I cannot here refrain from quoting for you a passage from Cardinal Bellarmine's reply to the letter written to him by our Blessed Father on this subject. It shows very plainly how highly that good and learned Prelate approved of the first design for the constitution of this Order, and how little he favoured the change of plan, which has, nevertheless, we must admit, redounded greatly to the glory of God and to the edification of the whole Church.

The Cardinal says in this letter: "I will give you the same advice as I should take for myself were I in similar circumstances. I should then keep these maidens and widows exactly as they are at present, not making any change in a state of things which is so admirable. For, before the time of Boniface VIII. there were consecrated persons in the Church, the Eastern as well as the Western, mentioned by the Fathers. Among the Latins, St. Cyprian, St. Ambrose, St. Jerome, and St. Augustine; among the Greeks, St. Athanasius, St. Chrysostom, St. Basil, and many others; but they were not enclosed in their convents in such a manner that they could not come out of them when, necessary. And your most Reverend Lordship is aware that simple vows are no less binding and are of no less merit in the sight of God than solemn ones. Indeed, the solemnizing of vows, as well as the rule of Enclosure, was originated by an ecclesiastical decree of the said Boniface VIII. Even at the present day, the convent of noble ladies, founded by St. Frances of Rome, nourishes in that city, although without any enclosure or solemn profession. Therefore, if in your country maidens and widows live in so holy a manner, without being either cloistered or enclosed, and are able thus to be of use to those in the world, I do not see why their mode of living should be changed."

What our Blessed Father dreaded for the Institute was what happens to those Institutes which fail in exactitude of observance. And he often quoted Saint Bernard's saying that though devotion had given birth to riches, these unnatural daughters had stifled their mother. Whenever he heard of any House established in his time beginning to complain of want of comforts or conveniences he would say: "One day they will have only too many." All his letters are full of exhortations to put up with discomforts, and to lean upon Providence, casting all care upon God, Who feeds the young ravens, satisfies the hunger of all flesh, and fills every living creature with blessings. Wealth, not poverty, was what he feared for his Order. This is what he says in the Constitutions: "For the more perfect observance of the holy virtue of poverty, when once the buildings of the convents are finished, the revenues shall be limited according to the place where each convent is situated, to the end that even in this a proper mean may be kept, and that there be no superfluity of goods in the Community, but only a fair sufficiency, and when this is once attained nothing further shall be taken for the reception of the Sisters coming to it, but what shall be requisite to keep up and maintain well the just competency of the convent."[1]

And in the letter which he wrote to the most Serene Infanta, Margaret of Sovoy, Dowager Duchess of Mantua, to invite her to take this Congregation under her protection, he says:

"This Congregation does not solicit alms, but is established in such a manner that the ladies who enter it give a dowry in order to maintain the buildings, the sacristy, the chaplain, and to defray the expenses of illness, etc., either by means of a regular and perpetual income, or by some other way which cannot injure anyone or interfere in any possible manner with the payment of the taxes and subsidies due to his most Serene Highness the Duke. I hope also that the above-mentioned Congregation will in a few years' time be endowed with revenues sufficient for the support of the Community, Thus widows without children, and young girls who desire to serve God in chastity, obedience, and poverty, will have every facility for entering it, since they will be received without any other payment than that of a dowry or pension provided by their family for their support."

[Footnote 1: Constitution 5.]

HIS DEFENCE OF HIS NEW CONGREGATION OF THE VISITATION.

On one occasion, some one speaking to him, my Sisters, of your "Congregation," said: "But what do you mean to do with all this crowd of women and maidens? Of what use will they be to the Church of God? Are there not already enough of such institutions into which these applicants might be drafted? Would you not be doing better if you were to establish some College for the training and education of Priests, and spend your time on them instead of on these persons to whom one must repeat a thing a hundred times before they can retain it? And then, after all, if they do, it is a treasure buried, a candlestick under a bushel. Is it not a case of painting on water and sowing on sand?"

Our Blessed Father, smiling graciously, answered with his extraordinary serenity and sweetness: "It is not for me to work with costly materials; goldsmiths handle the precious metals, potters only clay. Believe me, God is a skilled workman; with poor tools He can accomplish wonderful work. He is wont to choose weak things to confound the strong; ignorance to confound knowledge, and that which is nothing to confound that which seems to be something. What did He not do with a rod in the hand of Moses? With the jaw-bone of an ass in that of Samson? With what did He vanquish Holofernes? Was it not by the hand of a woman? When He willed to create the world, out of what did He form it, save nothingness? Believe me, great fires are often kindled from small sparks. Where was the sacred fire found when the Jews returned from their captivity among the Medes? In a little mud!

"This weaker sex is deserving of being treated with great tenderness; we must take much more care of it than we do of the stronger one. St. Bernard says that the charge of souls is for the weak far more than for the strong. Our Lord never refused His assistance to women. He was generally followed by several of them, and they did not forsake Him on the Cross, where he was abandoned by all His disciples excepting His beloved John. The Church who gives the title of devout to this sex does not hold it in such low estimation as you do.

"Besides, do you reckon as nothing the good example which they may set wherever God calls them? Is it unimportant in your opinion to be a sweet odour in Jesus Christ, an odour of life eternal? Of the two requisites for a good pastor, precept and example, which think you is the most estimable? For my part I think more of an ounce of example than of a hundred pounds' weight of precept. Without a good life doctrine turns into scandal; it is like a church bell, it calls others, but itself never goes in; hence the reproach: Physician, heal thyself.

"Even if holy women only served as perfumes for the Church they would not be useless. A great deal of incense is employed by her in her ceremonies!

"It is true that there are, as you say, a great many other Congregations already in the Church, into which some of those who are enrolled in this new one might enter; but there are, besides, many in the Visitation who, on account of their age or infirmities, or because of their feebleness of constitution, though they be young, are quite incapable of enduring the bodily austerities imposed by other Orders, and therefore cannot be admitted into them. If we receive into this one some who are strong and healthy, it is that they may wait upon the weak and delicate, for whom this Congregation has chiefly been instituted, and to put in practice that holy command: Bear ye one another's burdens, and so you shall fulfil the law of Christ.[1]

"As for your exhortation to me to think about forming a Congregation of Priests, do you not see that that is already planned by M. de Berulle, a great and faithful servant of God, who has far more capacity for the work, and much more leisure also, than I can get? Remember how heavily burdened I am with the charge of a diocese, in which is situated such a place as Geneva, the very fountain-head of the errors which are troubling the whole Church. In conclusion, let us leave great designs to great workmen. God will do what He pleases with my little plan."

[Footnote 1: Gal. vi. 2.]

UPON THE ODOUR OF SANCTITY.

Our Blessed Father held in the very highest esteem the odour of sanctity, and revered those who by their good example shed it abroad through the world, not for their own glory, but for the glory of God.

On another occasion when some morose and captious person was finding fault with the Visitation Order, and after taking exception to it because of its newness, wound up by saying to Blessed Francis, "And then of what use will it be to the Church?" The holy Prelate answered pleasantly: "To play the part of the Queen of Sheba." "And what part is that?" returned the man, "To render homage to Him who is greater than Solomon, and to fill the whole militant Jerusalem with perfumes and sweet odours."

In one of his Conferences he expresses the same thought as follows: "In my opinion the divine Majesty has made choice of you to go forth as perfume-bearers, seeing that He has commissioned you to go and scatter far and wide the sweet odours of the virtues of your Institute. And as young maidens love sweet odours (for the Bride in the Canticle of Canticles says that the name of her Beloved is as oil, or balm, shedding on all sides the sweetest perfumes, and therefore, she adds, the young maidens have followed Him, attracted by His divine perfumes), so do you, my dear sisters, as perfume-bearers of the Divine Goodness, go forth, shedding all around the incomparable sweetness of sincere humility, gentleness, and charity, so that many young maidens may be attracted thereby, and may embrace your manner of life, and that they may even in this world enjoy, like you, a holy loving peace and tranquillity of soul, and in the world to come eternal happiness."

HE REBUKES PHARISAISM.

On one occasion when the Sisters of the Visitation had made a foundation in a city famous for the piety of its inhabitants and in which there were already a number of Religious Houses highly esteemed for external austerities and severe discipline, they met with much criticism and even harsh treatment on account of their own gentler and apparently easier rule.

In the end, they made known to Blessed Francis what they had to put up with.

I ought, perhaps, to say that, among other ill-natured remarks, they had been reproached with having strewn a path of roses to lead them to Heaven, and with having brought our Saviour down from the Cross; meaning that they did not practise many corporal austerities. Those who said this quite forgot the fact that this Order of the Visitation was founded for the reception and consolation largely of women, whether young or old, weak in bodily health, though strong and healthy in mind, whose feeble frames could not support the external rigour demanded by other Communities.

Our Blessed Father, as I told you, having heard from letters addressed to him by the Superior, of the harsh treatment and sufferings of his poor daughters, wrote to her several times on the subject. The following words of his are especially remarkable for their beauty:

"Beware, my daughter, of replying in any way whatever to these good Sisters, or to their friends in the world, unless, indeed, you do so with unalterable humility, gentleness, and sweetness. Do not defend yourselves,[1] for such is the express command of the Holy Ghost. If they despise your Order because it appears to them inferior to theirs, they violate the law of charity, which does not permit the strong to despise the weak, or the great the small. Granted that they are superior to you, do the Seraphim despise the little Angels, or the great Saints in Paradise, those of inferior, nay, of the lowest rank? Oh, my dear daughter, whoever loves God the most will be the most loved by Him, and will be the most glorious up in Heaven. Do not distress yourself, the prize is awarded to those who love."

[Footnote 1: Rom. xii. 19.]

UPON RELIGIOUS SUPERIORS.

Speaking of Superiors, I may tell you that Blessed Francis divided them into four classes. "First," he said, "there are those who are very indulgent to others, and also to themselves. Secondly, there are those who are severe to others, and equally so to themselves. Thirdly, there are some who are indulgent to their subordinates and rigid to themselves. Fourthly, there are those who are indulgent to themselves and rigorous to others."

He condemned the first as careless and criminal persons, heedless of their duties: they abandon the ship they should pilot, to the mercy of the waves.

A Superior of the second kind often spoils everything precisely because he wishes to do too much, and falls into those exaggerations which have lent truth to the saying, "Absolute right is absolute injustice." "He who would rule well," runs an ancient aphorism, "must rule with a slack hand." We must not hold our horse's bridle over tightly, for though we may save him from stumbling we hinder him even from walking.

Superiors of the third class are better because they put a kindly construction upon the faults and infirmities of others less known to them, as they necessarily are, than their own. This is the reason why they are severe to themselves and indulgent to others—a line of conduct which generally meets with the approval of their subjects. The latter are the more edified because they see their Superiors observing those very laws from which they have dispensed them. It is just so with the laity: they are mostly more anxious about the morals of their clergy than they are about their own.

Superiors of the fourth and last kind are truly unfaithful servants. They resemble those Pharisees who laid on the shoulders of other men heavy burdens which they themselves would not touch with the tip of their finger.

Our Blessed Father wished that all these four classes could be merged in a fifth, that of which the watchword should be holy equality according to that precept both of nature and of the Gospel: "Do to others as you would be done by; treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself, and treat yourself as you know you ought to be treated." In fact, since each man is to himself his nearest neighbour, we all recognise the injustice of demanding in the life of others what we do not practise in our own. To command others to do what we do not ourselves do is to be like Urias, who carried his own condemnation and death-warrant in his bosom.

One day, in his presence, I was praising a certain Superior for his extreme goodness, gentleness, patience, and condescension, which attracted all hearts to him, just as flies are attracted to a honeycomb. He answered, "Goodness is not good when it puts up with evil; on the contrary, it is bad when it allows evils to go on which it can, and should, prevent. Gentleness in such a case is not gentleness, but weakness and cowardice. Patience in such a case is not patience, but absolute stupidity.

"When we suffer evil which we could prevent, we do not merely tolerate but become accomplices in wrong-doing. I am of opinion that subjects are made good by bad, I mean, by harsh and disagreeable Superiors. The severity of a mother is more wholesome for a child than the petting of an indulgent nurse, and the firmness of a father is always more useful to his children than their mother's tenderness. The rougher the file the better it smoothes the iron, and the more rust it rubs off; the hotter the iron, the better the surface it gives to the cloth." He related with regard to this subject an anecdote which will both please and profit you.

The head of a certain Religious Order, which was at the time undergoing a vigorous reform, had, with the consent of the Provincial Chapter, established a Novitiate House which was to serve as the one only Seminary for the whole province. It was decided that no novice should be clothed until he had been examined by three Fathers of the Order appointed for that purpose. The first was to enquire into the birth and condition of those who presented themselves for examination, the second into their literary capacity, and the third into their manner of life and vocation. This last, in order to get a firm grip on the pulse of the postulants, and to sound their vocation to the very quick almost always asked them if they would have courage and patience enough to put up with bad Superiors, bad in the extreme, cruel, rude, peevish, choleric, melancholy, captious, pitiless, those, in a word, whom they would find it impossible to please or satisfy.

Some, evading the question, replied that there could be none such in the Order, or, at least, would not be suffered to remain in office, seeing that it was governed with so much gentleness and benignity, and that its yoke was so sweet and desirable. The examiner, who did not like evasive and ambiguous replies of this sort, determined to get an answer that should be straight-forward and to the point. Taking a much sterner tone, he represented a Superior to them as a sort of slave-driver: a man who would govern his subjects by blows and stripes, and who yet would expect them to drink this chalice of bitterness as if offered to their lips by the hand of God.

Some of the postulants fearing the test, became pale or crimson with agitation, and either answered nothing, showing by their silence that they could not swallow the pill, or, if they answered at all, declared that they could not believe he was speaking seriously, and that they were not galley-slaves.

These he dismissed at once as unfit to be received into the Order.

Others, however, full of courage and constancy, still answered, that they were prepared for any ill-treatment, and that nothing could deter them from carrying out their God-inspiring resolution. That no creature, however cruel and however unfeeling, could separate them from the love of Jesus Christ, nor from His service. These the examining Father received with open arms into the bosom of the Order.

You may judge from this how skilful was this master of novices in hewing, hammering, and cutting the stones he was endeavouring to fit for the spiritual edifice of the Order. Our Blessed Father himself, in spite of all the sweetness and gentleness of his natural disposition, did not fail to follow this plan to a certain extent, representing to all who came to him, desiring to enter into religion, the interior and spiritual crosses which they must resolve to carry all their life long, not the least heavy of which, and at the same time not the least useful in helping them to make great advance in perfection would perhaps be the severity of Superiors.

UPON UNLEARNED SUPERIORS.

A certain community having had their Superior taken from them on account of their complaints of the severity of his rule, and having a new one set over them in his place, came to Blessed Francis to pour out their grievances on the subject of their recently appointed head. They declared that he was an ignorant man. "What is to be done with you?" cried our Blessed Father, "you remind me of the frogs to whom Jupiter could not give a king who was to their taste. We ought certainly to wish to have good and capable Superiors, but still whatever they may be we must put up with them." One of the complainers was so wanting in discretion as to say that their one-eyed horse had been changed into a blind one. Blessed Francis suffered this jest to pass, merely frowning slightly, but his modest silence only unchained the tongue of another scoffer who presumed to say that an ass had been given to them instead of a horse. Then Blessed Francis spoke, and, rebuking this last speech, added in a tone of gentle remonstrance, that the first remark, though far from being respectful, was more endurable because it was a proverb and implied that a Superior had been given to them who was less capable than his predecessor, and that this was expressed in figurative terms, as David speaks of himself in relation to Almighty God in one of the Psalms when he says: I am become as a beast before Thee.[1] "The second sarcasm, however," he added, "has nothing figurative in it, and is absolutely and grossly insulting. We must never speak of our Superiors in such a manner, however worthless they may be. Remember that God would have us obey even the vicious and froward,[2] and he that resisteth the power resisteth the ordinance of God."

Then taking up the defence of this much-abused Superior, "Do you imagine," he said, "that it is not within the power of God to exalt in a moment one who is poor in spirit by bestowing on him the gift of intelligence? Is not He the God of knowledge? Is it not He who imparts it to men? Are not all the faithful taught of God?

"The science of the Saints is the science of Salvation, and this is a knowledge more frequently given to those who are destitute of the knowledge which puffs up. In what condition think you was Saul when God raised him to the throne of Israel?

"He was keeping his father's asses. On what did Jesus Christ ride triumphant on Palm Sunday? Was it not upon an ass?"

Again, in his eleventh Conference, he says: "If Balaam was well instructed by an ass, we may with greater reason believe that God, Who gave you this Superior, will enable him to teach you according to His will, though it may not be according to your own."

He wound up his remarks on the subject of the new Superior by saying: "I understand that this good man is most gentle and kind, and that if he does not know much he does none the less well, so that his example makes up for any deficiency in his teaching. It is far better to have a Superior who does the good which he fails in teaching, than one who tells us what we ought to do, but does not himself practise it."

[Footnote 1: 1 Peter ii. 18.] [Footnote 2: Rom. xiii. 2.]

UPON THE FOUNDING OF CONVENTS.

You know, my Sisters, with what circumspection and prudence our Blessed Father moved in the matter of foundations. During the last thirteen years of his life, in which he established your Congregation, he only accepted twelve convents and refused three times as many, saying, as was his wont, "Few and good." He was always very particular about the Superiors to whom he committed the charge of monastic houses, knowing the immense importance of such choice and its influence upon all the members of a Religious family.

He was fond of comparing a convent to a beehive, and in one of his Conferences applies this comparison to your own Order as follows:—"Your Congregation," he says, "is like a bee-hive which has already sent forth various swarms: but with this difference, that when bees go forth to settle in another hive and to begin a new household each swarm chooses a particular queen under whom they live and dwell apart.

"You, my dear souls, though you may go into a new hive, that is, begin a new house of your Order, have always only one and the same King, our crucified Lord, under Whose authority you will live secure and safe wherever you may be. Do not fear that anything will be wanting to you, for, as long as you do not choose any other King He will ever be with you; only take great care to grow in love and fidelity to His divine goodness, keeping as close to Him as possible. Thus all will be well with you. Learn from Him all that you will have to do; do nothing without His counsel, for He is the faithful Friend who will guide you and govern you and take care of you, as with all my heart I beseech Him to do."[1]

Very often I urged him to consent to certain foundations which it was proposed to make, but He always gave me some good reason for refusing.

It was not without trouble and difficulty that we obtained a little colony for Belley. He often said to me: "The Sisters are as yet but novices in piety, they must be left to grow a little stronger; have patience, for we shall be doing quite enough if the little we do is what pleases our divine Master. It is better for them to grow at the roots by virtue rather than in the branches by forming new houses. Will they, do you think, be more perfect because they have more convents?"

[Footnote 1: Conf. 6.]

UPON RECEIVING THE INFIRM INTO COMMUNITIES.

Regarding the reception of the infirm, he might have exclaimed with St. Paul: Who is weak and I am not weak? Blessed Francis shared largely in this spirit, so much did he love the infirm, whether of body or of mind. He loved the poor in spirit; poor, that is, whether in earthly goods or in the wisdom of the world, and he used to say that their simplicity was a soil suitable for the planting of all sorts of virtues, that it would yield much fruit in due season. He was of opinion that during the year of Novitiate established in all communities preparatory to the embracing of religious life, too much attention was paid to the consideration of infirmities, both spiritual and corporal, just as if convents were not in reality so many hospitals for healing the diseases of body and mind. Hence, he added, came the name of Therapeutes, that is, curers, healers, or operators, formerly given to Monks.

It is true that there are certain bodily diseases which from the fact of their being infectious necessitate the separation of such as are afflicted with them from the healthy. So also there are spiritual maladies, such as incompatibility of temper and incorrigibility of defects, which may make it proper to refuse those who are thus disqualified for entering Religion, just as in former days, persons suffering from these disabilities could be dismissed even after Profession.

In one of his letters he thus expresses his feeling for the infirm: "I am," he says, "a great partisan of the infirm and am always afraid lest the inconveniences to which they must naturally put the Community should excite a spirit of human prudence in our convents and banish the spirit of charity in which our Congregation was founded, and which is our safest guide in selecting our Sisters. I take, then, the side of your infirm applicant, and provided that she be humble and ready to recognise and appreciate your charity, you must receive the poor girl; it will be a constant opportunity for the Sisters to practise the holy virtue of loving-kindness."

UPON SELF-PITY.

Gentle and compassionate as his disposition was, full of tenderness, and sympathy for the feeble and the frail, Blessed Francis was nevertheless strict and severe in his dealings with those whom he knew to be too lenient to themselves, either in temporal or spiritual matters.

He who practised so much severity in his own case, assuredly had the right to advise others to do as much, and especially, like him, to refrain from complaining at the inconveniences and sufferings endured in time of sickness. He succeeded in inspiring his Daughters of the Visitation with his spirit, teaching them that true Christian patience, which is neither apathy nor insensibility, nor the dull stupid endurance of the Stoics; but a sweet and reasonable submission to the Will of God, coupled with cheerful obedience to the physician whom He commands us to honour, and a grateful acceptance of the remedies prescribed for us.

UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF NUNS BY RELIGIOUS MEN.

It was never his opinion that nuns should be under the jurisdiction and guidance of other Religious, especially of those of their own Order.

For this he alleged several very weighty reasons, which I have been careful to bear in mind that I may impart them to you at the right time and place.

For the present, however, I will content myself with reading you one of his letters, and with afterwards making a little comment upon it.

"I observe," he says, "that many influential people are inclined to think that Religious Houses should be under the authority of the Ordinaries, according to the old rule revived lately throughout almost the whole of Italy; whilst others would have them to be under Superiors of their own Order, conformably to a custom introduced about four or five hundred years ago, and almost universally observed in France. For my own part, I confess that I cannot bring myself to adopt the view of those who desire that convents of women should be placed under the guidance of Religious men, still less of the Fathers of their own Order. And in this I feel that I am of the same mind as the Holy See, which always, where it can be reasonably brought about, opposes itself to the government of nuns by Regulars.

"I do not say that such government is not sometimes advantageous, even at the present day, but I do say that it would be far better if in general it were done away with. And this for many reasons.

"It seems to me that it is no more difficult for the Pope to exempt the nuns of any Order from the jurisdiction of the Fathers of that same Order, than it is for him to exempt monasteries from the jurisdiction of their Ordinary, a procedure inspired no doubt by the most excellent motives, and that has been carried out successfully for so many centuries.

"The Pope has, as a matter of fact, kept our own nuns in France under the rule of the Bishops, and it appears to me that these same good nuns do not know what is good for them when they seek to be transferred to the jurisdiction of a Religious Order, seeing that Regular Superiors are apt to be a little rigorous in the exercise of their authority, and to deprive those under them of holy liberty of spirit."

I would call your attention to the fact mentioned by our Blessed Father that almost everywhere in Italy the nuns are under the guidance and jurisdiction of the Bishops. Of this I was myself an eye-witness, and I noticed at Florence, that out of fifty convents, only four are not under the jurisdiction and direction of the Archbishop.

I would also remind you that the Holy Apostolic See has, as far as possible, and for many reasons, revived this ancient form of government of nuns. That these reasons exist it is well to bear in mind, though it may not always be prudent to urge them in public.

Again, if in former times it was thought advisable to exempt nuns from the guidance and jurisdiction of their Ordinaries, or Diocesan Pastors, at the present day there are far more weighty reasons for replacing them under the authority of the Bishops, and for taking from the Regulars this exceptional jurisdiction.

This is exactly what our Blessed Father thought about the matter. Remember then always that to put convents under the Bishops is to bring things back to their first and purest state, for as regards exemption we can assuredly say that from the beginning it was not so.

It seems, too, to me, that nuns who desire the guidance of Monks, especially of Fathers of their own Order, are true daughters of Zebedee; they know not what they ask, nor what they want, nor what they are doing.

THAT WE MUST NOT BE WEDDED TO OUR OWN PLANS.

Our Blessed Father used to praise very highly the conduct of Blessed John of Avila as having been prompted by great strength of mind, and extraordinary forgetfulness of self in that his zeal made him not only love his neighbour as himself but even more than himself. I will give you an instance of this in Francis' own words, addressed to Theotimus: "The Blessed Ignatius of Loyola, having with such pains set up the company of Jesus, which he saw produced many fair fruits, and foresaw many more that would ripen in time to come, had, nevertheless, the nobleness of soul to resolve that, though he should see it dissolved (which would be the bitterest pain which could befall him) within half an hour afterwards, he would be stayed and tranquil in the Will of God. John of Avila, that holy and learned preacher of Andalusia, having a design to form a company of reformed Priests for the advancement of God's glory, and having already made good progress in the matter, as soon as he saw the Jesuits in the field, thinking they were enough for that time, immediately, with incomparable meekness and humility, renounced his own undertaking. Oh, how blessed are such souls, bold and strong in the undertakings God proposes to them, and withal tractable and facile in giving them up when God so disposes. It is a mark of a most perfect Indifference to leave off doing a good work when God pleases, and to return, our journey half accomplished when God's Will, which is our guide, so ordains."[1] I may tell you, my Sisters, that you have only to change the name of John of Avila into that of the Blessed Francis de Sales, and you can apply to an event in his life these very words. I know that he had in his mind a scheme of forming a Congregation of Priests, not bound by monastic vows, something on the pattern of your Order of the Visitation in its beginning; but, of course, conformable to the calling of the Priesthood. Hearing, however, that Pierre de Berulle, that faithful servant of God, afterwards a Cardinal, had established the Congregation of the French Oratory, now so greatly distinguished for its piety and learning, he abandoned his enterprise, rejoicing that God should have given this holy commission to one less busy than himself, and therefore more capable of ordering all things in this holy Society, and thus promoting the glory of God. I have said, that he meant to take the Visitation as a model of this projected Congregation of Priests, intending them to develop, and to prosper side by side. I must add, however, that even before the formation of your Congregation he had made an attempt in the same direction by drawing together a little company of hermits on the gloomy but holy mountain of Notre Dame de Voiron, and preparing for them laws and constitutions in the observance of which they have lived with great sanctity ever since.

You know also that his zeal was so condescending in its nature, and that he was so little wedded to his own opinions, that, though the Visitation had flourished for four or five years with great edification to others as well as to itself, yet as soon as His Grace the Archbishop of Lyons, afterwards Cardinal de Marquemont, had represented to him that it would better for it to be re-constructed with vows and enclosures like other Orders, he consented to change its whole constitution.

Speaking of great works undertaken for the glory of God, which, owing to the illness or death of their founder or head, sometimes seem in danger of falling to the ground, Blessed Francis said: "There are some undertakings which God wishes to be begun indeed by us, but completed by others. Thus David gathered together materials for the temple which his son Solomon built, St. Francis, St. Dominic, St. Ignatius Loyola, sighed for the grace of martyrdom, and sought for it by all possible means; yet God would not crown them with it, contenting Himself with the offering of their will.

"To submit ourselves simply and cheerfully to the Will of God in the failure of undertakings which concern His glory is an act of no small resignation."

[Footnote 1: Book ix. chap. 6.]

HIS VIEWS REGARDING ECCLESIASTICAL DIGNITIES.

It is certain that two great Pontiffs, Clement VIII. and Paul V., held Blessed Francis in the highest possible esteem. Paul V. more than once when speaking to me dwelt upon his merit, and said how suitable and indeed how necessary such a Bishop was for a diocese like that of Geneva.

We know, too, that the same Pope often thought of raising him to the dignity of Cardinal. Our Blessed Father was himself well aware of this, and mentioned it in letters written to his confidential friends, some of which have since been published.

It is probable that the fact that this honour was never conferred upon him was owing to the political difficulties which beset the Supreme Pontiff in these matters.

Puzzled at his not receiving the hat, I one day expressed to him my great surprise at the delay. "Why," he answered, "can you really think this dignity would in any way conduce to my serving our Lord and His Church better than I can now do? Would Rome, which would be the place of my residence, afford me more opportunities for so doing, than this post in which God has placed me? Should I have more work there, more enemies to fight against, more souls to direct, more cares, more pious exercises, more visits to make, or more pastoral functions to discharge?"

"You would enter," I replied, "into the solicitude of all the churches; and from the direction of one particular Church you would be promoted to share in the care of the Universal Church, becoming, as it were, the co-assessor of the Holy See." "Nevertheless," he replied, "you see Cardinals of our own day, who when they were Bishops and had dioceses were distinguished for their piety, quit their residence at Rome, which is only theirs by a positive and ecclesiastical law, in order to return to their flocks among which the law of God has fixed their homes, bidding them watch over these flocks and feed and guide the souls entrusted to them."

He then told me a memorable circumstance concerning the great Cardinal Bellarmine of saintly memory. That Prelate was promoted to the dignity, unknown to himself and against his will, by Clement VIII. Under the pontificate of Paul V., who succeeded Leo XI., he was promoted to the Archbishopric of Capua, again contrary to his own wishes, but by the desire of the Pope. He bowed beneath this yoke, but not until he had remonstrated with the Holy Father, who, in reply, simply commanded him to take upon himself the episcopal charge.

Immediately after his consecration he prepared to take up his residence at Capua. The Pope, who desired his services at Rome, sent for him, and asked him if he was quite resolved to live in his diocese. The Cardinal replied that he was, because unwillingly as he had accepted this charge he had done so with the conviction that his Holiness felt he could dispense with his services at Rome, nor would otherwise have placed him over the diocese of Capua. The Pope replied that he would dispense him from residing in his diocese. "Holy Father," he answered, "that is not what I have been teaching in the schools all my life. I have always held that the residence of Bishops in their diocese is commanded by the law of God, and that therefore they cannot be dispensed from observing it." "At least," returned the Pope, "give us half the year." "And during those six months," replied Bellarmine, "at whose hands will the blood of the lost sheep of my flock be required?" "Then, at least, three months," pleaded the Pope. The Cardinal gave the same answer as he had given about the six, and, in fact, soon took his departure for Capua, where he remained in uninterrupted residence for three years, in the course of which time, as a relaxation from the labours of his office, he wrote his beautiful Commentary on the Psalms.

Such was the high value set by the holy Cardinal upon the residence of a Bishop among his flock: and St. Charles Borromeo, and more recently his worthy successor, Cardinal Borromeo, have been as uncompromising as Bellarmine was. As for our Blessed Father, he only valued the Honours and dignities of the Church and of the world in proportion as they afford means for serving God and advancing His glory. This was the golden standard with which he measured the holy City of Jerusalem.

HIS PROMOTION TO THE BISHOPRIC OF GENEVA AND HIS REFUSAL OF THE ARCHBISHOPRIC OF PARIS.

Although in the life of our Blessed Father his promotion to the Bishopric of Geneva is described at great length, yet, in my opinion, the subject has been treated very superficially, and no attempt has been made to give a full account of the matter.

The truth is that the Saint had all his life but one aim in regard to the following out of his holy vocation, namely, to serve God in whatever sacred office he might be called to fill. He had passed through all the various ecclesiastical offices of Canon, Parish Priest, Provost, Dean of the Cathedral Church, Preacher, Confessor, and Missionary, when M. de Granier, at that time Bishop of Geneva, inspired by God, desired to make him his successor. In this, as in all other matters, our Saint recognised the inspiration, and with a single eye, that saw God only, committed himself entirely to His providence.

He did nothing at all either to hinder or to further the design, leaving it all to M. de Granier, who obtained the consent of the Duke of Savoy to propose Francis to his Holiness. It was, however, a condition that he should at once present himself at Rome to be examined in full Consistory. He was therefore obliged to undertake the journey thither. This journey, as we know, is fairly well described by the writers of his life. They tell also of his success, and of the approval bestowed upon him by Pope Clement, who used the inspired words: Drink water out of thine own cistern, and the streams of thine own well. Let thy fountains be conveyed abroad, and in the streets divide thy waters.[1] From so excellent a vocation what but good results could be expected? A good tree cannot bear evil fruit. We know well how worthily Blessed Francis walked in the vocation to which he had been called, and how the light of his holy life, like the dawn of morning, shone more and more unto the perfect day.

In the year 1619, having come to Paris with the Princes of Savoy, he remained there for eight months, during which time it is impossible to give any idea of all that he did for the glory of God and the good of souls. The eyes of all men in this great theatre were turned upon him, as were those of the Romans upon Cato, when one day he showed himself in their assembly.

It was not only by the people of Paris that he was thought so much of, but also by their pastor, the Cardinal de Retz (Peter de Gondi), a Prelate of incomparable gentleness, benignity, liberality, modesty, and every other delightful quality. The sweet attractive grace of Blessed Francis' manners and conversation produced such an effect upon him that he at once desired to make him his coadjutor, with right of succession.

Not expecting any opposition from the holy Bishop, and having gained the consent of the King, he thought that nothing remained to be done but to carry out the formalities prescribed by the Roman Congregations. Francis, however, with marvellous adroitness, warded off the blow, leaving the great Cardinal penetrated with admiration of his virtue if without the satisfaction of gaining his compliance.

Among the various reasons for this refusal which are to be found in his letters, one or two please me especially. For instance, he said that he did not think he ought to change a poor wife for a rich one; and again, that if he did ever quit his spouse it would not be to take another, but in order not to have one at all, following the Apostolic counsel: Art thou bound, to a wife, seek not to be loosed. Art thou loosed from a wife, seek not a wife.[2]

It is true that honours and dignities are but trifles; yet to despise and refuse them is not a trifling thing. It is easy to disdain them from a distance, but difficult to deal with them face to face, and either to quit them when we possess them, or to refuse them when they are offered. Blessed is the rich man that is found without blemish, and that hath not gone after gold nor put his trust in money, nor in treasures. Who is he? and we will praise him, for he hath done wonderful things in his life.[3]

Such a one, my Sisters, believe me, was your Father and mine, my preserver and your Founder, Blessed Francis de Sales.

[Footnote 1: Prov. v. 15, 16.] [Footnote 2: 1 Cor. vii. 27.] [Footnote 3: Eccle. xxxi. 8, 9.]

A BISHOP'S CARE FOR HIS FLOCK.

Good digestions assimilate all kinds of food, and convert it into wholesome nourishment, and so in like manner holy souls turn all that they meet with into material for instruction and into help towards their eternal profit. Thus, the great St. Anthony, saw the Creator on every page of the book of nature and in all living creatures. The tiniest flower, growing and blossoming at his feet, raised his thoughts to Him Who is the Flower of the Field and the Lily of the Valley, the Blossom springing from the root of Jesse.

Those who are smitten by some passionate human love are so absolutely possessed by it that they think of nothing else, and since their tongue speaks out of the abundance of their heart this is their one subject of conversation, all others being distasteful to them. They write the name of the beloved object on rocks and trees, and wherever they can they leave behind them some carved token or emblem of their affection.

Just so was it with our Blessed Father. His delight was to make all subjects of conversation, all incidents that might occur, further in one way or another the glory of God, and kindle His divine love in the hearts of others. On one occasion, when he was visiting that part of his diocese which lies among the lofty and bleak mountains of Faucigny, where it is always winter, he heard that a poor cowherd had lost his life by falling over a steep precipice while trying to save one of his herd. From this incident he drew a marvellous lesson upon the care which a Bishop ought to take of the flock entrusted to his charge by God, showing that he ought to be ready to sacrifice even life itself for its salvation. He thus relates the incident, and gives his comments on it in one of his letters.

"During the past few days I have seen mountains, terrible in their grandeur, covered with ice ten or twelve inches thick; and the inhabitants of the neighbouring valleys told me that a herdsman going out to try and recover a cow which had strayed away fell over a precipice from a height of thirty feet, and was found frozen to death at the bottom. Oh, God! I cried, and was the ardour of this poor herdsman in his search for the beast that had strayed, so burning that even the cold of those frozen heights could not chill it? Why, then, am I so slothful and lax in the quest after my wandering sheep? This thought filled my heart with grief, yet in no wise melted its frozen surface. I saw in this region many wonderful sights. The valleys were full of happy homesteads, the mountains coated with ice and snow. Like the fertile and smiling valleys, the village mothers play their homely part, while a Bishop, raised to such a lofty eminence in the Church of God, remains ice-bound as the mountains. Ah! will there never rise a sun with rays powerful enough to melt this ice which freezes me!" What zeal for souls, what humility, what holy fervour breathe in these words!

ON THE FIRST DUTY OF BISHOPS.

"Being a Bishop," he used to say to me, "you are at the same time a superintendent, sentinel, and overseer in the House of God, for this is what the word Bishop means. It is then your part to watch over and guard your whole diocese, making continual supplications, crying aloud day and night like a watchman on the walls, as the prophet bids you do, knowing that you have to render an account to the great Father of the family of all the souls committed to your care.

"But especially you ought to watch over two classes of people who are the heads of all the others, namely, the Parish Priests and the fathers of families, for they are the source of most of the good and of most of the evil which is to be found in parishes or households.

"From the instruction and good example given by Parish Priests, who are the shepherds of the flock, proceeds all the advance of that flock in knowledge and virtue. They are like the rods of which Jacob made use to give the colours he wanted to the fleeces of the lambs. Teaching does much, but example does incomparably more. It is the same with fathers and mothers of families: on their words, but still more on their conduct, depends all the welfare of their households.

"As Bishop you are the master-builder, the superintendent. It is your duty then to watch over the leaders of your flock and over those who, like Saul, are a head taller than the rest. Through them healing and blessing flows down upon others, even as Aaron's ointment descended from his head to the very hem of his garment.

"This is why you ought continually to exhort and instruct, in season and out of season, for you are the Parish Priest of all Parish Priests, and the Father of all Fathers of families."

UPON THE PASTORAL CHARGE.

On one occasion I was complaining to him of the difficulties which I met with in the discharge; of my episcopal duties. He replied that on entering the service of God we must prepare ourselves for temptation, since no one could follow Jesus Christ or be of the number of His true disciples except by bearing His Cross, nor could anyone enter Heaven except by the path and through the gate of suffering. "Remember," he said, "that our first father even in the state of innocence was put into the earthly Paradise to work in it and to keep it. Do you imagine that he was banished from it in order to do nothing? Consider how God condemned him and all his posterity to labour, and to till an ungrateful earth which produced of itself nothing but thorns and thistles. There is much more toil and difficulty in weeding and cultivating souls than any earthly soil, rough, stony, and barren though it may be. The art of arts is the direction of souls, it is of no use to undertake it unless we have made up our minds to innumerable labours and disappointments.

"The Son of God being a sign of contradiction, can we wonder if His work is exposed to the same; and if He had so much difficulty in winning souls, is it likely that his coadjutors and those who labour with Him will have less?"

Then fearing to depress me by the enumeration of so many difficulties, he went on to cheer me with the example of the Prince of Pastors, the Bishop of our souls, the Author and Finisher of our faith, who preferred shame and toil to joy, that He might further the work of oar salvation.

He added that of the Apostles, and other Pastors of the Church, reminding me that if we think much of the honour of being their successors we must, with the inheritance, accept its burdens, nor shelter ourselves by, in legal phrase, disclaiming liability for debts beyond the assets inherited. Otherwise, he said, we should be like that kinsman of Ruth who wished to have the inheritance of the first husband, but not to marry the widow and raise up to him an heir.

He generally wound up his remarks with some reminder of that love which makes all that is bitter to be sweet: sometimes quoting to me those words of St. Augustine, "Where we love, there is no labour, or if there is any we love the labour itself, for he who labours in loving, loves to labour for the beloved object."

UPON THE CARE OF SOULS.

A Priest once complained to Blessed Francis of the thorns besetting his path in life, of the difficulties of his holy calling, of the anxieties inseparable from it, but chiefly of the intractableness of stiff-necked Christians, who refuse to submit to the easy yoke of Jesus Christ, and to do what their duty requires. The Bishop replied that their obstinacy was not so much to be wondered at as the weakness of their Pastors who were so easily discouraged and impatient, just because they saw that the seed sown by their labours did not forthwith produce the plentiful harvest they desired.

"The peasant is not blamed for failing to reap an abundant harvest, but only for not carefully cultivating his field, and for not doing all that is necessary to make his land productive. Discouragement is a mark of excessive love of self and of zeal unaccompanied by knowledge.

"The best lesson for those who have the care of souls, is that which the Apostle gives to all in the person of one: Preach the word: be instant in season and out of season: reprove, entreat, rebuke in all patience and doctrine.[1]

"In this text the word patience is the key to the whole mystery, for patience has its perfect work when it is accompanied by charity, which is patient, kind, and is the virtue by which we possess our souls in peace."

The charge of souls means having to bear with the weak, for the strong are able to go on by themselves in their progress towards what is good. Our holy Bishop explained this by two beautiful similitudes: "The plumage of birds is heavy, and yet without this load they could neither raise themselves from the ground nor hover in the air. The burden borne by holy souls is like a load of cinnamon, which, by its perfume invigorates him who carries it. So souls which are weak serve to make their Pastors, who bear the burden of them, rise on wings towards Heaven, and on earth to run in the way of God's commandments."

The other comparison Is this: "Notice," he said, "a shepherd driving a flock of sheep: if one of them breaks a leg the shepherd at once takes it on his shoulders to carry it back to the fold, and this single one is certainly a heavier load than all the rest together, who go along of themselves. In like manner souls which of themselves advance in the way of God afford little occasion for their Pastors to exercise care and vigilance. It is of the faulty and intractable they have chiefly to think, St. Bernard says that the care of souls is not a care of the strong, but of the infirm, for if any one helps thee more than he is helped by thee, know that thou art not his father but his equal."

Even the prophets complain of men of obstinate and rebellious hearts. To work among them is to go down to the sea in ships and to do our business in great waters, for these waters are God's people with whom we have to deal.

[Footnote 1: 2 Tim. iv. 2.]

UPON LEARNING AND PIETY.

By rights, the more learned a man becomes the more pious should he be. This does not, however, always happen, and if we must choose between the two, there is no doubt that it is better to be uneducated but pious, rather than to be learned without being religious-minded.

Blessed Francis remarked one day when we were speaking of a Parish Priest whose holy life was highly praised, but with whose defects as a teacher great fault was found: "It is quite true that knowledge and piety are, as it were, the two eyes of a Priest; still, as a man can, by dispensation, receive Holy Orders even though he has only one eye, so also it is quite possible for a Parish Priest to be a most faithful servant in his ministry by simply leading a zealous, exemplary, and well-regulated life. The function of teaching may be discharged by others, who, as St. Paul says, are instructors but not fathers.[1] But no one can be a pattern to others except by giving good example, and this cannot be done by proxy."

Besides, the Gospel tells us that we are to pluck out the eye which offends. It is better to enter heaven with one eye, than to be cast into hell-fire with two.[2] "There is, indeed," he continued, "a degree of ignorance so gross as to be inexcusable and to render him who is plunged into it in very truth a blind leader of the blind. When, however, a man is in good repute for his piety he surely has within him that true light which leads him to Jesus Christ and enables him to show light to others. It is as though he said to them, like Gideon, Do as I do, or with St. Paul, Be ye followers of me, as I also am of Christ.[3] Such a one does not walk in darkness and those who follow him are sure to reach the haven. Though he has not talents of learning and erudition such as would make him shine in the pulpit, yet he has enough if he can, as the Apostle says, exhort in sound doctrine and convince the gainsayers.[4] Remark," he added, "how God taught Balaam by the mouth of his ass." Thus, his charity dexterously covered the defects of his neighbour, and by this lesson he taught us to value an ounce of piety more than many pounds of empty learning.

[Footnote 1: 1 Cor. iv. 15.] [Footnote 2: Matt. xviii. 9.] [Footnote 3: 1 Cor. iv. 16.] [Footnote 4: Tit. i. 9.]

ADVICE TO BISHOP CAMUS AS TO RESIGNING HIS SEE.

When I was consulting him once as to whether or not I should follow the bent of my own inclination in the matter of retiring into a private and solitary life, he, wishing to ascertain by what spirit I was led, answered me in the beautiful words of St. Augustine: Otium sanctum diligit charitas veritatis, et negotium justum suscipit veritas charitatis.[1] Charity, the holy love of eternal truth, draws us into retirement, that we may in that calm leisure contemplate things divine; but when our hearts are filled with true charity we are none the less urged to undertake good works in order to advance the glory of God by serving our neighbour.

Although he esteemed Mary's part—called in the Gospel "the better part"—much more highly than Martha's, yet it was his opinion that Martha's, undertaken purely for the love of God, was more suitable to this present life, and that Mary's had more in common with that of a blessed eternity. He only made an exception as regards some special and extraordinary vocations, some irresistible and most powerful attractions, acting upon the soul, and in the case of those who do not possess the talents requisite for serving as Martha served, and have only those suitable for a purely contemplative life. Also those who, having expended, all their physical strength in the service of the Church, withdraw into solitude towards the close of their life, there to prepare for that last journey which is ordained for all flesh.

For this reason he repulsed and silenced me—not indeed harshly, for his incomparable sweetness was incompatible with harshness—but firmly and decidedly whenever I spoke to him of quitting my post and of resigning the helm into the hand of some more skilful pilot. He called my desire to do so a temptation, and in the end closed the discussion so peremptorily that, during his lifetime, I never ventured to revive it with anyone.

He dealt in almost exactly the same manner with that virtuous soul[2] the corner-stone of the spiritual edifice of the Congregation of the Visitation which he founded, for he kept her in the world for more than seven years, bringing up and educating the children whom God had given her and affording spiritual help to her father and father-in-law. He kept her back, I say, for this long period, before permitting her to retire into the solitude of the cloister; so exact was he in himself following, and in leading those who were under his direction to follow, the holy light of faith rather than the false and lurid glimmers of their natural inclinations.

On a previous occasion a certain Bishop whom I knew well asked him whether in his opinion it would be allowable for him to give up his Bishopric with its heavy burdens and retire into private life, bringing forward as an example St. Gregory of Nazianzen, surnamed the Theologian, the oracle of his time, who gave up the charge of three Bishoprics, Sozima, Nazianzen, and the Patriarchate of Constantinople, that he might go and end his days In rural life, on his paternal estate of Arianzen.

Our Blessed Father replied that we must presume that these great Saints never did anything without being moved to do it by the Spirit of God, and that we must not judge of their actions by outward appearances. He added that St. Gregory in quitting Constantinople was only yielding to pressure and violence, as is proved by the manner in which he said his last Mass in public, and which brought tears into the eyes of all who heard him.

This same Bishop replying that the greatness of his own charge terrified him, and that he was overpowered by the thought of having to answer for so many souls: "Alas!" said Blessed Francis, "what would you say, or do, if you had such a burden as mine on your shoulders? And yet that must not lessen my confidence in the mercy of God."

The Bishop still complaining and declaring that he was like a candle which consumes itself in order to give light to others, and that he was so much taken up with the service of his neighbour that he had scarcely any leisure to think of himself and to look after the welfare of his own soul, our Blessed Father replied: "Well, considering that the eternal welfare of your neighbour is a part, and so large a part, of your own, are you not securing the latter by attending to the former? And how, indeed, could you possibly work out your own salvation except by furthering that of others, seeing that you have been called to do so precisely in this manner?"

The Bishop still objecting and saying that he was like a whetstone which is worn out by the mere sharpening of blades, and that while trying to lead others to holiness he ran the risk of losing his own soul, our Holy Prelate rejoined: "Read the history of the Church and the lives of the Saints, and you will find more Saints among Bishops than in any other Order or avocation, there being no other position in the Church of God which furnishes such abundant means of sanctification and perfection. For remember that the best means of making progress in perfection is the teaching others both by word and example. Bishops are by their very office compelled to do this and to strive with all their heart and soul to be a pattern and model to their flocks. The whole life of a Christian on earth is a warfare, and should be one unceasing progress towards the goal of perfection. Were you to do as you propose it would be in a manner to look behind you, and to imitate the children of Ephraim, who turned back when they should have faced the enemy. You were going on so well, who is it who is holding you back? Stay in the ship in which God has placed you to make the voyage of life; the passage is so short that it is not worth while changing the boat. For, indeed, if you feel giddy in a large vessel, how much more so will you in a slight skiff tossed by every motion of the waves! A lower condition of life, though less busy and apparently more tranquil, is none the less equally subject to temptation."

This reasoning so convinced the Bishop[3] that he remained faithful to his post in the army of Holy Church.

[Footnote 1: De Civit. Dei. Lib. 19. cap 19.] [Footnote 2: St. Jane Frances de Chantal.] [Footnote 3: This Bishop was evidently M. Camus himself. [Ed.]]

THE JOYOUS SPIRIT OF BLESSED FRANCIS.

So light-hearted and gay was he, so truly did his happy face express the serenity and peace of his soul that it was almost impossible to remain for any time in his company without catching something of this joyous spirit.

I feel sure that only those of dull and gloomy temperament can take exception to what I am going to relate in order to illustrate our Blessed Father's delightful gift of pleasantry in conversation.

On one occasion when I was paying a visit to him at Annecy two young girls, sisters, and both most virtuous and most devout, were professed in one of the convents, he performing the ceremony, and I, by his desire, giving the exhortation. While preaching, although I said nothing to my mind very heart-stirring, I noticed that a venerable Priest who was present was so much affected as to attract the attention of everyone. After the ceremony, when we were breakfasting with the holy Bishop, the Priest being also at table, I asked Blessed Francis what had been the cause of such emotion. He replied that it was not to be wondered at seeing that this good Priest had lost his aureola, and had been reduced from the high rank of a martyr to the lowly one of a Confessor!

He went on to explain that the Priest had been married, but that on the death of his wife, who was a most saintly woman, he had become a Priest, and that all the children of that happy marriage had been so piously brought up that every one of them had devoted himself or herself to the service of the Altar, the young girls just professed being of the number.

The tears shed by the Priest were therefore of joy, not of sorrow, for he saw his most ardent desire fulfilled, and that his daughters were now the Brides of the Lamb. "But," I cried, "what did you mean by saying that a man married to such a wife as that was a Martyr? That may be the case when a man has a bad wife, but it cannot be true in his case."

Our Blessed Father's manner changed at once from gaiety to seriousness. "Take care," he said to me in a low voice, "that the same thing does not happen to you; I will tell you how, by-and-by, in private."

When we were alone afterwards I reminded him of his promise. "Take care," he said again with some severity of aspect, "lest if you yield to the temptation which is now assailing you something worse does not befall you." He was alluding to my desire to give up the burden of my Bishopric and to retire into more private life.

"Your wife," he went on to say, meaning the Church, whose ring when he consecrated me he had put on my finger, "is far more holy, far more able to make you holy than was that good man's faithful wife, whose memory is blessed. It is true that the many spiritual children whom she lays in your arms are a cause of so much anxiety that your whole life is a species of martyrdom, but remember that in this most bitter bitterness you will find peace for your soul, the peace of God which is beyond all thought or imagination. If you quit your place in order to seek repose, possibly God will permit your pretended tranquillity to be disturbed by as many vexations as the good brother Leone's, who, amid all his household cares in the monastery, was often visited by heavenly consolations. Of these he was deprived when, by permission extorted from his Superior, he had retired into his cell in order, as he said, to give himself up more absolutely to contemplation. Know (Oh! how deeply these words are engraven on my memory) that God hates the peace of those whom He had destined for war.

"He is the God of armies and of battles, as well as of peace, and he compares the Sulamite, the peaceful soul, to an army drawn up in battle array and in that formation terrible to its enemies." I may add that our Blessed Father's predictions were perfectly verified, and after his death when the very things he had spoken of happened to me I remembered his words with tears.

As I write I call to mind another instance of his delightful manner which you will like to hear.

Young as I was when consecrated a Bishop, it was his desire that I should discharge all the duties of my holy office without leaving out any single one of them, although I was inclined to make one exception, that of hearing confessions. I considered myself too young for this most responsible work, and wanting in that prudence and wisdom which are born of experience.

Our Blessed Father, however, thought differently in the matter, and I, holding this judgment in so much higher esteem than my own, gave way, bent my neck under the yokes and took my place in the confessional. There I was besieged by penitents, who scarcely allowed me any time for rest or refreshment.

One day, worn out with this labour, I wrote to St. Francis, saying, among other things, that intending to make a Confessor he had really made a Martyr.

In answering my letter he said that he knew well that the vehemence of my spirit suffered the pangs of a woman in travail, but then I must take courage and remember that it is written, a woman when she is in labour hath sorrow because her hour is come; but when she hath brought forth the child she remembereth no more the anguish for joy that a man is born into the world.[1]

[Footnote 1: John xvi. 21.]

UPON DAILY MASS. HIS ADVICE TO A YOUNG PRIEST.[1]

To a Priest whom I know well, and whom our Blessed Father loved much in Our Lord, he gave most excellent advice, and in a very kindly manner, conveyed it to him by means of an ingenious artifice.

The Priest was young, and owing to his extreme youth, although he was a Parish Priest, he dreaded saying Mass often, contenting himself with doing so on Sundays and holidays.

Our Blessed Father, wishing to lead him to say his Mass every day, devised this plan. He presented him with a little box covered with crimson satin, embroidered in gold and silver and studded with pearls and garnets. Before he actually put it into his hands, however, he said to him, "I have a favour to ask of you which I am sure you will not refuse me, since it only concerns the glory of God, which I know you have so much at heart." "I am at your command," replied the Priest. "Oh, no," said the Bishop, "I am not speaking to you as one who commands, but as one who requests, and I make this request in the name and for the love of God, which is our common watchword." After that, what could the Priest possibly refuse him? His silence testified his readiness to obey, better than any words could have done.

Blessed Francis then opening the box showed him that it was quite full of unconsecrated hosts, and said, "You are a Priest, God has called you to that vocation, and also to the Pastoral Office in His Church. Would it be the right thing if an artisan, a magistrate, or a doctor only worked at his profession one or two days in the week? You have the power to say Holy Mass every day. Why do you not avail yourself of it?

"Consider that the action of saying Mass is the loftiest, the most august, of all the functions of religion, the one which renders more glory to God and more solace to the living and the dead than any other.

"I conjure you, then, by the glory of Him in whom we live and move and have our being, to approach the Altar every day, and never, except under extreme necessity, to fail to do so.

"There is nothing, thank God, to prevent your doing this. I know your soul as well as a soul can be known, and of this you are yourself quite aware, you who have so frankly unfolded to me the inmost recesses of your conscience. Far from seeing any impediment, I see that everything invites you to do what I ask, and that you may so use the daily and supersubstantial Bread I make you this present, entreating you not to forget at the holy Altar him who makes you this prayer on the part of God Himself."

The young Priest was somewhat surprised, and without attempting to evade the implied rebuke contented himself with submitting to the judgment of the holy Bishop his secret unworthiness, his youth, his unmortified passions, his fear of misusing so divine a mystery by not living as they should live who each day offer it up.

"All this excusing yourself, replied our Blessed Father, is only so much self-accusing as would appear if I chose to examine your reasons in detail and weigh them in the scales of the sanctuary. But without entering into any discussion of them let it suffice that you refer the matter to my judgment. I tell you then, and in this I think that I have the Spirit of God, that all the reasons which you bring forward to dispense yourself from so profitable an exercise of piety are really those which oblige you to practise it. This holy exercise will ripen your youth, moderate your passions, weaken your temptations, strengthen your weakness, illuminate your path, and the very act of practising it will teach you to do so with greater perfection. Moreover, if the sense of your unworthiness would make you abstain from it out of humility, as happened to St. Bonaventure, and if your own unfitness makes the custom of daily celebrating productive in your soul of less fruit than it should, consider that you are a public person, and that your flock and your Church have need of your daily Mass. More than that, you ought to be stimulated and spurred on by the thought that every day on which you refrain from celebrating you deprive the exterior glory of God of increase, the Angels of their delight, and the Blessed of a most special happiness."

The young Priest deferred to this counsel, saying "Fiat, fiat," and from that time for a space of thirty years has never failed to say Mass daily, even when on long journeys through France, Italy, Spain, Germany, and in heretical countries. He never failed, I repeat, even under conditions which seemed to make the saying of Mass impossible.

Such power have remonstrances when tempered with kindness and prudence.

[Footnote 1: Possibly M. Camus himself. [Ed.]]

A PRIEST SAYING MASS SHOULD BE CONSIDERATE OF OTHERS.

He was told that I was very lengthy in my preparation for saying Holy Mass, and that this was a cause of inconvenience to many who either wished to be present at it or to speak to me afterwards. I was accustomed, by his orders, to say daily Mass at a fixed hour, and not in the private chapel of the Bishop's house, unless I happened to be ill, but in a large chapel adjoining the Cathedral Church, where synods, ordinations, and similar pastoral functions were held. The bell rang for this Mass always at a few minutes before the appointed hour, but those who knew the length of my preparation in the sacristy did not hurry to come to it, and those who did not know lost patience, and in winter time often got chilled to the bone.

Our Blessed Father, wishing to correct this fault in me, waited quietly till the right moment came for doing so. He was paying me one of his annual visits at Belley, when it chanced that one morning he was detained very late in his room writing some letters which he had to send off without loss of time. When eleven o'clock drew near, his servants, knowing that he never failed to say Mass unless hindered by illness or some real impediment, came to remind him that he had not yet done so.

The Altar in the private Chapel had been prepared for him. He came out of his room, wearing as usual his rochet and mosetta, and after saluting those who had come to see him and to hear his Mass, said a short prayer at the foot of the Altar, then vested and celebrated the holy sacrifice. Mass ended, he knelt down again, and, after another short prayer, joined us with a face of angelic serenity. Having greeted each of us affectionately, he entered into conversation with us, until we were called, as we soon were, to table. I, who watched his actions most closely and ever found them regular and harmonious as a stave of music, was amazed at the brevity of this preparation and thanksgiving. In the evening, therefore, when we were alone together, I said, using the filial privilege which I knew was mine, "Father, it seemed to me this morning that your preparation for Mass and your thanksgiving were very hasty and short."

He turned suddenly, and, embracing me, exclaimed, "Oh, how delighted I am that you are so straightforward in telling me home truths! For three or four days I have been wanting to do the same thing to you, but did not know how to begin! Now, tell me what do you say as to that lengthiness of yours which inconveniences everybody? All complain, and quite openly, though possibly these complaints have not yet reached your ears, so few dare speak the truth to Bishops. Doubtless it is because no one loves you as I do that I have been asked to speak about this. My commission is quite authentic, though I do not show you the signatures. A little of your superfluity handed over to me would do us both good, by making you go more quickly and, me more slowly.

"Do you think," he continued, "that the people who are so anxious to assist at your Mass have any sympathy with your long preparation before-hand in the sacristy? Still less those who are waiting to speak to you after Mass, with your interminable thanksgiving.

"Many of these people come from a distance, and have business engagements in the town."

"But, Father," I said, "how ought we to make our preparation? Scripture says, Before prayer prepare thy soul, and be not as a man that tempteth God.[1] How much more, then, must we prepare with all care for the stupendous act of celebrating Mass, before which, in the words of the Preface, the powers of Heaven tremble? How can one play on a lute without tuning it?" "Why do you not make this preparation earlier, in your morning exercise, which I know, or at least I think, you never neglect?" "I rise at four o'clock in the summer, sometimes sooner," I replied, "and I do not go to the Altar till about nine or ten o'clock." "And do you suppose," he returned, "that the interval from four to nine is very great to Him, in Whose sight a thousand years are as yesterday?"[2]

This passage, so well applied, was like a sudden illumination to me. "And what about the thanksgiving?" I said. "Wait till your evening exercise to make it," he answered; "you make your examination of conscience, surely so great an act will have its weight; and is not thanksgiving one of the points of self-examination? Both these acts can be made more at leisure and more calmly in the morning and evening: no one will be inconvenienced by them, and they will interfere with none of your ordinary duties." "But," I objected, "will it not be a cause of disedification to others to see me so quick over things? God should not be adored hurriedly." "We may hurry as much as we like," he replied; "God goes faster than we do. He is as the lightning which comes forth from the east and the next moment flashes in the west. All things are present to Him; with Him there is neither past nor future. How can we escape from His spirit?" I acquiesced, and since then all has gone well in this matter.

[Footnote 1: Eccle. xviii. 23.] [Footnote 2: Psalm lxxxix. 4.]

BLESSED FRANCIS ENCOURAGES THE BISHOP OF BELLEY.

Owing to the fact that the See of Belley had been vacant for four years, a dispensation was obtained from the Bishop enabling me, at the age of twenty-five, to be consecrated Bishop, and at the same time to be put in possession of that See to which the King, Henry IV., had already appointed me.

Blessed Francis Himself consecrated me, in my own Cathedral Church of Belley, August 30th, 1609.

After a while scruples began to disturb my mind on account of this consecration, seemingly so premature. I had, as it were, been made a captain when I had scarcely enlisted as a soldier. I carried my troubles to the director of my conscience, this Blessed Father who consoled and cheered me by suggesting many excellent reasons for this unusual state of things. The necessities of the diocese, the testimony to my character of so many persons of dignity and piety, the judgment of Henry the Great, whose memory he held in high honour, and, last of all, and above all, the command of His Holiness. He concluded by urging me not to look back, but rather to stretch forward to the things which were before me, following the advice of St. Paul.

"You have come to the vineyard," he went on to say, "in the first hour of your day. Beware lest you labour there so slothfully, that those who enter at the eleventh hour outstrip you both in the work and in reward."

One day I said jestingly to him: "Father, virtuous and exemplary as you are considered to be, you have committed one fault in your life, that of having consecrated me too early."

He answered me with a laugh which opened a heaven of joy to me. "It is certainly true," he said, "that I have committed that sin, but I am much afraid God will never forgive me for it, for up to the present moment I have never been able to repent of it. I conjure you by the bowels of our common Master to live in such a manner that you may never give me cause for regret in this matter and rather, often to stir up in yourself the grace which was bestowed upon you from on high by the imposition of my hands. I have, you must know, been called to the consecration of other Bishops, but only as assistant. I have never consecrated any one but you: you are my only one, my apprenticeship work.

"Take courage. God will help us.

"He is our light and our salvation, whom shall we fear? He is the Protector of our life, of whom shall we be afraid?"

UPON A COMPASSIONATE MIND.

Although his soul was one of the strongest and most well-balanced possible, yet it was capable of the tenderest and most compassionate feelings for the sorrows of others. He did not repine over the miseries and infirmities of human nature, he only desired that all souls should be strengthened by grace.

To a lady who was heart-broken at the death of a sister whom she passionately loved, he wrote:

"I will not say to you, do not weep, for, on the contrary, it is just and reasonable that you should weep a little—but only a little—my dear daughter, as a proof of the sincere affection which you bore her, following the example of our dear Master, who shed a few tears over His friend Lazarus, but not many, as do those whose thoughts, being bounded by the moments of this miserable life, forget that we, too, are on our way to Eternity, in which if we live well in this life we shall be reunited to our beloved dead, nor ever be parted from them again. We cannot prevent our poor hearts from being affected by the changes of this life, and by the loss of those who have been our pleasant companions in it. Still never must we be false to our solemn promise to unite our will inseparably to the Will of God."

Again, let me remind you how tenderly he expresses himself on the sorrowful occasions of the death of his dearest relatives and friends. "Indeed," he says, "at times like these I myself weep much. Then my heart, hard as a stone with regard to heavenly things, breaks and pours forth rivers of tears. But God be praised! They are always gentle tears, and, speaking to you as to my own dear daughter, I never shed them without a loving grateful thought of the providence of God. For, since our Saviour loved death and gave His death to be the object of our love, I cannot feel any bitterness, or grudge against it, whether it be that of my sisters or of anyone else, provided it be in union with the holy death of my Saviour."

And in another place he says:

"I must say just one word in confidence to you. There is not a man living who has a heart more tender and more open to friendship than mine, or who feels more keenly than I do the pain of separation from those I love; nevertheless. I hold so cheap this poor earthly life which we lead that I never turn back to God with a more ardent affection than when He has dealt me some blow of the kind or permitted one to be dealt me."

UPON DOING ONE'S DUTY, WITHOUT RESPECT OF PERSONS.

After I had preached several Advents and Lents in various towns of my diocese of Belley, he thought it well that I should do so in my own native city, Paris.

Well knowing, as he did, the various views and judgments of the great world which rules there, he wished to teach me to care very little what people said about me, and he impressed the lesson upon me by relating to me the following story of an aged Priest and the college clock.

A good Father being incapacitated by infirmities even more than by age from fulfilling the duty of teaching binding on his Order, and yet being anxious to have some little useful employment, was entrusted by his Superior with the winding and regulating the college clock.

Very soon, however, he came to complain of the difficulty and almost impossibility of his work; not, he said, that it was at all beyond his strength, but that it was quite beyond him to satisfy everyone. When the clock was a little slow, he said, the young men who had difficult and troublesome work to do indoors, complained, declaring that the town clocks were much faster, and to please them he would put it on a little. As soon as this was done complaints burst forth from those whose work lay outside the college, in visiting the sick and prisoners, or providing for the needs of the household in the city. They came back declaring that the town clocks were much slower, and reproaching me for having put theirs on.

The Superior settled the matter by telling the good Father to let the clock take its own course, but always to use soft words to those who might complain, and to assure each one of them that he would do his best to keep the clock right if possible. "So let it be with you," concluded our Blessed Father. "You are going to be exposed to the criticism of many; if you attend to all that they say of you, your work, like Penelope's, will never be done, but every day you will have to begin it over again.

"Even some of your friends will in perfect good faith give you suggestions on matters which seem to them important, but which in reality are not so at all.

"One will tell you that you speak too fast, another that you gesticulate too much, a third that you speak too slowly, and don't move enough—one will want quotations, another will dislike them; one will prefer doctrinal, another moral lessons; some one thing, some another.

"They will be like drones who do nothing but disturb the working bees, and who, though they can sting, yet make no honey."

"Well! what is to be done in all this?"

"Why, you must always answer gently, promising to try and correct yourself of your faults whatever they may be, for there is nothing which pleases these counsellors so much as to see that their suggestions are accepted as judicious, and, at least, worthy of consideration. In the meantime go your own way, follow the best of your own character, pay no heed to such criticisms, which are often contradictory one of the other.

"Keep God before your eyes, abandon yourself to the guidance of the spirit of grace, and say often with the Apostle, 'If I yet pleased men I should not be the servant of Christ,' who said of Himself that He was not of this world. Neither, indeed, were His Apostles, for the friendship of the world is enmity with God.

"It is no small matter for a steersman in the midst of a storm to keep the rudder straight. Of little consequence ought it to be to us that we are judged by men. God is our only true judge, and it is He Who sees the secrets of our hearts, and all that is hidden in darkness."

THE HONOUR DUE TO VIRTUE.

Honour is like thyme which the pagans thought ought only to be burnt on the Altar of Virtue. In ancient Rome the Temple of Honour could only be entered through the Temple of Virtue.

The virtue of Blessed Francis de Sales was so generally recognized by both Catholics and Protestants that he may be truly said to have been universally reverenced.

A remarkable instance of this occurred at Grenoble, the chief town of Dauphine, in the year in which he went there to preach during Advent and Lent. Monsieur de Lesdigiueres, the King's Viceroy at Grenoble, and Marshal of France, was not yet converted to the Catholic Faith. He, however, received the Bishop with affectionate warmth, and paid him extraordinary honours. He frequently invited him to his table, and often visited him in his house, sometimes even being present at his sermons, for he really valued the teaching of the holy Bishop, and thought most highly of his virtue. The Protestants of Grenoble took fright at this, more particularly because of the long, private interviews which took place between the Magistrate and the holy Bishop.