Blessed Francis was no great friend of unusual mortifications, and did
not wish them to be practised except in the pressing necessity of violent
temptations.
In such cases it was his desire that those so assailed should try to repel
force by force, employing that holy violence which takes heaven by storm,
for, as by cutting and burning health is restored to the body, so also by
these caustic remedies holiness is often preserved in the soul.
He used to say that to those who made all kinds of exterior austerities
their custom, the custom in time becomes a second nature;[1] that those who
had hardened their skin no longer felt any inconvenience from cold, from
hard couches, or coarse garments, and that when the flame of concupiscence
kindled this dry wood they possessed no remedy which they could apply to
extinguish the fire.
They are like the pagan king, who had so accustomed himself to feed upon
poison that when he wished to end his miseries with his life by taking it,
he was obliged to live on against his will, and to serve as a sport to his
enemies.
The devil cares very little about our body being laid low so long as he can
hold on to us by the vices of the soul; and so cunning is he that often out
of bodily mortifications, he extracts matter for vanity.
Our holy Bishop wrote as follows to a person who regretted that her health
prevented her from continuing her accustomed austerities:
"Since you do not find yourself any longer able to practise corporal
mortifications and the severities of penance, and since it is not at
all expedient that you should think of doing so, on which point we are
perfectly agreed, keep your heart calm and recollected in the presence of
its Saviour; and as far as possible do what you may have to do solely to
please God, and suffer whatever you may have to suffer according to His
disposal of events in this life with the same intention. Thus God will
possess you wholly and will graciously allow you to possess Him one day
eternally."
With regard to the various kinds of mortification, that which is inward and
hidden is far more excellent than that which is exterior, the former
not being compatible, as is the latter, with hypocrisy, vanity, or
indiscretion.
Again, those mortifications which come upon us from without, either
directly from God or through men by His permission, are always superior to
those which depend upon our own choice and which are the offspring of our
will.
Many, however, find here a stumbling block, being very eager to embrace
mortifications suggested by their own inclinations, which, after all,
however apparently severe, are really easy because they are what nature
itself wants.
On the other hand, mortifications which come to them from without and
through others, however light they may be, they find insupportable. For
example, a person will eagerly make use of disciplines, hair-shirts, and
fasting, and yet will be so tender of his reputation that if once in a way
laughed at or spoken against, he will become almost beside himself, robbed
of his rest and even sometimes of his reason; and will perhaps in the end
be driven to the most deplorable extremities.
Another will throw himself with ardour into the practice of prayer,
penance, silence, and such like devotions, but will break out into a fury
of impatience and complain indignantly and unrestrainedly at the loss of a
law-suit, or at the slightest damage done to his property.
Another will give alms liberally and make magnificent foundations for the
relief of the poor and sick, but will groan and tremble with fear when
himself threatened with infirmity or sickness, however slightly; and upon
experiencing the least possible bodily pain, will give vent to interminable
lamentations.
In proportion as people are more or less attached to honours, gain, or mere
pleasures, they bear with less or more patience the hindrances to them; nor
do the majority of men seriously consider that it is the hand of God which
gives and which takes away, which kills and which makes alive, which exalts
and which casts down, as it pleases Him.
In order to heal this spiritual malady in a certain person our Blessed
Father wrote to her: "Often and with all your heart kiss the crosses which
God has laid upon your shoulders. Do not consider whether they are of
precious and sweet-scented wood or not. And, indeed, they are more truly
crosses when they are of coarse, common, ill-smelling wood. It is strange,
but one particular chant keeps ever coming back to my mind, and it is the
only one I know. It is the canticle of the divine Lamb; sad, indeed, but at
the same time harmonious and beautiful--_Father, not my will, but Thine be
done_."[2]
[Footnote 1: It is not to be inferred that Saint Francis countenanced
self-indulgence. He only wished to remove the idea common in his day,
that devotion must be accompanied by austerity.--[Ed.]]
[Footnote 2: Luke xxii. 42.]