Volume II, Treatise II, Chapter III

Of the Error of Those Who Make Little Account of This Exterior Modesty, as not Being Essential to Perfection

Wuat I am about to say at present, is chiefly to disabuse those who make little or no account of what appears in the exterior; under pretence, that perfection consists not in modesty and silence, but in the interior, and in the practice of true and solid virtues. Lipomanus relates an excellent example upon this subject, taken from the Spiritual Meadow, which is as follows:—One of the ancient hermits who lived in the deserts of Egypt, came one day to Alexandria, to sell some little wicker baskets he had made; and seeing a young hermit go into a tavern, he was extremely disedified, and resolved to wait his coming out. After some little time the old man seeing him come out, called him, and taking him aside, spoke to him in the following manner: Do you not consider, dear brother, that you are as yet very young, and that your enemy is continually laying snares to entrap you? Do you not reflect upon the danger to which an hermit exposes himself by entering into cities, where his eyes and ears meet so many dangerous objects? How comes it then to pass, that you dare hazard yourself, in a place frequented by so much bad company both of men and women, and where you cannot possibly avoid the hearing and seeing of many improper things? In the name of God, then, do so no more, but hasten back to your solitude in the desert, where, by the assistance of God’s grace, you will be secure from danger. The young man replied, Good father, be not uneasy at what I have done, since perfection does not consist in what you see in the exterior, but in the purity of the heart; for as long as I keep my heart undefiled, I shall perform all that God requires of me. At this, the old man lifting up his hands to heaven, cried out, Lord, be you for ever blessed and praised; for my part, I have spent five-and-fifty years in the desert, and lived with all recollection possible, yet I find not this purity of heart; and this young man, notwithstanding his frequenting scandalous houses, has obtained it. This is the best answer to all those that shall make the same objection. For notwithstanding all agree that the very essence of perfection consists in purity of heart, in charity, and the love of God; yet no man will ever attain these, unless he be extremely careful in guarding his senses, and in the observance of exterior modesty.

To prove this point, St. Bonaventure says, that interior recollection is acquired and preserved by exterior recollection; the latter being the chief guard and outwork of the heart. Nature never produces a tree without leaves and bark, or fruit without skin; but still in all her productions provides both for ornament and preservation. Grace in like manner, whose acts are conformable to those of nature, though much more perfect, never forms a virtue in the heart, but she gives as companion to it, the modest exterior we speak of. This is the bark and skin of devotion, and also of all interior recollection and purity of heart. If you take this off, the rest will quickly decay and corrupt. Every one knows that a good or bad habit of body, consists not in outward appearances, or in looking well or ill, but in the due proportion or disproportion of the humours within. Notwithstanding when we see a man look ill, we -presently conclude, that he is not well, saying, do you not observe his countenance, his colour, his eyes? The same parity holds in order to our soul’s health, which is easily inferred from outward symptoms.

’ §t. Basil farther explains this doctrine by another apposite comparison, which is frequently made use of by other holy men. Our senses, says he, are the windows of our soul, through which it beholds all that passes by. This established, he adds, that there is the same difference between a recollected and dissipated soul, as there is between an honest and dishonest woman. ‘The first you. will rarely see at her window; the second is continually either there, or at the door, to see who passes by, and to call in some one or other to talk with her. Observe here, says St. Basil, the difference between a modest, sober religious, and one that is not so. The modest man seldom looks through the windows of his senses— he lives retired within himself, and is always recollected. The other is always at the window, to see and hear all that is done and said, and spends his time idly with any one that passes by. But to return to our comparison: it is certain, that though to frequent or not frequent a window much, be no infallible sign of 2 woman’s honesty or dishonesty; yet, notwithstanding, it betrays too much levity, and will certainly sooner or later be the loss of her honour, if it be not already forfeited. In the same manner it is also certain, that Christian perfection is not essentially contained in the recollection of our senses, yet certainly a vain and curious soul, which is delighted in pouring out itself upon all exterior objects it meets with, will never acquire this Christian perfection, nor true purity of heart.

Let us here observe one thing more that is very essential, which is, that as exterior recollection helps to create and preserve a good exterior, so interior recollection infallibly causes a good edifying exterior. ‘Where Jesus Christ is, there also is modesty,” (Epist. cxxiii.) says St. Gregory Nazianzen. When solid virtue is within, there is always gravity and modesty, and a good comportment without; and the modesty which flows from an humble and peaceful interior is what St. Ignatius requires of us. He does not look for that feigned and short-lived one, which, on the first occasion proves to be false. No! he requires the modesty which springs from an humble, mortified, and recollected heart, and which produces effects proportionate to its cause.

What I have said, will help us easily to discover whether a man be fit for a spiritual life or not, and whether or not he be a proficient in virtue. In the following simile, St. Austin shews, how we can make this discovery. We are now, says he, come to man’s estate, and have left off all those little amusements we had when children, which if any body had then interrupted, we should have been very much offended; but now being men, we can part with them without the least difficulty, since we perceive they are sports fit only for children. The same happens in a spiritual course. When a Christian has once tasted the sweetness of heaven and heavenly things, and begins by little to advance in spirit and perfection, he is not troubled at being bereft of those sensual pleasures, he was before delighted with; because now these appear to him as fit only for children, and unbecoming one at.man’s estate. “When I was a child,” says St, Paul, “I spoke as a child, I thought as a child, and discoursed as a child; but now being grown a man, I have left off all childish toys.” (1 Corinthians 13:11) If you desire to know whether you are still a child, look and consider well, whether you have left off all childish sports? Do you still please yourself with the little follies and trifles of children? Do you feed your eyes with all the vain objects they meet with? Do you glut your ears with all sort of discourses, and give full scope and liberty to your tongue? Be assured if you do this, that you are stilla child, and very imperfect; because such childish sports as these are your only satisfaction. For the spiritual man who daily increases in perfection, disdains such foolish trifles, and is far from taking any pleasure in them—being a man, he contemns and laughs at this children’s play, and is ashamed to engage himself therein.

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