YEARNINGS AFTER CONTEMPLATION
"COULD I but give up all my time to contemplation, study, reading,
and reflection!"
Upon this aspiration as a background the whole matter of Isaac
Hecker's vocation must be considered. In substance we have met with
it very frequently already; in the shape just given it confronts us
on the first page of the new diary begun a few days before his
baptism. And as our reader accompanies us through the records he made
during the year that still elapsed before he entered the Redemptorist
Order, nothing, we think, will become more evident than that he was
called to something beyond adhesion to the Church, the worthy
reception of the sacraments, or even the ordinary sacerdotal state.
To make this still plainer at the start, it may be useful to describe
briefly the special grounds whereon Isaac Hecker fought his life-long
battles. These were, first: The validity of those natural aspirations
which are called religious, and which embrace the veracity of reason
in its essential affirmations. Second: Whether man be by nature
guileless or totally depraved: Third, Whether religion be or be not
intrinsically and primarily an elevating influence whose end is to
raise men to real union with God.
To many inquirers after the true religion such preliminary doubts
have been already settled, either by natural bent of mind or docility
to previous training; and they pass on to consider apostolical
succession, the primacy of Peter, the nature and number of the
sacraments, and other matters wherein heresy errs by denial or by
defect. But to Isaac Hecker all such points as these were, in a
sense, subsidiary. He had asked admission into the Church because he
found it to be the only teaching society on earth whose doctrines
gave complete and adequate satisfaction to that fundamental craving
of his nature which prompted his questions. She accredited herself to
him as fully by that fact as she must have done to many a philosophic
pagan among those who were the first disciples to the new faith
preached by St. John or St. Paul. All else he accepted with an
implicit, child-like confidence not different from that which moves
the loyal descendant of ages of Catholic ancestors. It was clear to
him that these accompanying doctrines and institutions must have been
enfolded within the original germ, and must be received on the same
authority, not by an analytic process and on their merits, one by one.
What he wanted was, in the first place, sustenance for what he
invariably calls "the life" given him; and next, light to see in what
way he was to put to use the strength so gained. The first effect of
the sacraments was what one might call the natural one of making more
visible the shadows which enveloped his path, as well as stimulating
his instinctive efforts to pierce through them. After the rapturous
joy which succeeded confession and absolution, a period of desolation
and dryness heavier than he had ever known at once set in. Perhaps he
had expected the very reverse of this. At all events, it was not many
days before it drew from him the complaint that in leaving Concord he
had also left behind him the great interior sweetness which had
buoyed him up. On August 11 he writes:
"How hard it has been for me to go through with all these solemn
mysteries and ceremonies without experiencing any of those great
delights which I have [before] felt. Why is this? Is it to try my
faith? O Lord! how long shall I be tried in this season of
desolation? Are these [delights] never to return? Have I acted
unworthily? What shall I do to receive these blessings again?"
Then he resolves to make a novena, fasting the while on bread and
water, to entreat their renewal. But at once a better mood sets in
and he adds:
"The highest state of perfection is to be content to be nothing.
Lord, give me strength not to ask of Thee anything that is pleasant
to me. I renounce what I have just asked for, and will try to do all
without the hope of recompense. If Thou triest my soul, let it not go
until it has paid the uttermost farthing."
"August 15, 1844.--To-day is the holyday of the Assumption of the
dear, Blessed Mary, Mother of our Lord and Saviour Jesus. Oh! may I
be found worthy of her regard and love."
"He that has not learned the bitterness of the drops of woe has not
learned to live. One hour of deep agony teaches man more love and
wisdom than a whole long life of happiness. . .
"In many faces I see passing through the crowded streets there seems
a veiled beauty, an angel quickening me with purer life as I go by
them in anxious haste. Do we not see the hidden worth, glory, and
beauty of others as our own becomes revealed to us? Would the Son of
God have been needed to ransom man if he were not of incomparable
value?"
One of the dreams that at this time occupied Isaac's mind was that of
undertaking a pilgrimage to Rome. He wrote to Henry Thoreau,
proposing that they should go in company, and felt regret when his
invitation was not accepted. His notion was to "work, beg, and travel
on foot, so far as land goes, to Rome. I know of no pleasanter,
better way, both for soul and body, than to make such a pilgrimage in
the old, middle-age fashion; to suffer hunger, storm, cold, heat--all
that can affect the body of flesh. If we receive hard usage, so much
the better will it be for us. Why thump one's own flesh here? Let it
be done for us by others, our soul, meanwhile, looking at higher
objects. . . . I feel that I have the stuff to do it in me. I would
love to work and beg my way to Rome if it cost me ten or fifteen
years of my life."
Thoreau replied to this proposal that such a tour had been one of his
own early dreams, but that he had outlived it. He had now "retired
from all external activity in disgust, and his life was more
Brahminical, Artesian-well, Inner-Temple like." So the scheme, which
had secured Bishop McCloskey's approbation, although he had forcibly
represented to young Hecker that to go absolutely destitute of money,
and dependent for all things upon alms, would be impossible, was
presently shelved. It was but one of the diversions with which
certain souls, not yet enlightened as to their true course, nor
arrived at the abandonment of themselves to Divine Providence, are
amused. Their inactivity seems idleness to them, and they mistake the
restless impulse which bids them be up and doing for the voice of
conscience or the inspiration of heavenly wisdom; but it is neither.
Sometimes it is a superfluity of natural energy seeking an outlet;
sometimes it is the result of the strain placed upon nature by a very
powerful influx of grace. The infusion of power from above is often
greatly in excess of the light necessary for guidance in its use.
This last rarely comes entirely from the inner touch of the Holy
Spirit. In the lives of the Fathers of the Desert we read of a
certain young brother, Ptolemy, who went astray from sound
spirituality. When admonished he asserted that he need learn the
spiritual life from none save the Holy Ghost, of whose inspirations
any man of good will could be certain. He was told by the old monks
that the inspiration of the Holy Ghost and the understanding of the
same are two distinct things, and that this understanding is
disclosed only to him whose will has been purified by the practice of
obedience and humility. In truth, it is rarely that the inner voice
of God does not call for an external interpreter, which, if it does
no more than furnish a divinely authorized test and criterion, is
none the less necessary. Moreover, the inner voice seldom provides
ways and means for its own purposes. Father Hecker was ever a
strenuous defender of this inner and outer unity of the Divine
guidance, and his vocation was an illustration of it. However
masterful the inner voice of God which called him away from the
world, he was helpless till he heard its tones harmonized by the
counsel of Bishop McCloskey. When he found that even with this
backing secured, the external obstacles to his plan proved
invincible, he was once more nonplussed. "If not this, what?" he
asks himself.
"I feel deeply and strongly that the circle of family happiness is
not sufficient for my nature, but what I can profitably do outside of
this I have not the ability to say.
"That our real wishes are presentiments of our capabilities is a very
true proverb, no doubt; but are we not most ignorant of what these
are? It seems as though we are all unconsciously educated for unknown
ends and purposes.
"I look upon myself as belonging to that class of decidedly
unfortunate beings who have no marked talent for any particular
pursuit. The words talent, genius, have for me no application
whatever. I stand on the confines of both worlds, not feeling the
necessity nor having the true valor to decide for either sphere.
"O heaven! why was this deep, ever-burning life given me, unless it
be that I might be slowly and painfully consumed by it? All greatness
is in the actor, not in the act. He whom God has blessed with an end
in life, can earnestly labor to accomplish that end. But alas for
that poor mortal whose existence only serves to fill up space in the
world! How excruciating to him to be conscious of this! O Prometheus!
"Simply to be what God would have us, is to be greater than to have
the applause of the whole world otherwise. All such statements as
this are necessarily one-sided. Because there are always good and
virtuous men in the world whose approbation is that of God.
"There is an instinct in man which draws him to danger, as in
battle-fields; as there is also in the fly, drawing it to the flame
of light. It is the desire of the spirit within, seeking for release."
"August 20, 1844.--Scarce do I know what to say of myself. If I
accuse myself by the light given me, it would lead me to leave all
around me. My conscience thus accuses me. And in partaking of worldly
things and going into the company around me, my interior self has no
pleasure, and I feel afterwards that the labor and time have been
misspent. How to live a life which shall be conformable to the life
wlthin and not separate from the persons and circumstances around me,
I cannot conceive. I am now like one who tastes a little of this and
then a little of that dish, while his time is wasted and his mind
distracted from that pure enjoyment which is a foretaste of the bliss
of the angels. I feel my primitive instincts and unvitiated tastes
daily becoming more sensible to inspirations from above, from the
invisible. The ideal world, the soul world, the kingdom of heaven
within, I feel as if I were more a friend and citizen of O Lord! my
heart would break forth in praise of the riches of the life given
within! It seems that in this that we enjoy all, know all, and
possess all. If we have Thee, O Lord! if Thou hast taken up Thy
dwelling in us, we enjoy heaven within and paradise without!"
"August 21, 1844. The object of education should be to place each
individual mind in vital union with the One Universal Educator. . . .
"The only pleasure for man is his union with _a priori_ principles."
"August 23, 1844.--If the animal passions are indulged, of course you
must pay the cost. If you get a large family of children about you,
and please your animal appetites with all sorts of luxury, and
indulge your pride in all the foolish fashions of show, do not wonder
that it cost all your time to uphold such an expensive life. This is
necessary, unless you cheat some one else out of the hard-earned
value of his labor. I cannot conceive how a Christian, under the
present arrangements, can become wealthy without violating repeatedly
the precepts of his religion. . . ."
"Where shall we find God? Within.
"How shall we hear the voices of angels? Listen with the inward ear.
"When are we with God? When we are no more with ourselves.
"When do we hear the music of heaven? When we are entirely silent.
"What is the effect of sin? Confusion.
"Where does God dwell? In silence.
"Who loves God? He who knows nothing and loves nothing of himself.
"What is prayer? The breath of silence.
"What is love? The motion of the pure will.
"What is light? The shadow of love.
"What is force? The power of love.
"Where does God dwell? Where there is peace.
"Who is most like God? He who knows he is the least like Him.
"What is the innermost of all? Stillness.
"Who is the purest? He who is most beyond temptation.
"What is the personality of man? The absolute negation of
God.
"What is God? The absolute affirmation in man.
"What is it to know? It is to be ignorant.
"What should we desire? Not to desire.
"What is the most positive answer? Silence.
"What is the truest? That which cannot be proven."
"August 25, 1844.--In silence, suffering without murmuring. An
eternal thirst, enduring without being quenched. Infinite longings
without being met. Heart ever burning, never refreshed. Void within
and mystery all around. Ever escaping that which we would reach.
Tortured incessantly without relief. Alone--bereft of God, angels,
men--all. Hopes gone, fears vanished, and love dead within. These,
and more than these, must man suffer."
"August 28, 1844.--Is it not because I have been too much engaged in
reading and paid too little attention to the centre that I have lost
myself, as it were? My position here distracts my attention and I
lose the delight, intimate knowledge, and sweet consciousness of my
interior life. How can this be remedied? I am constantly called of to
matters in which I have no relish; and if I retreat for a short time,
they rest on me like a load, so that I cannot call myself free at any
moment. I see the case as it stands, and feel I am losing my interior
life from the false position in which I am placed.
"The human ties and the material conditions in which I am should
unquestionably be sacrificed to the divine interior relation to the
One, the Love-Spirit, which, alas! I have so sensibly felt. Can a man
live in the world and follow Christ? I know not; but, as for me, I
find it impossible. I feel more and more the necessity of leaving the
society and the distracting cares of a city business for a silent and
peaceful retreat, to the end that I may restore the life I fear I am
losing. Our natural interests should be subject to our human ties;
our human ties to our spiritual relations; and who is he who brings
all these into divine harmony?
"How shall I make the sacrifice which shall accomplish the sole end I
have, and should have, in view? Thrice have I left home for this
purpose, and each time have returned unavoidably so, at least, it
seems to me. Once more, I trust, will prove a permanent and immovable
trial."
To some, a most striking incidental proof of his inaptitude for the
ordinary layman's life, is found in the subjoined extract from the
memoranda. Speaking of this period, Father Hecker said:
"Some time after my reception into the Church, I went to Bishop
McCloskey and told him I had scruples against renting a seat in the
Cathedral in Mott Street. 'If I do,' I said, 'I shall feel sore at
the thought that I have set apart for me in the house of God a seat
which a poor man cannot use.' I told him that for this reason I had
knelt down near the doorway, among the crowd of transient poor
people. Oh, how he eased my spirit by sympathizing with my sentiment,
and satisfied me by declaring that the renting of pews was only from
necessity, and he wished we could get along without it."
His relations with some of his former friends at Brook Farm still
continued, though in a somewhat attenuated condition. From a long and
appreciative letter sent him by Burrill Curtis, we make an extract,
followed by Isaac's comments on it:
"October 13, 1844.--Your preparedness for any fate has been one of
the chief attractions of your character to me, for I believe it is
deeper than a mere state of mind. But, for all that, your
restlessness is uppermost just now; not as a contradictory element,
for it is not; but as a discovering power."
Isaac's journal, just at this time, was chiefly devoted to what he
calls "the many smaller, venial sins which beset my path and keep me
down to earth. Also to prescribe such remedies as may seem to me best
for these thorns in the flesh." On October 26 he notes that he has
received the letter just quoted, and remarks:
"It showed more regard for me than I thought he had. The truth is, I
do not feel myself worthy to be the friend of any one, and would pass
my life in being a friend to all, without recognizing their
friendship towards me.
"To-day I have felt more humanly tender than ever. The past has come
up before me with much emotion. ----- has been much in my thoughts.
"I have experienced those unnatural feelings which I have felt
heretofore. I feel that the spirit world is near and glimmering all
around me. The nervous shocks I have been subject to, but which I
have not experienced for some time back, recurred this evening. I am
known to spirits, or else I apprehend them."
He had taken up Latin and Greek again, and seems to have entered a
class of young men under the tutorship of a Mr. Owen. The entry just
quoted from goes on as follows:
"I do not devote as much time to study as I should, or as I might. I
fear I shall never make anything of my studies. I do not endeavor
with all my might. This study has thrown me into another sphere. I
like it not. I feel apprehensive of something, of somewhat. Ten years
from now will fix my destiny, if I have any."
Much good as he continued to receive from the sacrament of penance,
he found a not altogether usual difficulty in preparing for it.
Perhaps it was in the counsel he received there that he got courage
to gird himself for his renewed attack upon the languages, for his
delinquencies in this respect have the air of being the most tangible
of the matters on his conscience.
"I must prepare for confession this week," he writes on November 5,
1844. "Oh! would that I could accuse myself as I should. Man is not
what he should be so long as he is not an angel. Oh, dear God! give
me Thy aid, and help me in my weaknesses. What sins can I accuse
myself of now? First--oh, Love! give me light to accuse myself--to
see my sins. _This is my greatest sin; that I cannot accuse myself
and am so wicked._
"Each day I omit a hundred duties that I should not. Lord, give me
Thy Spirit, that I may be humble, meek, and sweet in all my walk and
conversation. Fill my heart with Thy love."
In a little while he found himself able to study more diligently, and
though he continually regrets the inroad this makes upon his interior
life, he seems not only to have persevered, but to have taken
considerable interest and an active part in the debates got up at
regular intervals by the class he had joined. He notes that he has
serious doubts whether it will be wise for him to express his full
mind on some of the subjects brought up. His fellow-pupils were all
Protestants, and some of them well-informed and talented young men.
His views would be new to them, and so would many of his authorities
for his statements of fact, and he thought it not unlikely that a
commotion might sometimes be raised which would not at all commend
itself to the teacher of the institution. He concluded, however, to
throw prudence to the winds, and on controverted points to express
his sentiments freely and frankly. There were some animated
discussions, no doubt.
He was endeavoring at this time to retrench his hours of sleep to the
narrowest dimensions compatible with health, and found it, we may
note, the most difficult of his austerities. In other respects they
remained severe, as this entry may witness:
"November 27, 1844.--I am sorely perplexed what to eat. Nuts, apples,
and bread seem not a diet wholly suitable, and what to add I know
not. Potatoes are not good; I think they were the cause of my illness
last week. I do not wish to partake of anything that comes even
remotely from an animal. Cooking, also, I wish, as far as possible,
to dispense with. I would I could dispense with the whole digestive
apparatus! Cheese, butter, eggs, milk, are for many reasons not a
part of my diet."
The balance of this fourth volume of his diary, begun September 9,
1844, and ended January 2, 1845, is mainly occupied with addresses to
his guardian angel. He was, as those who knew him will remember,
always extremely devout to the angelic choirs. On his birthday this
year he writes as follows:
"December 18, 1844.--Let me look back for a few moments and see where
I stood last year this time (an incomprehensible length), and where I
now stand. Then my path was dim, unfixed, unsettled. Then I was not
so disentangled from the body and its desires as, I hope in God, I
now am. In all I feel a consciousness that since then I have
spiritually grown--been transformed. For my present I cannot speak.
For my future, it seems I dare not speak.
"Dreams of the future! Exalted visions! Beautiful, unspeakable hopes!
Deep, inarticulate longings that fill the conscious soul! Ah! so
sweet, so harmonious, so delightful, like an angel, like the bride of
the pure and bright soul adorned for the nuptials, do I see the
future beckoning me with a clear, transparent smile onward to her
presence. 'Ah!' my soul would say, 'we will meet, for I am in thy
presence, and faithful in God may heaven grant me to be.' The beauty,
the grace, the love, the sweetness that attract me, are beyond all
comparison. Ah! thou eternal, ever-blooming virgin, the Future, shall
I ever embrace thee? Shall I ever see thee nearer to my heart? I look
at myself and I am bowed down low in grief; but when I cast my eyes
up to thee, in seeing thee I am lost. The grace and beauty I see in
thee passes into my soul, and I am all that thou art. I am then
wedded to thee, and I would that it were an eternal union. But ah! my
eyes, when turned upon myself, lose all sight of thee, and meet
nothing but my own spots and blemishes. How canst thou love me? I
say; and for thy pure love I am melted into thee as one."
He continues:
"Lord, let me speak of my many and grievous sins; but oh! when I
would do so, my mouth speaks nothing forth but Thy praises.
"I would offer my whole soul afresh to all that is, for the sake of
the love of God. . . . Lord, I am Thine, for Thou dost teach me this
be Thy unutterable, ever-present love."
"January 3.--Last Saturday my confessor was not at home when I
called. I have waited until this morning, the Saturday following. It
is sad to me to wait to partake of the Blessed Sacrament. How much
joy, love, and sweetness it is to the soul! I feel my soul to glow
again with renewed love when I have partaken of the blessed communion
of Christ. This is my spiritual food. It is the goodness, mercy, and
love of God which keeps me from sadness."
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