THE VALUE OF SAINTLINESS
269
not bear the recital of them. They tried her in the kitchen, but were forced
to give it up as hopeless — everything dropped out of her hands. The admir-
able humility with which she made amends for her clumsiness could not
prevent this from being prejudicial to the order and regularity which must
always reign in a community. They put her in the school, where the little
girls cherished her, and cut pieces out of her clothes [for relics] as if she
were already a saint, but where she was too absorbed inwardly to pay the
necessary attention. Poor dear sister, even less after her visions than before
them was she a denizen of earth, and they had to leave her in her heaven.”
1
Poor dear sister, indeed! Amiable and good, but so feeble of intel-
lectual
outlook that it would be too much to ask of us, with our
Protestant and modern education, to feel anything but indulgent
pity for the kind of saintship which she embodies. A lower example
still of theopathic saintliness is that of Saint Gertrude, a Benedictine
nun of the thirteenth century, whose “Revelations,” a well-known
mystical authority, consist mainly of proofs of Christ’s partiality
for her undeserving person. Assurances of his love, intimacies and
caresses and compliments of the most absurd and puerile sort,
addressed by Christ to Gertrude as an individual, form the tissue of
this paltry-minded recital.
2
In reading such a narrative, we realize the
gap between the thirteenth and the twentieth century, and we feel
that saintliness of character may yield almost absolutely worthless
fruits if it be associated with such inferior intellectual sympathies.
1
B
OUGAUD
: Op. cit., p. 267.
2
Examples: “Suffering from a headache, she sought, for the glory of God, to relieve herself
by holding certain odoriferous substances in her mouth, when the Lord appeared to her to
lean over towards her lovingly, and to find comfort Himself in these odors. After having
gently breathed them in, He arose, and said with a gratified air to the Saints, as if contented
with what He had done: ‘See the new present which my betrothed has given Me!’
“One day, at chapel, she heard supernaturally sung the words, ‘Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus.’
The Son of God leaning towards her like a sweet lover, and giving to her soul the softest
kiss, said to her at the second Sanctus: ‘In this Sanctus addressed to my person, receive with
this kiss all the sanctity of my divinity and of my humanity, and let it be to thee a sufficient
preparation for approaching the communion table.’ And the next following Sunday, while
she was thanking God for this favor, behold the Son of God, more beauteous than thousands
of angels, takes her in His arms as if He were proud of her, and presents her to God the
Father, in that perfection of sanctity with which He had dowered her. And the Father took
such delight in this soul thus presented by His only Son, that, as if unable longer to restrain
Himself, He gave her, and the Holy Ghost gave her also, the Sanctity attributed to each by
His own Sanctus — and thus she remained endowed with the plenary fullness of the blessing
of Sanctity, bestowed on her by Omnipotence, by Wisdom, and by Love.” Révélations de
Saints Gertrude, Paris, 1898, i. 44, 186.
270THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
What with science, idealism, and democracy, our own imagination
has grown to need a God of an entirely different temperament from
that Being interested exclusively in dealing out personal favors,
with whom our ancestors were so contented. Smitten as we are with
the vision of social righteousness, a God indifferent to everything
but adulation, and full of partiality for his individual favorites, lacks
an essential element of largeness; and even the best professional
sainthood of former centuries, pent in as it is to such a conception,
seems to us curiously shallow and unedifying.
Take Saint Teresa, for example, one of the ablest women, in
many respects, of whose life we have the record. She had a power-
ful intellect of the practical order. She wrote admirable descriptive
psychology, possessed a will equal to any emergency, great talent for
politics and business, a buoyant disposition, and a first-rate literary
style. She was tenaciously aspiring, and put her whole life at the
service of her religious ideals. Yet so paltry were these, according
to our present way of thinking, that (although I know that others
have been moved differently) I confess that my only feeling in read-
ing her has been pity that so much vitality of soul should have
found such poor employment.
In spite of the sufferings which she endured, there is a curious
flavor of superficiality about her genius. A Birmingham anthropol-
ogist, Dr. Jordan, has divided the human race into two types, whom
he calls “shrews” and “non-shrews” respectively.
1
The shrew-type is
defined as possessing an “active unimpassioned temperament.” In
other words, shrews are the “motors,” rather than the “sensories,”
2
and their expressions are as a rule more energetic than the feelings
which appear to prompt them. Saint Teresa, paradoxical as such a
judgment may sound, was a typical shrew, in this sense of the term.
The bustle of her style, as well as of her life, proves it. Not only
must she receive unheard-of personal favors and spiritual graces
from her Saviour, but she must immediately write about them and
exploiter them professionally, and use her expertness to give instruc-
tion to those less privileged. Her voluble egotism; her sense, not of
radical bad being, as the really contrite have it, but of her “faults”
1
F
URNEAUX
J
ORDAN
: Character in Birth and Parentage, first edition. Later editions change
the nomenclature.
2
As to this distinction, see the admirably practical account in J. M. B
ALDWIN
’s little book,
The Story of the Mind, 1898.