flower girl Glycera was so skilled in varying the arrangement and combination of her flowers, that out of the same kinds she produced a great variety of bouquets; so that the painter Pausias,1 who sought to rival the diversity of her art, was brought to a standstill, for he could not vary his painting so endlessly as Glycera varied her bouquets. Even so the Holy Spirit of God disposes and arranges the devout teaching which he imparts through the lips and pen of his servants with such endless variety, that, although the doctrine is ever one and the same, their treatment of it is different, according to the varying minds from which that treatment flows. I assure you, I neither desire, nor ought to write in this book anything but what has already been said by others before me. I offer you the same flowers, dear reader, but the bouquet will be somewhat different from theirs, because it is differently made up.
Almost all those who have written concerning the devout life have had chiefly in view people who have altogether quitted the world; or at any rate, the manner of devotion they have taught would lead to such total retirement. But my object is to teach those who are living in towns, at court, in their own households, and whose calling obliges them to a social life, so far as externals are concerned. Such persons are apt to reject all attempt to lead a devout life, pleading that it is impossible, imagining that just as no animal presumes to eat of the plant commonly called Palma Christi, so no one who is immersed in the tide of temporal affairs ought to presume to seek the palm of Christian piety.
And so I have shown them that, as the mother-of-pearl lives in the sea without ever absorbing one drop of salt water; and as springs of sweet water start forth in the midst of the ocean near the Chelidonian Isles;2 and as the fire moth hovers in the flames without burning her wings; even so a true, steadfast soul may live in the world untainted by worldly breath, finding a wellspring of holy piety amid the bitter waves of society, and hovering amid the flames of earthly lusts without singeing the wings of its devout life. Of a truth this is not easy, and for that very reason I would have Christians bestow more care and energy than they have until now on the attempt. Thus it is that, while conscious of my own weakness, I endeavor by this book to afford some help to those who are undertaking this noble work with a generous heart.
It is not, however, my own choice or wish that brings this Introduction before the public. A certain soul, abounding in uprightness and virtue, some time ago conceived a great desire, through God’s grace, to aspire more earnestly after a devout life, and sought my private help with this view. I was bound to her by various ties and had long observed her remarkable capacity for this attainment, so I took great pains to teach her, and having led her through the various exercises suitable to her circumstances and her aim, I let her keep written records, to which she might have recourse when necessary. These she communicated to a learned and devout religious, who, believing that they might be profitable to others, urged me to publish them, in which he succeeded the more readily because his friendship exercised great influence upon my will, and his judgment great authority over my judgment.
So, in order to make the work more useful and acceptable, I have reviewed the papers and put them together, adding several matters carrying out my intentions; but all this has been done with scarce a moment’s leisure. Consequently, you will find very little precision in the work, but rather a collection of well-intentioned instructions, explained in clear, intelligible words — at least, that is what I have sought to give. But as to a polished style, I have not given that a thought, having so much else to do.
I have addressed my instructions to Philothea,3 as I am adapting what was originally written for an individual to the common good of souls. I have made use of a name suitable to all who seek after the devout life, as “Philothea” means “one who loves God.” Setting then before me a soul, who through the devout life seeks after the love of God, I have arranged this Introduction in five parts.
In the first, I seek by suggestions and exercises to turn Philothea’s mere desire into a hearty resolution, made by a deliberate promise after a general confession, followed by Holy Communion, in which, giving herself to her Savior and receiving him, she is happily received into his holy love.
After this, I lead her on by showing her two great means of closer union with his Divine Majesty: the sacraments, by which that Gracious Lord comes to us, and mental prayer, by which he draws us to him. This is the Second Part.
In the Third Part, I set forth how she should practice certain virtues most suitable to her advancement, only dwelling on such special points as she might not find elsewhere, or be able to make out for herself.
In the Fourth Part, I bring to light the snares of some of her enemies, and show her how to pass through them safely and come forth unhurt.
And finally, in the Fifth Part, I lead her apart to refresh herself and take breath, and renew her strength, so that she may go on more bravely afterwards, and make good progress in the devout life.
This is a quibbling age, and I foresee that many will say that only religious and persons living apart are fit to undertake the guidance of souls in such special, devout ways; that it requires more time than a bishop of a diocese as important as mine can spare, and that it must take too much thought from the important duties with which I am charged.
But, dear reader, I reply with Saint Denis that the task of leading souls towards perfection pertains above all others to bishops, because their Order is supreme among men, as the Seraphim among angels, and therefore their leisure cannot be better spent. The ancient bishops and fathers of the primitive Church were, to say the least, as devoted to their duties as we are, yet they did not refuse to undertake the individual guidance of souls who sought their help, as we see by their epistles; thereby imitating the Apostles, who, while reaping the universal world-harvest, yet found time to gather up certain individual sheaves with special and personal affection. Who can fail to remember that Timothy, Titus, Philemon, Onesimus, Thekla, and Appia were the beloved spiritual children of Saint Paul, as Saint Mark and Saint Petronilla were of Saint Peter? And is not one of Saint John’s canonical epistles addressed to the “elect lady” whom he loved in the Faith?
I grant that the guidance of individual souls is a labor, but it is a labor full of consolation, even as that of harvesters and grape gatherers, who are never so well pleased as when most heavily laden. It is a labor which refreshes and invigorates the heart by the comfort it brings to those who bear it; as is said to be the case with those who carry bundles of cinnamon in Arabia Felix. It is said that when the tigress finds one of her young left behind by the hunter in order to delay her while he carries off the rest of her cubs, she takes it up, however big, without seeming overweighted, and speeds only the more swiftly to her lair, maternal love lightening the load. How much more readily will the heart of a spiritual father bear the burden of a soul he finds craving perfection — carrying it in his bosom as a mother her babe, without feeling weary of the precious burden?
But unquestionably, it must be a really paternal heart that can do this, and therefore it is that the Apostles and their apostolic followers are wont to call their disciples not merely their children, but, even more tenderly still, their “little children.”
One thing more, dear reader. It is too true that I who write about the devout life am not myself devout, but most certainly I am not without the wish to become so, and it is this wish that encourages me to teach you. A notable literary man has said that a good way to learn is to study, a better to listen, and the best to teach. And Saint Augustine, writing to the devout Flora,4 says that giving is a claim to receive, and teaching a way to learn.
Alexander caused the lovely Campaspe,5 who was so dear to him, to be painted by the great Apelles, who, by dint of contemplating her as he drew, so graved her features in his heart and conceived so great a passion for her, that Alexander discovered it, and, pitying the artist, gave her to him as his wife, depriving himself for love of Apelles of the dearest thing he had in the world — in which, says Pliny, he displayed the greatness of his soul as much as in the mightiest victory. And so, friendly reader, it seems to me that as a bishop, God wills me to frame in the hearts of his children not merely ordinary goodness, but even more his own most precious devotion; and on my part I willingly undertake to do so, as much out of obedience to the call