confessed my state of mind to my superior. Kind and earnest as he was, he had nevertheless little capacity for such emergencies; he made me kneel at his feet in his cell and, after plying me for a long time with a sort of ‘argumentum ad verecundiam’—holding up the exemplary faith of Wiseman, Newman, &c.—he discharged me with the usual admonition to stifle immediately any further temptation of that character. He acted upon the received ascetical principle that there are two kinds of temptations which must be fled from, not met and fought, namely, temptations against purity and temptations against faith: in the second case the rule is certainly dishonest, and sheds much light upon the position of many clergymen. Indeed, thoughtful priests do not recognise it, though it is sanctioned, in theory and practice, by the majority.
My scepticism increased: it was partly the effect of temperament, partly a natural desire to verify the opinions which I found myself acting upon. At London I immediately put myself under the guidance of F. David, and for seven years he was informed, almost weekly, of the growth of my thoughts. Though most intimate with him I never allowed him to make any allusion to my difficulties outside the confessional, but, in confession, I spent many hours propounding my difficulties and listening with profound attention to his replies. As time went on I began to feel that I had exhausted his apologetical
