Volume II, Treatise I, Chapter XI

In Which I Begin to Treat of the Exercise of Mortification

Tue chief disposition we must bring on our part, in order to gain this mortification, and to overcome ourselves, is, courageously to exercise ourselves in putting down our own wills; in opposing our appetites; in not gratifying our flesh, nor allowing it any thing it desires. In this manner we shall overcome nature by little and little; we shall root out our vicious and ill habits; we shall become masters of our passions; and virtue will begin to enter, to take possession, and to fortify itself-in our souls. St. Dorotheus gives a very profitable instruction upon this subject. When you are tormented by any passion or bad inclination, says he, if you be so weak as to yield to it and to go wheresoever it would lead you, believe it for a certain truth, that it will take deeper root and become stronger and stronger; and from that time forward it will wage a more violent war against you, and give you greater pain and difficulty. But, if at the first onset, you courageously resist it, it will daily diminish; and it will every day have less strength to set upon you, till at length it will come to have no strength at all, nor will be able any more to disquiet you.

This counsel is very profitable and powerful against temptations, for the same reason, as I shall prove hereafter; and, without doubt, it imports us very much to resist betimes, lest the ill habit should grow stronger in us, and make us fall into greater inconveniences. The saints counsel us to behave towards our body as a good horseman does, who being mounted upon a mettlesome steed that is hard-mouthed, does not fail however to master him by his skill and vigour; and makes him go where #and at what gait he pleases. We must do the same—we must, as he does, always keep a stiff rein, and now and then clap spurs to his sides, and by this means, we shall tame our body, do with it what we please, carry it where-ever we choose, and at what pace we think proper. But if we have not skill and vigour to keep him in, and to manage him well, he will become our master, will run away with us, and cast us headlong into some precipice. When a horse is stubborn the mode ordinarily used to correct him, is not to give him his way upon any occasion. We must do the same towards our flesh, to overcome its stubborness and bad inclinations. We must not suffer it to do any thing it fancies, but contradict it in all things: we must, in the height and heat of its desires and appetites, keep a strong hand upon it, and not gratify it upon any account. | _ It will be very profitable for us to excite ourselves to this exercise, and always to act from this motive. The outward man, that is our flesh and sensuality, is the greatest enemy we have, and in this quality he continually endeavours to destroy us, by rebelling against the interior spirit, against reason, and even against God himself. One of the chief reasons why the saints say, that the knowledge of ourselves is one of the most efficacious means to overcome all temptations, is, because he who applies himself to this knowledge, sees very well his own weakness and misery, and therefore he no sooner discovers any bad thought or desire in himself, but he perceives it to be a temptation of his enemy, who would deceive him, and cast him headlong into a precipice; and hence, instead of hearkening to it, or believing what it suggests, he carefully stands upon his guard. But he who knows not himself, or studies not to acquire this knowledge, perceives not the temptation when it comes, and does not believe it to be one; especially if it suits with his inclination. On the contrary, he imagines that what in reality is a temptation, is a reasonable thought; and that which, in effect is sensuality, appears to him a pure necessity, and thus he easily yields. Wherefore, convince yourself well that you have to do with your greatest enemy; that all those bad desires and temptations you feel are the treasons of your flesh and blood, and of your sensuality; that you have in them a mortal enemy who seeks your destruction; and by this means it will be far more easy for you to overcome and mortify yourself; for who is so foolish as to confide in his enemy?

St. Bernard, who makes an excellent reflection upon this matter, says, that we must treat ourselves, that is, our bodies, as we would treat a sick person committed to our charge; to whom we ought to refuse whatsoever would do him hurt, though he should desire it ever so earnestly; and oblige him to take, even against his will, what would do him good. If we were fully convinced that we are sick persons, and that our desires and irregular appetites are only such longings after what is hurtful to us, as sick persons commonly have, and that they are the temptations of our enemy, who would destroy us; how easy would it be for us to drive them away, and thereby to “overcome him? But if, instead of believing yourself sick, you believe you are in perfect health; and instead of looking upon yourself as the greatest enemy you have, you think yourself your truest and best friend, you are in great danger. For how can you evade an evil which you do not perceive; or how can you resist one whom you look upon as a friend? And how can you doubt of that which, so far from thinking to be a deception, you firmly believe to be a truth, and far from the least deceit?

St. Dorotheus relates, that having the charge of spiritual things in the monastery. where he lived, all the religious came to give him an account of their temptations; and amongst the rest, one Game to discover the temptation of gluttony, which very much tormented him. As one disorder commonly causes another, this temptation was so great as to make him steal, in order to get something to eat. The saint having sweetly asked the cause of his theft, he answered, that it was because they gave him not enough at table to satisfy his hunger, which even devoured him. St. Dorotheus counselled him to go and make known his wants to the abbot. But perceiving that he had a great difficulty to do so, and that. he was ashamed to speak to his superior thereof, he goes to the abbot himself, and makes known the necessity of this religious. The abbot leaving the whole matter to be managed by the saint, as he should judge best, the saint called for the dispenser who gives out meat and drink, and commanded him to give this religious whatsoever he should desire, and as often as he should ask for it. The dispenser obeyed, and the religious having in abundance whatsoever he could desire, passed some days without stealing any thing; but returning by little and little to his former bad habit, he goes all bathed in tears to the saint, discovers his fault to him, ‘and begs a penance for it. For he had still this quality, which was very good in him, that he made known his defects as soon as he had committed them, which is a very proper means soon to overcome them. St. Dorotheus asked him, whether the dispenser had given him what he asked for, and whether he had ever refused him any thing? The religious answered, no; but that he was ashamed to go so often as his hunger urged him. And would you be ashamed or afraid, says the saint, to come to me, now you know I am not ignorant of your temptation? He answered that he should not be ashamed at all; whereupon the saint ordered him to come to him when he wanted anything, and he would supply him, and therefore advised him to steal no more. St. Dorotheus at that time had care of the sick, and treated him very well, which hindered him for a little while from stealing. But after some time he returned to his bad habit; and then, full of tears and confusion, he discovered his fault, begged pardon, and desired a penance for it. But how, dear brother, comes it to pass, says the saint, since you say you are not ashamed nor afraid of coming to me, and you receive from me what you desire, that you still persist in your ill custom of stealing? I neither can conceive this, replied he, nor the reason why I steal; it is, without doubt, the bad habit I have got that moves me to it. For I neither want any thing, nor do I eat what I steal, but even give it to the horses. And in effect they went to his chamber, and there under his bed they found several things to eat, which be had hidden and left there till they were spoiled, and then not knowing what to do with them, he carried them to the stables, and gave them to the horses. We may perceive by this, says St. Dorotheus, the deplorable condition to which a bad habit or passion leads us, and, therefore, how great reason we have to look upon ourselves as. aick persons, and as our own greatest enemies. The religious easily perceived he did ill, was afflicted for it, and wept to see himself faulty, and yet could not refrain from falling into the same fault. Wherefore, the abbot Nisqueron said very well, that we become slaves to our passions and bad habits, when we once permit ourselves to be led by them.

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