Chapter VI: Part 6

This perhaps suggests a few words about smoking itself, which can be reckoned among a priest's recreations; and if properly controlled, a very good recreation it may be. The solace of a pipe towards the end of a day, when nature calls for a rest and an opportunity for quiet thought, may be of great assistance to a priest in recuperating after a day's work. And a smoke after meals is good and healthy for mind and body. But, alas! many people do not limit themselves to moderate smoking, and the habit often leads to sad waste of time. There are indeed some who can work better with a pipe in their mouths: but these are the exception. The ordinary rule is that smoking is only compatible with light occupation. Hence a man who is always craving for a smoke is always craving for a few idle moments. How many small intervals in the day are there which many a priest fills up with a cigarette, with or without a little light reading or newspaper snippets. One does not easily realise how much time can be thrown away in this manner. Cardinal Manning used to have always at hand what he called a "five-minutes book," and he used to tell of the large amount of reading which he thus got through in his short unoccupied intervals.

But the evil of the frequent cigarette is more far-reaching than that. The craving which calls for a few minutes of self-indulgence of this kind is surely an opportunity for a little self-control and mortification: if this is allowed to slip, by degrees one becomes a slave to smoking. And the evils of heavy smoking are many and great. One is the general demoralising effect on oneself. Another is the unpleasant effect it has on others. A heavy smoker is a selfish man: the fact that he inconveniences his neighbour does not deter him. After all, non-smokers form more than half of the congregation, for practically all the women and children are such, besides a not inconsiderable proportion of the men. To non-smokers, the smell of stale smoke is always unpleasant, while not infrequently it engenders unwillingness to go into close contact, as for example in the Confessional. Then again the stained fingers which mark the heavy smoker seem an unworthy instrument for saying mass, and for touching the Blessed Sacrament. Many a person has been kept away from a priest by his reeking of tobacco. Truly a priest's whole career may be marred by the habit.

The danger of continual smoking at small intervals is obviously much greater in the case of a cigarette than a pipe, and one stage towards self-control in this matter would be to keep the number of cigarettes strictly limited. But the best preservative is to have fixed hours for smoking of any kind and never to smoke outside them.

[1] _Eternal Priesthood_, p. 76.

[2] _The Priest on the Mission_, p. 209.

[3] _Sequel to Catholic Emancipation_, i., p. 140.

CONFERENCE XI

THE RECREATIONS OF A PRIEST

(_continued_)

THE actual laws about a priest's recreation are, as is almost necessary from the nature of the case, only negative. They enumerate the amusements in which he must not take part. In our own Synods there are two laws, the first of which is taken from the Synod of St. Charles at Milan:--

"Priests should keep away from spectacles unworthy of an ecclesiastic, from clamorous hunting which is carried on with horse and hounds, from public dances, from unlawful games and from feastings which are protracted till late in the night."

"We strictly forbid clerics in Holy Orders from being present at scenic representations in public theatres [or in places which serve for the time as public theatres], [1] imposing on transgressors the penalty of suspension incurred _ipso facto_, as has hitherto been in force throughout England, with reservation to their respective Ordinary."

The first of these laws is sufficiently vague to admit of considerable variety of interpretation. So far as public dances or balls are concerned, the practice has always been to regard them as not the place for a priest. At the time of the French Revolution, the _emigres_ clergy, who were received in England with such hospitality, used to be invited to all kinds of festivities, and no doubt their heads became somewhat turned. At any rate, many of them used to stay up the greater part of a night at balls to which they were asked, until it reached the ears of the Bishop, who prohibited it. In truth, if balls or dances were ever so innocent, such dissipation prolonged into the night is incompatible with priestly life.

It would seem, however, from recent decisions that the Holy See means a rather stricter interpretation to be affixed to the law, and although these actual decisions may only bind locally, in the United States and Canada, it seems hardly rash to infer that it is intended to discountenance priests generally from attending or promoting entertainments which include dancing. [2]

With respect to the rest of the law, it is difficult to be very precise; but we shall not be far wrong if we adopt a general rule that in every case when a priest is tempted to conceal his priesthood, and adopt a costume which will allow his being taken for a layman, he is on the verge of frequenting "a spectacle unworthy of an ecclesiastic." It can be done with care without breaking the letter of the law about ecclesiastical dress, simply by covering the Roman collar and wearing a dark grey coat; and it has been done in the past by those who wished to attend a spectacle where a Roman collar would be out of place.

In the case of going to a football or cricket ground, especially the latter, to watch the game, the case is wholly different, for we find plenty of Roman collars openly worn. At the time of writing, the war has put an end to the possibility of this pastime for so long a period that one has almost forgotten its fascination. We are even inclined to wonder how we could ever have allowed the first-class cricket scores to have the prominence they once had in our thoughts. For it is not many years ago that the Daily Mail would announce the "sad plight of England" cabled from the Antipodes during a Test Match with as much prominence as is now given to apprehended danger of invasion by the Germans. If cricket ever fully revives, however, there is a good deal to be said in favour of an occasional afternoon at Lord's or the Oval. It gives one fresh air and an amount of occupation not inconsistent with quiet reflection on more serious topics. To watch a game of football is in some ways less desirable, not only because the excitement is more concentrated, but because the general tone of the crowd is rougher. Still, a priest can go in his Roman collar.

It is hardly necessary to point out that the unlawful games alluded to have no relation to our English athletic exercises. The modern counterpart would perhaps be games at cards for high stakes, about which some words have already been said. The question of athletics is a very different one. Cardinal Manning, though himself in his younger days a cricketer, took a stern view of a priest playing. "Can you imagine"--he would say--"going before your Creator for judgment with a chalice in one hand and a cricket bat in the other?" Or again, "Should a priest have time to throw away in running after a piece of leather?" It may be doubted whether he often carried conviction with such arguments. Still, these considerations cannot be wholly put aside. But it would be narrow-minded to make objection to athletics in general, if indulged in with moderation, and in suitable surroundings. Either tennis or cricket may be good for both soul and body, though the latter game exacts so much time that it is only exceptionally within the priest's reach. But the game of golf, so much in vogue in later years, is almost an ideal one as a clerical recreation. In this, however, as in all matters of recreation the personal tastes--and personal attainments--must be the decisive factor. Many have no inclination for athletics after leaving school. They find as they grow older that the exercise which comes naturally with their daily work satisfies their needs, with perhaps an occasional long walk, which they designate a "constitutional"; and often during such "constitutional" they can do some valuable thinking. Some writers do a large part of their composition while out walking.

There is another form of athletics which is capable of great use, or of some abuse--that is, the bicycle. In these days, indeed, it has become so much part of every-day life that many use it simply for the purpose of getting from place to place. But it can also be used on a larger scale to provide an excellent recreation. As a physical exercise indeed, it is exacting, especially when--as will often be the case--the weather is unfavourable, or the wind in the wrong direction, and it is doubtful whether it conduces much physically to health. But it has an admirable power of taking away a man from his daily surroundings and giving him a complete mental change and rest. If the weather is fine, indeed, and the conditions favourable, it tends occasionally to make inroads into our work. But if used judiciously it may be the occasion of much educative interest, and give one some of the advantages of travel which the modern railway transport from point to point fails to give. Mr. Ruskin refused to travel by train, and to be conveyed, as he said, like a parcel. If he had lived in the days of bicycling, he might have found the key to his difficulty. The bicyclist makes close acquaintance with the people and the places through which he travels; he can visit the old churches and interest himself in their history; he can see the various industries and way of life of the people among whom he goes, and so forth. This is still more so if he has a motor-cycle, as his range of country is so largely increased. His interest may be developed by a portable camera; and indeed photography in itself is a capital recreation. So is botany, or geology, or any kind of hobby which a man may take up. And any hobby is to be encouraged. If a man says he has no time to pursue a hobby, he is probably an idle man. One who is keen can make time and this is in every way an advantage.

We can now turn to consider the second synodical law--that against frequenting the theatre--which is not only more precise, but has a heavy penalty attached to its infringement, that the delinquent is _ipso facto_ suspended from his priestly functions and commits a sin reserved to his Bishop. Such a stringent law indicates that the matter is viewed seriously.

The fact is that the Church has always spoken in strong terms against the theatre. Bishop Milner uses his customary violent language in that sense. "Everyone knows," he says, [3] "that actors and actresses by the laws of the Church and the particular constitutions of our mission [4] are considered as habitual sinners and in a state of damnation, to whom therefore the sacraments are to be denied. Setting aside, then, all other consideration, can any Christian think it lawful by his or her presence or money to assist in keeping these wretches in such a state?" And again, "What are the opinions, the taste, the conduct, and in a word, the lessons which are inculcated by the theatre? I say that the very best modern tragedies exhibit and recommend that pride, ambition, vainglory, impatience, anger and revenge which are the very reverse of our Divine Master's morality inculcated in the eight beatitudes. And with respect to all the comedies and almost all the tragedies, they are made up of the sentiments, the intrigues and the gratification of the concupiscence of the flesh under the specious and all-meaning name of Love."

Probably few would be found to speak in that drastic manner to-day. It is, to say the least, remarkable that the actor's profession seems to contain a greater proportion of Catholics than almost any other, and although we cannot regard it as free from dangers, the activities of the Catholic Stage Guild, and the fact that it is under high ecclesiastical patronage show that the profession is not regarded as in itself illicit. Moreover, those who have come across actors in private life can testify to the fact that a large amount of real goodness exists among them, and that as a class, they are very charitable, and aim at high ideals.

Nevertheless, the considerations put forward by Dr. Milner cannot be too lightly set aside, even under modern conditions. One of the dangers of the stage is that it unconsciously undermines Christian morality, substituting that of the world: extolling pride as a virtue, looking down on the humble as poor-spirited and the like. A Catholic spectator may honestly believe himself to be unharmed, whereas as a fact his hold on Christian principles may have been lowered, and worldly ideals substituted in their place.

It is true indeed that a new stamp of theatrical representation has arisen since the date of Dr. Milner, typified by the Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas, or the burlesques which were so fashionable a generation or two ago. These produce much mirth and recreation, and are free from the danger alluded to. But it is worth noting that it is just these pieces which are most infected with improprieties of dress from which Christian eyes should be kept.

A somewhat similar remark applies to the Italian Opera, which was once the very height of fashion, and still retains a part at least of its former distinction. The plot or _libretto_ takes a comparatively secondary place and does not attract much attention, it being only the setting of the music, which is the chief attraction. But as a set-off, we are frequently brought face to face with a ballet of a most improper nature. Certainly the inference drawn by the ordinary frequenter of the theatre is that such performances are not wrong, and it is prudish to object to them.

And if it be argued that one meets with similar worldly ideals in novels, or even in everyday life, or that the state of the London streets brings similar indecorum before one, the answer is simple: what one meets with by accident in everyday life is one thing; what is put for before us for our admiration and dressed in its most attractive form is a totally different one; and many a man drinks in an idea unthinkingly at the theatre which he would not assimilate in the same way by mixing in everyday life or even by reading a novel. In the case of a regular frequenter of the theatre, we find his whole outlook on life distorted by its morality.

In similar way, though the views of Cardinal Manning against all kinds of theatrical entertainments are commonly admitted to have been extreme, what he says cannot be dismissed too easily, for it contains much truth.

"Every theatre," he writes, "is the centre of a neighbourhood abounding in all manner of evil, which lives and thrives on the theatrical world. There are upon the stage many good men and many good women; but also of both many bad. The spirit and surroundings and tide of the stage are dangerous and downward. The classes and trades that thrive by it are too well known to need words from me. Why should anyone aid, abet, comfort or share in such a traffic, even by the price of a box or a single ticket? I had rather have no liability however limited in such a trade."

Probably most persons to-day would look upon these words as a somewhat overdrawn picture, and it is to be hoped that we shall not be considered wanting in respect in taking a somewhat less rigid view. Perhaps we may apply the same principles as St. Francis of Sales applies to persons living in the world assisting at parties, balls, and social dissipations generally [5]--that such things should be taken with caution and not too frequently, in which case the recreation and other good which they provide may be obtained, and the harm avoided. Thus, if it be argued that the need of recreation in the modern world is great, that the stage contains much that is entertaining, or at times even elevating, and that its evils may be counteracted in the case of one who is solidly instructed in his religion, a strong case might be made in favour of frequenting the theatre provided it is not done too often, and that one knows that there are dangers lurking which require watchfulness and care. It may be urged that Cardinal Manning, from his very nature, never realised the necessity or use of real recreation, for he seemed able to work continuously without any; and, moreover, the particular recreation of the theatre was to a great extent a closed book to him, for it is well known that early in life he made a resolution not to put his foot inside one, and he kept it throughout his life. This would seem to be a justification for at least taking a somewhat less rigid view than his on the matter.

But in the case of the priest, the question is totally different. Such dissipation in such surroundings is incompatible with his general life, and out of harmony with the stern seriousness of the priestly vocation. It prevents recollection at a time of day when it is especially needed, and his morning's Meditation and mass must suffer. Moreover, a priest in a Roman collar is an official, and must not countenance by his presence the indecorum which is of such frequent occurrence in every theatre.

Yet one has heard of some priests regretting the law; but the arguments put forward by them do not appeal with much force. One is that the theatre has changed since the law was made and it is not now objectionable as it once was. It is remarkable to note how this has always been said. So far back as the time of Dr. Milner this argument was used, as he himself testified. It is probable that as times goes on, plays become more outwardly respectable, and the improprieties are less emphasised; possibly for that very reason they are more insidious. The general spirit of the theatre does not seem to change, and is not likely to.

During the last decade of the eighteenth century, before the penal state of Catholics had been relaxed, no law on the subject existed; and the celebrated preacher, Rev. James Archer, used to go to the play, to get a lesson in elocution; and when in 1803, at the first meeting of Bishops which approached the nature of a Synod, they forbade the practice, Mr. Archer was very irate. The style of eloquence at that epoch was far more inflated and artificial than anything with which we are familiar, and we can hardly imagine such complaint being made now; but even in recent times, one has heard of Catholic actors being asked to give a priest some hints on elocution. As regards actual delivery, and means of making ourselves audible, it is possible that they might give some useful advice; but it is certain that the real value of a sermon will never depend much on mere rules of rhetoric; and any rhetoric which is artificial is a hindrance, not a help.

Then again it is urged that the rule does not act justly: there are places more unsuitable than theatres, such as music-halls, which are not forbidden. This indeed is possible enough. It is exceedingly hard to draft a rule which shall cover exactly the cases desired, and the difficulty is increased tenfold when the rules were made seventy years ago, for the style, for example, of music-hall entertainment has wholly changed in that time. No rule against music-halls was necessary then, as no priest would have thought of going to one. In recent years the type of music-hall has become higher, and if the law were made to-day, it is possible that a reference to them might be thought desirable. But after all, even if it were granted that the rule may be worded badly, that would not interfere with the undoubted fact that the theatre was intended to be forbidden, and no inclination has ever been shown to go back from the rule.

In recent years a wholly new problem has presented itself by the invention of the cinematograph. The present state of picture palaces gives much room for thought and almost makes one weep. The attractiveness and low price bring it within the reach of all. What a power it might be for educating the people, and raising the tone of their recreations! Yet in fact it does the very reverse. The reason is simply the style of film which is shown. Here and there one gets an interesting and educative one--such, for examples, as the official war films which have been shown--but even these are usually sandwiched between the low farcical vulgar displays which in the majority of cinemas constitute the whole performance. They are indeed free from some at least of the objectionableness of the theatre; but that is all that can be said in their favour. Indeed, much of the juvenile criminality which seems on the increase has been confidently attributed to these picture palaces.

With respect to the desirability of the priest going to a cinema--for it is not against any definite law--it is difficult to lay down a general rule. Certainly there are many low-class cinemas which he would never think of attending. Some of the better-class places in London or elsewhere might sometimes provide him with useful recreation; but it is only stating what is obvious in saying that he will treat the matter with great caution.

[1] The words within brackets were added at the Synod of 1872, at which Archbishop Manning presided.

The following is the original text:--

"Abstineant sacerdotes a spectaculis viro ecclesiastico indignis, a venatione clamorosa quae equo et canibus fit, a publicis choreis, ab illicitis ludis, et a cornessationibus quae usque ad intempestam noctem protrabuntur. Prohibemus districte ne ecclesiastici saeris Ordinibus initiati, scenis spectaculis in publicis theatris vel in locis theatri publici usui ad tempus inservientibus intersint, imponentes transgressoribus poenam suspensionis ipso facto incurrendam, hactenus ubique in Anglia vigentem, cum reservatione respectivo Ordinario" (_Westmonast_. i. xxiv. 2; iv. x. 9).

The corresponding law in the new Codex is:--

"Spectaculis, choreis et pompis quae eos dedecent vel quibus clericos interesse scandalo sit, praesertim in publicis theatris, ne intersint" (Canon 140).

[2] _Acta Apostolicae Sedis_, May, 1916, p. 147, and January, 1918, p. 17.

[3] _Life_, p. 112.

[4] The first rule prohibiting the theatre to priests was made at the Synod of Winchester and Old Hall in 1803, which was indeed the first occasion on which the four Vicars Apostolic were able to hold a meeting to consider such matters at all. The penalty enacted was then as now, suspension _ipso facto_, reserved to the Bishop.

[5] Devout Life, chapter xxxiii.

CONFERENCE XII

THE ANNUAL HOLIDAY

IN these days regular holidays every year have become a recognised necessity for a life such as that of a priest in this country. The effect of modern conditions of living, the prevalence of "slum" neighbourhoods, with their generally depressing surroundings, the continual pressure of such concentrated daily work, all bring with them as a corollary the necessity of from time to time being released from them altogether for a while, and modern invention has also provided the means of getting away from one's work easily and cheaply, which our ancestors neither possessed nor needed. The expression "he is away on his holiday" has passed into our language.

Whatever is to be said of the general hardness of a priest's life, in this one respect it stands out as more fortunate than that in most other professions. A priest on a town mission--and it is on such a mission that a holiday is really needed--commonly has four consecutive Sundays off duty once every year, which means in many cases that he is able to absent himself for nearly five weeks. The conditions of his life render this possible, and nobody grudges it. Even the war has not interfered with a priest's holidays, at any rate as regards their length. And in this country they are more systematically regularised than in most others. Some half a century ago a Belgian Bishop wrote to Cardinal Manning asking him to dissuade his priests from visiting Belgium when on their annual holiday, lest they should unsettle the local clergy and instigate them also to look for holidays. In our time, however, holidays for priests, before the war, were not so unknown there. A primary result of this systematic arrangement for holidays is that an appreciable part of a priest's life is spent in this way, and it becomes of importance for us to enquire how we spend it.

The science of arithmetical addition often produces startling results. A person adding up accounts for the first time is surprised at the total amount of money that he finds has passed through his hands, both on the credit and on the debit side. Let us apply the process to the priest's holiday. We will suppose that the average time he takes is one calendar month--which is ordinarily well within the mark. In the first twelve years of his priesthood therefore he spends a year in holidays. One who has reached his silver jubilee has occupied over two years so: an old priest may have spent four or five years in this way. Clearly much will depend both in time and in eternity on how it has been spent.

Or we may look at the arithmetic from another point of view. If one month in every twelve is spent in vacation, it would seem to follow by the law of averages that one priest in twelve would have to meet his death during his holidays. For several reasons, however, this estimate has to be modified. Death is not ordinarily so sudden but that the illness which precedes it will show itself in time to prevent the priest from starting on his vacation. But suppose we reduce the estimate from one in twelve to one in fifty, or even one in a hundred, that still leaves us matter for serious reflection; and experience shows that this is not much above the mark. It is no uncommon thing to hear of a priest who started on his holidays, if not in good health, at least with the hope of regaining it, and his hopes being frustrated either by the arrival of death while he is still away, or by his being just able to return home to die. This surely, if we have the prudence and forethought which a priest ought to have, should make us pause and consider. If it is possible, and not extremely improbable, that so important a moment may have to be faced during our outing, it is essential that we should not relax our spirit of recollection so completely but that we may be able quickly to resume it when confronted by a crisis.

Now it is precisely here that the difficulty of spending our vacation well comes in. It is essential for the very purpose for which we go away that we should relax our spiritual exercises to some extent, otherwise our vacation will fail of its effect, and we shall return without that freshness which forms so valuable a send-off to the next year's work. The recreations of a priest's life are at all times difficult to regulate--as we have seen in the preceding Conferences. To succeed in obtaining relaxation of mind, without at the same time incurring dissipation, is never easy: and most of us in looking back on our past lives will probably find more to regret in the time given to recreation than in any other time. But the difficulty is greatly increased when recreation is the order of our daily life, and our ordinary elevating influences are for the time to a great extent in abeyance. Yet we know that an ill-spent holiday leaves us on a lower level than it found us; habits and practices are gone, and there is nothing in their place except, perhaps, half-formed habits of self-indulgence and general slackness.

But there is in truth another side to vacation time which is the very opposite to its dissipating side. It is a time when being released for a while from our daily work and anxieties, our mind turns back on our life as a whole, our shortcomings, our prospects for the future, our devotions and spiritual exercises, and the like. Some periods of vacation time may be in this way almost as good as a retreat. The possibility of utilising it thus of course depends to some extent on our surroundings, how we are spending it, whom we are with, and what doing. But we shall usually have sufficient unoccupied time at our disposal, whether we are with our friends or relations, or on our travels, and we can without forgoing any real relaxation let our thoughts revert to our life and our work as a priest, which indeed we shall naturally do if our interest in them is what it should be. If we do not, much of our time will be simply thrown away. The author of the _Imitation_ says that sickness changes no man, but shows what he is. Something similar may be said of holidays. The manner in which they are spent, and the thoughts which come uppermost will be a clear index of the state of mind, spiritually, of the man who spends it. And if the occasion is utilised, it will afford a valuable offset to the natural dissipation of the period.

If, then, so much depends on the vacation being well spent, some thought should certainly be taken in good time beforehand, that the natural falling to low level may be checked by definite resolutions made in advance, for when the time comes, the surroundings are not favourable to making laws for ourselves. The following remarks then are intended as a help towards sanctifying a time which it is more easy to lose ground than at any other period of the year.

1. The Roman collar should never be taken off, or at least no outward change should be made which would indicate that we are trying to disguise our priesthood. It is true that theologians tell us that under certain circumstances, when on a journey, it is lawful to do so; but "all things are lawful to me, but all things do not edify." [1] It is said that to be dressed as a layman makes one freer, and this is no doubt the case; but it is questionable whether such freedom is desirable. The restraint of one's priesthood, and the general rule that wherever one cannot appear as a priest, one will not go at all, is a useful check on our lives at such times. Incidentally it may be remarked that the disguise will not often be successful, and many will see through it. The shorn appearance, the general want of fit about the clothes, and the evident discomfort at wearing so unusual a garb attract observation; and sooner or later, the suspicion aroused is confirmed by the appearance of a well-worn Breviary, out of which the disguised priest is saying his Office. The general effect is lowering both on others and himself. The feeling that it is a disguise brings with it the practical conviction that he is acting in a manner unbecoming to his state. Once a priest, always a priest, and it is only in very exceptional circumstances that one should ever pretend to be anything else. The priest's dress will not interfere with any recreation which is suitable for him.

2. A certain minimum number of times for saying mass should be fixed and closely adhered to. Even outside that limit, mass should not be omitted without real cause. The sight of a priest who has put his mass away at the beginning of his holidays as "work," to be left behind until he returns, or at most to be produced on Sundays, has in the past been unfortunately too common; and the reaction which induced a priest when freed from his morning exercises to stay in bed inordinately late is not edifying. There are indeed days when a rest is needful, or advisable, or when it is difficult to make suitable arrangements, or when all time available is wanted for an excursion, or to catch an early train; but in many instances there is no such reason. In truth a fervent priest should be specially anxious about his mass at such times, both because he will feel the need of it to sanctify his holiday, and because in fact being temporarily relieved from his daily anxieties, he is able to say it with a new freshness and devotion.

3. As to Meditation, in most cases one could hardly expect the ordinary half-hour before mass, and if one's holiday is to be successful, one must necessarily ease off some of one's spiritual exercises. But there is really no reason for abandoning Meditation altogether. A short period, even five or ten minutes, whether as thanksgiving after mass, or at some other time of day, will be more valuable than double that time in the ordinary working part of the year. About this, as about other exercises, it is important to have a rule, and to keep to it, save in exceptional circumstances; but the exact nature of the rule depends so largely on the personal equation that one hesitates to put forward any suggestion too definitely.

4. The Divine Office of course cannot be omitted for any ordinary reason. But it can easily be put into odd times--more easily during a holiday than during the working part of the year--or left to the end of the day, when it is said without devotion, as fast as possible, simply to get it over. The loss by this is the greater from the very fact that the Divine Office is the one devotion which is binding even in holiday season. A definite rule is a help in such cases, and if the burden of anticipating Matins and Lauds is felt too great, a rule, for example, to finish to the end of Prime before midday ought not to be too difficult to be usually kept. But what precise rule to make, like many other details, must depend on the nature of our holiday and where we find ourselves. At least let there be some rule to aim at: don't let it be simply a case of drifting.

This, therefore, suggests a few words as to what kind of a holiday a priest will take. In many cases this settles itself by the exigencies of circumstances. He may have a home to go to, with parents still living, or he may have relatives and friends to stay with. In other cases he may be able to go for a regular tour with a fellow priest or other companion. The former class of case is perhaps more difficult to regulate, as the priest has to accommodate himself to the ways of those with whom he is staying. A general rule to be well occupied all day, and to retire in good time so as to be fresh for the next day, is very easily written down: to keep it without making oneself uncongenial requires both determination and tact. Often it may be possible to regulate one's retirement at night in this way; but sometimes it is not, and in such circumstances we have no choice but to accept what we find. The rule of occupying ourselves can however practically always be kept. The reproach that the English take their recreation sadly--perhaps seriously would be a better word--is really an allusion to one of the most favourable sides of our national character. To spend the time in aimless lounging--the _dolce far niente_ so dear to the typical Italian--is not in itself congenial to our nature; yet the habit not infrequently invades our holiday time, especially at the seaside. The description a priest once wrote of himself that he had spent day after day in sitting on the sands, and getting behind-hand in his Office, is typical of a whole class of holidays; but by no means of all. One easy way to guard absolutely against it is to have a carefully chosen holiday book, sufficiently light to recreate, yet entertaining and educative, to produce on any day on which we find that, through stress of weather or other cause, there is no definite occupation on hand.

If a priest is fortunate enough to be able to travel on a regular tour, it is unnecessary to point out how fully his time will be occupied, provided he takes at least an intelligent interest in what he sees. The effect of travelling is very broadening, for one meets-- even in one's own country--with customs and surroundings very different from those of the particular place in which we live; and the amount of human history contained in churches and other public buildings and dwelling-houses is very great. Moreover, the effect of natural scenery is always elevating. If--as was possible before the war, and will some day be possible again--a priest can visit Catholic countries, he will find much to be of high spiritual advantage to him. It is often possible to make a pilgrimage to a shrine part of our holiday, and thus to unite recreation with high spiritual profit. To visit such places as Lourdes or Ars in France, or Einsiedeln in Switzerland, or Loreto or Genezzano in Italy--to mention only a few typical ones--is not only an interesting experience, but will also be a source of grace and blessing. One sees Catholic practices freely developed, without the restraining influences which the surroundings of Protestantism render inevitable here in England. The simple devotion, wholly free from self-consciousness, which one sees joined with such extraordinary fervour in places of pilgrimage, are full of elevating effect in ourselves, and the atmosphere of faith among the people all around us is as good as a revelation.

The shrine at Lourdes is too well known to need any words here. Apart from any question of miracles--which in fact assume a very secondary place there--the spirit of devotion among the thousands of pilgrims from all parts of the world, and the absolute contentment of the sick who have been brought from afar, and are often in acute physical pain, give one a picture which one would not have believed to be realisable in this world. The surroundings of Ars, again, are of special interest from a different point of view as bringing us close to the life of a real saint and parish priest, for the date of the cure's death is still within living memory. Then, again, to find a shrine such as _Notre Dame des Victoires_ in the midst of such a cosmopolitan city as Paris, where so much evil is known to be rampant, is instructive and edifying. But there is a shrine not a hundred miles from there to which surely English people should be attracted more than they are: that is, the shrine of St. Edmund of Canterbury, at Pontigny. One of the last of our English saints to be canonised, his life is not inferior in interest to that of any of his predecessors. He died in exile in France, and by a curious combination of circumstances, the great Cistercian Abbey Church at Pontigny, where his body is over the altar, survived both the dangers of the Huguenots in the sixteenth century and the great Revolution at the end of the eighteenth, and stands to-day almost in the same condition in which St. Edmund knew it in 1240. It is really a reproach to English Catholics that so few go there. In recent years, a certain number of High Church Anglicans have visited it. Unfortunately it is in one of the worst parts of France, where religion languishes; but even there, twice a year--on the feast of the Saint in November and that of the Translation of his Relics, kept there in Whitsun Week--the massive church is filled with pilgrims from afar.

But apart from actual shrines, a priest will find in the atmosphere of a Catholic country and in the daily life of the people plenty of thought on which to build up his own spiritual aspirations. If he says mass in good time in the morning, he will find perhaps many people in the church engaged on their own spontaneous devotions. On a Sunday the succession of mass-goers is continuous; the liturgical services draw large congregations; and Catholicism seems to be in the very air one breathes. Even in large cities it is a prominent feature; in country towns and villages it pervades the whole life of the people. The idea of the Catholicity of the Church is brought home to us when we find ourselves so manifestly belonging to the same body as these devout souls, and the holiday becomes strengthening to the soul as well as the body.

[1] 1 Cor. x. 23.

CONFERENCE XIII

THE PERIODICAL RETREAT

IN view of the fact that our own synodal law prescribes a Retreat for every priest only every second year, [1] and the new Codex of Canon Law only insists on one every third year, [2] it might appear that either one or the other is the limit at which we should aim. Such, however, is surely not the case. It is true that even though our Synodal law still holds--as has been recently decided by the Holy See--no more frequent Retreat is required as of obligation than once in two years, and in some countries where there is no special local law, the longer interval--once in three years--may be lawful. Yet, without asserting any obligation, the present writer deliberately urges a yearly Retreat as the ideal. Wherever circumstances permit it--as in Ireland or Belgium or elsewhere--this has always been the practice. Moreover, the wording both of the synodal law and of the new Codex by no means excludes this as the ideal; in each case the word _saltem_, or "at least," is joined to the specification of the obligatory period.

But it would surely appear that an earnest priest would himself desire it. The idea that a Retreat is an irksome duty, to be discharged as best it can, is surely a very inadequate one. It should be a time to which a priest looks forward with longing, when he can put away his work for a few days, and attend to matters which are in the strictest sense personal, and if we may say so, selfish; and in which he may commune with Almighty God in a manner which the hard work of his daily life renders difficult or at times impossible. True the Retreat involves a serious work and an important Confession, and the renewal of many resolutions which have fallen into abeyance. Such a work will not be accomplished without serious effort, and often involves facing trouble and discouragement during its course. A Retreat is by no means the recreation which its name almost implies. But its interest is supreme. It touches all that aspect of life which should be vital to us, and it tests our progress in that aspect of our lives which alone matters.

If the Retreat is to be for us the event which ought to be the centre and crown of our year's work, certain conditions must be complied with which often are not. Let us consider these in detail.

The first question is when and where to make the Retreat. The Synod seems to assume that it will be made by all the diocesan clergy in common at the time and place provided for by the Bishop. Whether this is to be taken strictly or not, has been much discussed; our tradition has been that a priest making a solitary Retreat at a religious house satisfies the obligation, though making a Retreat at one's own house does not. The new Codex, however, seems in this respect stricter than our Synodal Law, and provides definitely for the common clergy Retreat unless special exception be made for a just cause by the Bishop himself. Hence it would appear that ordinarily at least every three years the common Retreat is obligatory.

But apart from strict obligation, there is every reason that, except in special circumstances, the priests should join in the common diocesan Retreat. There are indeed some persons who find it a difficulty, and who can make a better Retreat in private; but they are the exception. At any rate, it is necessary for the Bishop to give leave in any particular case. In making application, at least let the priest bear in mind that at best he will lose the graces attached to the corporate act, and will not be helping his fellow clergy as he might be, so that only a strong reason should induce him to apply; for very naturally a Bishop would be slow to give a negative answer. On the other hand, a priest who willingly conforms brings consolation to his Bishop and helps in the sanctification of the diocesan clergy as a whole.

In order to bring about the possibility of a general Retreat, it is sometimes necessary that the parish services should be curtailed or omitted during that week. Let there be no hesitation in, if necessary, reducing the week-day masses or omitting them altogether or omitting evening services. The people will fully enter into the reason, provided it is explained to them, and will willingly join in prayer for the blessing of God on the Retreat.

In the next place, if we properly esteem the Retreat, and wish to draw down God's blessing on it, we should show our esteem by making up our minds in good time beforehand that we will make it. The experience of a curate returning from his holiday on a Saturday, discussing his plans on Sunday, and making up his mind not till Monday morning that he will join the diocesan Retreat would seem to indicate his view of it as a disagreeable duty to be performed because it is ordered. No one would treat an important or attractive work in this way. What wonder that he arrives on the scene without thought or preparation, spends most of the Tuesday resting himself, and finds he is slack on the remaining two and a half days? And can he wonder that the special graces to be looked for come to him only sparingly? Even those who have made up their minds to join the Retreat, often spend the whole of Monday at their ordinary work, till the very last minute before starting; or even arrive late and thus emphasise a bad beginning. "Before prayer, prepare thy soul," says the holy writer, "and be not as a man that tempteth God." [3] One who is in earnest about what is before him will break off his ordinary occupation, except such as is absolutely necessary, all Monday, so as to be ready to begin the work of the Retreat in the evening.

Similar conditions hold as to the ending of the Retreat. Formerly this was not till the Saturday morning after the general Communion. In recent years, however, it has been customary to finish early in the afternoon of Friday. But a considerable number do not stop for the end, and we often see a priest who thinks nothing of returning from his holiday at a late hour, sometimes not far from midnight, at the end of a Retreat wishing to be back "in good time" and cutting short the Retreat accordingly. Or sometimes a priest will return early on the plea of doing his Friday evening service. This ought not to be so, and a rule against doing any pastoral work whatever on the Friday would remove the temptation.

With respect to the body of the Retreat, let each one determine what is necessary for himself to go through it with real profit. Certainly a mere attendance at the discourses is not enough. The work to be done is a real and active one. The Jesuits realise this, and they do not usually use the word Retreat, which connotes its negative side, but prefer to use the expression "spiritual exercises," which connotes its positive side. In truth, the _ennui_ of the Retreat, from which so many suffer, comes from looking exclusively on the negative side. If we are properly active and at work, the time will pass rapidly and will appear all too short. This is for the modern priest undoubtedly far the most important aspect of the Retreat. It is indeed a help to keep silence and to be away from one's work and distractions, but that will not benefit us unless we have other work to replace that which we have put away. And this will save us from the temptation to use our time in preparing sermons or instructions for the next Sunday or two. Let it be remembered that even for the following one we shall have the Saturday at our disposal for such preparation.

The keeping of silence indeed, helpful though it may be, is not of the essence of the Retreat. Considering how seldom we meet our fellow clergy, some intercourse will be in many ways desirable. It is well, if possible, to regulate this, and the modern custom of having an hour's recreation at the dinner has much to recommend it.

A word may be added on the importance of regularity at all the exercises. It may be that some of them appeal to our personal taste less than others. Some persons prefer saying their Office in private in place of the public recitation usual in clergy retreats. Others are inclined to avoid the Stations of the Cross; and so on. But surely a Retreat is of all times one in which to sink our personal tastes, so as to join in the corporate act. The same applies to taking our share in the community duties, such as reading in Refectory, or serving at the altar, or taking special part such as e.g. a Lesson in the Office, or other duties. To avoid them is a sign of selfishness. To be willing to sacrifice oneself in small ways is a powerful means to bring a blessing on the Retreat and the example to others will not be thrown away.

The old habit of refraining from saying mass during the Retreat has now almost gone out, and Benediction is commonly given not only at the conclusion as formerly but every evening of the Retreat. It would seem hardly too much to ask that at least one mass be set aside for the intentions of the Retreat for ourselves and others; for considering how much of the success of the year's work depends on the Retreat being made well, every effort should be made to secure God's blessing on it. In the Society of Jesus, it is part of the rule after the first years of priesthood to devote a whole year to a second novitiate: those doing so are known as tertians, as they are going through a third year as novices. It is easy to see what special value such additional novitiate may have, after the priest has been sufficiently long time in active work to realise and appreciate its value. We may well envy them in having this opportunity of entering into themselves so thoroughly. The only thing that we seculars have to compare with it is the periodical Retreat. It is little enough, lasting only a few days compared with a whole year of the tertianship. Let us learn to esteem that little more, and to make it the opportunity of overhauling our whole life, and making good resolutions for the future. Let us always remember that some day we shall make a Retreat which will prove to be our last serious preparation for death. We have been frequent witnesses of this in others: one day it will happen to ourselves. Yet when we are making the Retreat, we probably shall not know such to be the case. We may be well and strong, and with a good prospect of life before us: yet God may know that this is our last great opportunity. Surely this thought, if no other, should stimulate us to make the Retreat well, so as not to have it ever said against us that we had the power given us of making a full preparation for our last passage, but omitted to use it.

[1] "Singuli sacerdotes teneantur, quoque saltem biennio, exercitia spiritualia quae Episcopus providebit, adire" (_I. Westmonast_, xxiv. 7).