On Companionship and Solitude.
To seek out company, and to shun it, are two blameworthy extremes in the devotion of people of the world, which is that of which I speak here. For to shun company is to show disdain and contempt for one’s neighbour; and to seek it out is to fall into uselessness and idleness. We must love our neighbour as ourselves; to show that we love him, we must not avoid being with him; and to testify that we love ourselves, we must take pleasure in our own company: Now this is so when we are alone: _Think upon Thyself_, says Saint Bernard, _and then upon others_. If, then, nothing presses you to pay visits, or to receive them in your home, remain within yourself, and commune with your heart. But if some visitor comes to you, or you have good reasons for making a visit, go in the name of God, Philothea, and behold your neighbour with a kindly heart and eye.
Bad company is said to be that which is animated by some evil intention, or wherein those who gather are vicious, licentious, and dissolute. Such company must be shunned altogether, as bees shun a swarm of hornets and gadflies. For, just as those who have been bitten by mad dogs have sweat, breath, and saliva that are dangerous, especially to children and delicate persons, so the company of vicious people who speak licentiously can bring only great dangers, especially to those whose devotion is still tender and delicate.
To seek out company, and to shun it, are two blameworthy extremes in the devotion of people of the world, which is that of which I speak here. For to shun company is to show disdain and contempt for one’s neighbour; and to seek it out is to fall into uselessness and idleness. We must love our neighbour as ourselves; to show that we love him, we must not avoid being with him; and to testify that we love ourselves, we must take pleasure in our own company: Now this is so when we are alone: _Think upon Thyself_, says Saint Bernard, _and then upon others_. If, then, nothing presses you to pay visits, or to receive them in your home, remain within yourself, and commune with your heart. But if some visitor comes to you, or you have good reasons for making a visit, go in the name of God, Philothea, and behold your neighbour with a kindly heart and eye.
Bad company is said to be that which is animated by some evil intention, or wherein those who gather are vicious, licentious, and dissolute. Such company must be shunned altogether, as bees shun a swarm of hornets and gadflies. For, just as those who have been bitten by mad dogs have sweat, breath, and saliva that are dangerous, especially to children and delicate persons, so the company of vicious people who speak licentiously can bring only great dangers, especially to those whose devotion is still tender and delicate.
There are some company which are of no use whatever, save to divert oneself and rest a little from serious occupations. As for these, since one must not give them too much time, one may devote to them the leisure intended for recreation.
There are others which are merely matters of civility, such as mutual visits, and certain gatherings held to honour one’s neighbour; and as for these, while one must not attach too much importance to them, neither must one disdain them in an uncivil manner, but satisfy their claims with modesty and prudence, so as equally to avoid rudeness and levity.
There remain useful company, such as that of virtuous and devout persons. O Philothea! it will always be a great good for thee to meet with such people often. The vine planted among olive trees bears grapes that are rich and have the flavour of the olive; even so, a soul that often finds itself among good people cannot but partake of their virtues. Drones alone cannot make honey, but with the bees they help to make it: it is therefore a great means of exercising ourselves well in devotion to converse often with devout souls.
There are others which are merely matters of civility, such as mutual visits, and certain gatherings held to honour one’s neighbour; and as for these, while one must not attach too much importance to them, neither must one disdain them in an uncivil manner, but satisfy their claims with modesty and prudence, so as equally to avoid rudeness and levity.
There remain useful company, such as that of virtuous and devout persons. O Philothea! it will always be a great good for thee to meet with such people often. The vine planted among olive trees bears grapes that are rich and have the flavour of the olive; even so, a soul that often finds itself among good people cannot but partake of their virtues. Drones alone cannot make honey, but with the bees they help to make it: it is therefore a great means of exercising ourselves well in devotion to converse often with devout souls.
In all company and conversation, simplicity, plainness, gentleness, and restraint are what is most to be preferred. There are some who use so much artifice in the least word and the least movement, that everyone is wearied by them; and just as one who would never walk except counting his steps, nor speak except in song, would be unbearable to all the world, so those who assume an affected demeanour, and do nothing except in measured cadence, are exceedingly tiresome in society; and one may be sure that there is always more or less presumption in them. For the most part, a gentle joy ought to prevail in our dealings with our neighbour. Thus Saint Romuald and Saint Anthony were much praised because, notwithstanding all their austerities, they always bore upon their countenances and in their speech the expression of joy, cheerfulness, and courtesy. _Laugh with those who laugh, rejoice with those who rejoice_; I say to you once more with the Apostle: _Rejoice always, but in Our Lord, and let your modesty be seen by all._ To rejoice in Our Lord, the occasion must be not only lawful, but fitting; which I say because there are things that are lawful and yet unfitting; and that your modesty may be seen, beware of wicked jests, which are certainly always blameworthy. To trip one, blacken another’s name, sting this one, make sport of a fool—these are foolish and wicked jests and amusements.
Yet, besides that inward solitude into which you may withdraw even in the midst of the greatest conversations, as I said in the twelfth chapter of the second part, you must greatly love outward and real solitude; not to go into the deserts like Saint Mary of Egypt, Saint Paul, Saint Anthony, Saint Arsenius, and so many other solitaries; but to remain for a little while in your chamber, in your garden, or elsewhere, that you may more freely gather your spirit within yourself, and refresh your soul with good meditations and holy thoughts, or with a little good reading. This was what the great Saint Gregory, Bishop of Nazianzus, used to do, as we see from his writings: “I would walk alone with myself,” he says, “toward the hour when the sun sets, and would spend the time gently upon the shores of the sea; for I am wont to take this little recreation to rest and divert myself from the ordinary troubles of life.” And upon this he relates the good thought that came to him, and which I have cited to you elsewhere. This was also the practice of Saint Ambrose: “Often,” says Saint Augustine, “having entered his chamber, the entrance to which was denied to no one, I would take pleasure in watching him read; and after waiting for some time, I would go away without a word, so as not to disturb him, thinking that the little time which remained to this great pastor to unburden and refresh his spirit ought not to be taken from him.” Accordingly, after the Apostles had one day recounted to Our Lord the success they had met with on a mission: “Come,” said the Saviour to them, “let us withdraw into solitude, and take a little rest there.”