THE LONG ILLNESS
WE have now arrived at the last period of Father Hecker's life, the
long illness which completed his meed of suffering and of merit, and
gradually drew him down to the grave. It will not be expected that we
shall treat extensively of this subject; nor can one who writes in
the beginning of the '90s about the closing scenes of a life which
ended late in the '80s go very much into detail without bringing in
the living. As to Father Hecker's latter days in this world, it may
be said that his joy and courage and buoyancy of spirits, as well as
his hopeful outlook upon men and things, were all tried in the
furnace of extreme bodily suffering as well as of the most
excruciating mental agony.
Four distinct epochs divide Father Hecker's life: one when in early
days he was driven from home and business and ultimately into the
Church by aspirations towards a higher life; another marks the
extraordinary dealings of God with his soul during his novitiate and
time of studies; the third was the struggle in Rome which produced
the Paulist community; the fourth and last was the illness which we
are now to consider. The closing scenes of his life are scattered
over more than sixteen years, filled with almost every form of pain
of body and darkness of soul.
From severe colds, acute headaches, and weakness of the digestive
organs Father Hecker was a frequent sufferer. But towards the end of
the year 1871 his headaches became much more painful, his appetite
left him, and sleeplessness and excitability of the nervous system
were added to his other ailments. Remedies of every kind were tried,
but without permanent relief, and, although he lectured and preached
and did his other work all winter and most of the following spring,
his weakness increased, until by the summer of 1872 he was wholly
incapacitated. The winter of 1872-3 was spent in the South without
notable improvement, and early in the following summer, acting upon
the advice of physicians, he went to Europe. "Look upon me as a dead
man," he said with tears as he bade the community farewell; "God is
trying me severely in soul and body, and I must have the courage to
suffer crucifixion." He also assured us that whatever action should
be taken in adopting the Constitutions, then under consideration, had
his hearty approval beforehand. He was accompanied to Europe by
Father Deshon, from whom he parted with deep emotion at Ragatz, a
health resort in Switzerland.
Father Hecker remained more than two years in Europe, trying every
change of climate and scene, and every other remedy advised by
physicians, and returned to New York in October, 1875, with
unimproved health. He had derived most benefit from a journey up the
Nile in the winter of 1873-4, and a short visit to the Holy Land in
the following spring. While in Europe his mind was busy, and he
managed to meet many of his old friends there, and formed new and
important acquaintances. In February, 1875, he published his
pamphlet, _An Exposition of the Church in View of the Present Needs
of the Age,_ which contains his estimate of the evils of our times,
especially in Europe, and the adequate remedy for them. On his return
to New York he was too weak to bear the routine of the house in
Fifty-ninth Street and lived with his brother George till the fall of
1879, when he removed to the convent, remaining with the community
till his death nine years afterwards.
As to the physical sufferings of those last sixteen years, they were
never such as to impair Father Hecker's mental soundness. He never
had softening of the brain, as the state of his nerves before going
to Europe seemed to indicate; nor had he heart disease, as was for a
time suspected. His mental powers were intact from first to last,
though his organs of speech were sometimes too slow for his thoughts.
His digestion had been impaired by excessive abstinence in early
manhood, dating back to a time before he was a Catholic, and his
nervous system, also, had been injured by that means, as well as by
the pressure of excessive work in later life. Gradual impoverishment
of the blood was the result, and the dropping down of nervous force,
till at last the body struck work altogether. Four or five years
before his death Father Hecker became subject to frequent attacks of
angina pectoris, said to be the most painful of all diseases. During
the sixteen years of illness every symptom of bodily illness was
aggravated by the least attention to community affairs or business
matters, and also by interior trials which will presently be
described.
He was not unwilling to trace his breaking down to excessive
austerity in former years. Once when asked for advice about corporal
mortification he answered: "Don't go too fast. Remember St. Bernard's
regret for having gone too far with such things in his youth. For my
part, for many years I practised frightful penances, and now I fear
that much of my physical helplessness is due to that cause." His
state was not one of utter debility, though that quickly resulted if
watchfulness were relaxed, or from application to responsible duties.
But his strength never was to much to speak of, "only so, so," to use
his own expressions, which signified a very small amount of the power
of exertion or endurance in the muscles and nerves.
"What about my health?" he wrote from Europe. "There are days when I
feel quite myself, and then others when I sink down to the bottom. My
condition of mind and body often perplexes me, and there is nothing
left me but to abandon all into the hands of Divine Providence. The
end of it all is entirely in the dark, and were there not parallel
epochs in my past life, and similar things in the lives of some
others which I have read, my perplexity would be greater."
And again, from Ragatz, in the summer of 1875:
"My state of health is much the same. I found last week that my pulse
was bounding in a few hours from the sixties into the nineties
without any apparent cause. Yesterday I determined to consult the
leading physician here. He examined me, and, like all others,
attributes everything to my nerves, resulting from impoverished
blood. I say to myself: 1st, How long will the machine keep working
in this style? 2d, There will be a smash-up some day. 3d, Or perhaps
I shall be able to get up more steam and run it a while longer. Who
knows?"
And in another letter from the same place:
"Even here, freed from all [labors], it often seems to me that a good
breeze, if it struck me in the right place, would drive the soul out
of my body, so lightly is it connected with it, so slightly do they
hold together."
As already said, his trip to Egypt had given him a temporary relief,
and this was due, so he supposed, to utter change of scene and to
solitude. When it was over he wrote as follows:
"This trip has been in every respect much more to my benefit than my
most sanguine expectations led me to hope. It seems to me almost like
an inspiration, such have been its beneficial effects to my mind and
body. In Nubia there reigned profound silence and repose, and in
lower Egypt, although there is more activity and evidence of modern
life, still it is quiet and tranquil. I feel somewhat like one who
has been in solitude for three or four months."
"My daily régime," he writes to his brother and Mrs. Hecker, from
Italy, "has not changed these two years which I have spent in Europe.
If I rise before nine I feel it the whole day. In the morning I awake
about seven for good, and take a cup of tea with some bread and
butter. I then read; sometimes, not often, I write a note in bed, and
rise about nine or ten. I take a lunch at twelve and dine at six. My
appetite is not much at any time. My sleep, so so. [All through his
illness he went to bed at nine or shortly after.] I feel for the most
part like a man balancing whether he will keep on swimming or go
under the water. Sometimes I take a nap two or three times a day--if
I can get it. There are weeks when I do not and cannot put my pen to
paper. To write a note is a great effort. . . . Though my strength is
so little my mind is not unoccupied, and I keep up some reading."
Just in what way his spiritual difficulties accelerated his bodily
decline it is hard to say, for he was generally extremely reticent as
to his interior life. A few words dropped unawares and at long
intervals, and carefully taken down at the time, give fleeting
glimpses into a soul which was a dark chamber of sorrow, though it
was sometimes peaceful sorrow. To this we can fortunately add some
sentences written in an unusually confidential mood in letters from
Europe. Before his illness he was over-joyful, or so it seemed to
some to whom this trait of his was a temptation. "Why," it was said,
"religion seems to have no penitential side to Father Hecker at all."
From the day of his ordination until his illness began he might have
made the Psalmist's words his own: "There be many that say, Who shall
show us any good? Lord, Thou hast set upon us the light of Thy
countenance, Thou hast put gladness in my heart." But now the light
of that radiant joy had faded away, and the face of God, though as
present as ever before, loomed over him dark, threatening, and
majestic. He had studied spiritual doctrine too well not to be ready
for this trial, nor had it been sent to him without warning.
Nevertheless the sensible presence of God's love had been so vivid
and constant that he could alternate the joy of labor with that of
prayer with the greatest ease. And now it was an alternation, not of
choice but of dire compulsion, between bitter, helpless inaction, and
a state of prayer which was a mere dread of an all-too-near Judge. It
seemed to him as if he had boasted, "I said in my abundance I shall
not be moved for ever," and now he must end the inspired sentence,
"Thou hast turned away Thy face from me and I became troubled." When
this obscuration of the Divine Love first grew upon him the misery of
it was intolerable and was borne with extreme difficulty. The pain
was lessened at intervals as time passed on, and before a year had
elapsed, his letters from Europe, though they did not before complain
of desolation, now show its previous existence by hailing the advent
of seasons of interior peace. But from beginning to end of this
entire period of his life we have not found a word of his speaking of
joy. And again, even the peace would go and the desolation return;
the face of God, not any time smiling, had lost its calm regard and
was once more bent frowning upon him. The following extracts from
letters written from Switzerland in the autumn of 1874, and within a
month of each other, tell of these alternations of storm and calm:
"As to my health these last ten days I cannot say much. My interior
trials have been such that it would be impossible that my health
should improve under them. As long as they last I must expect to
suffer. I see nothing before me but darkness, and there is nothing
within my soul but desolation and bitterness. Cut off from all that
formerly interested me, banished as it were from home and country,
isolated from everything, the doors of heaven shut, I feel
overwhelmed with misery and crushed to atoms. My being away from my
former duties is a negative relief; it frees me from the additional
burden and trouble which would necessarily fall upon me if I were
within reach."
"There remains nothing for me but to confide in, to follow, and
abandon myself to that Guide who has directed me from the beginning.
I read Job, Jeremias, and Thomas a Kempis, and meditate on the
sufferings of Our Lord and the character of His death. I recall to
mind what I have read on these matters in spiritual writers and the
Lives of the Saints. I reflect how from the very nature of the
purification of the soul this darkness, bitterness, and desolation
must be; but not a drop of consolation is distilled into my soul. The
only words which come to my lips are 'My soul is sad unto death,' and
these I repeat and repeat again. At all times, in rising and in going
to bed, in company and at my meals, I whisper them to myself, while
to others I appear cheerful and join in the talk. At the most I can
but die; this is the lot of all, and no one can tell the moment when.
"Withal, I try to have patience, resignation, endurance, and trust in
God, waiting on His guidance and leaving all in His hands."
"Since my last I have had some relief from my interior trials, and no
sooner does this take place than my body recovers some of its
strength. It would not have been possible for me to have borne much
longer the desolation which filled my soul. Each new trial, when
passed, leaves me more quiet and tranquil. Past periods of my life
give me hope that this trial will also come to an end. What will that
be? How will it happen? and when? God alone knows. He that has led me
so many years still guides me, and resistance to His will is worse
than vain. Judging from that same past, my expectations to return to
my former labors are not sanguine. It seems to me sometimes that I am
cut off from these to be prepared for a deeper and broader basis for
future action. But whether this will be so or not, is in the hands of
God. Whatever He wills me to do, I must do it. My own will has become
null, and all that is left for me to do is to wait on His good
pleasure and His own time. To act or not to act, to suffer or not to
suffer, to speak or to keep silence, to return to my former labors or
never to return, to live on or die, all have become indifferent to
me. I am in God's hands, with no will of my own; for He has taken it,
and it is for Him to do with me whatever He pleases. If this be a
source of pain to others, none but God knows what it has cost me.
There as nothing, therefore, left but to wait in trust on God's will
and His mercy and good pleasure."
And again the darkened heavens are above him:
"Death invited, alas! will not come. What a relief it would be from a
continuous and prolonged death!"
The obscurity of the drawing of the Holy Ghost, as well as of God's
designs, and his incessant fretting against this, partly involuntary
and, as he confesses, partly voluntary also, "disturbs my health and
reduces my strength."
Next to the evil self-company of an unforgiven sinner there is no
loneliness so sad as that of the invalid. He needs company most who
is worst company for himself. Yet Father Hecker has not left a single
word which would suggest that during more than two years of absence
from all his life associates in religion, as well as from his blood
kindred, whom he loved with a powerful love, he felt the lack of
human companionship. One reason for this was his contemplative
nature, and this was the main reason. He was born to be a hermit, and
was an active liver only by being born again for a special vocation.
Another reason was that his mind was so constituted that, when
subjected to trial, it rested better when quite out of sight of
everybody and everything associated with past responsibilities. He
bade adieu to Father Deshon when the latter left him at Ragatz with
sorrow, but without reluctance; and when a year afterwards at was
suggested that one of the community should come to Europe and keep
him company, he refused without hesitation, saying that his companion
would be burdened with a sick man's infirmities, or the sick man
distressed by his companion's inactivity on his account. But towards
the very end of his life there were times when he felt the need of
congenial company and was extremely grateful for it. But this did not
happen often, and when it did it was because the waves of despondency
which submerged him were heavier and darker than usual.
The following extract from a letter shows this state of mind:
"As I get somewhat more accustomed to my separation from all that was
so dear to me, the strangeness of my position seems to me more and
more inexplicable. All the things which are going on in Fifty-ninth
Street were once all to me, and nothing appeared beyond. To be
separated from all; to look upon one's past as a dream; to become a
stranger to one's self, wandering from city to city, from country to
country, ever in a strange land and among strangers; to be attached
to nothing; to see no definite future; to be an enigma to one's self;
to find no light in any one to guide me, isolated from all except
God--who will explain what all this means? where it will end? and how
soon? As I become resigned to this state of things my health suffers
less. Occasionally my interior trials and struggles are almost
insupportable, but less so than if I were surrounded by those who
have an affection for me. To worry others without their being able to
give me any relief would only increase my suffering, and finally
become unbearable. All is for the best! God's will be done!"
What he wrote to a friend suffering from illness he applied to
himself; he made spiritual profit, as best he might, from separation
from the men and the vocation he loved so well:
"I can sympathize with you more completely in your sickness being
myself not well. To be shut off from the world, and cut off from
human activity--and this is what it means to be sick--gives the soul
the best conditions to love God alone, and this is Paradise upon
earth. Blessed sickness! which detaches the soul from all creatures
and unites it to its sovereign Good. But one's duties and
responsibilities, what of these in the meantime? We must give them
all up one day, and why not now? We think ourselves necessary, and
others try to make us believe the same; there is but little truth and
much self-love in this. 'What else do I require of thee,' says our
Lord in Thomas à Kempis, 'than that thou shouldst resign thyself
integrally to Me.' This is what our Lord is fighting for in our
souls."
Yet in having his life-work torn away from him he was like a man
whose leg has been crushed and then amputated, the phantom of the
lost limb aching in every muscle, bone, and nerve. This was partly
the secret of his pain while in Europe, at the mere thought of his
former active life; it haunted him with memories of its lost
opportunities, its shortcomings in motive or achievement, or what he
fancied to be such, in view of the Divine justice, now always
reckoning with him.
He was ever cheerful in word, even when the pallor of his face and
the blazing of his eyes betrayed his bodily and spiritual pain. "The
end of religion is joy, joy here no less than joy hereafter," he once
insisted, and he argued long and energetically for the proposition;
but meantime he was racked with inner agony and was too feeble to
walk alone. In his letters and diaries he speaks of his illness and
of its symptoms as of those of another person of whom he was giving
news.
His wanderings in Europe were like gropings after the Divine will in
the midst of the spirit's night, often in anguish, often in
tranquillity, never in his former bounding joy, always with
submission, beforehand, at the moment, and afterwards. Although the
Divine Will gave a cold welcome, he sought no other refuge.
"There are a thousand things," he writes, "that would worry me if I
would only let them, but with God's help I keep them on at arm's
length. His grace suffices, or in His presence all the things of this
world disappear. God alone has been always the whole desire of my
heart, and what else can I wish than that His will may be wholly
fulfilled in me. Having rooted everything else out of my heart, and
cut me off from all things, what other desire can I have than that He
who has begun the work should finish it according to His design. It
is not important that I should know what that design is; it is enough
that I am in His hands, to do with me whatever He pleases. To be and
to live in His presence is all."
And again:
"The mind quiet both as to the past and the future, contented with
the present moment: as to the past, leaving it out of sight; as to
the future, unsolicitous. As to the present, satisfied to be
outwardly homeless, cut on from all past friendships and relations.
The present gives me all the conditions required for preparation for
the future. Any time these two years past I would have made an entire
renunciation of all relations to my past labors and position, but
waited as a dictate of prudence. Now I feel ready to make it with
calmness and in view of all its consequences."
"No sooner do I set my mind to pray than God fills it with Himself,"
Father Hecker was once heard to say. And this power of prayer by no
means left him after 1872; only that the God who filled him was no
longer revealed as the Supreme Love, but as the Supreme Majesty.
"There was once a priest," he said, speaking of himself, "who had
been very active for God, until at last God gave him a knowledge of
the Divine Majesty. After seeing the Majesty of God that priest felt
very strange and was much humbled, and knew how little a thing he was
in comparison with God." Comparison with God! It was this that gave
him, as it did Job, a terror of the Divine justice beyond words to
express, and impressed that air of spiritual dejection upon him which
struck his old friends as so strongly in contrast with his former
happy and vivacious manners. "You will never know," he once said,
while being helped into bed after a very sad day, "how much I have
suffered till you are in heaven." Meantime this awful Deity, so
prompt to enter Father Hecker's mind, coming at times like a
withering blast from the desert, was still the only attraction of his
soul, the only object of his love. He could no more keep his mind off
God now than he could before, and now God killed him, and then He
made him alive. The ideas of the Divine goodness, patience, mercy,
and love which formerly welled up in abundant floods at the thought
of God, at the same thought now were dried up and disappeared. "Oh!"
he once exclaimed, "if I could only be sure that I shall not be
damned!" This was said unawares while listening to the life of a
saint. The reader will, therefore, understand that Father Hecker's
inner trouble was not a state of mere aridity, a difficulty of
concentration of mind on spiritual things, or a vagrancy of thought;
it was a perpetual facing of his Divine Accuser and Judge, a
trembling woe at the sight of Infinite Majesty on the part of one for
whom the Divine love was the one necessary of life for soul and body.
Yet he knew that this was really a higher form of prayer than any he
had yet enjoyed, that it steadily purified his understanding by
compelling ceaselessly repeated acts of faith in God's love, purified
his will by constant resignation of every joy except God alone--God
received by any mode in which it might please the Divine Majesty to
reveal Himself. He was, therefore, willing, nay, in a true sense,
glad thus to walk by mere faith and live by painful love. "I should
deem it a misfortune if God should cure me of my infirmities and
restore me to active usefulness, so much have I learned to appreciate
the value of my passive condition of soul." This he said less than
three years before his death. And about the same time, to a very
intimate friend: "God revealed to me in my novitiate that at some
future time I should suffer the crucifixion. I have always longed for
it; but oh, now that it has come it is hard, oh, it is terrible!" And
this he said weeping.
One aspect of the Divine Majesty which threatened for years to
overpower him was the Last Judgment. "God has given me to see the
terrors of the day of judgment," he once said, "and it has tried me
with dreadful severity; but it is a wonderfully great privilege."
Humility grew upon him day by day. No one who knew him well in his
day of greatest power could think him a proud man, but his confidence
in his vocation, and in himself is God's representative, had been
immense. The following, from a memorandum, shows how he ended:
"I told him how courageous I felt. _Answer:_ That is the way I used
to feel. I used to say, O Lord! I feel as if I had the whole world on
my shoulders; and all I've got to say is, O Lord! I am sorry you've
given me such small potatoes to carry on my back. But now--well, when
a mosquito comes in I say, Mosquito, have you any good to do me? Yes?
Then I thank you, for I am glad to get good from a mosquito."
It will thus be seen that whatever diseases may have enfeebled Father
Hecker's body, his spirit suffered from a malady known only to great
souls--thirst for God. This gave him rest neither day nor night, or
allowed him intervals of peace only to return with renewed force.
Some men love gold too much for their peace of mind, some love women
too much, and some power; men like Father Hecker love the Infinite
Good too much to be happy in soul or sound in body unless He be
revealed to them as a loving father. And this knowledge of God once
possessed and lost again, although it breeds a purer, a more
perfectly disinterested love, leaves both soul and body in a state of
acute distress. "My soul thirsteth for Thee, my flesh longeth for
Thee, in a dry and desert land without water."
Tried by these visitations, he was free to acknowledge that in past
times he had been favored above others:
"Oh! there was a time," he said, "when I was borne along high above
nature by the grace of God, and I feared that I should die without
being subject to nature, and should never feel the need of the
supernatural. But for many years now I have been left by God to my
natural weakness and get nothing whatever except what I earn."
The following words of his indicate the cleansing process of these
divine influences; it is from memoranda:
"He said to me once, after he had been for nine or ten years subject
to almost unceasing desolation of spirit, 'all this suffering, though
it has been excruciating, has greatly purified me and was of the last
necessity to me. Oh, how proud I was! how vain I was! And these long
years of abandonment by God have healed me.' I think this was the
only time I ever knew him to connect his sufferings with fault. What
he said may have referred to the mere temper and frame of his mind
rather than to particular, specific faults. He undoubtedly thought
more highly of human nature before that desolation began than he did
at the end of it."
Meantime he used every aid for the assuagement of his interior
sufferings, just as he conscientiously tried every means for the
restoration of his bodily health. Good books helped him greatly. He
recited his Breviary as he would read a new and interesting book,
underlining here and there, and noting on the margins. But during
most of his time of illness his infirmities made the Divine Office
impossible. Every day he read or had read to him some parts of the
Scriptures in English. "Without the Book of Job," he used to say, "I
would have broken down completely." Lallemant, St. John of the Cross,
St. Teresa, St. Catherine of Genoa, and other authors of a mystical
tendency he frequently used. But next to the Scriptures no book
served him so well during his illness as _Abandonment, or Entire
Surrender to Divine Providence_, a small posthumous treatise of Father
P. J. Caussade, S.J., edited and published by Father H. Ramière,
S.J., with a strong defence of the author's doctrine by way of
preface. At Father Hecker's suggestion it we translated into English
by Miss Ella McMahon, and has already soothed many hearts in
difficulties of every kind. It is an ingenious compendium of all
spiritual wisdom, but it seemed to Father Hecker that submission to
the Divine Will is taught in its pages as it has never been done
since the time of the Apostles. The little French copy which he used
is thumbed all to pieces. He used it incessantly when in great
trouble of mind and knew it almost by heart. As he read its sentences
or heard them read he would ejaculate, "Ah, how sweet that is!" "Oh,
what a great truth!" "Oh, that is a most consoling doctrine!" just as
a man exhausted with thirst and covered with dust, as he drinks and
bathes at a gushing fountain in the desert, calls out and sighs and
smiles.
Did he not find men here and there in his travels with whom he would
take counsel and who could comfort him? There is little trace of it,
though he never lacked sympathetic friends for his bodily ailments.
In truth he tried to maintain a cheerful exterior, though
occasionally he failed in his attempts to do so. Only once do we find
by his letters and diaries that he opened his mind freely on his
interior difficulties while in Europe, and that was to Cardinal
Deschamps, who gave him, he writes, very great comfort.
No part of his sojourn in the Old World pleased and profited him so
much as his trip up the Nile in the winter of 1873-4.
"In information of most various kinds," he writes, "it has been the
richest four months of my whole life. The value intellectually and
religiously as well as physically is incalculable. Given but one
trip, it would puzzle me to name any which can compare with that up
the Nile to Wady-Halfa. Nubia must be included. It has something of
its own which you can find neither in Egypt nor elsewhere: silence,
repose, almost total solitude, and its own peculiar people."
His companions were few in number and congenial in tastes, the
climate mild and equable, and the people and country altogether
novel. The journey, which extended into Nubia, was made in a
flat-boat, the _Sittina Miriam el Adra--Our Lady Mary the
Virgin_--the sail propelling them when the wind was fair, the crew
towing them in calm weather; when the wind was contrary they tied up
to the bank. The progress was, of course, slow, and yet his diary,
the only one written during his illness with ample entries, shows
that every day gave new enjoyment. He was provided with letters which
enabled him to say Mass at the missionary stations along the river.
The wonderful ruins of the ancient cities of Egypt gave him much
entertainment. But his mind dwelt fondly on thoughts of Abraham,
Joseph, and the chosen people, and especially upon the Holy Family,
as well as the monks of the desert. He was much interested in the
Mohammedan natives; their open practice of prayer, the instinctive
readiness with which the idea of God and of eternity was welcomed to
their thoughts, and, withal, their utter religious stagnation, which
he traced to their ignorance of the Trinity, filled his mind with
questions. How to convert these sluggish contemplatives, what type of
Catholicity would be likely to flourish in the East, and how it could
be reconciled with the stirring traits of the West, busied his mind.
He often recalls his distant friends and contrasts new America with
old Egypt. He wrote home when opportunity served, as thus to Father
Hewit:
"With the hope that this note will reach you in due season, I greet
you from this land from which Moses taught, and which our infant
Saviour trod, with a right merry Christmas and a happy New Year to
yourself and all the members of the community, all in the house, and
the parishioners of St. Paul's. In my prayers all have a share and in
the Holy Sacrifice of the altar. My heart and its affections are
present with you. Could I realize its desire, I would shed a
continuous flow of blessings on each one of you like a great river
Nile--the river which Abraham saw and whose banks were hallowed by
the footsteps of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Remember me especially in
all your prayers on these great festivals. Offer up a Mass for my
special intention on each of them."
The excursion to Nubia and back did him so much good physically, and
left his mind with a peace which seemed so settled, that for a time
he had strong hopes of recovery; but he was soon undeceived.
On the 15th of April Father Hecker left Cairo for Jerusalem, and
spent some weeks in the Holy Land, continuing to enjoy an interval of
spiritual relief. He writes:
"In reciting the Gloria and the Credo, after having been in the
localities where the great mysteries which they express took place,
one is impressed in a wonderful manner with their actuality. The
truths of our holy faith seem to saturate one's blood, enter into
one's flesh, and penetrate even to the marrow of one's bones."
The first greeting which he sent from the holy places was a letter to
his mother, full of expressions of the most tender affection and
gratitude, as well as of ardent religious emotions produced by moving
among the scenes of our Lord's life. He enclosed a little bunch of
wild flowers plucked from Mount Sion. He soon returned to Europe to
escape the hot summer of Palestine, and began his round of visits to
health resorts, shrines, and occasionally to a friend of more than
usual attraction. His brother John died about this time, and this
news drew from him a letter of encouragement and condolence to their
mother. To George Hecker and his wife he wrote often, his letters
being full of affection, of entire submission to the Divine Will, and
of religious sentiments.
The following may be of interest as indicating the return of his
disconsolate frame of mind:
"I have taken to writing fables. Here is one: Once upon a time a bird
was caught in a snare. The more it struggled to free itself, the more
it got entangled. Exhausted, it resolved to wait with the vain hope
that the fowler, when he came, would set it at liberty. His
appearance, however, was not the signal for its restoration to
smiling fields and fond companions, but the forerunner of death at
his hands. Foolish bird! why did you go into the snare? Poor thing;
it could not find food anywhere, and it was famishing with hunger;
the seed was so attractive, and he who had baited the trap knew it
full well, and that the bird could not resist its appetite. The
fowler is our Lord. The bait is Divine Love. The bird is the soul. O
skillful catcher of souls! O irresistible bait of Divine Love! O
pitiable victim! but most blessed soul; for in the hands of our Lord
the soul only dies to self to be transformed into God."
In all his journeyings in search of beneficial change of air or for
the use of medicinal waters, he endeavored to take in the famous
shrines; as for places noted in profane history, or the usual resorts
of tourists, there is not the least mention of them in his letters,
unless an exception be made in favor of those in Egypt and some art
galleries in Europe. But, "attracted by St. Catherine," he went back
to her relics at Genoa once more. Drawn by St. Francis de Sales, he
made a visit to Annecy which had a soothing effect upon him, for that
saint was another of his favorites. He often went out of his way to
see a friend, or to seek the acquaintance of some man or woman of
reputation in religious circles, and he was himself surprised at the
number of those who had heard of him and wished to know him. He
readily formed acquaintances, and American, English, and French
fellow-travellers could easily have his conversation and company on
condition that they would converse on religious matters, or on the
graver social and racial topics. It was not a little singular that,
although suffering from weakness of the nervous system, he could talk
abstruse philosophy by the hour without mental fatigue. Discussing
such points as the different movements of nature and grace, the
various theories of apprehending the existence of God, or how to
bring about conviction in the minds of non-Catholics on the claims of
the Church, he could tire the strong brain of a well man. It was the
things below which tired him. He illustrated his conversation by
gleams of light reflected from his past experience. When
circumstances condemn such generous souls as Father Hecker to
inactivity, a favorite solace is picking up fragments of work or
recalling high ideas from the crowded memory of their former zeal,
often with much profit to those who listen. And this was no
idle-minded or boastful trait in him, as we see from the following:
"Be assured I shall not follow my own will if I can help it. Every
dictate of prudence and wisdom will be my guide. Until the clouds
clear away I shall be quiet, waiting, watching and praying, seeking
for light wherever there is a reasonable prospect of obtaining it. In
the meanwhile my time is not misspent. The journeys which I have
made, the persons whom I have met on my way--these and a thousand
other things incident to my present way of life are the best of
educators for improving one's mind, for correcting one's judgments,
and for giving greater breadth to one's thoughts. . . . It seems to
me that I almost see visibly and feel palpably the blessing of divine
grace on the work of the community, in its harmony, in the success of
its missions, in the special graces to its members, in their
cheerfulness and zeal: all this, too, in my absence. My absence,
therefore, cannot be displeasing to the Divine Will; rather these
things seem to indicate the contrary, and they awake in my soul an
inexpressible consolation."
But he said to one of his brethren afterwards: "Oh, father! I was sad
all the time that I was in Europe. Why so? Well, it was because I was
away from home, away from my work, away from my companions. And that
was why I attached myself while there to those persons who felt as we
did, and were of like views, and participated in our aims and
purposes."
How he felt about his chances of recovery is shown by the following:
"I have nothing further to say about my health than that I have none.
Were I twelve hours, or six, in my former state of health, my
conscience would give me no moment of peace in my present position.
It would worry me and set me to work. As it is I am tranquil, at
peace, and doing nothing except willingly bearing feebleness and
inertia."
From Paris, June 2, 1874, he writes to George and Josephine Hecker of
a visit to Cardinal Deschamps in Brussels, where he met his old
director, Father de Buggenoms. He expressed himself fully to them
about the state of religion in Europe, and, although both were his
admirers and warm friends, it was only on the third day that he made
himself fully understood, and disabused their minds of reserves and
suspicions. But before leaving "a complete understanding, warm
sympathy, and entire approval" was the result. In one of the earlier
CHAPTERs of this Life we have adverted to Father Hecker's difficulty
in making himself understood. On this occasion he suffered much pain,
for which, he says, the joy of the final agreement amply repaid him.
He formed an intimate friendship with the Abbé Xavier Dufresne, a
devout and enlightened priest of Geneva, and with his father, Doctor
Dufresne, well known as the mainstay of all the works of charity and
religion in that city. The Abbé Dufresne became much attached to
Father Hecker. "The Almighty knows," he wrote to him, "how ardently I
wish to see you again, for no one can feel more than I the want of
your conversation, it was so greatly to my improvement." We have
received from the Abbé Dufresne a memorial of Father Hecker, which is
valuable as independent contemporary testimony. It is so appreciative
and so instructive that we shall give the greater part of it as an
appendix, together with two letters from Cardinal Newman written
after Father Hecker's death.
The following is from a letter from Mrs. Craven, written early in
1875:
"That we have thought of you very often I need not tell you, nor yet
that we have thought and talked of and pondered over the many and the
great subjects which have been discussed during this week of
delightful repose and solitude (though certainly not of silence). Let
me, for one, tell you that many words of yours will be deeply and
gratefully and usefully remembered, and that I feel as if all you
explained to us in particular concerning the inward life which alone
gives meaning and usefulness to outward signs and symbols (let them
be ever so sacred), and the ways and means of quickening that inward
life, all come home to me as a clear expression of my own thoughts by
one who had read them better than myself."
Such was a devout and intellectual Frenchwoman's way of describing an
influence similarly felt by men and women of all classes, and of the
most diverse schools of thought, whom Father Hecker met in Europe.
This was written on hearing news of the community:
"It is consoling to see all these good works progressing [in the
Paulist community]. To me they sound more like an echo of my past
than the actual present. Before going up the Nile I used to say to
some of my friends, that I once knew a man whose name was Hecker, but
had lost his acquaintance, and I was going up the Nile to find him.
Perhaps I would overtake him at Wady-Halfa in Nubia! But I didn't.
Sometimes I think the search is in vain, and that I shall have to
resign myself to his loss and begin a new life. Tuesday of this week
my intention is to go to Milan and stop some days. I find friends in
almost every city. Friday last I dined with the Archbishop of Turin,
and have made the acquaintance of one or two priests here.
Occasionally I visit museums, picture galleries, etc.; and thus time
is outwardly passing by, until it pleases God to shed more light on
my soul, and to impart more strength to my body, and make clear my
path."
Here are his impressions of Rome after its occupation by the
Italians, together with an account of an audience with the Holy
Father:
"Rome is indeed changed, not so much outwardly, materially, as in
spiritual atmosphere. It has lost its Christian exorcism and returned
to its former pagan condition. The modern spirit, too, has entered it
with activity in the material order. The old order, I fear, is never
to return; that is to say, as it was; if it returns at all it will be
on another basis. The last citadel has given way to the invasion of
modern activity and push. Who would have dreamed of this twenty years
ago? The charm of Rome is gone, even to non-Catholics, for they felt
raised above themselves into a more congenial and spiritual
atmosphere while here, and their souls enjoyed it, though their
intellectual prejudices were opposed to the principles. The charm
they were conscious of forced them back again to Rome in spite of
themselves. But that charm has in a great measure gone.
"The other evening I had a very pleasant private audience with the
Holy Father. Among other matters I showed him _The Young Catholic_
which pleased him very much. He was struck with the size of the
jackass in the picture of Ober-Ammergau, and asked if they grew so
large in that country. I replied: 'Holy Father, asses nowadays grow
large everywhere.' He laughed heartily and said, _'Bene trovato.'"_
Father Hecker was in Rome when, in March, 1875, his old friend and
patron and first spiritual adviser, Archbishop McCloskey, was made
Cardinal. He was much rejoiced, and sent the Cardinal a rich silk
cassock, and gave a public banquet to Monsignor Roncetti and Doctor
Ubaldi, who were to carry the insignia of the cardinalate to New
York. We are indebted to the kindness of Archbishop Corrigan for a
copy of Father Hecker's letter of congratulation, the principal parts
of which we subjoin. The view of public policy concerning the College
of Cardinals expressed in this letter was developed at length in an
article published by Father Hecker in _The Catholic World,_ when
Cardinal Gibbons was appointed; it will also be found in his latest
volume, _The Church and the Age:_
"The choice of the Supreme Pontiff in making you the first Cardinal
of the hierarchy of the United States gives great satisfaction here
to all your friends. For as honors and dignities in the Church
proceed by way of distinguished merit and abilities, the qualities
which they have always recognized and esteemed in you are by the
event made known to the whole world.
"This elevation to the cardinalate of an American prelate as a
cheering sign that the dignities of the Church are open to men of
merit of all nations, and it is to be hoped that every nation will be
represented in the College of Cardinals in proportion to its
importance, and in that way the Holy See will represent by its
advisers the entire world, and render its universality more complete.
The Church will be a gainer, and the world too; and I have no doubt
that your appointment to this office in the Church will be, from this
point of view, popular with the American people."
His continued and insensibly increasing weakness of body, as well as
what seemed an unconquerable mental aversion to attempting even
partially to resume his former career in the United States, seemed to
settle negatively the question of his early return home. He began to
think that it was God's will that he should permanently transfer his
influence to the old World. His mind was full of the religious
problems of Europe, and the notion of Paulists for Europe, differing
in details from American Paulists but identical in spirit, soon
occupied his thoughts. The reader will remember Father Hecker's
conviction, expressed when leaving Rome after the Vatican Council,
that the condition of things in the Old World invited the apostolate
of a free community of wholly sanctified men, such as he would have
the Paulists to be. He now became persuaded, or almost so, that God
meant his illness to be the means of practically inaugurating such a
movement. By it the dim outlines of men's yearnings for a religious
awakening, which he everywhere met with among the European nations,
could be brought out distinctly and realized by an adaptation of the
essentials of community life to changed European conditions. He
thought he could select the leading spirits for the work, and,
without overtaxing his strength, teach them the principles and
inspire them with the spirit necessary to success. All this is
brought forward in his letters and discussed. But it was not to be in
his time.
The following entries in his journal, made during the Lent of 1879,
have this European, or rather universal, apostolate in view:
"The Holy Spirit is preparing the Church for an increased infusion of
Himself in the hearts of the faithful. This increased action of the
Holy Spirit will renew the whole face of the earth, in religion and
in society. Souls will be inspired by Him to assist in bringing about
this end.
"The question is _how_ shall such souls co-operate with Him in
preparation for this extraordinary outpouring of divine grace? The
law of all extensive and effectual work is that of association. The
inspiration and desire and strength to co-operate and associate in
facilitating this preparation for the Holy Spirit must come to each
soul from the Holy Spirit Himself.
"What will be the nature of this association and the _special
character_ of its work? The end to be had in view will be to set on
foot a means of co-operation with the Church in the conquest of the
whole world to Christ, the renewal of the Apostolic spirit and life.
For unity, activity, and choice of means reliance should be had upon
the bond of charity in the Holy Spirit and upon His inspirations.
"The central truth to actuate the members should be the Kingdom of
Heaven within the soul, which should be made the burden of all
sermons, explaining how it is to be gained now.
"Men will be called for who have that universal synthesis of truth
which will solve the problems, eliminate the antagonisms, and meet
the great needs of the age; men who will defend and uphold the Church
against the attacks which threaten her destruction, with weapons
suitable to the times; men who will turn all the genuine aspirations
of the age, in science, in socialism, in politics, in spiritism, in
religion, which are now perverted against the Church, into means of
her defence and universal triumph.
"If it be asked, therefore, in what way the co-operation with the new
phase of the Church in the increase of intensity and expansion of her
divine life in the souls of men is to be instituted, the answer is as
follows: By a movement . . . springing from the synthesis of the most
exalted faith with all the good and true in the elements now placed
in antagonism to the Church, thus eliminating antagonisms and
vacating controversies. . . .'
"Can a certain number of souls be found who are actuated
by the instinct of the Holy Spirit, the genius of grace, to form
an associative effort in the special work of the present time?
If there be such a work, and an associative effort be necessary,
will not the Holy Spirit produce in souls, certain ones at least,
such a vocation? Is not the bond of unity in the Holy Spirit
which will unite such souls all that is needed in the present
state of things to do this work?"
________________________