They speak two unintelligible
languages, unless the grace of God intervenes as an interpreter. I
have felt how completely maladies of this kind are beyond all human
remedy, and that God has reserved the treatment of them to himself,
_inanu mitissima et suavissima pertractans vulnera mea_, to quote St.
Augustin, who evidently speaks from experience. At times the _Angelus
Satanae qui me colaphizet_ wakes up. Such, my dear friend, is our
fate, and we must abide by it. _Converte te sufra, converte te infra_,
life, especially for the clergy, is a battle, and perhaps in the long
run, these storms are better for man than a dead calm, which would
send him to sleep.... I can hardly bring myself to fancy that within
a twelvemonth you will be a priest, you who were my schoolfellow and
friend as a boy. And now we are halfway through life, according to the
ordinary mode of reckoning, and the second half will probably not
be the pleasanter of the two. This surely should make us look upon
passing ills as of no account, and endure with patience the troubles
of a few days, at which we shall smile in a few years' time, and not
think of in eternity. Vanity of vanities!"
A year later the malady, which I thought was only a fleeting one, had
spread to my whole conscience. Upon the 22nd of March, 1845, I wrote a
letter to my friend which he could not read, as he was on his deathbed
when it reached him.
"My position in the seminary has not varied much since our last
conversation.
Pages:
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237