Chapter VII. The Ruling Passion

We come now to the last of the five secret obstacles which we accused of hindering our progress, and preventing our making way with the favourable breezes of the Holy Spirit. It may be said to belong to our interior as well as our exterior life; though it is chiefly in the exterior that we have to combat it. Every one who is well read in old-fashioned spiritual books remembers the distinguished place which the remora always occupied in them. This was a certain mysterious and mischievous little fish, who by fastening itself to a huge ship in full sail could bring it to a dead stand-still. Our belief in the laws of mechanics and of natural history are unfortunately fatal to the remora: would that anything might turn up which would be equally fatal to the ruling passion, of which this hidden and almost omnipotent little fish was the figure! But alas! while we may safely expunge the remora from our catalogue of fishes, thi ruling passion still remains a subject for continual ana weary legislation and police on the part of those who desire to grow in holiness.

It seems an exaggeration to say that every man in the world has a decidedly ruling passion; and the best writers do not go so far. It is however undeniably true that almost all men have such a passion; and the fact of its being hidden from them is no proof to the contrary; foi it is its Dature to conceal itself. While it exists in the soul, dominant and unattacked, its influence may be called universal. It forms the motive for apparently contradicting actions and gives a tone and colour to the whole life. It is the cause of at least two-thirds of a man's sins. The other passions are obliged to acknowledge its empire; and as domination, not mere sin, is the object of its ambition, it will actually help us in combating our other passions; by so doing, it extends its tyranny, and moreover creates a diversion in favour of itself. Other passions blind us to our sins. But the ruling passion' is not content with this. It goes so far as to make our vices look like virtues. Hence it is a direct road to final impenitence. It 55 this which gives the fearful character to the ruling passion. It is with our souls, as it is with a ship, when the current is stronger than the wind. She keeps setting upon the rocks, and if she cannot get her anchors to hold, she is lost. Nay, it is worse with the soul, whose means of safety are less; for there is no such thing as an anchorage in the spiritual life.

Now if this be true, few subjects can be more interesting to an earnest man than this of the ruling passion; for no obstacle to progress is more common, or more secret, and therefore none more dangerous. But let us understand at the outset that it would be untrue to say that there could be no progress in the spiritual life until the ruling passion is vanquished. Perfection will hardly attain this entire victory after years of manly perseverance. But it is true that there can be no progress until an active war is being waged against it. Hence this war is a duty which brooks no delay.

Here then is one of the most important businesses of our lives, to discover what is our ruling passion; and it is as difficult as it is importaut, because of the secrecy in which that artful passion invariably wraps itself. There are, however, two methods, either of which pursued honestly and for a sufficiently long time, will probably bring us to the knowledge we desire.

The daily practice of self-examination soon furnishes os with very numerous observations regarding ourselves. It is not however safe to draw any practical inferences from them, until time and vigilance have verified them under different circumstances and perhaps even opposite temptations. We shall then come at last to perceive that there is one passion within us more conformable than any other to our whole natural temperament, one which, taken by itself, expresses far more of our entire character than any other. We shall find that such a passion as this is further characterized by our feeling a peculiar repugnance to combat it, and when accused of it by others, we shall probably answer that while we acknowledge we have many aults, yet certainly we cannot charge ourselves with this. Moreover this passion is found to have an extraordinary power of instantaneously kindling our other passions, and of strangely making its appearance in almost all our thoughts and plans, as self-love perceptibly does with at le&st half mankind. While it makes a livelier impression upon our interior life than any other passion, it also causes the greater number of the disorders which disgrace oui external couduct. The majority of our falls, and all our greatest falls, are attributable to it, while it habitually exposes us to the greatest dangers aud the most frequent occasions of sin, and thus has more lasting and troublesome oonsequeiL3es than any other of our passions, bad 9 a and ruinous as they may be. It takes some time to find out all this. But we may be sure that any passion, of which all or the greater number of these things are true, is in reality our ruling passion, a principle of spiritual death within our souls.

The other method of discovering our ruling passion necessarily resembles the first in many respects, and fixes its attention upon the same symptoms; but it is easier because it does not imply so universal or so incessant a watchfulness. Perhaps because it is easier, it is less successful, or is longer at least in attaining success. Some writers of ascetical theology recommend the one, and some the other. This second method then consists of waiting for any unusual joy or sadness which stirs our soul without an obvious reason, and to enquire whence either of these emotions arises. Even if there should be an appj rent cause, the joy or the sadness may be so dispropou tioned to it as to lead us to suspect some additional hidden cause; and the probability is that it lies in some satisfaction or displeasure of our ruling passion. We must be strangely unobservant of ourselves if we have not experienced these vicissitudes of high and low spirits, for which there was not sufficient on the surface of our lives to account; and whatever be the result of our examination of them, we may be quite sure such phenomena are never without an important bearing on our spiritual life.

Then, again, we go to confession more or less frequently; and certain venial sins and faulty imperfections form the matter of our self-accusations. Particular faults are perpetually recurring. It is even a subject of annoyance to us that the matter of our confessions does not vary more than it does. They arc always turning on three or fon» faults. Now when we have satisfied oursebes deliberately what the^e three or four things are, we are naturally in proportion to our earnestness led to examine them, to see from what roots they spring, and what circumstances develope them. Almost always it will be found that they come from one common root; and the discovery of this common root will be the discovery of our ruling passkn. A fault which is both an abundant and a persisting source of venial sins can hardly be anything less than our ruling passion.

Again, there is a kind of low spirits which differ from the sadness spoken of before. There are times when everything seems to come to an end. We are tired of strictness. Prayer weighs upon us as intolerably heavy. Spiritual reading inspires disgust. We feel reckless about temptation, and even the habitual fear of sin has so completely ceased to be sensible, that it appears as if we could fall at any moment. The thought of God does not arouse us as it has been wont to do. Care for souls and loyal zeal for the Church are sentiments so passed from us that we have almost forgotten what they are like, just as men in winter cannot clothe the landscape in verdure and foliage, and imagine it as it was in summer, so as to satisfy themselves. We yearn for the sights and sounda of worldliness as if they would be a relief; and our heart leaps up at any consolation which has not to do with spiritual things. Our very associations have faded out from us, and anything like a habit of godliness to all appearance has dropped away as though it had never been. An intense weariness comes over us, and a nausea for spirituality, which makes us ill-tempered with God, rather than afraid of offending Him. The misery of thesfl fits of low-spiiits can hardly be exaggerated. Can thr danger of them be exaggerated either? For they are accompanied, not so much with sadness, which is more or less softening, as with irritability, which is no home for grace, but rather a proximate preparation for all kinds of venial siu. It is of God's sheer mercy if the evil is stayed even there. Miserably unhinged and unfitted for the task as we are, then, we must even in our wretchedness attempt some kind of self-examination, and question ourselves as to the cause of this dismal oppression. It has none of the marks of a divine subtraction of sensible sweetness. Its features are not like those of a passive purgation of spirit, as mystical theologians call them. It is an operation, possibly diabolical, but most probaoly entirely human. If we can arrive at the cause, the probability is that we have discovered our ruling passion It is too fundamental a mischief, to come from anything short of it. Persons of soft and effeminate character, sensitive and sentimental, loving bodily comforts, not rvactising any regular mortifications, and careful of tHei* eating, drinking, and sleeping, are peculiarly liable to these spiritual visitations of waking nightmare. In other words, to be attacked by them is a symptom, though not an infallible one, that our ruling passion is sensual' ty, which almost rivals self-love both for its universality and ita successful artifices to disguise itself and appear other thaD it is. How many are there whose apparent enjoyment in religion, together with their mild views of moral theology, their familiarity with God, their comfortable intimacy with our Blessed Lady, their aspirations of disinterested love, their depreciation of mere dry precept and hard conscientiousness, their facility in making saints words and feelings their own, — all come, though the} little think it, from the luxurious refinements of modern ease, and a secret ruling passion of sensuality!

Thus this second method of discovering our ruling passion is not so much a continuous examination of our whole conduct, as a waiting for, and seizing upon, certain salient points of it, as those which are likely beforehand to be developments of this dominant inclination. But hidden as its presence and influence are, there are certain things of almost daily occurrence in which this serpent, in spite of itself, discloses its operations. It mixes with all our sins, no matter against what virtue or commandment. It is the feature which all our sins will be found to have in common. Self-love in one man, sensuality in another, vanity in a third, ambition in a fourth, or in a fifth that most unconquerable of monsters, simple indolence. So, too, we often resist temptations, without supernatural motives, and as it would seem, without calling grace to our aid. Or, to speak more accurately, suggestions of evil that in some moods would be temptations to us, in other moods have no such magnetic character, and hence they fall off from us harmlessly, like spent arrows off a shield. It is often our ruling passion which is our shield. It distracts us from the pleasures offered to us, or it turns them aside as interfering with some deeper scheme of its own. We are preoccupied men, who do not see and hear. We do not notice these temptations, so that strictly they never become temptations at all.

There are some persons who are so strongly persuaded tfhat everything about them is as it ought to be, that they are prepared to defend themselves on all poin ts, and as a

Q* matter of fact do so. These are few in number, because the blindness of self-love, though universal, is seldom total. Still, such specimens are to be met with and studied) for there is much in them, which, doing no good to themselves, is a capital warning to others. To these, what I am now going to say will not apply. But men, who are satisfied that their conduct is not uniformly and on all points defensible, will find that there arc certain points on which they invariably defend themselves, certain points on which they are morbidly sensitive. The soreness discloses the ruling passion. This is almost an infallible method of detection. Separate the circumstances, the conversation, the excitement, whatever it may be, see on what subject you defend yourself in all manner of circumstances, hot or cool, taken by surprise or with deliberation, and you may be sure that the subject indicates the ruling passion: though, of course, a good many symptoms must be observed, as the same symptom may point to vanity or to self-love, to sensuality or to indolence While we are conducting these all-important investiga tions, we must remember likewise to take our director into our council. We are very blind in matters which concern ourselves, even when we have to do with mere external interests. Still more are we blind in things pertaining to self-correction. And when we consider the peculiar characteristic of the ruling passion that it passes vice off for virtue, we have additional reasons for distrusting our own solitary judgment in the matter. Hence it is that a director frequently discovers a penitent's ruling passion, before the penitent has discovered it himself. But under any circumstances we must consult him He must help us in the search. He must approve the discovery. He must guide us in the warfare which we must forthwith wage against our domestic enemy.

It does not come within the scope or brevity of this treatise to urge persuasive motives for a scrupulous and almost frightened attention to this subject of the ruling passion. My object is, as you know, merely to describe symptoms and to suggest means. But so much must be said. They who have not a ruling passion are very few in number; and they who have can have no more important or pressing affair than the discovery of it and the warfare against it. Saul was ruined, and Solomon fell for the want of this. The lost vocation of Judas was the work of his ruling passion, which had coexisted, remember, with all the immense graces implied in his having had a true vocation to that unequalled apostolic office; and that his vocation was true is, by some theologians, considered to be of faith, because of our Lord's words, I have elected you. The punishment of not seeing the promised land, under which Moses ended his days, was the work of his ruling passion, which he had come so near to utterly vanquishing, that whereas by nature he was the hastiest of men, by grace he became what the Holy Spirit calls him, the meekest of men. Other portions then of the spiritual life may have superior attractions to this, others may seem to urge us more swiftly along our road, or give at once a more supernatural turn to our character. But none can compete in urgency and importance with this duty of overcoming our ruling passion. You must stop at this. You can never think of leaving such a fortress untaken in your rear God will go no further. His current of graces will cease flowing upon you. It will be by nature and by temperament that you are advancing, not by grace. With you or with, out you, He will sit down before that citadel, and when He has waited long enough for you to see the error and to come back and to cast up your entrenchments against it, and you do not come, He will in the awful language of Scripture give you over to your own desires, and leave the field, and you will wander on, in your own strength, and along your own road, till you fall fainting and die by the way, and they that come after shall see you and say, Lo! another frustrate saint, another broken instrument, another lost vocation!

The dryness then of this duty must not repel us. nor its difficulties discourage us. We must consider them we J, but our hearts must not sink at the consideration. Th3 greatest difficulty is that of discovering this ruliug pansion. To a brave man that should be half the battle; ami we have already considered the methods by which thst knowledge may in ordinary cases be attained. The blhidness this passion causes both as to itself and other sins is an outwork as strong as the fort itself; and its pretence of virtuous indignation against the other pasiions is but the dust it raises and flings into our eyes, as we advance to the attack. The treachery of our own he&rts, willing to acknowledge any passion to be our ruling passion rather than the one which really is so, is a domestic enemy that must be strictly watched, lest in the vevy heat of the assault it play us false. But I have seen many overcome these difficulties with a little manly effort. They have got so far without a check, and without a wound. The difficulty I fear still remains to be considered, the difficulty which has been so fatal to many, and continues to be fatal to numbers of soils daily.

It is the cowardice and pusillanimity which lead us to believe that we never shall really overcome our ruling passion. At first men try to persuade themselves that there is a great deal of unreality and exaggeration in what is said on this subject, and that far too much stress is laid upon its importance and success. Now be it observed I lay no stress upon the success of our warfare, but only on the importance of our being really at war. Not that success is not to be looked for at last, and that it is an immense gain. But I lay the stress on the warfare, not on the victory. Presently a series of defects and a complete check of their spiritual progress lead n en to see that the matter was not exaggerated; indeed t) ey feel that the difficulties of the work have been estinv ted too cheaply. They are then inclined to despair of the whole matter, and to abandon the task as useless. They fall into low spirits from being continually beaten, u*itil they are as pusillanimous as cowed children. Every defeat is a loss of moral power and so leads to d(feat again. The very means which we are urged to adopt 'ook fearful to us, and we have not the heart to adopt th >m, and use them with that unshrinking firmness whicl. is necessary. But, are we prepared to abandon the spiritual life altogether, and not to aim at perfection? If not, we must be up and doing. Delay is making matters less hopeful every hour. What is hard now, may soon become impossible.

The means which we must adopt are certainly of a painful kind. We could hardly expect it to be otherwise in expelling such an enemy. Cutting, burning, and lying Wakeful, what else can do us any good? The first means is to repress instantaneously the very first movements of what we have now discovered to be our ruling passion We must not wait till they gain strength, or bring delectation with them and so become downright temptations. But we must cut them down at once; and this work is endless and continual. There is no resting over it or sleeping at it. Secondly, we must take great pains to foresee and avoid the occasions of this ruling passion. We must legislate for this, spend time upon it, and shape our daily life accordingly, so far as the relative duties of our station will permit us to do so. Thirdly, our strictness with ourselves on this subject must be persevering and intermitting. An interval will let all go at once, and we shall almost have to begin over again. And fourthly, as I have said before, we must penance ourselves for each wilful carelessness and guilty fall, and our penances must be such as will make us feel them and fear them. They must go to the quick, if it be but an instant.

All this is not very encouraging, it must be admitted. But nothing is insurmountable to him who loves God. Beware of the delusion into which Satan will try to lead you. It is that of believing all this pains about our ruling passion a work fit only for saints, and belonging to the higher stages of the spiritual life. This is one of the devil's choice axioms in almost everything. A wise man will distrust it whenever he hears it. So far is it from being true in the present case, that it would be more true to say that until this work has advanced a good way towards its completion, the soul never can enter the higher stages of the spiritual life at all. It is an indispensable work. It must be done; and moreover it must be done now. It is true that some of the hardest work of the spiritual life comes early on. This is an instance of it

Let nothing mislead you. Prayer is tempting, and liberty of spirit is inviting. There is a dignity about austerity, which allures even while it appals. The love of humiliations is attractive to the enthusiastic heart, and a first taste of calumny makes us thirst for more, as one savour of bitterness gives us an appetite, while much of it clogs us with sickliness. But let nothing draw you off either to the right hand or the left. There is your ruling passion. That is the work; there is your vocation; there is your grace, and at present not elsewhere. Visions and raptures, miracles and mortifications, and the bright lights of contemplation, will not succeed in moving us one step onwards, unless we are the while keeping up a tedious running fight with our ruling passion. I have seen many men who have brought their ruling passion into very tolerable subjection: I never saw one yet whose ruling passion was indolence, and who had made any satisfactory progress in bringing the incorrigible unresisting rebel beneath the sway of grace. Yet I do not say that even tlivX enemy is invincible.

U/8 OUR NORMAL STATJB.