Here I will relate a pleasant little incident which befell Dom Bruno, of
whom I have spoken above. Our Blessed Father often quoted it as an example
for others.
The Germans, particularly those on the banks of the Rhine, have a special
devotion to St. Bruno, who was a native of Cologne, in which city he is
highly honoured.
A young man, a native of the same place, had a most ardent desire to enter
the Carthusian Order, but his parents, influential people of the city,
prevented his being received into the Chartreuse of Cologne, or into any
other Carthusian monastery in the neighbourhood.
The youth, greatly distressed at this repulse, left the city in haste, and
took refuge among the holy mountains where St. Bruno and his companions
made their first retreat. Presenting himself at the Grande Chartreuse
he asked to see the Rev. Fr. Prior, and throwing himself at his feet,
entreated that he might be clothed with the habit of the Order, concealing
nothing from him, neither his birth, nor his place of residence, nor
the circumstances of his vocation, etc. The Prior, observing that he
was fragile in appearance and of an apparently delicate constitution,
remonstrated, pointing out to him how great were the austerities of the
Order, and reminding him of the bleakness of the hills amidst which the
monastery was situated, and of the perpetual winter which reigns there.
The young man replied insisting that he knew all this, and had counted the
cost, but that God would be his strength, and enable him by His grace to
overcome all obstacles. "Even though," said he, "_I should walk in the
shadow of death I shall fear no evil provided that God be with me_." Then
the Prior took a more serious tone. Determined to test to the utmost the
courage and resolution of the postulant, he asked him sharply if he knew
all that was required of those who aspire to enter the Carthusian Order.
"Are you aware," he said, "that in the first place we require him to work
at least one miracle? Can you do that?" "I cannot," replied the young
man, "but the power of God within me can. I trust myself entirely to His
goodness. I am certain that having called me to serve Him in this vocation,
and implanted in me a thorough disgust for the things of the world, He will
not permit me to look back, nor to return to that corrupt society which,
with all my heart and soul, I have renounced. Ask of me whatever sign you
will, I am convinced that God will work a miracle, even through me, in
testimony of this truth."
As he spoke the blood mounted to his forehead, his eyes shone like stars,
his whole visage seemed on fire with enthusiasm.
Dom Bruno, astonished at the vehemence of his words, opened his arms, and
clasping him to his heart received him at once among his children. Then
turning to those who stood around him, "My brothers," he said, "his is an
undeniable vocation. May God of His clemency often send such labourers
into the harvest of the Chartreuse." And to the young postulant, "Have
confidence, my son, God will help you, and will love you, and you will love
Him, and will serve Him among us. This is the miracle we expect you to
work."
You will ask me, perhaps, what use our Blessed Father could make of this
example. I will tell you. When he was admitting any young girl into your
congregation, my sisters, he invariably referred to it. He used to speak
to her only of Calvary, of the nails, the thorns, the crosses, of inward
mortification, of surrender of will, and crucifixion of private judgment,
of dying wholly to self, in order to live only with God, in God, and for
God: in fine, of living no longer according to natural inclinations and
feelings, but absolutely according to the spirit of faith, and of your
congregation.
Did anyone object that your Order was not so rigorous, or severe, as he
made it out to be; but that, on the contrary, the life led by its members
was easy, without many outward austerities, as was proved by the fact that
even the infirm and sickly were admitted into it, and attained to the same
sanctity as the rest, he replied: "Believe me, that if the body is there
preserved as if it were a vessel of election, the spirit is there tested
and tried in all possible ways, since the spirit that fails to stand every
possible trial is no stone fit for the building up of this congregation."
He went on to quote from the life of St. Bernard. Against that holy man it
was once urged that the austerities and bodily macerations practised in
his Order frightened away young men, and deterred them from entering it,
"Many," said the Saint, "see our crosses, but see not how well we are able
to carry them. It happens to our crosses, as it does to those which are
painted on the walls of a church when the Bishop in consecrating it makes a
second cross upon them with holy oil. The people see the cross made by the
painter, but they do not see that with which the Bishop has covered it. Our
crosses, so plainly visible, are softened by very many inward consolations,
which are concealed from the eyes of worldlings because they understand
not the spiritual things of God, nor see how we can find peace in this
bitterness which so repels those whose only thought is of themselves, and
of their own pleasures. In very truth," our Blessed Father continued, "the
worldling may notice in the rosebed of religion only the loveliness of
the flowers, and the sweetness of their perfume, but these conceal many
a thorn. The crosses of community life are hidden because the sisters of
this congregation have by _interior_ mortification to make up for what is
lacking in external austerities.
"This law of your Institute has been established out of consideration for
the weak and infirm, who may be admitted among you, and to whose service
the stronger members have to devote themselves. This is the reason why all
who purpose to enter the Order have to resolve to make war to the death
against their private judgment, and still more against their self-will
and self-love. This is why all ought to mortify all their passions and
affections, and absolutely to bend their understanding under the yoke of
obedience, to live, in short, no longer according to the old man, but
entirely according to the new man, in holiness and in justice. So to live
as to bear a continual cross even until death, and dying upon it, with the
Son of God, to say, _With Christ I am nailed to the Cross_, and _I live,
now not I, but Christ liveth in me._"[1]
[Footnote 1: Gal. ii. 19, 20.]