Salesian Literature

Preface

 

In this treatise of mine, which I am now offering you, my dear reader, my one idea has been to describe the birth, growth, decline, activities, qualities, benefits and perfection of God’s love, simply and clearly, plainly and frankly.  If you find anything else, it is mere surplus stuff, almost impossible for someone like myself to avoid, writing as I do amid so many distractions.  For all that, I think you will find the contents useful in one way or another.  Even nature, after all, that wise craftsman, produces more leaves and twigs than the harvest of a few grapes demands; it is exceptional to find a vine that does not require pruning now and then.

 

Authors often come in for rough treatment.  Hasty criticism of their work is frequently a worse fault than their own folly of rushing into print.  Rash judgements jeopardize both the critic’s conscience and the innocence of the accused.  Poor writing is not at all uncommon, but neither is excessive criticism.  A kind reader approaches his reading kindly; he benefits from what he reads.  The better to ensure that you approach this work in a favourable frame of mind, dear reader, I am going to try to clear up one or two things which might otherwise put you in bad humour.

 

Some people, perhaps, may feel that have said too much, that there was no need to trace everything back to first principles.  To suit those who are concerned only with charity in practice, the first four books, and some chapters of the rest, could well have been omitted; even so, they will find those pages a great help, if they bring devotion to their reading.  Besides, others might be disappointed if they met with only an abridged treatment of the subject.  I assure you, I have taken present-day mentality into account.  I had to: the contemporary scene matters much to a writer.

 

I have not always made the sequence of chapters clear; but, with a little care, you will easily trace the connection.  I have done my best, in other ways, to husband my time and spare your patience.  When my Introduction to the Devotion was published, the Archbishop of Vienne, Mgr Peter of Villars, kindly wrote to tell me what he thought of it.  Of the many fine suggestions with which he favoured me, one I have always followed as far as the subject allowed – to keep my chapters short.  Travellers, he said, when they know of some beautiful garden only twenty paces or so off their route, cheerfully make a slight detour to look at it; a thing they would never do, if it lay further afield.  In the same way, those who know that the end of a chapter is no great distance from its beginning, gladly set themselves to read it; something they would not do, however much the subject appealed to them, if it would take too long to finish.  A good excuse, as it happens, for following my own tastes.

 

One good man, a little while ago, assured me that I had prevented numbers of men from gaining by a reading of my Introduction to the Devout Life, since I addressed remarks to Philothea.  They felt, it seems, that spiritual advice offered to a woman was unworthy of male perusal.  Imagine men, in the name of manhood, proving so unmanly!  You can decide for yourself, dear reader, whether or not St. John’s second epistle, addressed to that sovereign lady whom God has chosen (2 Jn. 1), deserves to be read with the same attention as his third, to Gaius; whether or not the thousands of letters, the brilliant treatises from the pens of the early Fathers of the Church, should be deemed to have nothing to offer men, for being written to good women of those days.  Besides, Philothea was a name I coined to describe any soul eager for devotion; and men have souls as well as women.

 

Well, this time – like St. Paul, who held himself to have the same duty to all (Rom. 1:14) – I have changed the form of address, and write to Theotimus.  If, by any chance, some women (a more excusable mistake in their case) decide against reading what is written for a man’s instruction, I beg them to accept my word for it that the Theotimus for whom I am writing means any human heart anxious to grow in the love of God; and women have hearts as well as women.

 

I have touched but in no spirit of controversy – on a great many points of theology.  I am simply putting forward, not what my youthful disputations taught me, but what twenty-four years of dealing with souls, of preaching, have led me to believe will bring most glory to the gospel and to the Church.  Not that I profess to be a writer; my mind works too slowly, my days are at the mercy of too many calls on my time.  As a result I have written very little and published even less.

 

So I take this opportunity, dear reader, of begging you to treat me kindly in the matter of this book.  If you find the style slightly (but only very slightly, I am sure) different from one I used to Philothea, and both of them quite different from my style in The Cross of Christ – an Apologetic, understand that a man learns and unlearns many things in the course of nineteen years.  The language of war is a far cry from the language of peace.  Talking to young apprentices is one thing; we do not use the same expressions to experienced fellow-craftsmen.

 

Certainly, the pages that follow are addressed to those who have made progress in devotion.  I ought to tell you that we have in this town a religious Congregation of unmarried women and widows[1], who have left their worldly occupations, to live together in the service of God, under the protection of his holy Mother.  The purity, the piety of their lives has so often been a great encouragement to me, I have tried to return it by frequently breading the bread of God’s word to them in public sermons or devotional talks.  Generally, my audience also included a number of male religious and some exceptionally good lay people.  This meant that, on occasion, I had to discuss the finer points of devotion and take those souls much further than I did Philothea.  Not a little of what I am now about to tell you, I owe to these happy gatherings.

 

The reverend mother (St. Jane Frances de Chantal), who presides at the sessions, knew that I was writing on this subject, yet hard put to it to find time for the task without God’s special help and her constant encouragement.  That is why she was always careful to pray, and get others to pray, for that intention.  In her saintly way she would beg me to husband ever tiny scrap of free time which she thought could possibly be spared, here and there, amid a host of hindrance – to devote it to the book.  Go knows the regard I have for that good soul, so she was well able to stimulate my best efforts.

 

If the truth be told, I planned to write about charity a long while ago.  The finished product, owing to my circumstances, falls short of what I had originally in mind.  I make no secret of these circumstances – in all simplicity and sincerity, after the example of a much earlier age – for you to understand that writing, in my case, must wait on chance, on opportunity … and be more kindly disposed.  If I fall short in this treatise, let your goodwill make up for it – and Goodwill bless your reading.

 

God bless you, then, my dear reader; may he enrich you with his holy love.  Meanwhile, I submit – wholeheartedly as ever – my writings, words and actions to the judgement of the holy, Catholic, apostolic and Roman Church.  I believe it to be the pillar and foundation upon which the truth rests (1 Tim. 3:15), about which it can neither deceive nor be deceived.  I also believe (with St. Augustine) that “no man can claim God for his Father, if he will not accept that Church as his mother.”

 

Annecy, the feast of the loving apostles Sts. Peter and Paul, 1616.

 

BLESSED BE GOD

 

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[1]  The Visitation Order – founded in 1610.  For the first few years the nuns were not enclosed.

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A TREATISE ON THE LOVE OF GOD

 

Preface