See, a person who puts himself in a passion is like a
puppet; he knows neither what he says, nor what he does; the devil guides him
entirely. He strikes right and left; his hair stands up like the bristles of a
hedgehog; his eyes start out of his head–he is a scorpion, a furious lion. . .
.
Why do we, my children, put ourselves into such a
state? Is it not pitiable? It is, mind, because we do not love the good God.
Our heart is given up to the demon of pride, who is angry when he thinks
himself despised; to the demon of avarice, who is irritated when he suffers any
loss; I to the demon of luxury, who is indignant when his pleasures are
interfered with. . . . How unhappy we are, my children, thus to be the sport of
demons? They do whatever they please with us; they suggest to us evil-speaking,
calumny, hatred, vengeance: they even drive us so far as to put our neighbour
to death. See, Cain killed his brother Abel out of jealousy; Saul wished to
take away the life of David; Theodosius caused the massacre of the inhabitants
of Thessalonica, to revenge a personal affront. . . . If we do not put our
neighbour to death, we are angry with him, we curse him, we give him to the
devil, we wish for his death, we wish for our own.
In our fury, we blaspheme the holy Name of God, we
accuse His Providence. . . . What fury, what impiety! And what is still more
deplorable, my children, we are carried to these excesses for a trifle, for a
word, for the least injustice! Where is our faith! Where is our reason? We say
in excuse that it is anger that makes us swear; but one sin cannot excuse
another sin.
The good God equally condemns anger, and the excesses
that are its consequences. . . . How we sadden our guardian angel! He is always
there at our side to send us good thoughts, and he sees us do nothing but evil.
. . .
If we did like Saint Remigius, we should never be
angry. See, this saint, being questioned by a Father of the desert how he
managed to be always in an even temper, replied, “I often consider that my
guardian angel is always by my side, who assists me in all my needs, who tells
me what I ought to do and what I ought to say, and who writes down, after each
of my actions, the way in which I have done it. ”
Philip II, King of Spain, having passed several hours
of the night in writing a long letter to the Pope, gave it to his secretary to
fold up and seal. He, being half asleep, made a mistake; when he meant to put
sand on the letter, he took the ink bottle and covered all the paper with ink.
While he was ashamed and inconsolable, the king said, quite calmly, “No very
great harm is done; there is another sheet of paper”; and he took it, and
employed the rest of the night in writing a second letter, without showing the
least displeasure with his secretary.
Photo taken from MorgueFile Photos
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