THE VALUE OF SAINTLINESS
273
We have no time to multiply examples, so I will let the case of
Saint Louis of Gonzaga serve as a type of excess in purification. I
think you will agree that this youth carried the elimination of the
external and discordant to a point which we cannot unreservedly
admire. At the age of ten, his biographer says: —
“The inspiration came to him to consecrate to the Mother of God his
own virginity — that being to her the most agreeable of possible presents.
Without delay, then, and with all the fervor there was in him, joyous of
heart, and burning with love, he made his vow of perpetual chastity. Mary
accepted the offering of his innocent heart, and obtained for him from God,
as a recompense, the extraordinary grace of never feeling during his entire
life the slightest touch of temptation against the virtue of purity. This was
an altogether exceptional favor, rarely accorded even to Saints themselves,
and all the more marvelous in that Louis dwelt always in courts and among
great folks, where danger and opportunity are so unusually frequent. It is
true that Louis from his earliest childhood had shown a natural repugnance
for whatever might be impure or unvirginal, and even for relations of any
sort whatever between persons of opposite sex. But this made it all the
more surprising that he should, especially since this vow, feel it necessary
to have recourse to such a number of expedients for protecting against
even the shadow of danger the virginity which he had thus consecrated.
One might suppose that if any one could have contented himself with the
ordinary precautions, prescribed for all Christians, it would assuredly have
been he. But no! In the use of preservatives and means of defense, in flight
from the most insignificant occasions, from every possibility of peril, just
as in the mortification of his flesh, he went farther than the majority of
saints. He, who by an extraordinary protection of God’s grace was never
tempted, measured all his steps as if he were threatened on every side by
particular dangers. Thenceforward he never raised his eyes, either when
walking in the streets, or when in society. Not only did he avoid all busi-
ness with females even more scrupulously than before, but he renounced
all conversation and every kind of social recreation with them, although
his father tried to make him take part; and he commenced only too early
to deliver his innocent body to austerities of every kind.”
1
At the age of twelve, we read of this young man that “if by
chance his mother sent one of her maids of honor to him with
a message, he never allowed her to come in, but listened to her
1
M
ESCHLER
’s Life of Saint Louis of Gonzaga, French translation by L
EBRÉQUIER
, 1891,
p. 40.
274
THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
through the barely opened door, and dismissed her immediately.
He did not like to be alone with his own mother, whether at table
or in conversation; and when the rest of the company withdrew, he
sought also a pretext for retiring. . . . Several great ladies, relatives
of his, he avoided learning to know even by sight; and he made
a sort of treaty with his father, engaging promptly and readily to
accede to all his wishes, if he might only be excused from all visits
to ladies.” (Ibid., p. 71.)
When he was seventeen years old Louis joined the Jesuit order,
1
against his father’s passionate entreaties, for he was heir of a princely
house; and when a year later the father died, he took the loss as a
“particular attention” to himself on God’s part, and wrote letters
of stilted good advice, as from a spiritual superior, to his grieving
mother. He soon became so good a monk that if any one asked him
the number of his brothers and sisters, he had to reflect and count
them over before replying. A Father asked him one day if he were
never troubled by the thought of his family, to which, “I never
think of them except when praying for them,” was his only answer.
Never was he seen to hold in his hand a flower or anything per-
fumed, that he might take pleasure in it. On the contrary, in the
hospital, he used to seek for whatever was most disgusting, and
eagerly snatch the bandages of ulcers, etc., from the hands of his
companions. He avoided worldly talk, and immediately tried to
turn every conversation on to pious subjects, or else he remained
silent. He systematically refused to notice his surroundings. Being
ordered one day to bring a book from the rector’s seat in the refec-
tory, he had to ask where the rector sat, for in the three months
he had eaten bread there, so carefully did he guard his eyes that he
had not noticed the place. One day, during recess, having looked
by chance on one of his companions, he reproached himself as for
a grave sin against modesty. He cultivated silence, as preserving
from sins of the tongue; and his greatest penance was the limit
which his superiors set to his bodily penances. He sought after false
accusations and unjust reprimands as opportunities of humility; and
such was his obedience that, when a room-mate, having no more
1
In his boyish note-book he praises the monastic life for its freedom from sin, and for the
imperishable treasures, which it enables us to store up, “of merit in God’s eyes which makes
of Him our debtor for all Eternity.” Loc. cit., p. 62.