rome, basely fawned upon the emperors, and steeped his parricidal hands in the blood of his nearest kindred, including his wife and children.

3. Another characteristic of our predominant passion is the particular pains we take to defend, exonerate and even authorise an evil inclination in ourselves.

We consent to be accused of every other vice, provided only this be spared. The proud man will submit to be accused of avarice, envy, inebriety; but reproach him with his pride, and you have laid your finger on the wound, you have supplied fuel to the flame. What a marvel is this—a person would prefer being anything to what he really is!

Nevertheless, most frequently our ‘salvation comes from our enemies and from the hand of all that hate us.’30 For when they taunt us with our faults, when they take pleasure in humiliating us by reminding us particularly of our principal weakness, how beneficial is their censure to us! The vice with which they most bitterly and, as it were, triumphantly reproach us, that without doubt is our predominant passion.

Lastly, it is from the director of our conscience that we shall learn it with most certainty; it is he to whom we shall have laid our whole soul open, that can best discover to us its most dangerous malady. But, as ‘the grain of mustard’ which is the least of ‘all seeds,’ becomes afterwards, ‘when grown up, greater than all herbs, and becometh a tree,’31 so the commencement of the predominant passion is not alone exceedingly small but almost imperceptible. And yet, despite the apparent insignificance of the nascent vice, it is no easy matter to extirpate the young roots. Let us then make haste to turn the knowledge of the chief marks which distinguish it to account, let us take them for the basis of a serious reflection on ourselves; and this vice so formidable, especially for its wiles, shall not escape our investigations nor resist our magnanimous attacks.

Yes, let us take courage, let us wage an implacable war against it in our particular examen: the longer and more arduous the combat the greater shall be our glory, the brighter our crown. If the patient man struggling with adversity attracts the eye of God, how much more forcibly does not the Christian soldier combating unrelentingly with the violence of his passions arrest His attention; and if, as St. Jerome testifies, ‘it is a great virtue to sustain a daily warfare against ourselves and to keep a strict watch over the movements of the domestic enemy,’ what glory, what eulogiums does not he merit, says St. Laurence Justinian, ‘who, faithful to the reason bestowed on him by God, follows its pure lights unswervingly, in order to direct and govern all the movements of his heart with perfect order; who says to one passion: Go, and it goeth; to another: Come, and it cometh; who says to the body as to his slave: Do this, and it doeth it.’ This conduct assimilates us to the angels, it exalts man to all that his loftiest aspirations can ambition. Let us, then, arm ourselves without delay and fearlessly attack the foe. We must not say like St. Augustine: ‘soon, soon,’ . . . leave me ‘yet a little’ while; for this ‘soon’ might never have an end, and this ‘yet a little,’ might be prolonged to eternity.’32

Oh, Thou, ‘who commandest the sea and the winds,’33 deign also to restore peace to my heart, which is agitated ‘like a raging sea which cannot rest.’34 It is like a ‘kingdom divided,’ which cannot long subsist; ‘for avarice seeks to enthrone itself therein: boasting, pride, lust, calumny, envy, and anger follow each other in rapid succession, and dispute the supremacy of my unhappy soul, of which each covets the possession’;35 and I, the wretched sport of their disputes, become the slave of all, by serving each in turn. But I have made my choice. With St. Bernard, I resolve, henceforth ‘to resist with all my power, to defend myself with all my strength. I resolve, oh, my Saviour! to remain wholly dependent on Thee, since I know that I am thine. Come then, Lord, and scatter my enemies by Thy power. Thou alone shalt reign in me, for Thou alone art my King and my God.’ Grant me to realise how prejudicial my predominant passion is to me; and deign to assist me to turn to account the means Thou hast bestowed on me to discern and extirpate it.

Article III

Of the obstacles which prevent us from combating our predominant passion

There are three great impediments to be removed before we can succeed in extirpating our predominant passion, viz., obstinacy in ignoring our disease, diffidence of its cure, and negligence in the seasonable and persevering application of efficacious remedies.

1. Obstinacy in ignoring our disease

There are men ‘who resist the light, that they may not be obliged to do well;’36 who shrink from knowing their malady, lest they should be obliged to take remedies; who do not regard evil as such; who alone ignore their faults, which are visible to everyone else. Their foolish heart is darkened;37 it gives free admission to the most irrational desires, and even defends them as just and right. These persons are in reality the slaves of anger, pride, and avarice; though were we to credit themselves, there is no one more meek, humble, or disinterested than they. To judge from their statement, there is no defect to which they are less prone than that which evidently predominates in them. They not only pardon, they commend their anger, ambition, avarice, envy, immorality; they even term these odious vices equity, economy, zeal, excusable gaiety.

Thus this wilful ignorance of our disease is the first fortress in which our predominant passion entrenches itself. Not being aware of the evil, we take no pains to arrest it. It daily makes new progress, till at length it has become so strong as to be able to defy all remedies.

Let us penetrate the secrets of our conscience. Do we not believe ourselves innocent, when we are really guilty? fancy ourselves exempt from the passion which rules over us? carry the illusion so far as to glory in being perfectly free from it? and should it be impossible to close our eyes to the light and conceal our capital defect from ourselves, do we not try to give it the gloss of piety and justice?

Let us cast a searching glance into the depths of our heart. Do we not attribute our murmurs, complaints, and recriminations to a zeal for discipline? justify our desire of the first posts, our insatiable anxiety to display our talents and establish our reputation, by the specious pretext of zeal for the divine glory and the salvation of souls? Do we not style our dislike to labour, our self-seeking, and avoidance of mortification, prudence? In a word do we not give our predominating vice the name of the contrary virtue?

Should the illusion warp our judgment thus far ‘iniquity hath lied to itself,’38 and we deceive ourselves. But the time has come for arising from sleep and dissipating the thick mists of ignorance by the lamp of truth. Let us then at once tear away the mask which conceals from us our ruling vice, that we may recognise its odiousness and detest it with our whole soul.

2. Diffidence of its cure

A second obstacle, liable to retard indefinitely, and even altogether prevent, the cure of our predominant passion, is the fear that all our pains and efforts would prove abortive. This distrust proceeds from pusillanimity. The interior revolts appear to our soul, as the sons of Enac appeared to the timid Israelites—‘monsters of the race of giants, compared with whom they were but dwarfs.’39 It is intimidated, and says to itself what Saul said to David: ‘Thou shalt not resist this Philistine, nor fight against him, because thou art too young, and he is a warrior’ accustomed ‘from his youth’40 to an ascendancy over thee.

Finally, to authorise and vindicate its sloth, it borrows weapons from the doctors of the Church, objecting with St. Cyril that ‘it is impossible to destroy completely the concupiscence of the flesh which is within us;’41 and with St. Dorotheus, St. Jerome, and St. Leo, ‘that we cannot be altogether exempt from the passions,’42 ‘that no one was ever perfectly free from their first movements,’43 ‘and that an immunity from all evil tendencies is a privilege not granted in this life.’44 Such are the mendacious arguments adduced by us in justification of our dastardly behaviour.

Slothful soul, ‘your heart is the sport of a vain imagination.’45 I am as thoroughly convinced of the truth of these maxims of the saints as you are. I own with St. Dorotheus that ‘we cannot, while in this life, be exempt from all passion;’ but I immediately add with him, ‘it is not impossible to resist it.’ I admit that St. Bernard had just grounds for saying: ‘Whether you wish it, or not, the Jebusite will always remain in the midst of you;’ however ‘you can conquer, if you cannot exterminate him.’ St. Thomas teaches positively that we can moderate and direct the passions towards good, ‘though we cannot wholly rid ourselves of them during this life.’46

‘Attraction to sin,’ say St. Dorotheus and St. Augustine, ‘is a different thing from sin.’47 Temptation is not consent. ‘The evil,’ says St. John Chrysostom, ‘consists not in the agitation and efforts of the passion, but in the irregularity of the will,’ which yields a criminal consent to the depraved movements of the heart. It is certainly beyond human strength to guarantee one’s self entirely from temptation; but it would be a gross and criminal error to pretend that we cannot resist it and refuse it our consent. The Apostle of the Gentiles, whilst complaining that ‘he felt another law in his members fighting against the law of his mind,’48 adds elsewhere, ‘I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection.’49

Consequently ‘we are bound,’ says St. John Chrysostom, ‘to subjugate and conquer the depraved propensities and vicious inclinations of the flesh; we must subject them to the yoke of reason. But you will ask how can we master the violence of our passions.’ How? resumes the same holy doctor. ‘We subjugate lions, we tame the ferocity of their character, and we doubt being able to repress the impetuous motions of concupiscence? What! you would possess more power over animals devoid of reason, than over your rational and immortal soul, excited by the fear of God, and aided by His grace! No; cease to allege such pretexts as these.’

Rather ‘let us trust in God.’50 ‘A soul leaning on its Beloved,’ says St. Bernard, ‘will, like a skilful leader, direct the passions of anger, fear, desire, and joy, which are, as it were, the four wheels on which the chariot of our life turns; it will keep a tight rein on all carnal affections. And who could prevent it? Are not all things easy to one who confides in Him who can do all things? Oh, with what confidence this word inspires me: “I can do all things in Him who strengthens me.” Because those who hope in Him are omnipotent, since all things are possible to him that believes, why should I be the only one to despair of the cure of my predominant passion?’ Let us therefore cast aside all distrust; ‘let us hope in God,’51 and with His help we shall surmount this obstacle. Let us ‘strive for justice for our soul, and even unto death fight for justice; and God will overthrow our enemies.’52

3. Negligence in applying efficacious remedies

The third obstacle to a complete victory over our predominant passion is carelessness in recurring to efficacious remedies, and in laying down for ourselves a safe method of pursuing the spiritual warfare advantageously. We have an indefatigable and skilful adversary to combat, ‘who carefully examines our weapons,’ says St. Ambrose, ‘and then sharpens his darts.’ ‘He studies our habits, tastes, and affections,’ adds St. Leo, ‘the better to profit by every opportunity of injuring us in those things which possess most attractions for us.’ This experienced enemy knows perfectly well ‘whom he must tempt to covetousness, gluttony, impurity, or envy. He knows what souls to disturb by anger, to delude by joy, deject by fear, or seduce by admiration.’ In a word, he adroitly proportions the exterior temptations to the interior state of the soul; and the more easily to conquer us, he invariably attacks us on our weakest side, and in the way that he knows to be most dangerous to us.

Let us oppose this formidable adversary by adopting the surest and most powerful means of defeating him.

First means.—We must resist, repress, and arrest the first movements of temptation and promptly reduce them to obedience at the first indication of the revolt they endeavour to excite within us. St. Chrysostom gives us this useful counsel: ‘The moment you perceive the least disorder in your soul, do not neglect it under pretence that there is as yet but little to fear; anticipate on the contrary the great evils which may result therefrom.’ When we perceive a house containing inflammable materials on fire, we at once hasten to extinguish it, although as yet it has caused but little damage. It is not the commencement of the burning which thus excites our vigilance, but the consequences likely to follow from it. Let us then exercise the same vigilance in resisting the first appearances of sin, since in this matter the least delay is dangerous.

This promptitude in opposing the evil ensures to us both victory and peace. But he who, neglecting the first movements of concupiscence, allows them time to fortify, imprudently conceals a coal of fire in his bosom; he cherishes a perfidious serpent, whose deadly venom he shall soon experience. Are not the commencements of passion so many sparks which threaten us with a tremendous conflagration, and yet we harbour them in our heart! What reckless folly! Ah! rather let us generously extinguish them by trampling them under foot the moment we perceive their first approach.

The second means of subjugating our enemy is to foresee the principal occasions on which he is wont to excite our depraved desires, and to provide against his seductions. ‘Let us beware,’ says St. Ambrose, ‘of allowing ourselves to be surprised by the movements of the passions before reason shall have prepared our mind for them; for it often happens that anger, grief, or fear, crush the soul only because their attacks have been unforeseen. It is great wisdom, therefore, to provide by a watchful vigilance against the attacks of an incipient passion.’

The order and plan to be observed in this spiritual warfare, is to attack first our leading fault. Such is the doctrine of the Abbot Serapion, as related by Cassian in his Conferences. ‘Let each of us,’ says he, ‘examine his heart to discover from which of his passions it is that he experiences the most violent assaults; let him concentrate all his energies to destroy it by the arms of the spirit: when he has courageously vanquished it, he will afterwards triumph over all the others so much the more easily as in that his victory will have given him new strength; whilst the enemy, on the contrary, shall be dejected and weakened by the defeat.’ Thus it is that this holy war, begun and sustained with prudence, shall be crowned with the happiest success. Such was the method adopted by the athletes in the public games when, animated by the presence of an earthly monarch, or the hope of a perishable glory and a transitory reward, they combated wild beasts in the amphitheatre. Their first and most vigorous assaults were directed against the strongest and most ferocious animals, being convinced that, having once vanquished them, those which were less formidable would be easily disposed of. Let us display equal skill in the war with our passions by always endeavouring, first of all, to subdue that which is most dangerous. But in order completely to subjugate our predominant passion, it is necessary to trace it to its origin and cause. ‘The most effectual method of causing the decay and death of an unfruitful tree, whose branches suffocate the good seed confided to the earth,’ says the Abbot Serapion, in Cassian’s Conferences, ‘is to discover and cut off the roots whence it derives its life. To arrest a torrent which devastates the country we dry up or exhaust its source. So it is with the passions which predominate in us: in order to conquer and subject them we must try to discover the principal one, and we shall easily succeed in extirpating even their deepest roots. For this reason,’ continues the same author, ‘to conquer negligence, we must first banish sadness, which is its source; to remove sadness, we must resist anger, of which it is the fruit; to extinguish anger, we must subdue avarice and ambition—that is, the thirst for riches and honours—whose privation is generally the cause of our irritation; for in retrenching the cause we prevent the effects: consequently when such of our passions as are the root and stem of the others have been destroyed, their withered branches will fall off of themselves, and will cease to overspread our hearts with their dark and baneful shade.’

Let us then, faithfully and unfalteringly, employ these means, and thus we shall be able to break the triple and infernal chain which keeps us enslaved under the thraldom of our predominant passion. I allude to the persistency in disguising that passion from ourselves, diffidence of its cure, and negligence in the application of appropriate remedies.

Let us ascend to God on the wing of hope, acknowledge the malice of our capital defect, snatch from it the empire it has usurped, and compel it to adorn our triumph.

Notes

  1. Apoc. xii. 3, 13.

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  2. Luke xi. 21.

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  3. 1 Pet. v. 8.

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  4. Luke xxii. 24.

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  5. 2 Paralip. xxvi. 19.

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  6. Isai. xiv. 13.

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  7. Gen. xxxvii. 33.

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  8. Gal. iv. 31.

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  9. Gen. xxvii. 40.

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  10. Gal. iv. 31.

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  11. 2 Cor. xi. 14.

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  12. Judith i. 11.

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  13. Acts v. 2.

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  14. Jonas i. 2.

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  15. Jonas iii. 1, and fol.

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  16. Jonas iv. 1, etc.

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  17. Jonas iv. 9.

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  18. Gen. iv. 7.

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  19. Job xxvi. 13.

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  20. Eccli. xxiii. 21.

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  21. Numb. xvi. 22.

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  22. 1 Kings xvii. 32.

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  23. Ps. cxxxix. 8.

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  24. (Note of Fr. Berton)—In all this number we have suppressed the expressions: appetitive power, concupiscible appetite, and irascible appetite as too abstruse for the generality of readers.

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  25. St. Thom. 1. 2, q. 22, a. 3.

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  26. St. Thom. 1. 2, q. 22, a. 3.

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  27. St. Thom. 1. 2, q. 25, a. 1.

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  28. Luke x. 17.

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  29. Esther v. 13.

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  30. Luke i. 71.

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  31. Matt. xiii. 31, 32.

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  32. Confess.

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  33. Matt. viii. 26.

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  34. Isai. lvii. 20.

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  35. St. Bernd. Serm.

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  36. Ps. xxxv. 4.

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  37. Rom. i. 21.

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  38. Ps. xxvi. 12.

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  39. Numb. xiii. 34.

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  40. 1 Kings xvii. 33.

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  41. Against the Anthropomorphites.

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  42. St. Doroth. Serm.

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  43. St. Jerome on Isaias.

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  44. St. Leo Serm.

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  45. Eccli. xxxiv. 6.

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  46. St. Thom. 1, q. 95, a. 2.

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  47. St. Doroth. Serm.

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  48. Rom. vii. 23.

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  49. 1 Cor. ix. 27.

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  50. Eccli. xi. 22.

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  51. Ps. xvii. 32.

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  52. Eccli. iv. 33.

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