The Spirit of St. Francis de Sales Part 48

St. Francis was truly like Aaron called to the pastoral charge by G.o.d alone, without his having used artifices or other means to procure himself such honour. This plainly appears from his life written by so many worthy persons.

His Bishopric was, indeed, no sinecure, being a most onerous burden. He says of it himself in one of his letters:

"The affairs of this diocese are not streams, they are torrents which cannot be forded." Alluding to the words of the prophet: _And, it was a torrent which I could not pa.s.s over_.[1]

Towards the close of his life, when Madame Christina of France, the King's sister,[2] married His Serene Highness the Prince of Piedmont, heir to the Duke of Savoy, she wished to have Blessed Francis in some official position close to her person, and, to effect this, proposed to make him her Grand Almoner. Certain prelates who had been themselves hoping to obtain this office, seeing their design thus frustrated, murmured bitterly, bursting forth into angry invectives against the Saint, as if by cabals, and intrigue, according to the custom of the world, he had succeeded in gaining the post for himself. St. Francis, however, was merely amused by what he called the buzzing of flies, and wrote to one in whom he could confide:

"Her Highness and the Prince of Piedmont wish me to become the Princess's Grand Almoner, but you will believe me readily enough, I am sure, when I tell you that I neither, directly nor indirectly, have shown any wish to obtain this office. No, truly, my dearest Mother, I have no ambition save that of being able to employ the remainder of my days usefully in the service and to the honour of our Lord. Indeed, I hold courts in sovereign contempt, because they are centres of the power of this world, which I abhor each day more and more--itself, its spirit, its maxims, and all its follies."

[Footnote 1: Ezech. xlvii. 5.]

[Footnote 2: Louis XIII.]

UPON COURTS AND COURTIERS.

Blessed Francis did not hold the opinion of many that the courts of Princes are places the very atmosphere of which is so tainted as to infect all who frequent them, and to be invariably prejudicial to the health and holiness of the soul.

Those who describe a court in terms of this sort are usually very ignorant on the subject. They speak of what they have never seen nor heard about from competent witnesses. A soul which has received the grace of G.o.d, and preserves it, can work out its salvation anywhere, nor is there any harmful intercourse so disease-laden that it cannot be overcome by this heavenly antidote, "David, and after him St. Louis," says our Holy Bishop, "in the press of the perils, toils, and travails which they endured, as well in peace as in war, did not cease to sing in truth: '_What have I in Heaven, and, besides Thee, what do I desire upon earth?_'"[1]

"St. Bernard lost none of the ground which he desired to gain in this holy love by pa.s.sing much time in the courts and armies of great Princes where he laboured to guide matters of state to the advancement of G.o.d's glory.

He changed his habitation, but he changed not his heart, nor did his heart change its love, nor his love its object; in fine, to speak his own language, changes were made round about him, but not in him.

"His employments were different, yet he was indifferent to all employment, and different from them all, his soul not taking its colour from his affairs and conversations, as the chameleon does from the places where it is, but remaining ever wholly united to G.o.d, ever white in purity, ever red with charity, and ever full of humility.

"I am not ignorant, Theotimus, of that wise man's counsel,

He ever flies the Court and legal strife Who seeks to sow the seeds of holy life: Rarely do camps effect the soul's increase, Virtue and faith are daughters unto peace.

"And the Israelites had good reason to excuse themselves to the Babylonians, who urged them to sing the sacred Canticles of Sion: _How shall we sing the song of the Lord in a strange land?_[2] But do not forget that those poor people were not only among the Babylonians, but were also their captives, and whoever is intent only on winning the favours of princes, dignities, military honours, alas! he is lost, he cannot sing the hymn of heavenly love. But he who is at Court, in the army, at the bar, only because it is his duty, G.o.d helps him, and heavenly sweetness is an _Epithem_ on his heart, to preserve him from the plague which rages round about him.

"There are some kinds of fish, such as salmon, and the like, which, instead of losing their flavour, become better and more agreeable to the taste when they forsake the salt water of the sea for the sweet water of rivers.

"Roses smell sweeter when planted near garlic, and in like manner there are souls which grow more fervent in places where libertinism and irreligion seem to drag all virtue at their chariot wheels."[3]

Our Blessed Father's piety was of this sort, for, knowing that he who is consecrated to G.o.d should not entangle himself in the intrigues of the world.[4] he speaks thus to one in whom he confided: "I must confess that, as regards business, especially that of a worldly nature, I feel myself more than ever to be nothing but a poor priest, having, thank G.o.d, learnt at court to be more simple and less worldly."

Truly, we may say here with the wise man: _Who is he and we will praise him? for he hath done wonderful things in his life._[5]

[Footnote 1: Psalm lxxii. 25.]

[Footnote 2: Psalm cx.x.xvi. 4.]

[Footnote 3: _Love of G.o.d_. Book xii. c. 4.]

[Footnote 4: 2 Tim. ii. 4.]

[Footnote 5: Eccles. x.x.xi. 9.]

UPON THE CARNIVAL.

His sad time each year was the Carnival, those days of disorder and licence which, like a torrent, carry away into excesses of one sort or another even the staunchest and most fervent in their piety. He felt, indeed, like Job of old, who offered sacrifices and prayers, and afflicted both body and soul with fasts and mortifications, while his children were pa.s.sing their time in revellings and banquetings.

As our Blessed Father was all things to all men, and weak with the weak, so he also burned with the scandalised; and who would not be scandalised to see the Pagan festival of the Baccha.n.a.lia celebrated among Christians? For this very reason, as we know, the name of G.o.d is blasphemed by many, and the Catholic religion unjustly blamed, as if it permitted what it cannot prevent, as if it commanded what it tolerates with reluctance, as if it ordered what it detests and declaims against by the mouth of its preachers.

Perhaps you would like to hear the words in which our Blessed Father pours forth his lamentations over this period of the year, so full of disorder and confusion.

"I must tell you," he says, "that now I have come to my sorrowful time.

From the Epiphany even to Lent my heart is full of strange sensations.

Miserable and detestable as I am, I am weighed down with grief to see the loss of so much devotion, I mean the falling off of so many souls. These two last Sundays I have found our communions diminished by one-half. That has grieved me very much, for even if those who made them do not give way to sin, why, and for what, do they now omit them? For nothing at all--out of mere vanity, it is that which grieves me."

AN INSTANCE OF HIS COMPa.s.sION FOR ANIMALS.

The Church inculcates on the Clergy perfect gentleness and kindness. This is why they may never take any part in anything involving bloodshed. His having shed the blood of a fellow man, even when required by the interests of justice, is considered a canonical irregularity, and deprives a Priest of the right to celebrate Holy Ma.s.s.

Blessed Francis was remarkable for his gentleness and tender-heartedness towards all creatures. I will give you a little instance of this.

One day he was at my house, when a n.o.bleman of distinction called upon us.

This gentleman was at the head of a hunting party, and seeing in my orchard a roebuck which had been given to me and which was peacefully feeding, he proposed, as he said, to amuse our Blessed Father by setting his dogs upon the poor animal, and to confine the hunt to my orchard.

The good Bishop's remonstrances were in vain. But though he refused to go to the orchard, he could not avoid being a witness, however unwillingly, of what took place, as his room overlooked the ground. Great numbers of people came to enjoy the spectacle; the horns were blown, the dogs barked, while the poor roebuck, as if it knew who would fain have been its deliverer, bounding towards the window near which the Bishop was seated, seemed, like a suppliant, to be imploring his help.

Blessed Francis drew back, and begged as earnestly that the hunt might be given up as if he had been asking pardon for a criminal.

He did not see the end, for the animal was at once brought to bay and despatched. They wanted him to see it when dead, but he did not deign so much as to look at it, and when the venison was served at table, he most unwillingly partook of the dish. "Alas," he exclaimed, "what h.e.l.lish pleasure! This is just how infuriated demons pursue poor souls by temptations to sin, so as to precipitate them into the abyss of everlasting death, yet of that no one thinks."

UPON HUNTING.

Blessed Francis was sometimes taxed with over much good nature and gentleness, and was told that this was the cause of many disorders which would not have occurred had he been more wholesomely severe. He, however, answered calmly and sweetly that he had always in his mind the words of the great St. Anselm, the glory of our Alps, among which he was born.

That Saint, he observed, was in the habit of saying that if he had to be punished either for being too indulgent or being over-rigorous, he would far rather it should be for the former. He gave as his reason that judgment with mercy would be meted out to the merciful, and that G.o.d would always have more pity on the pitiful than on the rigorous. He went on to recall that most sound maxim: Sovereign right is only sovereign injustice, and remarked that in Holy Scripture those pastors who were over-severe were invariably blamed.

Our Saint used always to say that sugar never yet spoilt any sauce, but that too much salt or vinegar often did.

His speaking of St. Anselm's gentleness reminds me of the story told of the same Saint by Blessed Francis in his Philothea. "One day," he says, "as he, St. Anselm, was travelling, a hare, being closely run by the hounds which pursued it, took refuge between his horse's feet, and the dogs remained yelping around unable to molest their prey in this its strange sanctuary.

His followers were highly entertained at so novel a spectacle, but Saint Anselm groaned and wept. 'Even thus,' said he, 'do the enemies of the soul pursue it and drive it into all manner of sins, until at the last they can kill and devour it, and whilst the terrified soul seeks for some refuge and help, its enemies mock and laugh if it finds none.'"[1]

Our Blessed Father, following the example of the holy Archbishop, was invariably kind and gentle, even with the brute creation. He not only himself never did them harm, but he prevented, as far as he could, any being done to them by others, for he believed that those who thus inflict pain on innocent creatures often, even at the risk of their own lives, display a cruel and malevolent kind of courage. He went so far as to regard it as a venial sin to injure creatures for the sole pleasure of harming them where no advantage of any sort would accrue to ourselves; his reason being that we in this way deprive them of the joy to be found in mere existence bestowed upon them by G.o.d.

"What, then," he was asked, "do you say to the chase, and to the killing of animals for the food of man?" "As regards the food of man," he replied, "the very words you use justify the act, and it is that end which justifies the chase." From this we may conclude that the mere pleasure of the chase was not sufficient, in his opinion, to render lawful the indulging in it.

Although he blamed the superst.i.tion of the Turks, who think that they acquire merit in the sight of G.o.d by lavishing kindness on senseless brutes, even the most savage and cruel, such as wolves and lions, still he used to say that this pity had a good natural source, and that those who were so compa.s.sionate to animals were likely to be no otherwise to men, nature teaching us not to despise our own flesh. In spite of these feelings, he was very far from falling into those mistakes which casuists enumerate as the result of excess in gentleness and kindness.

The various writers of the life of Blessed Francis tell us how it was commonly remarked that all animals by natural instinct seemed to recognise his tender, compa.s.sionate feelings for them, and that when hunted and pursued, they at once took refuge with him, witness the pigeons, which at different times when he was saying the Divine Office, flew for safety and shelter into his very hands.

[Footnote 1: _Devout Life_. Part II. c. 13.]

UPON THE FEAR OF GHOSTS.

Fear is a natural pa.s.sion, which, like all the others, is in itself neither bad nor good, but bad when it is excessive and disquieting, good when it is subordinate to reason. There are some who, because naturally timid and apprehensive, would never dare to speak in public. Others are so afraid of thunder and lightning that they faint in a storm. Others are afraid of noises at night, and have a horror of darkness and solitude. Others, again, have so great a fear of ghosts and apparitions that they dare not sleep alone in a room.

I have been told, on good authority, that one of our Bravest and most distinguished Generals, who went to battle as gaily and confidently as he would go to a marriage, declared that he could never suffer his valet, after settling him for the night, to leave his sleeping apartment, it being quite impossible for him to sleep when left alone at night. Our Blessed Father writes in the following consoling manner to a pious person who suffered from the weakness of being afraid of ghosts: