I have been told, on good authority, that one of our Bravest and most distinguished Generals, who went to battle as gaily and confidently as he would go to a marriage, declared that he could never suffer his valet, after settling him for the night, to leave his sleeping apartment, it being quite impossible for him to sleep when left alone at night. Our Blessed Father writes in the following consoling manner to a pious person who suffered from the weakness of being afraid of ghosts:
"I am told," he says, "that you are afraid of spirits. The Sovereign Spirit of our God is everywhere, and without His Will or permission no other spirit dare stir. Those who fear this Divine Spirit ought not to fear any other. You are beneath His wings, like a little chicken under those of its mother; what do you fear? In my youth I, too, was a prey to these imaginations, and in order to get the better of them I forced myself when quite a child to go alone into places which my fancy had peopled with fantastic terrors. I went alone, I say, but my heart was armed with confidence in God. Now I am grown so strong in this confidence that darkness and the solitude of the night are delightful to me, since in solitude I realise better the all-embracing Presence of God. The good angels are there round about us like a company of soldiers on guard. The truth of God, says the Psalmist, shall compass thee with a shield; thou shall not be afraid of the terror of night.[1]
"This feeling of safety you will acquire little by little, in proportion as the grace of God grows in you: for grace engenders confidence, and confidence is never confounded."
See how, with this timid, fearful soul, he makes himself weak and infirm. If I may be permitted to add to this great example my own poor and worthless experience, I would say that when I was young I was greatly afflicted with this weakness. It was indeed, perhaps, the chief impediment to my entering the Order of St. Bruno, which is, in my opinion, the holiest, as it certainly is the most retired and the most steadfast of all the religious orders. I, however, lost this infirmity as soon as I had received the imposition of hands from the Blessed Francis de Sales, and I may add that Almighty God permitted me to succeed, in the episcopal chair, three Saints of that order which I revered so much, namely, Saints Artauld, Audace, and Anthelme.[2]
[Footnote 1: Psalm xi. 5.]
[Footnote 2: Six Carthusians occupied the See of Belley: Ponce de
Balmay, St. Anthelme, Raynauld, St. Arthaut, Bernard, and Bd. Boniface
of Savoy. (Trésor de Chronologie, Chez Palmé, Paris, 1880).
Audace, first Bp. of Belley, was not canonised, nor was he a Carthusian.]
HIS PORTRAIT.
I have known great servants of God who would not on any account allow their portraits to be painted, imagining that their doing so must involve some degree of vanity and dangerous self-complacency. Our Blessed Father was not of this opinion, but, making himself all things to all men that he might win all to Jesus Christ, he made no objection to having his portrait taken when asked to do so. He gave as his reason that since we are obliged by the law of holy charity to communicate to our neighbour the representation of our mind, imparting to him without dissimulation or jealousy what we have learnt concerning the science of salvation, so we ought to be still less niggardly in pleasing our friends by placing before their eyes the picture of our outward self which they so earnestly desire to have.
If we see, not only without annoyance, but even with pleasure, our books, which are the portraits of our minds, in the hands of our fellow men, why grudge them the picture of our countenance, if it contribute anything to their satisfaction. On this subject he expresses himself as follows in one of his letters: "Here, then, is the picture of the earthly man, for I am unwilling to refuse you anything which you desire.
"I am told that my portrait has never been really well painted. That, I think, matters very little, surely man passeth as an image. Yea, and he is disquieted in vain.[1]
"I borrowed it in order to send it to you, for I have not myself got my own portrait. Ah! if the image of my Creator were imprinted in all its splendour on my soul, how gladly would I let you see it!