The project we at first formed of a new life; the novelty of the lights which shone upon us, and upon which we had not as yet fully opened our eyes; the lassitude itself, and disgust of those passions of which our heart now felt only the bitterness and the punishment; the novelty of the occupations which we proposed to ourselves in a change; all these offered smiling images to our fancy: for novelty itself is pleasing: but this, as the Gospel says, was only the joy of a season. In proportion as truth drew near, it assumed to us, as to Augustine, yet a sinner, an appearance less captivating and smiling. When, after our first glance, as I may say, of it, we had leisurely and minutely examined the various duties it prescribed to us; the grievous separations which were now to be a law to us; retirement, prayer, the self-denials which it proved to be indispensable; that serious, occupied, and private life in which we were to be engaged; — ah! we immediately, like the young man of the Gospel, began to draw back sorrowful and uneasy; all our passions roused up fresh obstacles to it; every thing now presented itself in gloomy and totally different colours; and that which we had at first thought to be so attractive, when brought near, was no longer in our eyes but a frightful object, a way rugged, terrifying, and impracticable to human weakness.
Where are the souls, who, like the magi, after having once known the truth, never afterward wish to see but it alone; have no longer eyes for the world, for its empty pleasures, or for the vanity of its pompous shows; who feel no delight but in the contemplation of truth: in making it their resource in every affliction, the spur of their indolence, their succour against temptation, and the purest delight of their soul? And how vain, puerile, and disgusting doth the world, with all its pleasures, hopes, and grandeurs, indeed appear to a soul who hath known thee, O my God! and who hath felt the truth of thine eternal promises; to a soul who feels that whatever is not thee is unworthy of him: and who considers the earth only as the country of those who must perish for ever! Nothing is consolatory to him but what opens the prospect of real and lasting riches; nothing appears worthy of his regard but what is to endure for ever; nothing has the power of pleasing him but what shall eternally please him: nothing is longer capable of attaching him but that which he is no more to lose; and all the trifling objects of vanity are no longer, on his part, but the embarrassments of his piety, or gloomy monuments which recall the remembrance of his crimes.
Behold, in the instance of the magi, truth received with submission, with sincerity, and with delight; in the conduct of the priests, let us see the truth dissembled; and, after being instructed in the use which we ought to make of truth with regard to ourselves, let us learn what is our duty, respecting it, to others.
Part II. — The first duty required of us by the law of charity toward our brethren, is the duty of truth. We are not bound to bestow on all men our attentions, our cares, and our officious ser-
