Though many writers have studied the Cluniac achievement from the ecclesiastical, the economic and even the political point of view, none of the standard books on the history of spirituality seems concerned to trace the growth of Cluniac spirituality. Indeed, it seems taken for granted on all sides that Cluny has no spirituality worth mentioning. An elaborate ceremonial, a devotion to the splendours of the Liturgy, accompanied by an easy asceticism, this is the impression that most people have received of it: an impression based solely on a few isolated facts culled from the third century of Cluny’s existence. It may be useful, therefore, to outline a few of the principal ideas that dominated Cluny’s spirituality during the course of its history from its foundation to the time of Peter the Venerable.

When Berno left the Abbey of Baume in A.D. 910 to accept part of the estate of the Duke of Aquitaine for his foundation at Cluny, monastic life was at a low ebb. For sixty years the Normans had ravaged a country already torn by internecine war. Towns and villages had been depopulated, monasteries had been sacked and destroyed, and the few refugees who had settled in ruinous buildings to restore a semblance of monastic life were undistinguished both for religion and discipline. Berno little realised the magnitude of his undertaking, for his own ambitions were surprisingly modest. He simply aimed at establishing the pure Benedictine tradition, and envisaged nothing more exalted than the literal fulfilment of the Rule.

Nicholas Postgate was born in 1596, in the parish of Egton, some miles from Whitby, in the North Biding of Yorkshire. In a Recusant List of 1604, of Egton, is mentioned the martyr’s mother . . . “All Recusants (that is, all these who are mentioned in this list as given) for eight years past,” says the entry. A further note adds: “Jane Postgate widowe, doth keep in her house William Postgate, her father, a Recusant who teacheth children”. Again another note: “Jane Postgate, widowe. . . (and others) have had children baptised privately of late years.”

Probably, then, Nicholas Postgate was one of these children, most carefully sealed to God by some zealous priest working secretly, since twenty of the sixty Recusants returned on Egton’s list had been so named since Lady Day in 1603. This bitter year would allow of none but secret work. Perhaps the risks run by this and other priests were the seed of the glorious harvest the little Nicholas was one day to gather for God. His family name is usually said POSKITT or POSKETT, and is not uncommon in Yorkshire. His father seems to have been one William Postgate, of a Kirkedale House estate, and his mother a Watson. Later, Fr. Postgate was to use her maiden name as an alias, stating that he was “of that kindred.” No doubt his boyhood was familiar with hunted Catholicity, with details of recusancy, and that staunch Yorkshire resistance to all forms of persecution, which helped to breed in him the stuff of which all the Martyrs were made.

To avoid confusion, I must first make clear that this paper does not concern Catholic Action, the need for which is so stressed by the Hierarchy. Here we are left in no doubt as to What we should do. But I have often wondered when, why and how individual Catholics have been most active—what makes the difference between a preacher and a contemplative, and in what respects they are the same—and this represents the results of these wonderings.

What do we mean by an active Catholic? A complication arises at once, because there are obviously two sorts, both equally deserving of the name:

For the purpose of this paper, the term Active Catholic will mean what I have described as the Professional Catholic, as his work involves more definite physical action than that of the Living Catholic, whom we will dismiss with the comment that his state is that to which everyone without exception should aspire.

After the goodness of Christ our Lord, his charity for mankind, which proceeds from his goodness, is seen. This shines forth so clearly in the Mysteries of his Incarnation and Passion that the Saints, especially Saint Augustine, assign it as their cause. (De Cat. Rudib. c.4). For the Saviour came, as he said, “to cast fire on the earth”, and he knew that the surest way to kindle it was to show the depth of his love for us. We see this in profane love: those who wish to win it take every means of manifesting their affection for their beloved, as was done by our most merciful Redeemer who showed men how tenderly he loved them by this deed. This is why the Incarnation is specially attributed to the Holy Ghost, who is essentially love. In order to treat of this divine love, we must speak of its two grades or differences. The Saints declare there are two kinds of grace, the one prevenient (antecedent) by which our Lord prepares man for the renouncement of sin and for justification, the other consequent grace which remains with him after justification in order that he may perform good works and live as a child of God. Thus we may imagine two loves in our Lord, the one prevenient, the other consequent, for though in him there is neither first nor last, past nor future, for all things are present to him, yet our minds find this order and succession in the nature of things, though it may not exist in them.