Chapter X: Detachment From Relatives and Other Persons

Detachment from Relatives.

If attachment to relatives were not productive of great mischief Jesus Christ would not have so strenuously exhorted us to estrangement from them. If, he says, any man come to me and hate not his father and mother, . . . and brethren and sisters, he cannot be my disciple.¹ And again: I came to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother.² But why does the Redeemer insist so strongly on alienation from relatives? Why does he take so much pains to separate us from them? He himself assigns the reason: it is because a man’s enemies shall be they of his own household. Relatives are the worst enemies of the sanctification of Christians and particularly of religious; because they are, according to St. Thomas, the greatest obstacle to advancement in virtue. “Frequently,” says the holy Doctor, “carnal friends oppose the progress of the spirit;³ for in the affair of salvation the nearest akin are not friends, but enemies.”⁴ The truth of this assertion is fully established by experience. Even St. Charles Borromeo, notwithstanding his great reserve and perfect detachment from relatives, acknowledged that after returning from among them he felt his soul tepid, and detached from the things of God. Hence, according to all the masters of the spiritual life, he that desires to walk in the way of perfection must fly from relatives, must abstain from taking part in their affairs, and when they are at a distance must not even inquire about them.

¹ “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, . . . he cannot be my disciple.”—Luke, xiv. 26.

² “Veni enim separare hominem adversus patrem suum, et filiam adversus matrem suam.”—Matt. x. 35.

³ “Frequenter amici carnales adversantur profectui spirituali.”—2. 2, q. 189, a. 10.

⁴ “Propinqui carnis, in hoc proposito, amici non sunt, sed potius inimici.”—Contra retrah. a relig. a. 9.

What progress can be expected from the religious that wishes to have her relatives near the convent, who, if she does not see them, is constantly sending letters and messages to request a visit from them; and who, if they yield not to her entreaties, is disturbed, and complains by frequent letters of their absence and neglect? It is impossible for a nun of this description ever to attain a close union with God. “Whoever,” says St. Gregory, “wishes to be truly united to the Father of all must be separated from relatives.”¹ Whoever aspires to a union with God, the common Father of all men, must fly altogether from his kindred. When the Blessed Virgin lost the infant Jesus she sought him in vain for three days among her kinsfolk. “Yes,” says St. Bernard, “Jesus is not found among kinsfolk.”² Peter of Blois asserts that the love of flesh and blood soon robs the soul of the love of God. “Carnal love will soon remove you from the love of God.”³

¹ “Extra cognatos quis se debet fieri, si vult Parenti omnium verius jungi.”—Mor. l. 7, c. 13.

² “Jesus inter cognatos non invenitur.”—Epist. 107.

³ “Carnalis amor extra Dei amorem cito te capiet.”—Epist. 134.

Religious should regard the dying words of Moses as peculiarly applicable to themselves: Who hath said to his father and to his mother, I do not know you; and to his brethren, I know you not. These have kept thy word and observed thy covenant.⁴ The religious who tells her parents and her brothers and her sisters that she knows them not, is the true spouse of Jesus. She is the king’s daughter who obeys the call of God, and fulfils the covenant made with him at her profession, when he spoke to her in the language that he addresses to every soul consecrated to his love: Hearken, O daughter, and see, and incline thy ear, and forget thy people and thy father’s house. And the king shall greatly desire thy beauty.¹ Hear my voice, O daughter, and learn to understand the great blessings that you will receive if you observe my commandments. Open, then, your ear to my words: forget your kindred and your father’s house, and I, your King and Spouse, shall love your beauty. “It is,” says St. Jerome, “a great advantage to forget your parents; for then the King shall greatly desire your beauty.”² Great shall be your reward: you shall become dear to the Lord, who will make you happy here and hereafter. Such is the recompense promised by the Redeemer when he said: And every one that hath left house or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother... for my name’s sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall possess life everlasting.³ The nun that leaves her relatives in effect and in affection shall obtain eternal beatitude in heaven and a hundredfold on earth; she will leave a few and shall find many sisters in religion; she will abandon a father and a mother, and in return shall have God for her father and Mary for her mother; and from them she shall experience the kindness and affection of the fondest parent.

⁴ “He who said to his father and his mother: I do not know you; and to his brothers: I do not know you; . . . these have kept your word and observed your covenant.”—Deut. xxxiii. 9.

¹ “Hear, daughter, and see, and incline your ear, and forget your people and your father’s house; and the King will desire your beauty.”—Ps. xliv. 11.

² “Grande præmium parentis obliti: Concupiscet Rex decorem tuum!”—Epist. ad Furiam.

³ “Everyone who has left house, or brothers, or sisters, or father, or mother, . . . on account of my name, shall receive a hundredfold and shall possess eternal life.”—Matt. xix. 29.

Hence, convinced that detachment from kindred is highly pleasing to God, the saints have sought to be wholly removed from their relatives. St. Francis Xavier, when about to set out on the Indian mission, refused to visit his mother or relatives, though they repeatedly requested a visit from him, although he passed near their place of residence, and although he knew that he should never see them again. When his sister came to see St. Pachomius he sent her the following message: “It is enough for you to have learned that I am alive; go, then, in peace.” Some of the saints have gone so far as to abstain from reading the letters of their dearest friends. St. John Climacus relates that St. Anthony, after having spent several years in the desert, on receiving some letters from his relatives, said to himself: What can I expect from the perusal of these letters, but disturbance of mind, and the loss of the peace that I enjoy? The holy man then cast them into the fire, saying: Begone from me, all thoughts of my country, that I may not return to the things that I have already left. To the flames, ye letters, that I may not be one day burned by you.

“For my part,” says St. Teresa, “I cannot conceive what consolation a nun can find in her relatives. By attachment to them she displeases God, and without being able to enjoy their amusements she shares in all their troubles.”¹ How applicable to you, dear Sister, is this reflection of the saint? When your parents and friends come to the grate, they certainly cannot make you a partaker of their worldly amusements, for you cannot go beyond the limits of the enclosure. In their visits, then, they only recount their misfortunes, their infirmities, and their wants. Surely such narratives only serve to fill your head and heart with so much inquietude, with so many distractions and defects, that after each visit you will be for several days disturbed and distracted in your meditations and Communions by the remembrances of what you have heard.

¹ Way of Perf/, ch. x.

How is it possible that you who have left the world can so ardently desire the frequent visits of your relatives? Is it that they may frequently rob you of your peace and of the progress you have made? Oh! what an excess of folly to imagine that you cannot be happy without frequently seeing your friends. Ah! if you keep aloof from them, what torrents of consolation and happiness would your Spouse, Jesus, infuse into your soul! St. Mary Magdalene de Pazzi used to say that an abhorrence of the grate should be the principal fruit of the Communions of religious. And as an evil spirit once said to the Venerable Sister Mary Villani, there is certainly no place where the devil does so much injury to religious as in the parlor. Hence, St. Mary Magdalene de Pazzi would not even enter the parlor; and such was her hatred of it, that she could not bear to hear it mentioned. Whenever she was obliged to go to the parlor, she would begin to weep, and would say to her novices: “My dear children, pray to God for me; for I am called to the grate.” When leaving them, she would beg of them soon to call her away from the grate under some pretext.

But you will say, What am I to do? Am I never to see my friends? When they visit me, must I send them away, and refuse to go to the grate? I do not require so much from you; but if you refuse to see them, would you do wrong?—would you do what would be inconvenient, or what is never done by religious? Several nuns have resolved never to see their relatives, and have fulfilled their resolution. In the life of Father Torres, it is related of Gerolama Sanfelice, a religious in the convent of St. Alvina, that so great was her attachment to her relatives that her thoughts were continually upon them, that she desired frequent visits from them, and sent every day to inquire about her father. Her sister, Mary Antonia, who lived in the same convent, was so fervent, that she besought the Lord to make her suffer a great deal in this life. Her prayer was heard, and she was afflicted with an ulcer, which ate away her flesh, and produced the very pangs of death. In her agony she would exclaim: “More suffering, O my Spouse, more suffering.” When dying she said to Gerolama, that she hoped to obtain eternal glory, and that as soon as she should enter into bliss she would beg of God to transform her tepid sister into a saint. She died: Gerolama changed her life, and adopted and observed for forty years the resolution never more to see her relatives. It once happened that two of her nephews came to visit her, but she refused to see them; and having sent them away, she went to the grate of the church to pray before the Blessed Sacrament. The young men entered the church, expecting to see her at a distance; but she instantly retired behind the curtain, and such was the effort which she made on that occasion to stifle the feelings of flesh and blood that she fainted away. Whoever does not offer violence to herself will never become a saint. Sister Gerolama made rapid progress in divine love, and afterwards lived and died a saint. After death her body was opened and a cross of flesh was found on her heart, as a token of the great love that she had borne to Jesus crucified. Why cannot you imitate her example, and free yourself forever from the distractions that are caused by going to the grate?

But you will say that the abbess or the confessor will not permit you to observe such a resolution. On what grounds can they refuse you permission? Is not such a resolution the fruit of a divine inspiration? and if practised, would it not be a source of great edification to the other sisters? Would it not, at least, make them see the impropriety and the dangers of attachments to their relatives and to the grate? But should the Superior command you to see your parents or relatives, I tell you to obey; but at the same time I entreat you to imitate the example of Blessed Theodore, who, when commanded to converse with his mother, who had come to see him, said to the abbot: “Father, you command me to speak with my mother, but do you assure me that from the conversation I shall suffer no spiritual injury?” Afraid of the consequence, the abbot released the brother from the obligation that he had imposed upon him. It may be useful to remind abbesses and confessors, that if, without just cause, and only through caprice, or unreasonable human respect, or self-interest, or to avoid trouble, they hinder the greater progress of a religious, who seeks to run to God, they will certainly have to render to the Lord an account of their conduct. As to you, dear Sister, when they oblige you to see your relatives, obey; again I say, that I do not require of you never more to see your friends; but whenever necessity compels you to speak with them, I exhort you to observe the following rules:

1. Before you go to the grate, recommend yourself to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament or on the cross, and beg that he may assist you and preserve you from every fault in your conversation.

2. Take care not to imitate the religious who go to the parlor to amuse themselves, or to learn what passes in the world, and afterwards tell it to the whole Community.

3. Be careful not to make known to externs the internal affairs of the convent, and particularly what might tend to the discredit of the Superior or the sisters.

4. Should externs begin to speak on useless or worldly matters, such as marriages, balls, or fond attachments, break off, break off at once the conversation, and introduce some Christian maxim, or some fact from which you can draw a spiritual sentiment. You are not to learn the language of seculars, but should teach them the language of religious, whose conversation should be always on the things of God. Time spent at the grate is not profitable to the soul; it is all lost, and for it you shall one day have to render an account to God.

5. Never seek a visit from your relatives. When they come, endeavor to withdraw from them as soon as possible; excuse your withdrawal by saying that you must attend to the duties of your office; that you must assist a person who is sick; or make some similar apology. Whoever wishes, easily finds very just reasons for taking leave of visitors. If you act in this manner, they will soon feel that their conversation is not very pleasing to you, and will come less frequently to disturb you. And be assured that the shorter their visits, the fewer will be your faults; and that the less frequently you see them, the more you will be recollected, and the greater will be the consolations that you will receive from Jesus Christ. The Venerable Sister Catharine, a Cistercian, because she became a nun against the consent of her parents, was altogether abandoned by them; but such was the joy that her Spouse poured into her soul, that she was accustomed to say: “I do not envy my sisters who are visited very frequently in the year by their parents, because as often as I wish, I go to my true father, Jesus, and to my dear mother, Mary, and they fill me with consolations.”

6. Lastly, take care, above all things, not to implicate yourself in the temporal concerns of your relatives; such as marriages, contracts, expenses, or any similar affairs. If you do, you will lose all peace and recollection, and perhaps your immortal soul. “How many monks,” says St. Jerome, “by compassion towards their father and mother have lost their own souls?”¹ How many religious by compassion for their relatives have been lost? In another place the saint says, that the more tender the affection of a religious for her kindred, the greater her impiety towards God. “Great piety towards relatives is impiety towards God.”¹ And what greater impiety than that a nun should, for the service of her family, give up the service of God, neglect mental prayer, the sacraments, and expose herself to all the distractions that necessarily arise from the care of worldly affairs. St. Bernard exhorts his religious “to fly from such cares, as being diabolical.”² St. Ignatius of Loyola refused to interfere in the marriage of one of his nieces, though she was the heiress of the family. St. Francis Borgia would not ask the Pope for a dispensation (which he would have easily obtained) to have his son married to a relative, although the acquisition of a large estate depended upon the marriage. No man, said the Redeemer, putting his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.³

¹ “Quanti monachorum, dum patris matrisque miserentur, suas animas perdiderunt!”—Reg. Monach. de laude Relig.

¹ “Grandis in suos pietas, impietas in Deum est.”—Ep. ad Paulam.

² “Fugiamus illorum curam tamquam diabolicam.”—Const. Mon. c. 21.

³ “Nemo mittens manum suam ad aratrum et respiciens retro, aptus est regno Dei.”—Luke, ix. 62.

Let us tremble, for God himself has declared that he who has begun to serve the Lord, and looks back to the things of the world, is unfit for paradise. When, then, relatives seek to implicate you in worldly affairs, withdraw at once from them. Attend to the advice of the Redeemer to the young man who, when asked to follow Jesus, answered, that he wished first to bury his father: Let the dead, says Jesus, bury the dead.⁴ Leave, then, dear sister, worldlings (who are said to be dead) to attend to their worldly business, and let it be your sole care and concern to love God and to become a saint. Tell your parents that worldly business is not fit for you, nor suited to your state. When his mother said to Jesus: Son, why hast thou done so to us? behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing, he replied: Did you not know that I must be about my Father’s business?¹ Did you not know that I should attend only to the interests of my Father’s glory? Should your relatives complain of your unwillingness to serve them, should they even charge you with disaffection, with ingratitude, and even call you the enemy of your family, answer them with firmness that you are dead to the world, and that it is your duty to attend only to the service of God and of the monastery. I conclude this chapter with the words of St. Joseph Calasanctius: “A religious who is attached to her relatives has not yet left the world.”

⁴ “Sine ut mortui sepeliant mortuos suos.”—Luke, ix. 60.

¹ “Nesciebatis quia, in his quæ Patris mei sunt, oportet me esse?”—Luke, ii. 49.

Prayer. O my God and my Spouse, Thee alone I desire to serve and to love henceforth and forever. I desire to serve creatures only, when I know that Thou dost wish me to serve them. Ah! Lord, make Thy will known to me; I wish to do it in all things. Ah! inflame my whole soul with Thy holy love, that for the future I may seek only Thy will. Grant that nothing may please me but what pleases Thee. Grant that I may always say with sincerity: “My God and my Spouse, I desire Thee only, and nothing more.” O my King and my Spouse, Jesus, reign alone in my whole soul; possess it without reserve; let Thy love command and point out what I am to do, what I am to avoid, and what I am to desire; and let my soul obey only Thy will. Ah! my dear Redeemer, through the merits of Thy Passion hear my prayer.

O Queen of heaven, in thee I trust; assist me by thy intercession.

Detachment from Seculars, and even from the Sisters.^*

St. Augustine says that whoever does not shun dangerous conversations will soon fall into a precipice: “He that will not avoid suspected familiarity soon falls into ruin.”¹ The example of the unhappy Solomon should make us all tremble. At first he was most dear to God, and even the inspired of the Holy Ghost, but by the love of strange women he was in his old age led into idolatry.² Nor should his fall be a subject of wonder; for, as St. Cyprian says,³ to stand in the midst of flames and not to burn is impossible.

¹ “Qui familiaritatem non vult vitare suspectam, cito labitur in ruinam.”—Serm. 293, App. E. B.

² 3 Kings, xi. 4.

³ De Singularit. cler.

Be assured, O blessed spouse of the Lord, that for religious the atmosphere of the parlor, where conversations are held with seculars, is pestiferous. As in the choir religious breathe the salubrious air of paradise, so in the parlor they may inhale the pestilential vapors of hell. A religious, were she in her father’s house, would certainly not dare to spend an hour or two in conversation with persons of every age and of both sexes, and will she not scruple to do so in God’s own dwelling? Is the house of the Lord to be treated with less respect than the house of a secular?

But you will say: By the grace of God such conversations are harmless. Let those that speak thus remember, that all friendships founded on a sensible affection for external objects, if not productive of other evils, are at least great obstacles to perfection. They certainly

• On this and other similar passages, see a useful remark in the Notice at the beginning of this volume.—Ed. destroy the spirit of prayer and recollection; and the nun that entertains such friendships will be in the church in body, but her thoughts will be fixed on her friends. Such friendships serve to weaken her affection for the sacraments, and to conceal from herself and others the source of her tepidity; and thus she daily becomes more imperfect. She loses her peace; for should anything be said against those for whom she has conceived a regard, or whose conversation she seeks to enjoy, she is at once disturbed, and censures the person by whose language she is offended. She loses obedience; for when admonished by the Superior to break off such friendships, she excuses herself by various pretences, but does not obey. In fine, she loses the love of God, who desires to possess her whole heart, who will not suffer any affection that is not for him; and therefore seeing her soul attached to others, he withdraws himself, and deprives her of his special assistance. The Venerable Sister Frances Farnese used to say to the religious under her care: “We are shut up in this monastery, that we may neither see nor be seen, but that we preserve our souls spotless before God.” The more we hide ourselves from seculars, the more God will manifest himself to us by his grace in this life, and by his glory in the next.

Affections that arise from certain external qualifications, possessed by persons of a different sex, not only deprive the soul of great advantages, but also expose her to very great danger. In the beginning they appear indifferent, but by degrees they become sinful, and finally lead the soul into some mortal transgression. St. Jerome says: “Man and woman are like fire and straw, and the devil does not cease to blow so that there may be a blaze.”¹ Persons of different sexes, as soon as there exists too much familiarity among them, are inflamed as easily as when straw is held near the fire; for the devil is there trying his best to produce a conflagration. St. Teresa was once shown the place prepared for her in hell had she not renounced a certain inordinate, though not impure, affection for a relative.¹

¹ “Homo et mulier, ignis et palea; et diabolus nunquam insufflare cessat, ut accendatur.”—Eusebius ad Damas. de morte Hier.

¹ Life, ch. 32.

If, dear reader, you ever feel an attachment of this kind, your only remedy is a resolute and total retreat from the object of your affection. If you seek to withdraw by degrees, believe me your efforts will be fruitless: such chains, because they are strong, are burst only with difficulty—without a sudden and violent effort their bondage shall never be dissolved. You will perhaps say that no impropriety can occur. Remember that the devil never begins by suggesting the worst of evils, but by degrees he leads negligent souls to the brink of ruin, and then by an easy effort casts them over the precipice. It is a common maxim of masters of the spiritual life, that the only remedy is flight and the removal of occasions. St. Philip Neri used to say that in this warfare only cowards, that is, they that fly from the occasions of defeat, shall be conquerors. St. Thomas has said before: “Whoever can resist the other vices cannot resist this except by flight.”²

² “Ceteris vitiis quis potest resistere; huic tamen non potest, nisi per fugam.”—De Modo con fit. c. 14. 19

Although you have been free from such affections, you must still guard yourself against them with all possible care; for you too are exposed to the danger of being caught in the snare into which, through their own negligence, others have fallen. To preserve your soul free from every dangerous attachment, I advise you, in the language of St. Teresa, first, to prize yourself more for the plainness than for the elegance of your manners, the agreeableness of your conversation, or the facility of paying compliments to seculars. “With externs,” says St. Catharine of Sienna in a letter to her niece, “you should be modest; your head should be bowed down, and your manner and conversation simple and unaffected.” At the grate be careful to abstain from unguarded looks and indecent laughter, and never appear in a habit affectedly neat. It would be a still greater fault to go to the grate with any badge of worldly pomp or vanity.

In a word, if you expect to escape every danger, remove yourself as much as possible from all conversation with seculars. “Sit solitary,” says St. Bernard, “as the turtle: have nothing to do with crowds.”¹ Remain in solitude; love the choir and the cell, and shun the parlor as the abode of pestilence. To consecrate your whole being to God, you have left the world; what, then, have you to do with seculars? “If,” says the Venerable Sister Jane of St. Stephen, of the Order of St. Francis, “you are the spouse of the King of kings, turn not your eyes toward slaves.”² It is a crime in a slave to fix his eyes on the king’s spouse, and should the queen take complacency in his attention to her, she would be guilty of a similar transgression. Speaking of nuns, St. Catharine of Sienna says: “We shall not be spouses but sacrilegious violators of our engagements, if we seek for happiness in the gratification of self-love; if we hate the cell, and love the society of seculars.” Should you, in conversation, ever feel a disorderly affection, stifle it at once before it acquires the strength of a giant. “While,” says St. Jerome, “the enemy is small, destroy him.”³ To kill a lion when young is an easy task; but to conquer him when he has attained full growth is a work of extreme and insuperable difficulty.

¹ “Scde solitarius, sicut turtur, nihil tibi et turbis.”—In Cant. s. 40.

² L. to the abbess of St. Peter.

³ “Dum parvus est hostis, interfice.”—Z. ad Eustoch

It would be still more criminal and disgraceful to permit any secular to indulge in indecent jests; I do not speak of improper familiarities, not wishing to suppose such an excess. Should any worldling carry his sacrilegious insolence so far as to utter such jests in your presence, imagine not that because you only listen you are blameless' By not retiring at once you co-operate with him and render yourself a partaker of his guilt. Besides, should you not instantly withdraw from such infernal conversation you will soon become more criminal than its author; and from the dignity of the spouse of Jesus you will fall to the degraded condition of the slave of Satan. Besides, you might easily be the cause of ruin to your convent; for such a religious that keeps up so unhallowed a relationship is sufficient by her bad example to seduce others into doing the same thing.

Be specially on your guard if your brother or another of your relatives in visiting you brings with him one of his friends who has taken a fancy to you; they may perhaps call in your aunt to be present, but you will after all be the principal person in the scene. Should you ever perceive that such a snare has been laid, cast down your eyes at once, keep silence, and show yourself very grave; but the best thing for you to do would be to go away immediately. If later on you are again called to the parlor, knowing that the same person is there, send word that you are busy and that you cannot go. Be careful not to act otherwise, for if you again allow that person to have an interview with you, I shall look upon you as lost.

Likewise, if you receive from any one a letter in which you notice tender and affectionate words, tear up the letter at once, throw it into the fire, and do not answer it. If, however, on account of some matter of importance, an answer should be necessary, answer it briefly and seriously, without showing that you have taken the least pleasure in the sentiments that have been expressed to you, or that you have paid any attention to them. And if afterwards the same person calls you to the grate, refuse absolutely to go there; for if after his letter you consent to speak to him, it will be all over with you. You must know, besides, that you will be an accomplice of the same disorder if you have less fear to displease God than to displease one of your sisters by daring to encourage her in her unlawful attachment. In this case you would have to expect an exemplary chastisement, such as was inflicted upon a religious who was sacristan. To please one of her sisters she took upon herself the care of having a letter forwarded to a person with whom her companion kept up an improper correspondence. But when she gave the letter to the porter, the latter, being in a hurry, closed the revolving turn of the sacristy with such violence that her hand was caught and entirely torn off. She died a few days after, in consequence of this accident.

With religious and ecclesiastics who visit you, not for the purpose of speaking of God, nor for your spiritual good, but for the pleasure of your society, you should be reserved. I would recommend you to speak with your confessor only in the tribunal of penance. I advise you to abstain as much as possible from all correspondence with him by little presents, or by any similar means; and if you have to speak to him, do so at the turn and not at the grate. It is of importance that you use great reserve in regard to your directors, because the confidence that you have to repose in them by revealing to them the secrets of your conscience is always accompanied by a certain sympathy, which, if it is not moderated, may degenerate into a fire of hell. This is the reason why I counsel you to abstain as much as possible from having any worldly business with your confessor; do not make him presents; do not undertake the care of his secular affairs, of providing him with meals, of taking care of his linen, and other similar things. “Oh!” says St. Teresa, “what obstacles does such worldly correspondence present to the spiritual progress of religious.” Should there be an ancient custom in your convent of making presents to the confessor, it will be enough for you to send him two or three times a year some trifle as a mark of attention. Be always most watchful over your words so that nothing may ever escape you that would express the least affection or tenderness.

Do not pretend that there is no danger because that priest is a saint. “Nor,” says St. Thomas, “are they to be less avoided because they are more holy: for the greater their sanctity the more they excite sentiments of affection.”¹ The Venerable Father Sertorio Caputo of the Society of Jesus says that the devil first makes us love a man’s virtue, then his person, and at length draws us over the precipice. St. Thomas teaches that the devil at first kindles an attachment which only slightly wounds the soul: but what appeared to be pure angelic love soon degenerates into the human affection of beings clothed with flesh. Looks and words of tenderness follow; these are succeeded by a desire of each other’s society: thus by degrees a holy attachment will be converted into a natural affection. Such is the doctrine of St. Thomas.

¹ “Nec quia sanctiores fuerint, ideo minus cavendæ; quo enim sanctiores fuerint, eo magis alliciunt.”—De Modo conf. c. 14.

St. Bonaventure² gives five marks by which we may ascertain whether a mutual attachment between two friends is pure or otherwise. 1. It is not pure when it leads to long and useless discourses; and when conversations are very long they are always useless. 2. When each delights in looking at each other and in praising each other. 3. When either excuses the other’s defects. 4. When they manifest certain little jealousies. 5. When either feels unhappy at being separated from the other. The attachment is not pure when personal beauty or gracefulness is a source of pleasure; when either desires to be esteemed by the other, or when either is unwilling that his friend should receive attention from others; when one does not wish that others should observe, hear, or speak of what is passing.

² De Profectu Rel. l. 2, c. 27.

Father Peter Consolini of the Oratory has justly remarked that we should treat with holy persons of a different sex as with the souls in purgatory, that is, at a distance, and without looking at them. Some religious have a strong desire of conversing with their spiritual Father because they imagine that his instructions will stimulate their fervor. But what need is there of such conversations, of such long and familiar discourses? Have they not an abundant supply of spiritual books? Have they not spiritual reading at table and at prayer? Have they not the benefit of sermons in the church? Without any of these the reading and observance of their Rules and Constitutions ought to be sufficient to make them saints.

What has been said refers to outside persons; but it is necessary to remark that even among the religious themselves inordinate attachments may be found, especially among those who are young. “Young man,” says St. Basil, “avoid familiarity with your equals: how many young persons has the devil, through their companions, drawn into hell to be burned with eternal fire.” • Many of them, continues the saint, were, in the beginning enticed into a certain attachment that appeared to be charity, but that afterwards led them to the loss of¹ peace and of the perfection of their state.¹ “Love,” says Blessed Angela of Foligno, “includes every evil as well as every good. I do not speak of criminal love, which every one knows should be avoided, but of the love that one friend entertains for another; and that may degenerate into an irregular affection. Frequent conversations along with the manifestation of mutual regard produce too close a union of their hearts, render their friendship noxious; and by strengthening their attachment, obscure the light of reason. Each yields to the will of the other, and thus both are led into the neglect of duty.”²

“It is, moreover, to be remarked, that if the friendships with outside persons cause more scandal, the friendships that exist at home among the religious themselves are more dangerous, either because they are more difficult to remove, or because the occasion is more proximate. Would to God that the religious in the house of the Lord may never have the misfortune to commit a grave fault against chastity! Isaias regards such a one as already lost. He says: In the land of the saints he hath done wicked things, and he shall not see the glory of the Lord.³ Hence those nuns who have charge of the education of young pupils must always be watchful in regard to their conduct, and should not scruple to suspect the worst. When they perceive any attachment or familiarity between two young persons they must separate them at once, and not permit them to go together, and they should continually keep their eyes upon them lest any evil should happen. They should also from time to time exhort them in general to avoid, as they would avoid death, ever concealing through shame any sin in confession, and for this purpose they should relate to them the sad example of persons who had the misfortune of being condemned to hell for having made sacrilegious confessions.

¹ “Young man, shun association with your equals; how many of them the adversary, through their works, has consigned to be burned in everlasting fire!”

¹ “Spirituales primo charitatis quadam specie illectos, postea in voraginem præcipites deturbavit.”—S. de Abdic. rer.

² Arnald, vit. c. 64.

³ “In terra sanctorum iniqua gessit, et non videbit gloriam Domini.” —Is. xxvi. 10.

St. Basil¹ prescribed a very severe chastisement for the nuns of his Order who should entertain particular friendships. St. Bernard calls such friendships “poisoned attachments, and the enemies of the peace of communities.” They are a source of disturbance, of murmurings, of irregularities, of factions, and of parties; and sometimes they influence the votes at elections to office in favor not of the most worthy, but of the greatest favorites. Let it be your study to love all and to serve all, so that each will regard you as a friend. But abstain from familiarity with any; let your intimacy be only with God. Be particularly careful to avoid familiarity with all who manifest attachment to you. The way through which you walk in this life is dark and slippery: if you select an imperfect companion who will lead you to the precipice, you are lost.

¹ De Instit. Mon. s. 1.

Beware of all human respect—of the accursed fear of what others will say or think of you. “If,” you will say, “I give up all intercourse with such a secular; if I separate from such a one; if I consecrate myself to retirement, to prayer, and to mortification—what will be said of me? I shall be an object of jest and derision to all.” Ah! how many religious of both sexes has this accursed weakness of human respect brought to eternal misery? “Oh!” says St. Augustine, “how many has this infirmity precipitated into hell?”² St. Francis Borgia says that he who desires to consecrate himself to God must, in the first place, trample under his feet all regard for what others will say of him. O my God, why do we not ask what Jesus Christ or his holy mother will think of our conduct? My spouse, says our Lord, is a garden enclosed.¹ To be the true spouse of Jesus, the heart of a religious must be an enclosed garden, excluding every affection that is not for God. Remember that to cherish in the soul any strange affection is, perhaps, of all the defects of nuns the most displeasing to God. He requires the full and undivided possession of the heart of his spouse. Even men cannot bear with any division in the affections of their spouses. In conclusion, I exhort you to endeavor to love God as if he and you were the only beings in existence.

² “Oh! quot detrusit ad inferos infirmitas hac!”

¹ “Hortus conclusus, soror mea sponsa.”—Cant. iv. 12.

But before finishing, I cannot omit to blame the folly of certain religious who become fond of animals, such as cats and dogs. These they wish to have always with them at table, and even in bed. They often carry them in their arms, kiss them, and say even affectionate words to them. If these animals become sick they are greatly afflicted; if they die they are inconsolable, and are an annoyance to those who may have been the cause of the death. If such an affection is unreasonable even in a person of the world, how much more is it unreasonable in a spouse of Jesus Christ!

Prayer.

My Jesus, I already understand Thee. Thou dost desire my whole heart and all my love; and I desire to consecrate my whole soul and all my affections to Thee. After all the insults which I have offered to Thy majesty, I deserve to be abandoned by Thee. But I feel that Thou dost still call me to Thy love. Thou shalt, thou sayest, love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart.² I desire, O my God, to obey, and henceforth to love Thee only. Oh that I were wholly consumed for Thee, O my Jesus, who hast been entirely consumed for my salvation! For my sake Thou hast given all Thy blood; for my redemption Thou hast spent Thy life; and shall I be reserved with Thee? Even a thousand hearts are too little to love Thee, and shall I give a part of this, my miserable heart, to creatures? No: Thou dost wish for it entirely; I give it wholly to Thee. Accept my being, O my Jesus, my Love, and my Spouse. I am Thine, and entirely Thine: dispose of me as Thou pleasest

² “Diliges Dominum Deum tuum ex toto corde tuo.”

Mary, my hope, unite me with thy Son Jesus; make me belong entirely to him. From thee I desire this favor; from thee I hope for it.