THE VALUE OF SAINTLINESS
279
whether these methods will or will not succeed. When they do
succeed, they are far more powerfully successful than force or worldly
prudence. Force destroys enemies; and the best that can be said of
prudence is that it keeps what we already have in safety. But non-
resistance, when successful, turns enemies into friends; and charity
regenerates its objects. These saintly methods are, as I said, creative
energies; and genuine saints find in the elevated excitement with
which their faith endows them an authority and impressiveness
which makes them irresistible in situations where men of shallower
nature cannot get on at all without the use of worldly prudence.
This practical proof that worldly wisdom may be safely transcended
is the saint’s magic gift to mankind.
1
Not only does his vision of
1
The beat missionary lives abound in the victorious combination of non-resistance
with personal authority. John G. Paton, for example, in the New Hebrides, among brutish
Melanesian cannibals, preserves a charmed life by dint of it. When it comes to the point, no
one ever dares actually to strike him. Native converts, inspired by him, showed analogous
virtue. “One of our chiefs, full of the Christ-kindled desire to seek and to save, sent a message
to an inland chief, that he and four attendants would come on Sabbath and tell them the
gospel of Jehovah God. The reply came back sternly forbidding their visit, and threatening
with death any Christian that approached their village. Our chief sent in response a loving
message, telling them that Jehovah had taught the Christians to return good for evil, and
that they would come unarmed to tell them the story of how the Son of God came into the
world and died in order to bless and save his enemies. The heathen chief sent back a stern
and prompt reply once more: ‘If you come, you will be killed.’ On Sabbath morn the
Christian chief and his four companions were met outside the village by the heathen chief,
who implored and threatened them once more. But the former said: —
“ ‘We come to you without weapons of war! We come only to tell you about Jesus. We
believe that He will protect us to-day.”
“As they pressed steadily forward towards the village, spears began to be thrown at them.
Some they evaded, being all except one dexterous warriors; and others they literally received
with their bare hands, and turned them aside in an incredible manner. The heathen, appar-
ently thunderstruck at these men thus approaching them without weapons of war, and not
even flinging back their own spears which they had caught, after having thrown what the
old chief called ‘a shower of spears,’ desisted from mere surprise. Our Christian chief called
out, as he and his companions drew up in the midst of them on the village public ground: —
“ ‘Jehovah thus protects us. He has given us all your spears! Once we would have thrown
them back at you and killed you. But now we come, not to fight but to tell you about Jesus.
He has changed our dark hearts. He asks you now to lay down all these your other weapons
of war, and to hear what we can tell you about the love of God, our great Father, the only
living God.”
“The heathen were perfectly overawed. They manifestly looked on these Christians as
protected by some Invisible One. They listened for the first time to the story of the Gospel
and of the Cross. We lived to see that chief and all his tribe sitting in the school of Christ.
And there is perhaps not an island in these southern seas, amongst all those won for Christ,
where similar acts of heroism on the part of converts cannot be recited.” J
OHN
G. P
ATON
,
Missionary to the New Hebrides, An Autobiography, second part, London, 1890, p. 243.
280THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
a better world console us for the generally prevailing prose and
barrenness; but even when on the whole we have to confess him ill
adapted, he makes some converts, and the environment gets better
for his ministry. He is an effective ferment of goodness, a slow trans-
muter of the earthly into a more heavenly order.
In this respect the Utopian dreams of social justice in which
many contemporary socialists and anarchists indulge are, in spite
of their impracticability and non-adaptation to present environ-
mental conditions, analogous to the saint’s belief in an existent
kingdom of heaven. They help to break the edge of the general reign
of hardness, and are slow leavens of a better order.
The next topic in order is Asceticism, which I fancy you are all
ready to consider without argument a virtue liable to extravagance
and excess. The optimism and refinement of the modern imagina-
tion has, as I have already said elsewhere, changed the attitude of
the church towards corporeal mortification, and a Suso or a Saint
Peter of Alcantara
1
appear to us to-day rather in the light of tragic
mountebanks than of sane men inspiring us with respect. If the
1
Saint Peter, Saint Teresa tells us in her autobiography (French translation, p. 333),
“had passed forty years without ever sleeping more than an hour and a half a day. Of all
his mortifications, this was the one that had cost him the most. To compass it, he kept
always on his knees or on his feet. The little sleep he allowed nature to take was snatched in
a sitting posture, his head leaning against a piece of wood fixed in the wall. Even had he
wished to lie down, it would have been impossible, because his cell was only four feet and a
half long. In the course of all these years he never raised his hood, no matter what the ardor
of the sun or the rain’s strength. He never put on a shoe. He wore a garment of coarse
sackcloth, with nothing else upon his skin. This garment was as scant as possible, and over
it a little cloak of the same stuff. When the cold was great he took off the cloak and opened
for a while the door and little window of his cell. Then he closed them and resumed the
mantle, — his way, as he told us, of warming himself, and making his body feel a better
temperature. It was a frequent thing with him to eat once only in three days; and when I
expressed my surprise, he said that it was very easy if one once had acquired the habit. One
of his companions has assured me that he has gone sometimes eight days without food. . . . His
poverty was extreme; and his mortification, even in his youth, was such that he told me he
had passed three years in a house of his order without knowing any of the monks otherwise
than by the sound of their voice, for he never raised his eyes, and only found his way about
by following the others. He showed this same modesty on public highways. He spent many
years without ever laying eyes upon a woman; but he confessed to me that at the age he had
reached it was indifferent to him whether he laid eyes on them or not. He was very old when
I first came to know him, and his body so attenuated that it seemed formed of nothing so
much as of so many roots of trees. With all this sanctity he was very affable. He never spoke
unless he was questioned, but his intellectual right-mindedness and grace gave to all his
words an irresistible charm.”