Volume III, Treatise VII, Chapter VIII

Another Answer to the Aforesaid Difficulty

THERE is still another manner of answering the difficulty which relates to the fear we may have of losing the esteem of our superior: which is, that if we truly have the spirit of humility, we ought to rejoice at being known to be as weak as we are; and therefore we need no other reason than this to move us to declare our defects and bad inclinations to our superior. For true humility not only makes us know and despise ourselves, but it also makes us be glad to be known and despised by others. It is true that the obligation of giving an account of conscience was established amongst us for other ends; but though there should be no other advantage to be derived from it than that of exercising ourselves in the practice of humility, this alone ought to be sufficient to engage us punctually to satisfy this obligation. And if we have not those sentiments of humility which we ought to have, but, on the contrary, desire to be esteemed, and to be promoted to the most considerable employments, I do not at all wonder that upon this account we let ourselves be seduced by those vain fears which pride and ambition are wont to suggest, and that we think thus within ourselves: if my defects come to be known to my superiors, they will have no more consideration for me, and will never advance me to any extraordinary employments, but I shall always remain in contempt and oblivion. Many great servants of God have attributed to themselves not only defects, but even considerable sins, for fear that any one should cast their eyes upon them to raise them to any great dignities in the Church; but he who, on the contrary, endeavours to hide his true faults that others may have a better opinion of him than he deserves, and consequently advance him to great employments, is far from resembling those I speak of, and clearly manifests that he has in his heart no feeling at all of humility.

We ought, moreover, take notice here of what is very essential, and what I have already touched upon elsewhere, which is, that the practices of humility and mortification, or of any other virtue whatsoever, to which a religious ought most apply himself, are those in which he cannot fail, without neglecting his rules at the same time; because it is in the exact observance of our rules that our spiritual advancement and perfection consist. But if we have not sufficient humility to perform the exercises of humility and mortification to which they oblige us, we may be confi-. dent that we have no humility. For of what use are humility and mortification, if, to spare ourselves a little shame, and not to expose ourselves to have.a little less esteem, we tread under foot so essential a rule as that is, which obliges us to discover the very bottom of our hearts to our superior? We ought, on the contrary, if we had true humility and true sorrow for our defects, willingly submit ourselves to this shame in satisfaction for them; and it would be so far from hindering us to lay open our consciences to our superior, that it would even move us thereunto. The example of the great Theodosius deserves in this to be imitated by all the world. Rufinus, endeavouring to dissuade him from going to the church because St. Ambrose waited there with a resolution to hinder him from entering, he answered with a humility worthy a true Christian: For this very reason I will go thither, that the holy bishop may reproach me in such manner as 1 deserve. When the Devil would hinder you from addressing yourself to your superior or confessor, you must do this. You must answer him with resolution and courage: I will go to him, that he may reproach me as I deserve; I will go to him, that I may have the confusion of being known to be such as I am, and that this confusion may help me in some measure to expiate my sins. Behold here with what spirit of humility we ought to declare our defects; behold here an excellent mark that we are truly sorry for having committed them. But when we are more sensible to the shame of discovering them to a man, than to the sorrow for having offended God by them, we are far from those sentiments of humility which we ought to have; and if one of our rules says that we ought continually desire to see ourselves charged with injuries, affronts, false accusations, and all sorts of ignominies, in case God should not thereby be offended, with how far greater reason ought we desire to be contemned when we have given cause, and when the thing in question is tc perform an act of religion, and to pay an act of obedience to one of the most important rules we have?

These considerations which I have now touched on should suffice to persuade us to keep nothing hid from our superior. But still to render the thing more sensible and palpable, and that it may not seem that we would not establish anything except on reasons drawn from spirituality, we pursued another line in the preceding chapter. We there made it appear that we not only do ourselves no prejudice in the esteem of the superior by discovering ourselves to him, but on the contrary, we thereby gain. his esteem and affection, and that those expose themselves to lose it who adopt the contrary method; and now we shall add one thing more which necessarily follows from all we have already said upon this subject. It is this, that when you render a faithful account of your interior, the superior places great confidence in you, and with reason; because he knows you to the bottom, and is assured that as soon as any new thing shall pass within you, you will not fail to address yourself to him. But when you discover yourself only by halves, which he may easily find out, he can no longer place confidence in you, because he knows not what you have in the bottom of your heart, so that he is necessitated to watch you and to have his eyes continually upon you.

Moreover, this should be taken particular notice of, because a contrary procedure may give occasion on both sides to a great deal of disquiet and bitterness, which would not happen had you observed unlimited candour and openness towards the superior. Experience daily teaches that this candour helps exceedingly to reconcile minds, and to destroy many imaginations and suspicions which one may have of another, either superiors of inferiors, or inferiors of superiors. The same happens here as it does in certain objects, which seem frightful when they are but half seen, either by night or afar off. For when you have courage to approach them, you will find that what appeared a phantom was perhaps only a branch of a tree, or some other thing like it. You have certain imaginations and diffidences that make you apprehend your superior. Go to him, take courage to inform yourself and to open your heart to him, and you will find all your imaginations and diffidences very ill grounded. Seneca, speaking of the resolution with which we ought to push ourselves forward to great actions, says very well, that if we had but the courage to undertake them, we should find them less difficult than we had figured them to ourselves; and in fine, that “we want not courage because the things are hard, but they are hard because we want courage”. Upon this occasion also he makes use of the comparison we have just related; and citing Virgil, who calls these phantoms and night-shades “dreadful figures to be looked upon”, takes notice, that he does not call them dreadful or terrible in effect, but terrible only in appearance, to show that all this appearance has nothing in itself that is dreadful or terrible; we need but approach it, and thereby we shall be convinced that it is nothing. It is the same of those suspicions and imaginations we just now spoke of.

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