AUTOBIOGRAPHY

OF

MADAME GUYON

IN TWO PARTS

MOODY PRESSCHICAGO

_Printed in the United States of America_

INTRODUCTION

In the history of the world few persons have attained that high degreeof spirituality reached by Madame Guyon. 

Born in a corrupt age, in a nation marked for its degeneracy; nursedand reared in a church, as profligate as the world in which it wasembedded; persecuted at every step of her career; groping as she did inspiritual desolation and ignorance, nevertheless, she arose to thehighest pinnacle of pre-eminence in spirituality and Christiandevotion. 

She lived and died in the Catholic Church; yet was tormented andafflicted; was maltreated and abused; and was imprisoned for years bythe highest authorities of that church. 

Her sole crime was that of loving God. The ground of her offense wasfound in her supreme devotion and unmeasured attachment to Christ. Whenthey demanded her money and estate, she gladly surrendered them, evento her impoverishment, but it availed nothing. The crime of loving Himin whom her whole being was absorbed, never could be mitigated, orforgiven. 

She loved only to do good to her fellow-creatures, and to such anextent was she filled with the Holy Ghost, and with the power of God, that she wrought wonders in her day, and has not ceased to influencethe ages that have followed. 

Viewed from a human standpoint, it is a sublime spectacle, to see asolitary woman subvert all the machinations of kings and courtiers;laugh to scorn all the malignant enginery of the papal inquisition, andsilence, and confound the pretensions of the most learned divines. Shenot only saw more clearly the sublimest truths of our most holyChristianity, but she basked in the clearest and most beautifulsunlight while they groped in darkness. She grasped with ease thedeepest and sublimest truths of holy Writ, while they were lost in themazes of their own profound ignorance. 

One distinguished divine was delighted to sit at her feet. At first heheard her with distrust; then with admiration. Finally he opened hisheart to the truth, and stretched forth his hand to be led by thissaint of God into the Holy of Holies where she dwelt. We allude to thedistinguished Archbishop Fenelon, whose sweet spirit and charmingwritings have been a blessing to every generation following him. 

We offer no word of apology for publishing in the Autobiography ofMadame Guyon, those expressions of devotion to her church, that foundvent in her writings. She was a true Catholic when protestantism was inits infancy. 

There can be no doubt that God, by a special interposition of HisProvidence, caused her to commit her life so minutely to writing. Theduty was enjoined upon her by her spiritual director, whom the rules ofher church made it obligatory upon her to obey. It was written whileshe was incarcerated in the cell of a lonely prison. The same all-wiseProvidence preserved it from destruction. We have not a shadow of doubtthat it is destined to accomplish tenfold more in the future than ithas accomplished in the past. Indeed, the Christian world is onlybeginning to understand and appreciate it, and the hope and prayer ofthe publisher is, that thousands may, through its instrumentality, bebrought into the same intimate communion and fellowship with God, thatwas so richly enjoyed by Madame Guyon. 

E. J. 

CONTENTS

PART ONE

Chapter 1 13Chapter 2 19Chapter 3 25Chapter 4 30Chapter 5 38Chapter 6 49Chapter 7 60Chapter 8 68Chapter 9 76Chapter 10 79Chapter 11 84Chapter 12 89Chapter 13 100Chapter 14 108Chapter 15 113Chapter 16 121Chapter 17 128Chapter 18 134Chapter 19 140Chapter 20 148Chapter 21 156Chapter 22 160Chapter 23 167Chapter 24 173Chapter 25 178Chapter 26 185Chapter 27 191Chapter 28 197Chapter 29 205

PART TWO

Chapter 1 219Chapter 2 225Chapter 3 231Chapter 4 236Chapter 5 242Chapter 6 248Chapter 7 255Chapter 8 261Chapter 9 266Chapter 10 272Chapter 11 277Chapter 12 282Chapter 13 293Chapter 14 302Chapter 15 309Chapter 16 316Chapter 17 326Chapter 18 343Chapter 19 353Chapter 20 364Chapter 21 374

MADAME GUYON

PART ONE

CHAPTER 1

There were omissions of importance in the former narration of my life. I willingly comply with your desire, in giving you a morecircumstantial relation; though the labor seems rather painful, as Icannot use much study or reflection. My earnest wish is to paint intrue colors the goodness of God to me, and the depth of my owningratitude--but it is impossible, as numberless little circumstanceshave escaped my memory. You are also unwilling I should give you aminute account of my sins. I shall, however, try to leave out as fewfaults as possible. I depend on you to destroy it, when your soul hathdrawn those spiritual advantages which God intended, and for whichpurpose I am willing to sacrifice all things. I am fully persuaded ofHis designs toward you, as well for the sanctification of others, asfor your own sanctification. 

Let me assure you, this is not attained, save through pain, wearinessand labor; and it will be reached by a path that will wonderfullydisappoint your expectations. Nevertheless, if you are fully convincedthat it is on the nothing in man that God establishes his greatestworks, --you will be in part guarded against disappointment or surprise. He destroys that he might build; for when He is about to rear Hissacred temple in us, He first totally razes that vain and pompousedifice, which human art and power had erected, and from its horribleruins a new structure is formed, by His power only. 

Oh, that you could comprehend the depth of this mystery, and learn thesecrets of the conduct of God, revealed to babes, but hid from the wiseand great of this world, who think themselves the Lord's counselor's, and capable of investigating His procedures, and suppose they haveattained that divine wisdom hidden from the eyes of all who live inself, and are enveloped in their own works. Who by a lively genius andelevated faculties mount up to Heaven, and think to comprehend theheight and depth and length and breadth of God. 

This divine wisdom is unknown, even to those who pass in the world forpersons of extraordinary illumination and knowledge. To whom then isshe known, and who can tell us any tidings concerning her? Destructionand death assure us, that they have heard with their ears of her fameand renown. It is, then, in dying to all things, and in being trulylost to them, passing forward into God, and existing only in Him, thatwe attain to some knowledge of the true wisdom. Oh, how little are herways known, and her dealings with her most chosen servants. Scarce dowe discover anything thereof, but surprised at the dissimilitudebetwixt the truth we thus discover and our former ideas of it, we cryout with St. Paul, "Oh, the depth of the knowledge and wisdom of God!how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out. " TheLord judgeth not of things as men do, who call good evil and evil good, and account that as righteousness which is abominable in His sight, andwhich according to the prophet He regards as filthy rags. He will enterinto strict judgment with these self-righteous, and they shall, likethe Pharisees, be rather subjects of His wrath, than objects of Hislove, or inheritors of His rewards. Doth not Christ Himself assure us, that "except our righteousness exceed that of the scribes and phariseeswe shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven. " And which of useven approaches them in righteousness; or, if we live in the practiceof virtues, though much inferior to theirs, are we not tenfold moreostentatious? Who is not pleased to behold himself righteous in his owneyes, and in the eyes of others? or, who is it doubts that suchrighteousness is sufficient to please God? Yet, we see the indignationof our Lord manifested against such. He who was the perfect pattern oftenderness and meekness, such as flowed from the depth of the heart, and not that affected meekness, which under the form of a dove, hidesthe hawk's heart. He appears severe only to these self-righteouspeople, and He publicly dishonored them. In what strange colors does Herepresent them, while He beholds the poor sinner with mercy, compassionand love, and declares that for them only He was come, that it was thesick who needed the physician; and that He came only to save the lostsheep of the house of Israel. 

O thou Source of Love! Thou dost indeed seem so jealous of thesalvation Thou hast purchased, that Thou dost prefer the sinner to therighteous! The poor sinner beholds himself vile and wretched, is in amanner constrained to detest himself; and finding his state sohorrible, casts himself in his desperation into the arms of hisSaviour, and plunges into the healing fountain, and comes forth "whiteas wool. " Then confounded at the review of his disordered state, andoverflowing with love for Him, who having alone the power, had also thecompassion to save him--the excess of his love is proportioned to theenormity of his crimes, and the fullness of his gratitude to the extentof the debt remitted. The self-righteous, relying on the many goodworks he imagines he has performed, seems to hold salvation in his ownhand, and considers Heaven as a just reward of his merits. In thebitterness of his zeal he exclaims against all sinners, and representsthe gates of mercy as barred against them, and Heaven as a place towhich they have no claim. What need have such self-righteous persons ofa Saviour? they are already burdened with the load of their own merits. Oh, how long they bear the flattering load, while sinners divested ofeverything, fly rapidly on the wings of faith and love into theirSaviour's arms, who freely bestows on them that which he has so freelypromised!

How full of self-love are the self-righteous, and how void of the loveof God! They esteem and admire themselves in their works ofrighteousness, which they suppose to be a fountain of happiness. Theseworks are no sooner exposed to the Sun of Righteousness, than theydiscover all to be so full of impurity and baseness, that it frets themto the heart. Meanwhile the poor sinner, Magdalene, is pardoned becauseshe loves much, and her faith and love are accepted as righteousness. The inspired Paul, who so well understood these great truths and sofully investigated them, assures us that "the faith of Abraham wasimputed to him for righteousness. " This is truly beautiful for it iscertain that all of that holy patriarch's actions were strictlyrighteous; yet, not seeing them as such, and being devoid of the loveof them, and divested of selfishness, his faith was founded on thecoming Christ. He hoped in Him even against hope itself, and this wasimputed to him for righteousness, (Rom. 41: 18, 22, ) a pure, simple andgenuine righteousness, wrought by Christ, and not a righteousnesswrought by himself, and regarded as of himself. 

You may imagine this a digression wide of the subject, but it leadsinsensibly to it. It shows that God accomplishes His work either inconverted sinners, whose past iniquities serve as a counterpoise totheir elevation, or in persons whose self-righteousness He destroys, bytotally overthrowing the proud building they had reared on a sandyfoundation, instead of the Rock--CHRIST. 

The establishment of all these ends, which He proposed in coming intothe world, is effected by the apparent overthrow of that very structurewhich in reality He would erect. By means which seem to destroy HisChurch, He establishes it. How strangely does He found the newdispensation and give it His sanction! The legislator Himself iscondemned by the learned and great, as a malefactor, and dies anignominious death. Oh, that we fully understood how very opposite ourself-righteousness is to the designs of God--it would be a subject forendless humiliation, and we should have an utter distrust in that whichat present constitutes the whole of our dependence. 

From a just love of His supreme power, and a righteous jealousy ofmankind, who attribute to each other the gifts He Himself bestows uponthem, it pleased Him to take one of the most unworthy of the creation, to make known the fact that His graces are the effects of His will, notthe fruits of our merits. It is the property of His wisdom to destroywhat is proudly built, and to build what is destroyed; to make use ofweak things to confound the mighty and to employ in His service such asappear vile and contemptible. 

This He does in a manner so astonishing, as to render them the objectsof the scorn and contempt of the world. It is not to draw publicapprobation upon them, that He makes them instrumental in the salvationof others; but to render them the objects of their dislike and thesubjects of their insults; as you will see in this life you haveenjoined upon me to write. 

CHAPTER 2

I was born on April 18, 1648. My parents, particularly my father, wasextremely pious; but to him it was a manner hereditary. Many of hisforefathers were saints. 

My mother, in the eighth month, was accidentally frightened, whichcaused an abortion. It is generally imagined that a child born in thatmonth cannot survive. Indeed, I was so excessively ill, immediatelyafter my birth, that all about me despaired of my life, and wereapprehensive I should die without baptism. Perceiving some signs ofvitality, they ran to acquaint my father, who immediately brought apriest; but on entering the chamber they were told those symptoms whichhad raised their hopes were only expiring struggles, and all was over. 

I had no sooner shown signs of life again, than I again relapsed, andremained so long in an uncertain state, that it was some time beforethey could find a proper opportunity to baptize me. I continued veryunhealthy until I was two and a half years old, when they sent me tothe convent of the Ursulines, where I remained a few months. 

On my return, my mother neglected to pay due attention to my education. She was not fond of daughters and abandoned me wholly to the care ofservants. Indeed, I should have suffered severely from theirinattention to me had not an all-watchful Providence been my protector:for through my liveliness, I met with various accidents. I frequentlyfell into a deep vault that held our firewood; however, I alwaysescaped unhurt. 

The Dutchess of Montbason came to the convent of the Benedictines, whenI was about four years old. She had a great friendship for my father, and obtained his permission that I should go to the same convent. Shetook peculiar delight in my sportiveness and certain sweetness in myexternal deportment. I became her constant companion. 

I was guilty of frequent and dangerous irregularities in this house, and committed serious faults. I had good examples before me, and beingnaturally well inclined, I followed them, when there were none to turnme aside. I loved to hear God spoken of, to be at church, and to bedressed in a religious garb. I was told of terrors of Hell which Iimagined was intended to intimidate me as I was exceedingly lively, andfull of a little petulant vivacity which they called wit. Thesucceeding night I dreamed of Hell, and though I was so young, time hasnever been able to efface the frightful ideas impressed upon myimagination. All appeared horrible darkness, where souls were punished, and my place among them was pointed out. At this I wept bitterly, andcried, "Oh, my God, if Thou wilt have mercy upon me, and spare me yet alittle longer, I will never more offend Thee. " And thou didst, O Lord, in mercy hearken unto my cry, and pour upon me strength and courage toserve thee, in an uncommon manner for one of my age. I wanted to goprivately to confession, but being little, the mistress of the boarderscarried me to the priest, and stayed with me while I was heard. She wasmuch astonished when I mentioned that I had suggestions against thefaith, and the confessor began to laugh, and inquire what they were. Itold him that till then I had doubted there was such a place as Hell, and supposed my mistress had spoken of it merely to make me good, butnow my doubts were all removed. After confession my heart glowed with akind of fervor, and at one time I felt a desire to suffer martyrdom. The good girls of the house, to amuse themselves, and to see how farthis growing fervor would carry me, desired me to prepare formartyrdom. I found great fervency and delight in prayer, and waspersuaded that this ardor, which was as new as it was pleasing, was aproof of God's love. This inspired me with such courage and resolution, that I earnestly besought them to proceed, that I might thereby enterinto His sacred presence, but was there not latent hypocrisy here? DidI not imagine that it was possible they would not kill me, and that Iwould have the merit of martyrdom without suffering it? Indeed, itappeared there was something of this nature in it. Being placedkneeling on a cloth spread for the purpose, and seeing behind me alarge sword lifted up which they had prepared to try how far my ardorwould carry me I cried, "Hold! it is not right I should die withoutfirst obtaining my father's permission. " I was quickly upbraided withhaving said this that I might escape, and that I was no longer amartyr. I continued long disconsolate, and would receive no comfort;something inwardly reproved me, for not having embraced thatopportunity of going to Heaven, when it rested altogether on my ownchoice. 

At my solicitation, and on account of my falling so frequently sick, Iwas at length taken home. On my return, my mother having a maid in whomshe placed confidence, left me again to the care of servants. It is agreat fault, of which mothers are guilty, when under pretext ofexternal devotions, or other engagements, they suffer their daughtersto be absent from them. I forbear not condemning that unjust partialitywith which parents treat some of their children. It is frequentlyproductive of divisions in families, and even the ruin of some. Impartiality, by uniting children's hearts together, lays thefoundation of lasting harmony and unanimity. 

I would I were able to convince parents, and all who have the care ofyouth, of the great attention they require, and how dangerous it is tolet them be for any length of time from under their eye, or to sufferthem to be without some kind of employment. This negligence is the ruinof multitudes of girls. 

How greatly it is to be lamented, that mothers who are inclined topiety, should pervert even the means of salvation to theirdestruction--commit the greatest irregularities while apparentlypursuing that which should produce the most regular and circumspectconduct. 

Thus, because they experience certain gains in prayer, they would beall day long at church; meanwhile their children are running todestruction. We glorify God most when we prevent what may offend Him. What must be the nature of that sacrifice which is the occasion of sin!God should be served in His own way. Let the devotion of mothers beregulated so as to prevent their daughters from straying. Treat them assisters, not as slaves. Appear pleased with their little amusements. The children will delight then in the presence of their mothers, instead of avoiding it. If they find so much happiness with them, theywill not dream of seeking it elsewhere. Mothers frequently deny theirchildren any liberties. Like birds constantly confined to a cage, theyno sooner find means of escape than off they go, never to return. Inorder to render them tame and docile when young, they should bepermitted sometimes to take wing, but as their flight is weak, andclosely watched, it is easy to retake them when they escape. Littleflight gives them the habit of naturally returning to their cage whichbecomes an agreeable confinement. I believe young girls should betreated in a manner something similar to this. Mothers should indulgethem in an innocent liberty, but should never lose sight of them. 

To guard the tender minds of children from what is wrong, much careshould be taken to employ them in agreeable and useful matters. Theyshould not be loaded with food they cannot relish. Milk suited tobabies should be administered to them not strong meat which may sodisgust them, that when they arrive at an age when it would be propernourishment, they will not so much as taste it. Every day they shouldbe obliged to read a little in some good book, spend some time inprayer, which must be suited rather to stir the affections, than formeditation. Oh, were this method of education pursued, how speedilywould many irregularities cease! These daughters becoming mothers, would educate their children as they themselves had been educated. 

Parents should also avoid showing the smallest partiality in thetreatment of their children. It begets a secret jealousy and hatredamong them, which frequently augments with time, and even continuesuntil death. How often do we see some children the idols of the house, behaving like absolute tyrants, treating their brothers and sisters asso many slaves according to the example of father and mother. And ithappens many times, that the favorite proves a scourge to the parentswhile the poor despised and hated one becomes their consolation andsupport. 

My mother was very defective in the education of her children. Shesuffered me whole days from her presence in company with the servants, whose conversation and example were particularly hurtful to one of mydisposition. My mother's heart seemed wholly centered in my brother. Iwas scarcely ever favored with the smallest instance of her tendernessor affection. I therefore voluntarily absented myself from her. It istrue, my brother was more amiable than I but the excess of her fondnessfor him, made her blind even to my outward good qualities. It servedonly to discover my faults, which would have been trifling had propercare been taken of me. 

CHAPTER 3

My father who loved me tenderly and seeing how little my education wasattended to sent me to a convent of the Ursulines. I was near sevenyears old. In this house were two half sisters of mine, the one by myfather, the other by my mother. My father placed me under hisdaughter's care, a person of the great capacity and most exalted piety, excellently qualified for the instruction of youth. This was a singulardispensation of God's providence and love toward me, and proved thefirst means of my salvation. She loved me tenderly, and her affectionmade her discover in me many amiable qualities, which the Lord hadimplanted in me. She endeavored to improve these good qualities, and Ibelieve that had I continued in such careful hands, I should haveacquired as many virtuous habits as I afterward contracted evil ones. 

This good sister employed her time in instructing me in piety and insuch branches of learning as were suitable to my age and capacity. Shehad good talents and improved them well. She was frequent in prayer andher faith was as great as that of most persons. She denied herselfevery other pleasure to be with me and to instruct me. Such was heraffection for me that it made her find more pleasure with me thananywhere else. 

If I made her agreeable answers, though more from chance than fromjudgment, she thought herself well paid for all her labor. Under hercare I soon became mistress of most studies suitable for me. Many grownpersons of rank could not have answered the questions. 

As my father often sent for me, desiring to see me at home, I found atone time the Queen of England there. I was near eight years of age. Myfather told the Queen's confessor that if he wanted a little amusementhe might entertain himself with me. He tried me with several verydifficult questions, to which I returned such pertinent answers that hecarried me to the Queen, and said, "Your majesty must have somediversion with this child. " She also tried me and was so well pleasedwith my lively answers, and my manners, that she demanded me of myfather with no small importunity. She assured him that she would takeparticular care of me, designing me for maid of honor to the princess. My father resisted. Doubtless it was God who caused this refusal, andthereby turned off the stroke which might have probably intercepted mysalvation. Being so weak, how could I have withstood the temptationsand distractions of a court?

I went back to the Ursulines where my good sister continued heraffection. But as she was not the mistress of the boarders, and I wasobliged sometimes to go along with them, I contracted bad habits. Ibecame addicted to lying, peevishness and indevotion, passing wholedays without thinking on God; though He watched continually over me, asthe sequel will manifest. I did not remain long under the power of suchhabits because my sister's care recovered me. I loved much to hear ofGod, was not weary of church, loved to pray, had tenderness for thepoor, and a natural dislike for persons whose doctrine was judgedunsound. God has always continued to me this grace, in my greatestinfidelities. 

There was at the end of the garden connected with this convent, alittle chapel dedicated to the child Jesus. To this I betook myself fordevotion and, for some time, carrying my breakfast thither everymorning, I hid it all behind this image. I was so much a child, that Ithought I made a considerable sacrifice in depriving myself of it. Delicate in my choice of food, I wished to mortify myself, but foundself-love still too prevalent, to submit to such mortification. Whenthey were cleaning out this chapel, they found behind the image what Ihad left there and presently guessed that it was I. They had seen meevery day going thither. I believe that God, who lets nothing passwithout a recompense, soon rewarded me with interest for this littleinfantine devotion. 

I continued some time with my sister, where I retained the love andfear of God. My life was easy; I was educated agreeably with her. Iimproved much while I had my health, but very often I was sick, andseized with maladies as sudden as they were uncommon. In the eveningwell; in the morning swelled and full of bluish marks, symptoms of afever which soon followed. At nine years, I was taken with so violent ahemorrhage that they thought I was going to die. I was renderedexceedingly weak. 

A little before this severe attack, my other sister became jealous, wanting to have me in turn. Though she led a good life, yet she had nota talent for the education of children. At first she caressed me, butall her caresses made no impression upon my heart. My other sister didmore with a look, than she with either caresses or threatenings. As shesaw that I loved her not so well, she changed to rigorous treatment. She would not allow me to speak to my other sister. When she knew I hadspoken to her, she had me whipped, or beat me herself. I could nolonger hold out against severe usage, and therefore requited withapparent ingratitude all the favors of my paternal sister, going nomore to see her. But this did not hinder her from giving me marks ofher usual goodness, in the severe malady just mentioned. She kindlyconstrued my ingratitude to be rather owing to my fear of chastisement, than to a bad heart. Indeed, I believe this was the only instance inwhich fear of chastisement operated so powerfully upon me. From thattime I suffered more in occasioning pain to One I loved, than insuffering myself at their hand. 

Thou knowest, O my Beloved, that it was not the dread of Thychastisements that sunk so deep, either into my understanding or myheart; it was the sorrow for offending Thee which ever constituted thewhole of my distress; which was so great. I imagine if there wereneither Heaven nor Hell, I should always have retained the same fear ofdispleasing Thee. Thou knowest that after my faults, when, in forgivingmercy, Thou wert pleased to visit my soul, Thy caresses were athousand-fold more insupportable than Thy rod. 

My father being informed of all that passed, took me home again. I wasnearly ten years of age. I stayed only a little while at home. A nun ofthe order of St. Dominie, of a great family, one of my father'sintimate friends, solicited him to place me in her convent. She was theprioress and promised she would take care of me and make me lodge inher room. This lady had conceived a great affection for me. She was sotaken up with her community, in its many troublesome events that shewas not at liberty to take much care of me. I had the chickenpox, whichmade me keep to my bed three weeks, in which I had very bad care, though my father and mother thought I was under excellent care. Theladies of the house had such a dread of the smallpox, as they imaginedmine to be, that they would not come near me. I passed almost all thetime without seeing anybody. A lay-sister who only brought me myallowance of diet at the set hours immediately went off again. Iprovidentially found a Bible and having both a fondness for reading anda happy memory, I spent whole days in reading it from morning to night. I learned entirely the historical part. Yet I was really very unhappyin this house. The other boarders, being large girls, distressed mewith grievous persecutions. I was so much neglected, as to food, that Ibecame quite emaciated. 

CHAPTER 4

After about eight months, my father took me home. My mother kept memore with her, beginning to have a higher regard for me than before. She still preferred my brother; every one spoke of it. Even when I wassick and there was anything I liked, he demanded it. It was taken fromme, and given to him, and he was in perfectly good health. One day hemade me mount the top of the coach; then threw me down. By the fall Iwas very much bruised. At other times he beat me. But whatever he did, however wrong, it was winked at, or the most favorable construction wasput upon it. This soured my temper. I had little disposition to dogood, saying, "I was never the better for it. "

It was not then for Thee alone, O God, that I did good; since I ceasedto do it, when it met not with such a reception from others as Iwanted. Had I known how to make a right use of this thy crucifyingconduct, I should have made a good progress. Far from turning me out ofthe way, it would have made me turn more wholly to Thee. 

I looked with jealous eyes on my brother, seeing the difference betweenhim and me. Whatever he did was considered well; but if there wereblame, it fell on me. My stepsisters by the mother, gained her goodwillby caressing him and persecuting me. True, I was bad. I relapsed intomy former faults of lying and peevishness. With all these faults I wasvery tender and charitable to the poor. I prayed to God assiduously, loved to hear any one speak of Him and to read good books. 

I doubt not that you will be amazed at such a series ofinconsistencies; but what succeeds will surprise you yet more, when yousee this manner of acting gain ground with my years. As my reasonripened, it was so far from correcting this irrational conduct. Singrew more powerful in me. 

O my God, thy grace seemed to be redoubled in proportion to theincrease of my ingratitude! It was with me as with a city besieged, Thou didst surround my heart, and I only studied how to defend myselfagainst thy attacks. I raised fortifications about the wretched place, adding every day to the number of my iniquities to prevent Thee takingit. When there was an appearance of Thy becoming victorious over thisungrateful heart, I raised a counter-battery, and threw up ramparts tokeep off thy goodness, and to hinder the course of thy grace. Noneother could have conquered than Thyself. 

I cannot bear to hear it said, "We are not free to resist grace. " Ihave had too long and fatal an experience of my liberty. I closed upthe avenues of my heart, that I might not so much as hear that secretvoice of God, which was calling me to Himself. I have indeed, fromtenderest youth, passed through a series of grievances, either bymaladies or by persecutions. The girl to whose care my mother left me, in arranging my hair used to beat me, and did not make me turn itexcept with rage and blows. 

Everything seemed to punish me, but this instead of making me turn untoThee, O my God, only served to afflict and embitter my mind. 

My father knew nothing of all this; his love to me was such that hewould not have suffered it. I loved him very much, but at the same timeI feared him, so that I told him nothing of it. My mother was oftenteasing him with complaints of me, to which he made no other replythan, "There are twelve hours in the day; she'll grow wiser. " Thisrigorous proceeding was not the worst for my soul, though it soured mytemper, which was otherwise mild and easy. But what caused my greatesthurt was, that I chose to be among those who caressed me, in order tocorrupt and spoil me. 

My father, seeing I was now grown tall, placed me in Lent among theUrsulines, to receive my first communion at Easter, at which time I wasto complete my eleventh year. And here my most dear sister, under whoseinspection my father placed me, redoubled her cares, to cause me tomake the best preparation possible for this act of devotion. I thoughtnow of giving myself to God in good earnest. I often felt a combatbetween my good inclinations and my bad habits. I even did somepenances. As I was almost always with my sister, and as the boarders inher class, which was the first, were very reasonable and civil. Ibecame such also, while among them. It had been cruel to educate mebadly; for my very nature was strongly disposed to goodness. Easily wonwith mildness, I did with pleasure whatever my good sister desired. Atlength Easter arrived; I received the communion with much joy anddevotion. In this house I staid until Whitsuntide. But as my othersister was mistress of the second class, she demanded that in her weekI should be with her in that class. Her manners, so opposite to theother's, made me relax my former piety. I felt no more that new anddelightful ardor which had seized my heart at my first communion. Alas!it held but a short time. My faults and failings were soon reiteratedand drew me from the care and duties of religion. 

As I now grew very tall for my age, and more to my mother's liking thanbefore, she took care to deck and dress me, to make me see company, andto take me abroad. She took an inordinate pride in that beauty withwhich God had formed me, to bless and praise Him. However it wasperverted by me into a source of pride and vanity. Several suitors cameto me; but as I was not yet twelve years my father would not listen toany proposals. I loved reading and shut myself up alone every day toread without interruption. 

What proved effectual to gain me entirely to God, at least for a time, was that a nephew of my father's passed by our home on a mission toCochin China. I happened at that time to be taking a walk with mycompanions, which I seldom did. At my return he was gone. They gave mean account of his sanctity, and the things he had said, I was sotouched that I was overcome with sorrow. I cried all the rest of theday and night. Early in the morning I went in great distress to seek myconfessor. I said to him, "What! my father, am I the only person in ourfamily to be lost? Alas; help me in my salvation. " He was greatlysurprised to see me so much afflicted, and comforted me in the bestmanner he could, not thinking me so bad as I was. In my backslidings Iwas docile, punctual in obedience, careful to confess often. Since Iwent to him my life was more regular. 

Oh, thou God of love, how often hast Thou knocked at the door of myheart! How often terrified me with appearances of sudden death! Allthese only made a transient impression. I presently returned again tomy infidelities. This time thou didst take and quite carried off myheart. Alas, what grief I now sustained for having displeased Thee!what regrets, what exclamations, what sobbings! Who would have thought, to see me, but that my conversion would have lasted as long as my life?Why didst thou not, O my God, utterly take this heart to thyself, whenI gave it to Thee so fully. Or, if Thou didst take it then, oh, whydidst Thou let it revolt again? Thou wast surely strong enough to holdit, but Thou wouldst perhaps, in leaving me to myself, display thymercy that the depth of my iniquity might serve as a trophy to thygoodness. 

I immediately applied myself to every part of my duty. I made a generalconfession with great compunction of heart. I frankly confessed allthat I knew with many tears. I became so changed that I was scarcelyknown. I would not for ever so much made the least voluntary slip. Theyfound not any matter for absolution when I confessed. I discovered thevery smallest faults and God did me the favor to enable me to conquermyself in many things. There were left only some remains of passion, which gave me some trouble to conquer. But as soon as I had by meansthereof, given any displeasure, even to the domestics, I begged theirpardon, in order to subdue my wrath and pride; for wrath is thedaughter of pride. A person truly humbled permits not anything to puthim in a rage. As it is pride which dies the last in the soul, so it ispassion which is last destroyed in the outward conduct. A soulthoroughly dead to itself, finds nothing of rage left. 

There are persons who, being very much filled with grace and withpeace, at their entrance of the resigned path of light and love, thinkthey are come thus far. But they are greatly mistaken, in this view oftheir state. This they will readily discover, if they are heartilywilling to examine two things. First, if their nature is lively, warmand violent, (I speak not of stupid tempers) they will find, from timeto time, that they make slips, in which trouble and emotion have someshare. Even then they are useful to humble and annihilate them. (Butwhen annihilation is perfected all passion is gone--it is incompatiblewith this state. ) They will find that there often arises in themcertain motions of anger, but the sweetness of grace holds them back. They would easily transgress, if in any wise they gave way to thesemotions. There are persons who think themselves very mild becausenothing thwarts them. It is not of such that I am speaking. Mildnesswhich has never been put to the proof, is often only counterfeit. Thosepersons who, when unmolested, appear to be saints are no soonerexercised by vexing occurrences than there starts up in them a strangenumber of faults. They had thought them dead which only lay dormantbecause nothing awakened them. 

I followed my religious exercises. I shut myself up all day to read andpray. I gave all I had to the poor taking even linen to their houses. Itaught them the catechism and when my parents dined out I made them eatwith me and served them with great respect. I read the works of St. Francis de Sales and the life of Madam de Chantal. There I firstlearned what mental prayer was, and I besought my confessor to teach methat kind of prayer. As he did not, I used my own endeavors to practiceit, though without success, as I then thought, because I could notexercise the imagination, I persuaded myself, that that prayer couldnot be made without forming to one's self certain ideas and reasoningmuch. This difficulty gave me no small trouble, for a long time. I wasvery assiduous and prayed earnestly to God to give me the gift ofprayer. All that I saw in the life of M. De Chantal charmed me. I wasso much a child, that I thought I ought to do everything I saw in it. All the vows she had made I made also. One day as I was reading thatshe had put the name of Jesus on her heart, to follow the counsel, "Setme as a seal upon thy heart. " For this purpose she had taken a hotiron, whereupon the holy name was engraven. I was very much afflictedthat I could not do the same. I decided to write that sacred andadorable name, in large characters, on paper, then with ribbons and aneedle I fastened it to my skin in four places. In that position itcontinued a long time. 

After this, I turned all my thoughts to become a nun. Because the lovewhich I had for St. Francis de Sales did not permit me to think of anyother community than the one of which he was the founder, I frequentlywent to beg the nuns there to receive me into their convent. Often Istole out of my father's house to go and repeatedly solicit myadmission there. Though it was what they eagerly desired, even as atemporal advantage, yet they never dared let me enter, as they verymuch feared my father, to whose fondness for me they were no strangers. 

There was at that house a niece of my father's, to whom I am undergreat obligations. Fortune had not been very favorable to her father. It had reduced her in some measure to depend on mine, to whom she madeknown my desire. Although he would not for anything in the world havehindered a right vocation, yet he could not hear of my design withoutshedding tears. As he happened at this time to be abroad, my cousinwent to my confessor, to desire him to forbid my going to thevisitation. He dared not, however, do it plainly, for fear of drawingon himself the resentment of that community. I still wanted to be anun, and importuned my mother excessively to take me to that house. Shewould not do it, for fear of grieving my father, who was absent. 

CHAPTER 5

No sooner was my father returned home, than he became violently ill. Mymother was at the same time indisposed in another part of the house. Iwas all alone with him, ready to render him every kind of service I wascapable of, and to give him all the dutiful marks of a most sincereaffection. I do not doubt but my assiduity was very agreeable to him. Iperformed the most menial offices unperceived by him taking the timefor it when the servants were not at hand; as well to mortify myself asto pay due honor to what Jesus Christ said, that He came not to beministered to, but to minister. When father made me read to him, I readwith such heartfelt devotion that he was surprised. I remembered theinstruction my sister had given me, and the ejaculatory prayers andpraises I had learned. 

She had taught me to praise Thee, O my God, in all Thy works. All thatI saw called upon me to render Thee homage. If it rained, I wishedevery drop to be changed into love and praises. My heart was nourishedinsensibly with Thy love; and my spirit was incessantly engrossed withthe remembrance of Thee. I seemed to join and partake in all the goodthat was done in the world, and could have wished to have the unitedhearts of all men to love Thee. This habit rooted itself so strongly inme, that I retained it throughout my greatest wanderings. 

My cousin helped not a little, to support me in these good sentiments;I was often with her, and loved her, as she took great care of me, andtreated me with much gentleness. Her fortune being equal neither to herbirth nor her virtue, she did with charity and affection what hercondition obliged her to do. My mother grew jealous, fearing I shouldlove my cousin too well and herself too little. She who had left me inmy young years to the care of her maids, and since that to my own, onlyrequiring if I was in the house. Troubling herself no further, nowrequired me always to stay with her, and never suffered me to be withmy cousin but with great reluctance. My cousin fell ill. My mother tookthat occasion to send her home, which was a very severe stroke to myheart, as well as to that grace which began to dawn in me. 

My mother was a very virtuous woman. She was one of the most charitablewomen of her age. She not only gave the surplus, but even thenecessities of the house. Never were the needy neglected. Never anywretched one came to her without succor. She furnished poor mechanicswherewith to carry on their work, and needy tradesmen wherewith tosupply their shops. From her, I think, I inherited my charity and lovefor the poor. God favored me with the blessing of being her successorin that holy exercise. There was not one in the town, or its environs, who did not praise her for this virtue. She sometimes gave to the lastpenny in the house, though she had a large family to maintain, and yetshe did not fail in her faith. 

My mother's only care about me had been all along to have me in thehouse, which indeed is one material point for a girl. This habit ofbeing so constantly kept within, proved of great service after mymarriage. It would have been better had she kept me more in her ownapartment, with an agreeable freedom and inquired oftener what part ofthe house I was in. 

After my cousin left me, God granted me the grace to forgive injurieswith such readiness, that my confessor was surprised. He knew that someyoung ladies had, out of envy, traduced me and that I spoke well ofthem as occasion offered. I was seized with an ague, which lasted fourmonths, in which I suffered much. During that time, I was enabled tosuffer with much resignation and patience. In this frame of mind andmanner of life I persevered, so long as I continued the practice ofmental prayer. 

Later we went to pass some days in the country. My father took alongwith us one of his relations, a very accomplished young gentleman. Hehad a great desire to marry me; but my father, resolved not to give meto any near kinsman on account of the difficulty obtainingdispensations, put him off, without alleging any false or frivolousreasons for it. As this young gentleman was very devout, and every daysaid the office of the Virgin, I said it with him. To have time for it, I left off prayer which was to me the first inlet of evils. Yet, I keptup for a long time some share of the spirit of piety; for I went toseek out the little shepherdesses, to instruct them in their religiousduties. This spirit gradually decayed, not being nourished by prayer. Ibecame cold toward God. All my old faults revived to which I added anexcessive vanity. The love I began to have for myself extinguished whatremained in me of the love of God. 

I did not wholly leave off mental prayer, without asking my confessor'sleave. I told him I thought it better to say the office of the Virginevery day than to practice prayer; I had not time for both. I saw notthat this was a stratagem of the enemy to draw me from God, to entangleme in the snares he had laid for me. I had time sufficient for both, asI had no other occupation than what I prescribed to myself. Myconfessor was easy in the matter. Not being a man of prayer he gave hisconsent to my great hurt. 

Oh, my God, if the value of prayer were but known, the great advantagewhich accrues to the soul from conversing with Thee, and whatconsequence it is of to salvation, everyone would be assiduous in it. It is a stronghold into which the enemy cannot enter. He may attack it, besiege it, make a noise about its walls; but while we are faithful andhold our station, he cannot hurt us. It is alike requisite to dictateto children the necessity of prayer as of their salvation. Alas!unhappily, it is thought sufficient to tell them that there is a Heavenand a Hell; that they must endeavor to avoid the latter and attain theformer; yet they are not taught the shortest and easiest way ofarriving at it. The only way to Heaven is prayer; a prayer of theheart, which every one is capable of, and not of reasonings which arethe fruits of study, or exercise of the imagination, which, in fillingthe mind with wandering objects, rarely settle it; instead of warmingthe heart with love to God, they leave it cold and languishing. Let thepoor come, let the ignorant and carnal come; let the children withoutreason or knowledge come, let the dull or hard hearts which can retainnothing come to the practice of prayer and they shall become wise. 

O ye great, wise and rich, have ye not a heart capable of loving whatis proper for you and of hating what is destructive? Love the sovereigngood, hate all evil, and ye will be truly wise. When ye love anyone, isit because ye know the reasons of love and its definitions? No, certainly. Ye love because your heart is formed to love what it findsamiable. Surely you cannot but know that there is nought lovely in theuniverse but God. Know ye not that He has created you, that He has diedfor you? But if these reasons are not sufficient, which of you has notsome necessity, some trouble, or some misfortune? Which of you does notknow how to tell his malady, and beg relief? Come, then, to thisFountain of all good, without complaining to weak and impotentcreatures, who cannot help you; come to prayer; lay before God yourtroubles, beg His grace--and above all, that you may love Him. None canexempt himself from loving; for none can live without a heart, nor theheart without love. 

Why should any amuse themselves, in seeking reasons for loving Loveitself? Let us love without reasoning about it, and we shall findourselves filled with love, before the others have learned the reasonswhich induced to it. Make trial of this love, and you will be wiser init than the most skillful philosophers. In love, as in everything else, experience instructs better than reasoning. Come then, drink at thisfountain of living waters, instead of the broken cisterns of thecreature, which far from allaying your thirst, only tend continually toaugment it. Did ye once drink at this fountain, ye would not seekelsewhere for anything to quench your thirst; for while ye stillcontinue to draw from this source, ye would thirst no longer after theworld. But if ye quit it, alas! the enemy has the ascendant. He willgive you of his poisoned draughts, which may have an apparentsweetness, but will assuredly rob you of life. 

I forsook the fountain of living water when I left off prayer. Ibecame as a vineyard exposed to pillage, hedges torn down with libertyto all the passengers to ravage it. I began to seek in the creaturewhat I had found in God. He left me to myself, because I first lefthim. It was His will by permitting me to sink into the horrible pit, tomake me feel the necessity I was in of approaching Him in prayer. 

Thou hast said, that Thou wilt destroy those adulterous souls whodepart from Thee. Alas! it is their departure alone which causes theirdestruction, since, in departing from Thee, O Sun of Righteousness, they enter into the regions of darkness and the coldness of death, fromwhich they would never rise, if Thou didst not revisit them. If Thoudidst not by thy divine light, illuminate their darkness, and by thyenlivening warmth, melt their icy hearts, and restore them to life, they would never rise. 

I fell then into the greatest of all misfortunes. I wandered yetfarther and farther from Thee, O my God, and thou didst graduallyretire from a heart which had quitted Thee. Yet such is thy goodness, that it seemed as if Thou hadst left me with regret; and when thisheart was desirous to return again unto Thee, with what speed didstThou come to meet it. This proof of Thy love and mercy, shall be to mean everlasting testimony of thy goodness and of my own ingratitude. 

I became still more passionate than I had ever been, as age gave moreforce to nature. I was frequently guilty of lying. I felt my heartcorrupt and vain. The spark of divine grace was almost extinguished inme, and I fell into a state of indifference and indevotion, though Istill carefully kept up outside appearances. The habit I had acquiredof behaving at church made me appear better than I was. Vanity, whichhad been excluded to my heart now resumed its seat. I began to pass agreat part of my time before a looking glass. I found so much pleasurein viewing myself, that I thought others were in the right whopracticed the same. Instead of making use of this exterior, which Godhad given me, that I might love Him the more, it became to me only themeans of a vain complacency. All seemed to me to look beautiful in myperson, but I saw not that it covered a polluted soul. This rendered meso inwardly vain, that I doubt whether any ever exceeded me therein. There was an affected modesty in my outward deportment that would havedeceived the world. 

The high esteem I had for myself made me find faults in everyone elseof my own sex. I had no eyes but to see my own good qualities, and todiscover the defects of others. I hid my own faults from myself, or ifI remarked any, yet to me they appeared little in comparison of others. I excused, and even figured them to myself as perfections. Every idea Ihad of others and of myself was false. I loved reading to such excess, particularly romances, that I spent whole days and nights at them. Sometimes the day broke while I continued to read, insomuch, that for alength of time I almost lost the habit of sleeping. I was ever eager toget to the end of the book, in hopes of finding something to satisfy acertain craving which I found within me. My thirst for reading was onlyincreased the more I read. Books are strange inventions to destroyyouth. If they caused no other hurt than the loss of precious time, isnot that too much? I was not restrained, but rather encouraged to readthem under this fallacious pretext, that they taught one to speak well. 

Meanwhile, through thy abundant mercy, O my God, Thou camest to seek mefrom time to time, Thou didst indeed knock at the door of my heart. Iwas often penetrated with the most lively sorrow and shed abundance oftears. I was afflicted to find my state so different from what it waswhen I enjoyed Thy sacred presence; but my tears were fruitless and mygrief in vain. I could not of myself get out of this wretched state. Iwished some hand as charitable as powerful would extricate me; as formyself I had no power. If I had had any friend, who would have examinedthe cause of this evil, and made me have recourse again to prayer, which was the only means of relief, all would have been well. I was(like the prophet) in a deep abyss of mire, which I could not get outoff. I met with reprimands for being in it, but none were kind enoughto reach out to free me. And when I tried vain efforts to get out, Ionly sunk the deeper, and each fruitless attempt only made me see myown impotence, and rendered me more afflicted. 

Oh, how much compassion has this sad experience given me for sinners. It has taught me why so few of them emerge from the miserable stateinto which they have fallen. Such as see it only cry out against theirdisorders, and frighten them with threats of future punishment! Thesecries and threats at first make some impression, and they use some weakefforts after liberty, but, after having experienced theirinsufficiency, they gradually abate in their design, and lose theircourage for trying any more. All that man can say to them afterward isbut lost labor, though one preach to them incessantly. When any forrelief run to confess, the only true remedy for them is prayer; topresent themselves before God as criminals, beg strength of Him to riseout of this state. Then would they soon be changed, and brought out ofthe mire and clay. But the devil has falsely persuaded the doctors andthe wise men of the age, that, in order to pray, it is necessary firstto be perfectly converted. Hence people are dissuaded from it, andhence there is rarely any conversion that is durable. The devil isoutrageous only against prayer, and those that exercise it; because heknows it is the true means of taking his prey from him. He lets usundergo all the austerities we will. He neither persecutes those thatenjoy them nor those that practice them. But no sooner does one enterinto a spiritual life, a life of prayer, but they must prepare forstrange crosses. All manner of persecutions and contempts in this worldare reserved for that life. 

Miserable as the condition was to which I was reduced by myinfidelities, and the little help I had from my confessor, I did notfail to say my vocal prayers every day, to confess pretty often, and topartake of the communion almost every fortnight. Sometimes I went tochurch to weep, and to pray to the Blessed Virgin to obtain myconversion. I loved to hear anyone speak of God, and would never tireof the conversation. When my father spoke of Him, I was transportedwith joy; and when he and my mother went on any pilgrimage, and were toset off early in the morning, I either did not go to bed the nightbefore, or hired the girls to awake me early. My father's conversationat such times was always of divine matters, which afforded me thehighest delight, and I preferred that subject to any other. I alsoloved the poor, and was charitable, even while I was so very faulty. How strange may this seem to some, and how hard to reconcile things sovery opposite. 

CHAPTER 6

Afterward we came to Paris where my vanity increased. No course wasspared to make me appear to advantage. I was forward enough to showmyself and expose my pride, in making a parade of this vain beauty. Iwanted to be loved of everyone and to love none. Several apparentlyadvantageous offers of marriage were made for me; but God unwilling tohave me lost did not permit matters to succeed. My father still founddifficulties, which my all-wise Creator raised for my salvation. Had Imarried any of these persons, I should have been much exposed, and myvanity would have had means to extend itself. 

There was one person who had asked for me in marriage for severalyears. My father, for family reasons, had always refused him. Hismanners were opposite to my vanity. A fear lest I should leave mycountry, together with the affluent circumstances of this gentleman, induced my father, in spite of both his own and my mother's reluctance, to promise me to him. This was done without consulting me. They made mesign the marriage articles without letting me know what they were. Iwas well pleased with the thoughts of marriage, flattering myself witha hope of being thereby set at full liberty, and delivered from theill-treatment of my mother which I drew upon myself. God ordered it farotherwise. The condition which I found myself in afterward, frustratedmy hopes. 

Pleasing as marriage was to my thoughts, I was all the time, after mybeing promised, and even long after my marriage, in extreme confusion, which arose from two causes. First, my natural modesty, which I did notlose. I had much reserve toward men. The other, my vanity. Though thehusband provided was a more advantageous match than I merited, yet Idid not think him such. The figure which the others made, who hadoffered to me before, was vastly more engaging. Their rank would haveplaced me in view. Whatever did not flatter my vanity, was to meinsupportable. Yet this very vanity was, I think, of some advantage; ithindered me from falling into such things as cause the ruin offamilies. I would not do anything which in the eye of the world, mightrender me culpable. As I was modest at church and had not been used togo abroad without my mother, as the reputation of our house was great, I passed for virtuous. 

I did not see my spouse elect (at Paris) till two or three days beforeour marriage. I caused masses to be said all the time after my beingcontracted, to know the will of God. I wished to do it in this affairat least. 

Oh, my God, how great was thy goodness, to bear with me at this time, and to allow me to pray to Thee with as much boldness, as if I had beenone of thy friends, I who had rebelled against Thee as thy greatestenemy. 

The joy of our nuptials was universal through our village. Amid thisgeneral rejoicing, there appeared none sad but myself. I could neitherlaugh as others did, nor even eat; so much was I depressed. I knew notthe cause. It was a foretaste which God gave me of what was to befallme. The remembrance of the desire I had of being a nun, came pouringin. All who came to compliment me, the day after, could not forbearrallying me. I wept bitterly. I answered, "Alas! I had desired so muchto be a nun; why then am I now married? By what fatality has such arevolution befallen me?" No sooner was I at the house of my new spouse, than I perceived that it would be for me a house of mourning. 

I was obliged to change my conduct. Their manner of living was verydifferent from that in my father's house. My mother-in-law, who hadlong been a widow, regarded nothing else but economy. At my father'shouse they lived in a noble manner and great elegance. What my husbandand mother-in-law called pride, and I called politeness, was observedthere. I was very much surprised at this change, and so much the more, as my vanity wished to increase, rather than to be diminished. 

At the time of my marriage I was a little past fifteen years of age. Mysurprise increased greatly, when I saw I must lose what I had acquiredwith so much application. At my father's house we were obliged tobehave in a genteel way, and to speak with propriety. All that I saidwas applauded. Here they never hearkened to me, but to contradict andfind fault. If I spoke well, they said it was to give them a lesson. Ifany questions were started at my father's, he encouraged me to speakfreely. Here, if I spoke my sentiments, they said it was to enter intoa dispute. They put me to silence in an abrupt and shameful manner, andscolded me from morning till night. 

I should have some difficulty to give you an account, which cannot bedone without wounding charity, if you had not forbidden me to omit anyone. I request you not to look at things on the side of the creature, which would make these persons appear worse than they were. Mymother-in-law had virtue, my husband had religion, and not any vice. Itis requisite to look at everything on the side of God. He permittedthese things only for my salvation, and because He would not have melost. I had beside so much pride, that had I received any othertreatment, I should have continued therein, and should not, perhaps, have turned to God as I was induced to do, by the oppression of amultitude of crosses. 

My mother-in-law conceived such a desire to oppose me in everything, that, in order to vex me, she made me perform the most humiliatingoffices. Her disposition was so extraordinary, having never surmountedit in her youth, that she could hardly live with anybody. Saying nonethan vocal prayers, she did not see this fault; or seeing it, and notdrawing from the forces of prayer, she could not get the better of it. It was a pity, for she had both sense and merit. I was made the victimof her humors. All her occupation was to thwart me and she inspired thelike sentiments in her son. They would make persons my inferiors takeplace above me. My mother, who had a high sense of honor, could notendure that. When she heard it from others (for I told her nothing) shechided me thinking I did it because I did not know how to keep my rankand had no spirit. I dared not tell her how it was; but I was almostready to die with the agonies of grief and continual vexation. Whataggravated all was the remembrance of the persons who had proposed forme, the difference of their dispositions and manners, the love they hadfor me, with their agreeableness and politeness. All this made myburden intolerable. My mother-in-law upbraided me in regard to myfamily, and spoke to me incessantly to the disadvantage of my fatherand mother. I never went to see them, but I had some bitter speeches tobear on my return. 

My mother complained that I did not come often enough to see her. Shesaid I did not love her, that I was alienated from my family by beingtoo much attached to my husband. 

What augmented my crosses was that my mother related to mymother-in-law the pains I had cost her from infancy. They thenreproached me, saying, I was a changeling, and an evil spirit. Myhusband obliged me to stay all day long in my mother-in-law's room, without any liberty of retiring into my own apartment. She spokedisadvantageously of me, to lessen the affection and esteem which somehad entertained for me. She galled me with the grossest affronts beforethe finest company. This did not have the effect she wanted; the morepatiently they saw me bear it, the higher esteem they had for me. 

She found the secret of extinguishing my vivacity, and rendering mestupid. Some of my former acquaintances hardly knew me. Those who hadnot seen me before said, "Is this the person famed for such abundanceof wit? She can't say two words. She is a fine picture. " I was not yetsixteen years old. I was so much intimidated, that I dared not go outwithout my mother-in-law, and in her presence I could not speak. I knewnot what I said; so much fear had I. 

To complete my affliction, they presented me with a waiting-maid whowas everything with them. She kept me in sight like a governess. Forthe most part I bore with patience these evils which I had no way toavoid. But sometimes I let some hasty answer escape me, a source ofgrievous crosses to me. When I went out, the footmen had orders to givean account of everything I did. It was then I began to eat the bread ofsorrows, and to mingle tears with my drink. At the table they alwaysdid something which covered me with confusion. I could not forbeartears. I had no one to confide in who might share my affliction, andassist me to bear it. When I would impart some hint of it to my mother, I drew upon myself new crosses. I resolved to have no confidant. It wasnot from any natural cruelty that my husband treated me thus; he lovedme passionately, but he was warm and hasty, and my mother-in-lawcontinually irritated him about me. 

It was in a condition so deplorable, O my God, that I began to perceivethe need I had of Thy assistance. For this situation was perilous forme. I met with none but admirers abroad, those that flattered me to myhurt. It were to be feared lest at such a tender age, amid all thestrange domestic crosses I had to bear, I might be drawn away. ButThou, by Thy goodness and love, gave it quite another turn. By theseredoubled strokes Thou didst draw me to Thyself, and by Thy crosseseffected what Thy caresses could not effect. Nay, Thou madest use of mynatural pride, to keep me within the limits of my duty. I knew that awoman of honor ought never to give suspicion to her husband. I was sovery circumspect that I often carried it to excess, so far as to refusemy hand to such as in politeness offered me theirs. There happened tome an adventure which, by carrying my prudence too far, might haveruined me, for things were taken contrary to their intent. My husbandwas sensible both of my innocence and of the falsehood of theinsinuations of my mother-in-law. 

Such weighty crosses made me return to God. I began to deplore the sinsof my youth. Since my marriage I had not committed any voluntarily. YetI still had some sentiments of vanity remaining, which I did not wish. However, my troubles now counter-balanced them. Moreover, many of themappeared my just dessert according to the little light I then had. Iwas not illuminated to penetrate the essence of my vanity; I fixed mythoughts only on its appearance. I tried to amend my life by penance, and by a general confession, the most exact that I ever yet had made. Ilaid aside the reading of romances, for which I lately had such afondness. Though some time before my marriage that had been dampened byreading the Gospel, I was so much affected therewith, and discoveredtruth therein, that put me out of patience with all the other books. Novels appeared then to me only full of lies and deceit. I now put awayeven indifferent books, to have none but such as were profitable. Iresumed the practice of prayer, and endeavored to offend God no more. Ifelt His love gradually recovering the ascendant in my heart, andbanishing every other. Yet I had still an intolerable vanity andself-complacency, which has been my most grievous and obstinate sin. 

My crosses redoubled. What rendered them more painful was, that mymother-in-law, not content with the bitterest speeches which sheuttered against me, both in public and private, would break out inanger about the smallest trifles, and scarcely be pacified for afortnight. I used a part of my time in bewailing myself when I could bealone; and my grief became every day more bitter. Sometimes I could notcontain myself, when the girls, my domestics, who owed me submission, treated me ill. I did what I could to subdue my temper which has costme not a little. 

Such stunning blows so impaired the vivacity of my nature, that Ibecame like a lamb that is shorn. I prayed to our Lord to assist me, and He was my refuge. As my age differed from theirs (for my husbandwas twenty-two years older than I) I saw well that there was noprobability of changing their dispositions, which were fortified withyears. I found that whatever I said was offensive, not excepting thosethings which others would have been pleased with. 

One day, weighed down with grief and in despair, about six months afterI was married, being alone, I was tempted even to cut out my tongue soI might no longer irritate those who seized every word I uttered withrage and resentment. 

But Thou, O God, didst stop me short and showed me my folly. I prayedcontinually, and wished even to become dumb, so simple and ignorant wasI. Though I have had my share of crosses, I never found any sodifficult to support as that of perpetual contrariety withoutrelaxation of doing all one can to please, without succeeding, butstill offending by the very means designed to oblige. Being kept withsuch persons, in a most severe confinement, from morning till night, without ever daring to quit them is most difficult. I have found thatgreat crosses overwhelm, and stifle all anger. Such a continualcontrariety irritates and stirs up sourness in the heart. It has suchstrange effect, that it requires the utmost efforts of self-restraint, not to break out into vexation and rage. 

My condition in marriage was rather that of a slave than of a freeperson. I perceived, four months after my marriage, that my husband wasgouty. This malady caused many crosses within and without. He had thegout twice the first year, six weeks each time. He was so much plaguedwith it, that he came no more out of his room, nor out of his bed. Hewas in bed usually for several months. I carefully attended himalthough so very young. I did not fail to exert myself to the utmost inthe performance of my duty. Alas! all this did not gain me friendship. I had not the consolation to know whether what I did was agreeable. Idenied myself all the most innocent diversions to continue with myhusband. I did whatever I thought would please him. Sometimes hequietly suffered me, and then I esteemed myself very happy. At othertimes I seemed insupportable to him. My particular friends said, "I wasof a fine age indeed to be a nurse to an invalid, and that it was ashameful thing that I did not set more value on my talents. " Ianswered, "Since I have a husband, I ought to share his painful as wellas his pleasing circumstances. " Besides this, my mother, instead ofpitying me, reprimanded me sharply for my assiduity to my husband. 

But, O my God, how different were Thy thoughts from theirs, --howdifferent that which was without, from what passed within! My husbandhad that foible, that when anyone said anything to him against me, heflew into a rage at once. It was the conduct of providence over me; forhe was a man of reason and loved me much. When I was sick, he wasinconsolable. I believe, had it not been for my mother-in-law, and thegirl I have spoken of, I should have been very happy with him. Most menhave their moods and emotions, and it is the duty of a reasonable womanto bear them peaceably, without irritating them more by cross replies. 

These things Thou hast ordered, O my God, in such a manner, by Thygoodness, that I have since seen it was necessary, to make me die to myvain and haughty nature. I should not have had power to destroy itmyself, if thou hadst not accomplished it by an all-wise economy of thyprovidence. I prayed for patience with great earnestness; nevertheless, some sallies of my natural liveliness escaped me, and vanquished theresolutions I had taken of being silent. This was doubtless permitted, that my self-love might not be nourished by my patience. Even amoment's slip caused me months of humiliation, reproach and sorrow, andproved the occasion of new crosses. 

CHAPTER 7

During the first year I was still vain. I sometimes lied to excusemyself to my husband and mother-in-law. I stood strangely in awe ofthem. Sometimes I fell into a temper, their conduct appeared so veryunreasonable, and especially their countenancing the most provokingtreatment of the girl who served me. As to my mother-in-law, her ageand rank rendered her conduct more tolerable. 

But Thou, O my God, opened my eyes to see things in a very differentlight. I found in Thee reasons for suffering, which I had never foundin the creature. I afterward saw clearly and reflected with joy, thatthis conduct, as unreasonable as it seemed, and as mortifying as itwas, was quite necessary for me. Had I been applauded here as I was atmy father's, I should have grown intolerably proud. I had a faultcommon to most of our sex--I could not hear a beautiful woman praised, without finding fault, to lessen the good which was said of her. Thisfault continued long, and was the fruit of gross and malignant pride. Extravagantly extolling anyone proceeds from a like source. 

Just before the birth of my first child, they were induced to takegreat care of me. My crosses were somewhat mitigated. Indeed, I was soill that it was enough to excite the compassion of the mostindifferent. They had so great a desire of having children to inherittheir fortunes, that they were continually afraid lest I should any wayhurt myself. Yet, when the time of my delivery drew near, this care andtenderness of me abated. Once, as my mother-in-law had treated me in avery grating manner, I had the malice to feign a cholic, to give themsome alarm; but as I saw this little artifice gave them too much pain, I told them I was better. No creature could be more heavily laden withsickness than I was. Beside continual heavings, I had so strange adistaste, except for some fruit, that I could not bear the sight offood. I had continual swoonings and violent pains. After my delivery Icontinued weak a long time. There was indeed sufficient to exercisepatience, and I was enabled to offer up my sufferings to our Lord. Itook a fever, which rendered me so weak, that after several weeks Icould scarcely bear to be moved or to have my bed made. When I began torecover, an abscess fell upon my breast, which was forced to be laidopen in two places, which gave me great pain. Yet all the maladiesseemed to me only a shadow of troubles, in comparison with those Isuffered in the family which daily increased. Indeed, life was sowearisome to me, that those maladies which were thought mortal did notfrighten me. 

The event improved my appearance, and consequently served to increasemy vanity. I was glad to call forth expressions of regard. I went tothe public promenades (though but seldom) and when in the streets, Ipulled off my mask out of vanity. I drew off my gloves to show myhands. Could there be greater folly? After falling into theseweaknesses, I used to weep bitterly at home. Yet, when occasionoffered, I fell into them again. 

My husband lost considerably. This cost me strange crosses, not that Icared for the losses, but I seemed to be the butt of all the ill-humorsof the family. With what pleasure did I sacrifice temporal blessings. How often I felt willing to have begged my bread, if God had so orderedit. But my mother-in-law was inconsolable. She bid me pray to God forthese things. To me that was wholly impossible. 

O my dearest Lord, never could I pray to Thee about the world, or thethings thereof; nor sully my sacred addresses to Thy majesty with thedirt of the earth. No; I rather wish to renounce it all, and everythingbeside whatsoever, for the sake of Thy love, and the enjoyment of Thypresence in that kingdom which is not of this world. I whollysacrificed myself to Thee, even earnestly begging Thee rather to reduceour family to beggary, than suffer it to offend thee. 

In my own mind I excused my mother-in-law, saying to myself, "If I hadtaken the pains to scrape and save, I would not be so indifferent atseeing so much lost. I enjoy what cost me nothing, and reap what I havenot sowed. " Yet all these thoughts could not make me sensible to ourlosses. I even formed agreeable ideas of our going to the hospital. Nostate appeared to me so poor and miserable, which I should not havethought easy, in comparison with the continual domestic persecutions Iunderwent. My father, who loved me tenderly, and whom I honored beyondexpression, knew nothing of it. God so permitted it, that I should havehim also displeased with me for some time. My mother was continuallytelling him that I was an ungrateful creature, showing no regard forthem, but all for my husband's family. Appearances were against me. Idid not go to see them as often as I should. They knew not thecaptivity I was in; what I was obliged to bear in defending them. Thesecomplaints of my mother, and a trivial affair that fell out, lessened alittle my father's fond regard for me; but it did not last long. Mymother-in-law reproached me, saying, "No afflictions befell them till Icame into the house. All misfortunes came with me. " On the other handmy mother wanted me to exclaim against my husband which I could neversubmit to do. 

We continued to meet with loss after loss, the king retrenching aconsiderable share of our revenues, besides great sums of money, whichwe lost by L'Hotel de Ville. I could have no rest or peace, in suchgreat afflictions. I had no mortal to console me, or to advise me. Mysister, who had educated me, had departed this life. She died twomonths before my marriage. I had no other for a confidant. 

I declare, that I find much repugnance in saying so many things of mymother-in-law. I have no doubt that my own indiscretion, my caprice, and the occasional sallies of a warm temper, drew many of the crossesupon me. Although I had what the world calls patience, yet I hadneither a relish nor love for the cross. Their conduct toward me, whichappeared so unreasonable, should not be looked upon with worldly eyes. We should look higher and then we shall see that it was directed byProvidence for my eternal advantage. 

I now dressed my hair in the most modest manner, never painted, and tosubdue the vanity which still had possession of me, I rarely looked inthe glass. My reading was confined to books of devotion, such as Thomasa'Kempis, and the works of St. Francis de Sales. I read these aloud forthe improvement of the servants, while the maid was dressing my hair. Isuffered myself to be dressed just as she pleased, which freed me froma great deal of trouble. It took away the occasions wherein my vanityused to be exercised. I knew not how things were; but they always likedme, and thought all well in point of dress. If on some particular daysI wanted to appear better, it proved worse. The more indifferent I wasabout dress the better I appeared. How often have I gone to church, notso much to worship God as to be seen. Other women, jealous of me, affirmed that I painted; they told my confessor, who chided me for it, though I assured him I was innocent. I often spoke in my own praise, and sought to raise myself by depreciating others. Yet these faultsgradually deceased; for I was very sorry afterward for having committedthem. I often examined myself very strictly, writing down my faultsfrom week to week, and from month to month, to see how much I wasimproved or reformed. Alas! this labor, though fatiguing, was of butlittle service, because I trusted in my own efforts. I wished indeed tobe reformed, but my good desires were weak and languid. 

At one time my husband's absence was so long, and in the meantime mycrosses and vexations at home so great, that I determined to go to him. My mother-in-law strongly opposed it. This once my father interfering, and insisting on it, she let me go. On my arrival I found he had almostdied. Through vexation and fretting he was very much changed. He couldnot finish his affairs, having no liberty in attending to them, keepinghimself concealed at the Hotel de Longueville, where Madame deLongueville was extremely kind to me. I came publicly, and he was ingreat fear lest I should make him known. In a rage he bid me returnhome. Love and my long absence from him surmounting every other reason, he soon relented and suffered me to stay with him. He kept me eightdays without letting me stir out of his sight. Fearing the effects ofsuch a close confinement on my constitution, he desired me to go andtake a walk in the garden. There I met Madame de Longueville, whotestified great joy on seeing me. 

I cannot express all the kindness I met with in this house. All thedomestics served me with emulation, and applauded me on account of myappearance, and exterior deportment. Yet I was much on my guard againsttoo much attention. I never entered into discourse with any man whenalone. I admitted none into my coach, not even my relations, unless myhusband were in it. There was not any rule of discretion which I didnot duly observe, to avoid giving suspicion to my husband, or subjectof calumny to others. Everyone studied there how to contribute todivert or oblige me. Outwardly everything appeared agreeable. Chagrinhad so overcome and ruffled my husband that I had continually somethingto bear. Sometimes he threatened to throw the supper out of thewindows. I said, he would then do me an injury, as I had a keenappetite. I made him laugh and I laughed with him. Before that, melancholy prevailed over all my endeavors, and over the love he hadfor me. God both armed me with patience and gave me the grace to returnhim no answer. The devil, who attempted to draw me into some offence, was forced to retire in confusion, through the signal assistance ofthat grace. 

I loved my God and was unwilling to displease Him, and I was inwardlygrieved on account of that vanity, which still I found myself unable toeradicate. Inward distresses, together with oppressive crosses, which Ihad daily to encounter, at length threw me into sickness. As I wasunwilling to incommode the Hotel de Longueville I had myself moved toanother house. The disease proved violent and tedious, insomuch thatthe physicians despaired of my life. The priest, a pious man, seemedfully satisfied with the state of my mind. He said, "I should die likea saint. " But my sins were too present and too painful to my heart tohave such presumption. At midnight they administered the sacrament tome as they hourly expected my departure. It was a scene of generaldistress in the family and among all who knew me. There were noneindifferent to my death but myself. I beheld it without fear, and wasinsensible to its approach. It was far otherwise with my husband. Hewas inconsolable when he saw there was no hope. I no sooner began torecover, than notwithstanding all his love, his usual fretfulnessreturned. I recovered almost miraculously and to me this disorderproved a great blessing. Beside a very great patience under violentpains, it served to instruct me much in my view of the emptiness of allworldly things. It detached me from myself and gave me new courage tosuffer better than I had done. The love of God gathered strength in myheart, with a desire to please and be faithful to Him in my condition. I reaped several other advantages from it which I need not relate, Ihad yet six months to drag along with a slow fever. It was thought thatit would terminate in death. 

Thy time, O my God, had not yet arrived for taking me to Thyself. Thydesigns over me were widely different from the expectations of thoseabout me; it being Thy determination to make me both the object of Thymercy and the victim of Thy justice. 

CHAPTER 8

After long languishing, at length I regained my former health. Aboutthis time my dear mother departed this life in great tranquility ofmind. Beside her other good qualities, she had been particularlycharitable to the poor. This virtue, so acceptable to God, He wasgraciously pleased to commence rewarding even in this life. Though shewas but twenty-four hours sick, she was made perfectly easy abouteverything that was near and dear to her in this world. 

I now applied myself to my duties, never failing to practice that ofprayer twice a day. I watched over myself, to subdue my spiritcontinually. I went to visit the poor in their houses, assisting themin their distresses. I did (according to my understanding) all the goodI knew. 

Thou, O my God, increased both my love and my patience, in proportionto my sufferings. I regretted not the temporal advantages with which mymother distinguished my brother above me. Yet they fell on me aboutthat, as about everything else. I also had for some time a severe ague. I did not indeed serve Thee yet with that fervor which Thou didst giveme soon after. For I would still have been glad to reconcile Thy lovewith the love of myself and of the creature. Unhappily I always foundsome who loved me, and whom I could not forbear wishing to please. Itwas not that I loved them, but it was for the love that I bore tomyself. 

A lady, an exile, came to my father's house. He offered her anapartment which she accepted, and she stayed a long time. She was oneof true piety and inward devotion. She had a great esteem for me, because I desired to love God. She remarked that I had the virtues ofan active and bustling life; but I had not yet attained the simplicityof prayer which she experienced. Sometimes she dropped a word to me onthat subject. As my time had not yet come, I did not understand her. Her example instructed me more than her words. I observed on hercountenance something which marked a great enjoyment of the presence ofGod. By the exertion of studied reflection and thoughts I tried toattain it but to little purpose. I wanted to have, by my own efforts, what I could not acquire except by ceasing from all efforts. 

My father's nephew, of whom I have made mention before, was returnedfrom Cochin China, to take over some priests from Europe. I wasexceedingly glad to see him, and remembered what good he had done me. The lady mentioned was no less rejoiced than I. They understood eachother immediately and conversed in a spiritual language. The virtue ofthis excellent relation charmed me. I admired his continual prayerwithout being able to comprehend it. I endeavored to meditate, and tothink on God without intermission, to utter prayers and ejaculations. Icould not acquire, by all my toil, what God at length gave me Himself, and which is experienced only in simplicity. My cousin did all he couldto attach me more strongly to God. He conceived great affection for me. The purity he observed in me from the corruptions of the age, theabhorrence of sin at a time of life when others are beginning to relishthe pleasures of it, (I was not yet eighteen), gave him a greattenderness for me. I complained to him of my faults ingenuously. TheseI saw clearly. He cheered and exhorted me to support myself, and topersevere in my good endeavors. He would fain have introduced me into amore simple manner of prayer, but I was not yet ready for it. I believehis prayers were more effectual than his words. 

No sooner was he gone out of my father's house, than thou, O DivineLove, manifested thy favor. The desire I had to please Thee, the tearsI shed, the manifold pains I underwent, the labors I sustained, and thelittle fruit I reaped from them, moved Thee with compassion. This wasthe state of my soul when Thy goodness, surpassing all my vileness andinfidelities, and abounding in proportion to my wretchedness, grantedme in a moment, what all my own efforts could never procure. Beholdingme rowing with laborious toil, the breath of Thy divine operationsturned in my favor, and carried me full sail over this sea ofaffliction. 

I had often spoken to my confessor about the great anxiety it gave meto find I could not meditate, nor exert my imagination in order topray. Subjects of prayer which were too extensive were useless to me. Those which were short and pithy suited me better. 

At length, God permitted a very religious person, of the order of St. Francis, to pass by my father's dwelling. He had intended going anotherway that was shorter, but a secret power changed his design. He sawthere was something for him to do, and imagined that God had called himfor the conversion of a man of some distinction in that country. Hislabors there proved fruitless. It was the conquest of my soul which wasdesigned. As soon as he arrived he came to see my father who rejoicedat his coming. At this time I was about to be delivered of my secondson, and my father was dangerously ill, expected to die. For some timethey concealed his sickness from me. An indiscreet person abruptly toldme. Instantly I arose, weak as I was, and went to see him. A dangerousillness came upon me. My father was recovered, but not entirely, enoughto give me new marks of his affection. I told him of the strong desireI had to love God, and my great sorrow at not being able to do itfully. He thought he could not give me a more solid indication of hislove than in procuring me an acquaintance with this worthy man. He toldme what he knew of him, and urged me to go and see him. 

At first I made a difficulty of doing it, being intent on observing therules of the strictest prudence. However, my father's repeated requestshad with me the weight of a positive command. I thought I could not dothat amiss, which I only did in obedience to him. I took a kinswomanwith me. At first he seemed a little confused; for he was reservedtoward women. Being newly come out of a five years' solitude, he wassurprised that I was the first to address him. He spoke not a word forsome time. I knew not to what attribute his silence. I did not hesitateto speak to him, and to tell him a few words, my difficulties aboutprayer. Presently he replied, "It is, madame, because you seek withoutwhat you have within. Accustom yourself to seek God in your heart, andyou will there find Him. "

Having said these words, he left me. They were to me like the stroke ofa dart, which penetrated through my heart. I felt a very deep wound, awound so delightful that I desired not to be cured. These words broughtinto my heart what I had been seeking so many years. Rather theydiscovered to me what was there, and which I had not enjoyed for wantof knowing it. 

O my Lord, Thou wast in my heart, and demanded only a simple turning ofmy mind inward, to make me perceive Thy presence. Oh, InfiniteGoodness! how was I running hither and thither to seek Thee, my lifewas a burden to me, although my happiness was within myself. I was poorin riches, and ready to perish with hunger, near a table plentifullyspread, and a continual feast. O Beauty, ancient and new; why have Iknown Thee so late? Alas! I sought Thee where Thou wert not, and didnot seek Thee where thou wert. It was for want of understanding thesewords of Thy Gospel, "The kingdom of God cometh not with observation. .. The kingdom of God is within you. " This I now experienced. Thoubecamest my King, and my heart Thy kingdom, wherein Thou didst reignsupreme, and performed all Thy sacred will. 

I told this man, that I did not know what he had done to me, that myheart was quite changed, that God was there. He had given me anexperience of His presence in my soul; not by thought or anyapplication of mind, but as a thing really possessed after the sweetestmanner. I experienced these words in the Canticles (Song of Solomon):"Thy name is as precious ointment poured forth; therefore do thevirgins love thee. " I felt in my soul an unction which, as a salutarybalsam, healed in a moment all my wounds. 

I slept not that whole night, because Thy love, O my God, flowed in melike a delicious oil, and burned as a fire which was going to devourall that was left of self. I was suddenly so altered that I was hardlyto be known either by myself or others. I found no longer thosetroublesome faults or reluctances. They disappeared, being consumedlike chaff in a great fire. 

I now became desirous that the instrument hereof might become mydirector, preferable to any other. This good father could not readilyresolve to charge himself with my conduct although he saw so surprisinga change effected by the hand of God. Several reasons induced him toexcuse himself. First, my person, then my youth, for I was onlynineteen years. Lastly, a promise he had made to God, from a distrustof himself, never to take upon himself the direction of any of our sex, unless God, by some particular providence, should charge him therewith. However, upon my earnest and repeated request to him to become mydirector, he said he would pray to God and desired that I should do so. As he was at prayer, it was said to him, "Fear not that charge; she ismy spouse. " When I heard this, it affected me greatly. "What (said I tomyself) a frightful monster of iniquity, who has done so much to offendmy God, in abusing His favors, and requiting them with ingratitude, nowto be declared his spouse!" After this he consented to my request. 

Nothing was more easy to me than prayer. Hours passed away likemoments, while I could hardly do anything else but pray. The fervencyof my love allowed me no intermission. It was a prayer of rejoicing andpossessing, devoid of all busy imaginations and forced reflections; itwas a prayer of the will, and not of the head. The taste of God was sogreat, so pure, unblended and uninterrupted, that it drew and absorbedthe power of my soul into a profound recollection without act ordiscourse. I had now no sight but of Jesus Christ alone. All else wasexcluded, in order to love with the greater extent, without any selfishmotives or reasons for loving. 

The will, absorbed the two others, the memory and understanding intoitself, and concentrated them in LOVE;--not but that they stillsubsisted, but their operations were in a manner imperceptible andpassive. They were no longer stopped or retarded by the multiplicity, but collected and united in one. So the rising of the sun does notextinguish the stars, but overpowers and absorbs them in the luster ofhis incomparable glory. 

CHAPTER 9

Such was the prayer that was given me at once, far above ecstacies, transports or visions. All these gifts are less pure, and more subjectto illusion or deceits from the enemy. 

Visions are in the inferior powers of the soul, and cannot produce trueunion. The soul must not dwell or rely upon them, or be retarded bythem; they are but favors and gifts. The Giver alone must be ourobject, and aim. 

It is of such that Paul speaks, "Satan transforms himself into an angelof light, " II Cor. 11:18; which is generally the case with such as arefond of visions, and lay a stress on them; because they are apt toconvey a vanity to the soul, or at least hinder it from humblyattending to God only. 

Ecstacies arise from a sensible relish. They may be termed a kind ofspiritual sensuality, wherein the soul letting itself go too far, byreason of the sweetness it finds in them, falls imperceptibly intodecay. The crafty enemy presents such sort of interior elevations andraptures for baits to entrap the soul, to fill it with vanity andself-love, to fix its esteem and attention on the gifts of God, and tohinder it from following Jesus Christ in the way of renunciation and ofdeath to all things. 

And as to distinct interior words, they too are subject to illusion;the enemy can form and counterfeit them. Or if they come from a goodangel (for God Himself never speaks thus) we may mistake andmisapprehend them. They are spoken in a divine manner, but we construethem in a human and carnal manner. 

But the immediate word of God has neither tone nor articulation. It ismute, silent, and unutterable. It is Jesus Christ Himself, the real andessential Word who in the center of the soul that is disposed forreceiving Him, never one moment ceases from His living, fruitful, anddivine operation. 

Oh, thou Word made flesh, whose silence is inexpressible eloquence, Thou canst never be misapprehended or mistaken. Thou becomest the lifeof our life, and the soul of our soul. How infinitely is thy languageelevated above all the utterances of human and finite articulation. Thyadorable power, all efficacious in the soul that has received it, communicates itself through them to others. As a divine seed it becomesfruitful to eternal life. 

The revelations of things to come are also very dangerous. The Devilcan counterfeit them, as he did formerly in the heathen temples, wherehe uttered oracles. Frequently they raise false ideas, vain hopes, andfrivolous expectations. They take up the mind with future events, hinder it from dying to self, and prevent it following Jesus Christ inHis poverty, abnegation, and death. 

Widely different is the revelation of Jesus Christ, made to the soulwhen the eternal Word is communicated. (Gal. 1:16. ) It makes us newcreatures, created anew in Him. This revelation is what the Devilcannot counterfeit. From hence proceeds the only safe transport ofecstasy, which is operated by naked faith alone, and dying even to thegifts of God. As long as the soul continues resting in gifts, it doesnot fully renounce itself. Never passing into God the soul loses thereal enjoyment of the Giver, by attachments to the gifts. This is trulyan unutterable loss. 

Lest I should let my mind go after these gifts, and steal myself fromthy love, O my God, Thou wast pleased to fix me in a continualadherence to Thyself alone. Souls thus directed get the shortest way. They are to expect great sufferings, especially if they are mighty infaith, in mortification and deadness to all but God. A pure anddisinterested love, and intenseness of mind for the advancement of thyinterest alone. These are the dispositions Thou didst implant in me, and even a fervent desire of suffering for Thee. The cross, which I hadhitherto borne only with resignation, was become my delight, and thespecial object of my rejoicing. 

CHAPTER 10

I wrote an account of my wonderful change, in point of happiness, tothat good father who had been made the instrument of it. It filled himboth with joy and astonishment. 

O my God, what penances did the love of suffering induce me to undergo!I was impelled to deprive myself of the most innocent indulgences. Allthat could gratify my taste was denied and I took everything that couldmortify and disgust it. My appetite, which had been extremely delicate, was so far conquered that I could scarcely prefer one thing to another. 

I dressed loathsome sores and wounds, and gave remedies to the sick. When I first engaged in this sort of employment, it was with thegreatest difficulty I was able to bear it. As soon as my aversionceased, and I could stand the most offensive things, other channels ofemployment were opened to me. For I did nothing of myself, but leftmyself to be wholly governed by my Sovereign. 

When that good father asked me how I loved God, I answered, "Far morethan the most passionate lover his beloved; and that even thiscomparison was inadequate, since the love of the creature never canattain to this, either in strength or in depth. " This love of Godoccupied my heart so constantly and so strongly, that I could think ofnothing else. Indeed, I judged nothing else worthy of my thoughts. 

The good father mentioned was an excellent preacher. He was desired topreach in the parish to which I belonged. When I came, I was sostrongly absorbed in God, that I could neither open my eyes, nor hearanything he said. 

I found that Thy Word, O my God, made its own impression on my heart, and there had its effect, without the mediation of words or anyattention to them. And I have found it so ever since, but after adifferent manner, according to the different degrees and states I havepassed through. So deeply was I settled in the inward spirit of prayer, that I could scarce any more pronounce the vocal prayers. 

This immersion in God absorbed all things therein. Although I tenderlyloved certain saints, as St. Peter, St. Paul, St. Mary Magdalene, St. Teresa, yet I could not form to myself images of them, nor invoke anyof them out of God. 

A few weeks after I had received that interior wound of the heart, which had begun my change, the feast of the Blessed Virgin was held, inthe convent in which was that good father my director. I went in themorning to get the indulgences and was much surprised when I came thereand found that I could not attempt it; though I stayed above five hoursin the church. I was penetrated with so lively a dart of pure love, that I could not resolve to abridge by indulgences, the pain due to mysins. "O my Love, " I cried, "I am willing to suffer for Thee. I find noother pleasure but in suffering for Thee. Indulgences may be good forthose who know not the value of sufferings, who choose not that thydivine justice should be satisfied; who, having mercenary souls, arenot so much afraid of displeasing Thee, as of the pains annexed tosin. " Yet, fearing I might be mistaken, and commit a fault in notgetting the indulgences, for I had never heard of anyone being in sucha way before, I returned again to try to get them, but in vain. Notknowing what to do, I resigned myself to our Lord. When I returnedhome, I wrote to the good father that he had made what I had written apart of his sermon, reciting it verbatim as I had written it. 

I now quitted all company, bade farewell forever to all plays anddiversions, dancing, unprofitable walks and parties of pleasure. Fortwo years I had left off dressing my hair. It became me, and my husbandapproved it. 

My only pleasure now was to steal some moments to be alone with Thee, Othou who art my only Love! All other pleasure was a pain to me. I lostnot Thy presence, which was given me by a continual infusion, not as Ihad imagined, by the efforts of the head, or by force of thought inmeditating on God, but in the will, where I tasted with unutterablesweetness the enjoyment of the beloved object. In a happy experience Iknew that the soul was created to enjoy its God. 

The union of the will subjects the soul to God, conforms it to all Hispleasure, causes self-will gradually to die. Lastly in drawing with itthe other powers, by means of the charity with which it is filled. Itcauses them gradually to be reunited in the Center, and lost there asto their own nature and operations. 

This loss is called the annihilation of the powers. Although inthemselves they still subsist, yet they seem annihilated to us, inproportion as charity fills and inflames; it becomes so strong, as bydegrees to surmount all the activities of the will of man, subjectingit to that of God. When the soul is docile, and leaves itself to bepurified, and emptied of all that which it has of its own, opposite tothe will of God, it finds itself by little and little, detached fromevery emotion of its own, and placed in a holy indifference, wishingnothing but what God does and wills. This never can be effected by theactivity of our own will, even though it were employed in continualacts or resignation. These though very virtuous, are so far one's ownactions, and cause the will to subsist in a multiplicity, in a kind ofseparate distinction or dissimilitude from God. 

When the will of the creature entirely submits to that of the Creator, suffering freely and voluntarily and yielding only a concurrence to thedivine will (which is its absolute submission) suffering itself to betotally surmounted and destroyed, by the operations of love; thisabsorbs the will into self, consummates it in that of God, and purifiesit from all narrowness, dissimilitude, and selfishness. 

The case is the same with the other two powers. By means of charity, the two other theological virtues, faith and hope, are introduced. Faith so strongly seizes on the understanding, as to make it declineall reasonings, all particular illuminations and illustrations, howeversublime. This sufficiently demonstrates how far visions, revelationsand ecstasies, differ from this, and hinder the soul from being lost inGod. Although by them it appears lost in Him for some transientmoments, yet it is not a true loss, since the soul which is entirelylost in God no more finds itself again. Faith then makes the soul loseevery distinct light, in order to place it in its own pure light. 

The memory, too, finds all its little activities surmounted by degrees, and absorbed in hope. Finally the powers are all concentrated and lostin pure love. It engulfs them into itself by means of their sovereign, the WILL. The will is the sovereign of the powers and charity is thequeen of the virtues, and unites them all in herself. 

This reunion thus made, is called the central union or unity. By meansof the will and love, all are reunited in the center of the soul in Godwho is our ultimate end. According to St. John, "He who dwelleth inlove, dwelleth in God, for God is love. "

This union of my will to Thine, O my God, and this ineffable presencewas so sweet and powerful, that I was compelled to yield to itsdelightful power, power which was strict and severe to my minutestfaults. 

CHAPTER 11

My senses (as I have described) were continually mortified, and underperpetual restraint. To conquer them totally, it is necessary to denythem the smallest relaxation, until the victory is completed. We seethose who content themselves practicing great outward austerities, yetby indulging their senses in what is called innocent and necessary, they remain forever unsubdued. Austerities, however severe, will notconquer the senses. To destroy their power, the most effectual meansis, in general, to deny them firmly what will please, and to perseverein this, until they are reduced to be without desire or repugnance. Ifwe attempt, during the warfare, to grant them any relaxation, we actlike those, who, under pretext of strengthening a man, who wascondemned to be starved to death, should give him from time to time alittle nourishment. It indeed would prolong his torments, and postponehis death. 

It is just the same with the death of the senses, the powers, theunderstanding, and self-will. If we do not eradicate every remains ofself subsisting in these, we support them in a dying life to the end. This state and its termination are clearly set forth by Paul. He speaksof bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus. (II Cor. 4:10. ). But, lest we should rest here, he fully distinguishes this fromthe state of being dead and having our life hid with Christ in God. Itis only by a total death to self we can be lost in God. 

He who is thus dead has no further need of mortification. The very endof mortification is accomplished in him, and all is become new. It isan unhappy error in those good souls, who have arrived at a conquest ofthe bodily senses, through this unremitted and continual mortification, that they should still continue attached to the exercise of it. Theyshould rather drop their attention thereto, and remain in indifference, accepting with equality the good as the bad, the sweet as the bitter, and bend their whole attention to a labor of greater importance;namely, the mortification of the mind and self-will. They should beginby dropping all the activity of self, which can never be done withoutthe most profound prayer; no more than the death of the senses can beperfected without profound recollection joined to mortification. Indeed, recollection is the chief means whereby we attain to a conquestof the senses. It detaches and separates us from them, and sweetly sapsthe very cause from whence they derive their influence over us. 

The more Thou didst augment my love, and my patience, O my Lord, theless respite had I from the most oppressive crosses; but love renderedthem easy to bear. 

O ye poor souls, who exhaust yourselves with needless vexation, if youwould but seek God in your hearts, there would be a speedy end to allyour troubles. The increase of crosses would proportionately increaseyour delight. 

Love, at the beginning, athirst for mortification impelled me to seekand invent various kinds. It is surprising, that as soon as thebitterness of any new mode of mortification was exhausted, another kindwas pointed to me, and I was inwardly led to pursue it. Divine love soenlightened my heart, and so scrutinized into its secret springs, thatthe smallest defects became exposed. If I was about to speak, somethingwrong was instantly pointed to me, and I was compelled to silence. If Ikept silence, faults were presently discovered--in every action therewas something defective--in my mortifications, my penances, myalms-giving, my retirement, I was faulty. When I walked, I observedthere was something wrong; if I spoke any way in my own favor, I sawpride. If I said within myself, alas, I will speak no more, here wasself. If I was cheerful and open, I was condemned. Pure love alwaysfound matter for reproof in me, and was jealous that nothing shouldescape unnoticed. It was not that I was particularly attentive overmyself, for it was even with constraint that I could look at all atmyself. My attention toward God, by an attachment of my will to His, was without intermission. I waited continually upon Him, and He watchedincessantly over me, and He so led me by His providence, that I forgotall things. I knew not how to communicate what I felt to anyone. I wasso lost to myself, that I could scarcely go about self-examination. When I attempted it all ideas of myself immediately disappeared. Ifound myself occupied with my ONE OBJECT, without distinction of ideas. I was absorbed in peace inexpressible; I saw by the eye of faith thatit was God that thus wholly possessed me; but I did not reason at allabout it. It must not, however, be supposed that divine love sufferedmy faults to go unpunished. 

O Lord! with what rigor, dost Thou punish the most faithful, the mostloving and beloved of Thy children. I mean not externally, for thiswould be inadequate to the smallest fault, in a soul that God is aboutto purify radically. The punishments it can inflict on itself, arerather gratifications and refreshments than otherwise. Indeed, themanner in which He corrects His chosen, must be felt, or it isimpossible to conceive how dreadful it is. In my attempt to explain it, I shall be unintelligible, except to experienced souls. It is aninternal burning, a secret fire sent from God to purge away the fault, giving extreme pain, until this purification is complete. It is like adislocated joint, which is in incessant torment, until the bone isreplaced. This pain is so severe, that the soul would do anything tosatisfy God for the fault, and would rather be torn in pieces thanendure the torment. Sometimes the soul flies to others, and opens herstate that she may find consolation. Thereby she frustrates God'sdesigns toward her. It is of the utmost consequence to know what use tomake of the distress. The whole of one's spiritual advancement dependson it. We should at these seasons of internal anguish, obscurity andmourning, co-operate with God, endure this consuming torture in itsutmost extent (while it continues) without attempting to lessen orincrease it. Bear it passively, nor seek to satisfy God by anything wecan do of ourselves. To continue passive at such a time is extremelydifficult, and requires great firmness and courage. I knew some whonever advanced farther in the spiritual process because they grewimpatient, and sought means of consolation. 

CHAPTER 12

The treatment of my husband and mother-in-law, however rigorous andinsulting, I now bore silently. I made no replies and this was not sodifficult for me, because the greatness of my interior occupation, andwhat passed within, rendered me insensible to all the rest. There weretimes when I was left to myself. Then I could not refrain from tears. Idid the lowest offices for them to humble myself. All this did not wintheir favor. When they were in a rage, although I could not find that Ihad given them any occasion, yet I did not fail to beg their pardon, even from the girl of whom I have spoken. I had a good deal of pain tosurmount myself, as to the last. She became the more insolent for it;reproaching me with things which ought to have made her blush and havecovered her with shame. As she saw that I contradicted and resisted herno more in anything, she proceeded to treat me worse. And when I askedher pardon she triumphed, saying, "I knew very well I was in theright. " Her arrogance rose to the height that I would not have treatedthe meanest slave. 

One day, as she was dressing me, she pulled me roughly, and spoke to meinsolently. I said, "It is not my account that I am willing to answeryou, for you give me no pain, but lest you should act thus beforepersons to whom it would give offence. Moreover, as I am your mistress, God is assuredly offended with you. " She left me that moment, and ranlike a mad woman to meet my husband telling him she would stay nolonger, I treated her so ill, that I hated her for the care she took ofhim in his continual indispositions, wanting her not to do any servicefor him. My husband was very hasty, so he took fire at these words. Ifinished dressing alone. Since she had left me I dared not call anothergirl; she would not suffer another girl to come near me. I saw myhusband coming like a lion, he was never in such a rage as this. Ithought he was going to strike me; I awaited the blow withtranquillity; he threatened with his up-lifted crutch; I thought he wasgoing to knock me down. Holding myself closely united to God, I beheldit without pain. He did not strike me for he had presence of mindenough to see what indignity it would be. In his rage he threw it atme. It fell near me, but it did not touch me. He then dischargedhimself in language as if I had been a street beggar, or the mostinfamous of creatures. I kept profound silence, being recollected inthe Lord. 

The girl in the meantime came in. At the sight of her his rageredoubled. I kept near to God, as a victim disposed to suffer whateverHe would permit. My husband ordered me to beg her pardon, which Ireadily did, and thereby appeased him. I went into my closet, where Ino sooner was, than my divine Director impelled me to make this girl apresent, to recompense her for the cross which she had caused me. Shewas a little astonished, but her heart was too hard to be gained. 

I often acted thus because she frequently gave me opportunities. Shehad a singular dexterity in attending the sick. My husband, ailingalmost continually, would suffer no other person to administer to him. He had a very great regard for her. She was artful; in his presence sheaffected an extraordinary respect for me. When he was not present, if Isaid a word to her, though with the greatest mildness and if she heardhim coming, she cried out with all her might that she was unhappy. Sheacted like one distressed so that, without informing himself of thetruth, he was irritated against me, as was also my mother-in-law. 

The violence I did to my proud and hasty nature was so great, that Icould hold out no longer. I was quite spent with it. It seemedsometimes as if I was inwardly rent, and I have often fallen sick withthe struggle. She did not forbear exclaiming against me, even beforepersons of distinction, who came to see me. If I was silent, she tookoffence at that yet more, and said that I despised her. She cried medown, and made complaints to everybody. All this redounded to my honorand her own disgrace. My reputation was so well established, on accountof my exterior modesty, my devotion, and the great acts of charitywhich I did, that nothing could shake it. 

Sometimes she ran out into the street, crying out against me. At onetime she exclaimed, "Am not I very unhappy to have such a mistress?"People gathered about her to know what I had done to her; and notknowing what to say, she answered that I had not spoken to her all theday. They returned, laughing, and said, "She has done you no great harmthen. "

I am surprised at the blindness of confessors, and at their permittingtheir penitents to conceal so much of the truth from them. Theconfessor of this girl made her pass for a saint. This he said in myhearing. I answered nothing; for love would not permit me to speak ofmy troubles. I should consecrate them all to God by a profound silence. 

My husband was out of humor with my devotion. "What, " said he, "youlove God so much, that you love me no longer. " So little did hecomprehend that the true conjugal love is that which the Lord Himselfforms in the heart that loves Him. 

Oh, Thou who art pure and holy, Thou didst imprint in me from the firstsuch a love of chastity, that there was nothing in the world which Iwould not have undergone to possess and preserve it. 

I endeavored to be agreeable to my husband in anything, and to pleasehim in everything he could require of me. God gave me such a purity ofsoul at that time, that I had not so much as a bad thought. Sometimesmy husband said to me, "One sees plainly that you never lose thepresence of God. "

The world, seeing I quit it, persecuted and turned me into ridicule. Iwas its entertainment, and the subject of its fables. It could not bearthat a woman, scarce twenty years of age, should thus make war againstit, and overcome. My mother-in-law took part with the world, and blamedme for not doing many things that in her heart she would have beenhighly offended had I done them. I was as one lost, and alone; solittle communion had I with the creature, farther than necessityrequired. I seemed to experience literally those words of Paul, "I liveyet, no more I, but Christ liveth in me. " His operations were sopowerful, so sweet, and so secret, all together, that I could notexpress them. We went into the country on some business. Oh! whatunutterable communications did I there experience in retirement!

I was insatiable for prayer. I arose at four o'clock in the morning topray. I went very far to the church, which was so situated, that thecoach could not come to it. There was a steep hill to go down andanother to ascend. All that cost me nothing; I had such a longingdesire to meet with my God, as my only good, who on His part wasgraciously forward to give Himself to His poor creature, and for it todo even visible miracles. Such as saw me lead a life so very differentfrom the women of the world said I was a fool. They attributed it tostupidity. Sometimes they said, "What can all this mean? Some peoplethink this lady has parts, but nothing of them appears. " If I went intocompany, often I could not speak; so much was I engaged within, soinward with the Lord, as not to attend to anything else. If any near mespoke, I heard nothing. I generally took one with me, that this mightnot appear. I took some work, to hide under that appearance the realemploy of my heart. When I was alone, the work dropped out of my hand. I wanted to persuade a relation of my husband's to practice prayer. Shethought me a fool, for depriving myself of all the amusements of theage. But the Lord opened her eyes, to make her despise them. I couldhave wished to teach all the world to love God; and thought it dependedonly on them to feel what I felt. The Lord made use of my thinking togain many souls to Himself. 

The good father I have spoken of, who was the instrument of myconversion, made me acquainted with Genevieve Granger, prioress of theBenedictines, one of the greatest servants of God of her time. Sheproved of very great service to me. My confessor, who had told everyonethat I was a saint before, when so full of miseries, and so far fromthe condition to which the Lord in His mercy had now brought me, seeingI placed a confidence in the father of whom I have spoken, and that Isteered in a road which was unknown to him, declared openly against me. The monks of his order persecuted me much. They even preached publiclyagainst me, as a person under a delusion. 

My husband and mother-in-law, who till now had been indifferent aboutthis confessor, then joined him and ordered me to leave off prayer, andthe exercise of piety; that I could not do. There was carried on aconversation within me, very different from that which passed without. I did what I could to hinder it from appearing, but could not. Thepresence of so great a Master manifested itself, even on mycountenance. That pained my husband, he sometimes told me. I did what Icould to hinder it from being noticed, but was not able completely tohide it. I was so much inwardly occupied that I knew not what I ate. Imade as if I ate some kinds of meat, though I did not take any. Thisdeep inward attention suffered me scarcely to hear or see anything. Istill continued to use many severe mortifications and austerities. Theydid not in the least diminish the freshness of my countenance. 

I had often grievous fits of sickness and no consolation in life, except in the practice of prayer, and in seeing Mother Granger. Howdear did these cost me, especially the former! Is this esteeming thecross as I ought?--should I not rather say that prayer to me wasrecompensed with the cross, and the cross with prayer. Inseparablegifts united in my heart and life! When your eternal light arose in mysoul, how perfectly it reconciled me and made you the object of mylove! From the moment I received Thee I have never been free from thecross, nor it seems without prayer--though for a long time I thoughtmyself deprived thereof, which exceedingly augmented my afflictions. 

My confessor at first exerted his efforts to hinder me from practicingprayer, and from seeing Mother Granger. He violently stirred up myhusband and mother-in-law to hinder me from praying. The method theytook was to watch me from morning until night. I dared not go out frommy mother-in-law's room, or from my husband's bedside. Sometimes Icarried my work to the window, under a pretense of seeing better, inorder to relieve myself with some moment's repose. They came to watchme very closely, to see if I did not pray instead of working. When myhusband and mother-in-law played cards, if I did turn toward the fire, they watched to see if I continued my work or shut my eyes. If theyobserved I closed them, they would be in a fury against me for severalhours. What is most strange, when my husband went out, having some daysof health, he would not allow me to pray in his absence. He marked mywork, and sometimes, after he was just gone out, returning immediately, if he found me in prayer he would be in a rage. In vain I said, "Surely, sir, what matters it what I do when you are absent, if I beassiduous in attending you when you are present?" That would notsatisfy him; he insisted that I should no more pray in his absence thanin his presence. 

I believe there is hardly a torment equal to that of being ardentlydrawn to retirement, and not having it in one's power to be retired. 

O my God, the war they raised to hinder me from loving Thee did butaugment my love. While they were striving to prevent my addresses toThee, thou drewest me into an inexpressible silence. The more theylabored to separate me from Thee, the more closely didst Thou unite meto Thyself. The flame of Thy love was kindled, and kept up byeverything that was done to extinguish it. 

Often through compliance I played at piquet with my husband. At suchtimes I was even more interiorly attracted than if I had been atchurch. I was scarce able to contain the fire which burned in my soul, which had all the fervor of what men call love, but nothing of itsimpetuosity. The more ardent, the more peaceable it was. This firegained strength from everything that was done to suppress it. And thespirit of prayer was nourished and increased from their contrivancesand endeavors to disallow me any time for practicing it. I lovedwithout considering a motive or reason for loving. Nothing passed in myhead, but much in the innermost recesses of my soul. I thought notabout any recompense, gift, or favor, which He could bestow or Ireceive. The Well-beloved was Himself the only object which attractedmy heart. I could not contemplate His attributes. I knew nothing else, but to love and to suffer. Ignorance more truly learned than anyscience of the doctors, since it taught me so well Jesus Christcrucified and brought me to be in love with His holy cross. I couldthen have wished to die, in order to be inseparably united to Him whoso powerfully attracted my heart. As all this passed in the will, theimagination and the understanding being absorbed in it, I knew not whatto say, having never read or heard of such a state as I experienced. Idreaded delusion and feared that all was not right, for before this Ihad known nothing of the operations of God in souls. I had only readSt. Francis de Sales, Thomas a'Kempis, _The Spiritual Combat_, andthe Holy Scriptures. I was quite a stranger to those spiritual bookswherein such states are described. 

Then all those amusements and pleasures that are prized and esteemedappeared to me dull and insipid. I wondered how it could be that I hadever enjoyed them. And indeed since that time, I could never find anysatisfaction or enjoyment out of God. I have sometimes been unfaithfulenough to find it. I was not astonished that martyrs gave their livesfor Jesus Christ. I thought them happy, and sighed after theirprivilege of suffering for Him, I so esteemed the cross that mygreatest trouble was the want of suffering as much as my heart thirstedfor. 

This respect and esteem for the cross continually increased. AfterwardI lost the sensible relish and enjoyment, yet the love and esteem nomore left me than the cross itself. Indeed, it has ever been myfaithful companion, changing and augmenting, in proportion to thechanges and dispositions of my inward state. O blessed cross, thou hastnever quitted me, since I surrendered myself to my divine, crucifiedMaster. I still hope that thou wilt never abandon me. So eager was Ifor the cross, that I endeavored to make myself feel the utmost rigorof every mortification. This only served to awaken my desire forsuffering, and to show me that it is God alone that can prepare andsend crosses suitable to a soul that thirsts for a following of Hissufferings, and a conformity to His death. The more my state of prayeraugmented, my desire of suffering grew stronger, as the full weight ofheavy crosses from every side came thundering upon me. 

The peculiar property of this prayer of the heart is to give a strongfaith. Mine was without limits, as was also my resignation to God, andmy confidence in Him--my love of His will, and of the order of Hisprovidence over me. I was very timorous before, but now feared nothing. It is in such a case that one feels the efficacy of these words, "Myyoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matt. 11:30). 

CHAPTER 13

I had a secret desire given me from that time to be wholly devoted tothe disposal of my God, let that be what it would. I said, "Whatcouldst Thou demand of me, that I would not willingly offer Thee? Oh, spare me not. " The cross and humiliations were represented to my mindin the most frightful colors, but this deterred me not. I yieldedmyself up as willing and indeed our Lord seemed to accept of mysacrifice, for His divine providence furnished me incessantly withoccasions and opportunities for putting it to the test. 

I had difficulty to say vocal prayers I had been used to repeat. Assoon as I opened my lips to pronounce them, the love of God seized mestrongly. I was swallowed up in a profound silence and an inexpressiblepeace. I made fresh attempts but still in vain. I began again andagain, but could not go on. I had never before heard of such a state, Iknew not what to do. My inability increased because my love to the Lordwas growing more strong, more violent and more overpowering. There wasmade in me, without the sound of words, a continual prayer. It seemedto me to be the prayer of our Lord Jesus Christ Himself; a prayer ofthe Word, which is made by the Spirit. According to St. Paul it "askethfor us that which is good, perfect, and conformable to the will of God"(Rom. 8:26-27). 

My domestic crosses continued. I was prevented from seeing or evenwriting to Mrs. Granger. My very going to divine service or thesacrament, were a source of woeful offences. The only amusement I hadleft me, was the visiting and attending the sick poor, and performingthe lowest offices for them. 

My prayer-time began to be exceedingly distressing. I compelled myselfto continue at it, though deprived of all comfort and consolation. WhenI was not employed therein, I felt an ardent desire and longing for it. I suffered inexpressible anguish in my mind, and endeavored with theseverest inflictions of corporeal austerities to mitigate and divertit--but in vain. I found no more that enlivening vigor which hadhitherto carried me on with great swiftness. I seemed to myself to belike those young brides, who find a great deal of difficulty to layaside their self-love, and to follow their husbands to the war. Irelapsed into a vain complacency and fondness for myself. My propensityto pride and vanity, which seemed quite dead, while I was so filledwith love of God, now showed itself again, and gave me severe exercise. This made me lament the exterior beauty of my person, and pray to Godincessantly, that he would remove from me that obstacle, and make meugly. I could even have wished to be deaf, blind and dumb, that nothingmight divert me from my love of God. 

I set out on a journey, which we had then to make, and I appeared morethan ever like those lamps which emit a glimmering flash, when they arejust on the point of extinguishing. Alas! how many snares were laid inmy way! I met them at every step. I even committed infidelities throughunwatchfulness. 

O my Lord, with what rigor didst Thou punish them! A useless glance waschecked as a sin. How many tears did those inadvertent faults cost me, through a weak compliance, and even against my will! Thou knowest thatThy rigor, exercised after my slips, was not the motive of those tearswhich I shed. With what pleasure would I have suffered the mostrigorous severity to have been cured of my infidelity. To what severechastisement did I not condemn myself! Sometimes Thou didst treat melike a father who pities the child, and caresses it after itsinvoluntary faults. How often didst Thou make me sensible of Thy lovetoward me, notwithstanding my blemishes! It was the sweetness of thislove after my falls which caused my greatest pain; for the more theamiableness of Thy love was extended to me, the more inconsolable I wasfor having departed ever so little from Thee. When I had let someinadvertence escape me, I found Thee ready to receive me. I have oftencried out, "O my Lord! is it possible thou canst be so gracious to suchan offender, and so indulgent to my faults; so propitious to one whohas wandered astray from Thee, by vain complaisances, and an unworthyfondness for frivolous objects? Yet no sooner do I return, than I findThee waiting, with open arms ready to receive me. "

O sinner, sinner! hast thou any reason to complain of God? If there yetremains in thee any justice, confess the truth, and admit that it isowing to thyself if thou goest wrong; that in departing from Him thoudisobeyest His call. When thou returnest, He is ready to receive thee;and if thou returnest not, He makes use of the most engaging motives towin thee. Yet thou turnest a deaf ear to His voice; thou wilt not hearHim. Thou sayest He speaks not to thee, though He calls loudly. It istherefore only because thou daily rebellest, and art growing daily moreand more deaf to the voice. 

When I was in Paris, and the clergy saw me so young, they appearedastonished. Those to whom I opened my state told me, that I could neverenough thank God for the graces conferred on me; that if I knew them Ishould be amazed at them; and that if I were not faithful, I should bethe most ungrateful of all creatures. Some declared that they neverknew any woman whom God held so closely, and in so great a purity ofconscience. 

I believe what rendered it so was the continual care Thou hadst overme, O my God, making me feel Thy presence, even as Thou hast promisedit to us in Thy Gospel, --"if a man love me, my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him" (John 14:23). The continual experience of Thy presence in me was what preserved me. Ibecame deeply assured of what the prophet had said, "Except the Lordkeep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain" (Ps. 127:1). Thou, O myLove, wert my faithful keeper, who didst defend my heart against allsorts of enemies, preventing the least faults, or correcting them whenvivacity had occasioned their being committed. But alas! when Thoudidst cease to watch for me, or left me to myself, how weak was I, andhow easily did my enemies prevail over me! Let others ascribe theirvictory to their own fidelity. As for me, I shall never attribute themto anything else than thy paternal care. I have too often experienced, to my cost, what I should be without Thee, to presume in the least onany cares of my own. It is to Thee, and to Thee only, that I oweeverything. O my Deliverer; and my being indebted to Thee for it givesme infinite joy. 

While in Paris, I relaxed and did many things which I should not. Iknew the extreme fondness which some had for me, and suffered them toexpress it without checking it as I ought. I fell into other faultstoo, as having my neck a little too bare, though not near so much asothers had. I plainly saw I was too remiss; and that was my torment. Isought all about for Him who had secretly inflamed my heart. But, alas!hardly anybody knew Him. I cried, "Oh, Thou best beloved of my soul, hadst Thou been near me these disasters had not befallen me. " When Isay that I spoke thus to Him, it is but to explain myself. In reality, it all passed almost in silence, for I could not speak. My heart had alanguage which was carried on without the sound of words, understood ofHim, as He understands the language of the Word, which speaksincessantly in the innermost recesses of the soul. Oh, sacred language!Experience only gives the comprehension of it! Let not any think it abarren language, and effect of the mere imagination. Far different--itis the silent expression of the Word in the soul. As He never ceases tospeak, so He never ceases to operate. If people once came to know theoperations of the Lord, in souls wholly resigned to His guiding, itwould fill them with reverential admiration and awe. 

I saw that the purity of my state was like to be sullied by too great acommerce with the creatures, so I made haste to finish what detained mein Paris, in order to return to the country. "Tis true, O my Lord, Ifelt that Thou hadst given me strength enough to avoid the occasions ofevil--but when I had so far yielded as to get into them, I found Icould not resist the vain complaisances, and a number of other foibleswhich they ensnared me into. " The pain which I felt after my faults wasinexpressible. It was not an anguish that arose from any distinct ideaor conception, from any particular motive or affection--but a kind ofdevouring fire which ceased not, till the fault was consumed and thesoul purified. It was a banishment of my soul from the presence of itsBeloved. I could have no access to Him, neither could I have any restout of Him. I knew not what to do. I was like the dove out of the ark, which finding no rest for the soul of her foot, was constrained toreturn to the ark; but, finding the window shut, could only fly about. In the meantime, through an infidelity which will ever render meculpable, I strove to find some satisfaction without, but could not. This served to convince me of my folly and of the vanity of thosepleasures which are called innocent. When I was prevailed on to tastethem, I felt a strong repulse which, joined with my remorse for thetransgression, changed the diversion into torment. "Oh, my Father, "said I, "this is not Thee; and nothing else, beside Thee, can givesolid pleasure. "

One day, as much through unfaithfulness as complaisance, I went to takea walk at some of the public parks, rather from excess of vanity toshow myself than to take the pleasure of the place. Oh, my Lord! howdidst Thou make me sensible of this fault? But far from punishing me inletting me partake of the amusement, Thou didst it in holding me soclose to Thyself, that I could give no attention to anything but myfault and Thy displeasure. After this I was invited with some otherladies to an entertainment at St. Cloud. Through vanity and weakcompliance, I yielded and went. The affair was magnificent; they, though wise in the eye of the world, could relish it. I was filled withbitterness. I could eat nothing, I could enjoy nothing. Oh, what tears!For beyond three months my Beloved withdrew His favoring presence, andI could see nothing but an angry God. 

I was on this occasion, and in another journey which I took with myhusband into Touraine, like those animals destined for slaughter. Oncertain days people adorn them with greens and flowers, and bring inpomp into the city before they kill them. This weak beauty, on the eveof decline, shone forth with new brightness, in order to become thesooner extinct. I was shortly after afflicted with the smallpox. 

One day as I walked to church, followed by a footman I was met by apoor man. I went to give him alms; he thanked me but refused them andthen spoke to me in a wonderful manner of God and of divine things. Hedisplayed to me my whole heart, my love to God, my charity, my toogreat fondness for my beauty and all my faults; he told me it was notenough to avoid Hell, but that the Lord required of me the utmostpurity and height of perfection. My heart assented to his reproofs. Iheard him with silence and respect, his words penetrated my very soul. When I arrived at the church I fainted away. I have never seen the mansince. 

CHAPTER 14

My husband enjoying some intermission of his almost continual ailments, had a mind to go to Orleans, and then into Touraine. In this journey myvanity made its last blaze. I received abundance of visits andapplauses. But how clearly did I see the folly of men who are so takenwith vain beauty! I disliked the disposition, yet not that which causedit, though I sometimes ardently desired to be delivered from it. Thecontinual combat of nature and grace cost me no small affliction. Nature was pleased with public applause; grace made me dread it. Whataugmented the temptation was that they esteemed in me virtue, joinedwith youth and beauty. They did not know that all the virtue is only inGod, and His protection, and all the weakness in myself. 

I went in search of confessors, to accuse myself of my failing, and tobewail my backslidings. They were utterly insensible of my pain. Theyesteemed what God condemned. They treated as a virtue what to meappeared detestable in His sight. Far from measuring my faults by Hisgraces, they only considered what I was, in comparison of what I mighthave been. Hence, instead of blaming me, they only flattered my pride. They justified me in what incurred His rebuke, or only treated as aslight fault what in me was highly displeasing to Him, from whom I hadreceived such signal mercies. 

The heinousness of sins is not to be measured singly by their nature, but also by the state of the person who commits them. The leastunfaithfulness in a spouse is more injurious to her husband, than fargreater ones in his domestics. I told them all the trouble I had beenunder for not having entirely covered my neck. It was covered much morethan was covered by other women of my age. They assured me that I wasvery modestly dressed. As my husband liked my dress there could benothing amiss in it. My inward Director taught me quite the contrary. Ihad not courage enough to follow Him, and to dress myself differentlyfrom others, at my age. My vanity furnished me with pretences seeminglyjust for following fashions. If pastors knew what hurt they do inhumoring female vanity, they would be more severe against it! Had Ifound but one person honest enough to deal plainly with me, I shouldnot have gone on. But my vanity, siding with the declared opinion ofall others, induced me to think them right, and my own scruples merefancy. 

We met with accidents in this journey, sufficient to have terrifiedanyone. Though corrupt nature prevailed so far as I have justmentioned, yet my resignation to God was so strong, that I passedfearless, even where there was apparently no possibility of escape. Atone time we got into a narrow pass, and did not perceive, until we weretoo far advanced to draw back, that the road was undermined by theriver Loire, which ran beneath, and the banks had fallen in; so that insome places the footmen were obliged to support one side of thecarriage. All those around me were terrified to the highest degree, yetGod kept me perfectly tranquil. I secretly rejoiced at the prospect oflosing my life by a singular stroke of His providence. 

On my return, I went to see Mrs. Granger, to whom I related how it hadbeen with me while abroad. She strengthened and encouraged me to pursuemy first design. She advised me to cover my neck, which I have doneever since notwithstanding the singularity of it. 

The Lord, who had so long deferred the chastisement merited by such aseries of infidelities, now began to punish me for the abuse of hisgrace. Sometimes I wished to retire to a convent, and thought itlawful. I found wherein I was weak, and that my faults were always ofthe same nature. I wished to hide myself in some cave, or to beconfined in a dreary prison, rather than enjoy a liberty by which Isuffered so much. Divine love gently drew me inward, and vanity draggedme outward. My heart was rent asunder by the contest, as I neither gavemyself wholly up to the one nor the other. 

I besought my God to deprive me of power to displease Him, and cried, "Art thou not strong enough wholly to eradicate this unjust duplicityout of my heart?" For my vanity broke forth when occasions offered; yetI quickly returned to God. He, instead of repulsing or upbraiding me, often received me with open arms, and gave me fresh testimonials of Hislove. They filled me with the most painful reflections on my offense. Though this wretched vanity was still so prevalent, yet my love to Godwas such, that after my wanderings, I would rather have chosen His rodthan His caresses. His interests were more dear to me than my own, andI wished He would have done Himself justice upon me. My heart was fullof grief and of love. I was stung to the quick for offending Him, whoshowered His grace so profusely upon me. That those who know not Godshould offend Him by sin is not to be wondered at, but that a heartwhich loved Him more than itself, and so fully experienced His love, should be seduced by propensities which it detests, is a cruelmartyrdom. 

When I felt most strongly Thy presence, and Thy love, O Lord, said I, how wonderfully Thou bestowest Thy favors on such a wretched creature, who requites Thee only with ingratitude. For if anyone reads this lifewith attention, he will see on God's part, nothing but goodness, mercy, and love; on my part, nothing but weakness, sin and infidelity. I havenothing to glory in but my infirmities and my unworthiness, since, inthat everlasting marriage-union thou hast made with me, I brought withme nothing but weakness, sin and misery. How I rejoice to owe all toThee, and that Thou favorest my heart with a sight of the treasures andboundless riches of Thy grace and love! Thou hast dealt by me, as if amagnificent king should marry a poor slave, forget her slavery, giveher all the ornaments which may render her pleasing in his eyes, andfreely pardon her all the faults and ill qualities which her ignoranceand bad education had given her. This Thou hast made my case. Mypoverty is become my riches, and in the extremity of my weakness I havefound my strength. Oh, if any knew, with what confusion the indulgentfavors of God cover the soul after its faults! Such a soul would wishwith all its power to satisfy the divine justice. I made verses andlittle songs to bewail myself. I exercised austerities, but they didnot satisfy my heart. They were like those drops of water which onlyserve to make the fire hotter. When I take a view of God, and myself, Iam obliged to cry out, "Oh, admirable conduct of Love toward anungrateful wretch! Oh, horrible ingratitude toward such unparalleledgoodness. " A great part of my life is only a mixture of such things asmight be enough to sink me to the grave between grief and love. 

CHAPTER 15

On my arrival at home, I found my husband taken with the gout, and hisother complaints. My little daughter ill, and like to die of thesmallpox; my eldest son, too, took it; and it was of so malignant atype, that it rendered him as disfigured, as before he was beautiful. As soon as I perceived the smallpox was in the house, I had no doubtbut I should take it. Mrs. Granger advised me to leave if I could. Myfather offered to take me home, with my second son, whom I tenderlyloved. My mother-in-law would not suffer it. She persuaded my husbandit was useless, and sent for a physician, who seconded her in it, saying, "I should as readily take it at a distance as here, if I weredisposed to take it. " I may say, she proved at that time a secondJephtha, and that she sacrificed us both, though innocently. Had sheknown what followed, I doubt not but she would have acted otherwise. All the town stirred in this affair. Everyone begged her to send me outof the house, and cried out that it was cruel to expose me thus. Theyset upon me, too, imagining I was unwilling to go. I had not told thatshe was so averse to it. I had at that time no other disposition thanto sacrifice myself to divine Providence. Though I might have removed, notwithstanding my mother-in-law's resistance, yet I would not withouther consent; because it looked to me as if her resistance was an orderof Heaven. 

I continued in this spirit of sacrifice to God, waiting from moment tomoment in an entire resignation, for whatever He should be pleased toordain. I cannot express what nature suffered. I was like one who seesboth certain death and an easy remedy, without being able to avoid theformer, or try the latter. I had no less apprehension for my youngerson than for myself. My mother-in-law so excessively doted on theeldest, that the rest of us were indifferent to her. Yet I am assured, if she had known the younger would have died of the smallpox, she wouldnot have acted as she did. God makes use of creatures, and theirnatural inclinations to accomplish His designs. When I see in thecreatures a conduct which appears unreasonable and mortifying, I mounthigher, and look upon them as instruments both of the mercy and justiceof God. His justice is full of mercy. 

I told my husband that my stomach was sick, and that I was taking thesmallpox. He said it was only imagination. I let Mrs. Granger know thesituation I was in. As she had a tender heart, she was affected by thetreatment I met with, and encouraged me to offer myself up to the Lord. At length, nature finding there was no resource, consented to thesacrifice which my spirit had already made. The disorder gained groundapace. I was seized with a great shivering, and pain both in my headand stomach. They would not yet believe that I was sick. In a few hoursit went so far, that they thought my life in danger. I was also takenwith an inflammation on my lungs, and the remedies for the one disorderwere contrary to the other. My mother-in-law's favorite physician wasnot in town, nor the resident surgeon. Another surgeon said that I mustbe bled; but my mother-in-law would not suffer it at that time. I wason the point of death for the want of proper assistance. My husband, not being able to see me, left me entirely to his mother. She would notallow any physician but her own to prescribe for me, and yet did notsend for him, though he was within a day's journey. In this extremity Iopened not my mouth. I looked for life or death from the hand of God, without testifying the least uneasiness. The peace I enjoyed within, onaccount of that perfect resignation, in which God kept me by His grace, was so great, that it made me forget myself, in the midst of oppressivedisorders. 

The Lord's protection was indeed wonderful. How oft have I been reducedto extremity, yet He never failed to succor, when things appeared mostdesperate. It pleased Him so to order it, that the skillful surgeon, who had attended me before, passing by our house, inquired after me. They told him I was extremely ill. He alighted immediately, and came into see me. Never was a man more surprised, when he saw the condition Iwas in. The smallpox, which could not come out, had fallen on my nosewith such force, that it was quite black. He thought there had beengangrene and that it was going to fall off. My eyes were like twocoals; but I was not alarmed. At that time I could have made asacrifice of all things, and was pleased that God should avenge Himselfon that face, which had betrayed me into so many infidelities. He alsowas so affrighted that he went into my mother-in-law's room and toldher, that it was most shameful to let me die in that manner, for wantof bleeding. She still opposed it violently so that in short she toldhim flatly that she would not suffer it, until the physician returned. He flew into such a rage at seeing me thus left without sending for thephysician that he reproved my mother-in-law in the severest manner. Butit was all in vain. He came up again presently and said, "If youchoose, I will bleed you, and save your life. " I held out my arm tohim; and though it was extremely swelled, he bled me in an instant. Mymother-in-law was in a violent passion. The smallpox came outimmediately. He ordered that they should have me bled again in theevening, but she would not suffer it. Fear of displeasing mymother-in-law, and a total resignation of myself into the hands of God, I did not retain him. 

I am more particular to show how advantageous it is to resign one'sself to God without reserve. Though in appearance He leaves us for atime to prove and exercise our faith, yet He never fails us, when ourneed of Him is the more pressing. One may say with the Scripture, "Itis God who bringeth down to the gates of death, and raiseth up again. "The blackness and swelling of my nose went away and I believe, had theycontinued to bleed me, I had been pretty easy. For want of that I grewworse again. The malady fell into my eyes, and inflamed them with suchsevere pain, that I thought I should lose them both. 

I had violent pains for three weeks during which time I got littlesleep. I could not shut my eyes, they were so full of the smallpox, noropen them by reason of the pain. My throat, palate, and gums werelikewise so filled with the pock, that I could not swallow broth, ortake nourishment without suffering extremely. My whole body lookedleprous. All that saw me said that they had never seen such a shockingspectacle. But as to my soul, it was kept in a contentment not to beexpressed. The hopes of its liberty, by the loss of that beauty, whichhad so frequently brought me under bondage, rendered me so satisfied, and so united to God, that I would not have changed my condition forthat of the most happy prince in the world. 

Everyone thought I would be inconsolable. Several expressed theirsympathy in my sad condition, as they judged it. I lay still in thesecret fruition of a joy unspeakable, in this total deprivation of whathad been a snare to my pride, and to the passions of men. I praised Godin profound silence. None ever heard any complaints from me, either ofmy pains or the loss I sustained. The only thing that I said was, thatI rejoiced at, and was exceedingly thankful for the interior liberty Igained thereby; and they construed this as a great crime. My confessor, who had been dissatisfied with me before, came to see me. He asked meif I was not sorry for having the smallpox; and he now taxed me withpride for my answer. 

My youngest little boy took the distemper the same day with myself, anddied for want of care. This blow indeed struck me to the heart, butyet, drawing strength from my weakness, I offered him up, and said toGod as Job did, "Thou gavest him to me, and thou takest him from me;blessed be thy holy name. " The spirit of sacrifice possessed me sostrongly, that, though I loved this child tenderly, I never shed a tearat hearing of his death. The day he was buried, the doctor sent to tellme he had not placed a tombstone upon his grave, because my little girlcould not survive him two days. My eldest son was not yet out ofdanger, so that I saw myself stripped of all my children at once, myhusband indisposed, and myself extremely so. The Lord did not take mylittle girl then. He prolonged her life some years. 

At last my mother-in-law's physician arrived, at a time wherein hecould be of but little service to me. When he saw the strangeinflammation in my eyes, he bled me several times; but it was too late. And those bleedings which would have been so proper at first, didnothing but weaken me now. They could not even bleed me in thecondition I was in but with the greatest difficulty. My arms were soswelled that the surgeon was obliged to push in the lance to a greatdepth. Moreover, the bleeding being out of season had liked to havecaused my death. This, I confess, would have been very agreeable to me. I looked upon death as the greatest blessing for me. Yet I saw well Ihad nothing to hope in that side; and that, instead of meeting with sodesirable an event, I must prepare myself to support the trials oflife. 

After my eldest son was better, he got up and came into my room. I wassurprised at the extraordinary change I saw in him. His face, lately sofair and beautiful, was become like a coarse spot of earth, all full offurrows. That gave me the curiosity to view myself. I felt shocked, forI saw that God had ordered the sacrifice in all its reality. 

Some things fell out by the contrariety of my mother-in-law that causedme severe crosses. They put the finishing stroke to my son's face. However, my heart was firm in God, and strengthened itself by thenumber and greatness of my sufferings. I was as a victim incessantlyoffered upon the altar, to HIM who first sacrificed Himself for love. "What shall I render to the Lord, for all his benefits toward me? Iwill take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord. "These words, I can truly say, O my God, have been the delight of myheart, and have had their effect on me, through my whole life; for Ihave been continually heaped with thy blessings and thy cross. Myprincipal attraction, besides that of suffering for Thee, has been toyield myself up without resistance, interiorly and exteriorly, to allThy divine disposals. These gifts which I was favored with from thebeginning, have continued and increased until now Thou hast Thyselfguided my continual crosses, and led me through paths impenetrable toall but thee. 

They sent me pomatums to recover my complexion, and to fill up thehollows of the smallpox. I had seen wonderful effects from it uponothers, and therefore at first had a mind to try them. But, jealous ofGod's work, I would not suffer it. There was a voice in my heart whichsaid, "If I would have had thee fair, I would have left thee as thouwert. " I was therefore obliged to lay aside every remedy, and to gointo the air, which made the pitting worse; to expose myself in thestreet when the redness of the smallpox was at the worst, in order tomake my humiliation triumph, where I had exalted my pride. 

My husband kept to his bed almost all that time, and made good use ofhis indisposition. Only as he now lost that, which before gave him somuch pleasure in viewing me, he grew much more susceptible toimpressions which any gave him against me. In consequence of this, thepersons who spoke to him to my disadvantage, finding themselves nowbetter hearkened to, spoke more boldly and more frequently. 

There was only Thou, O my God, who changed not for me. Thou didstredouble my interior graces, in proportion as Thou didst augment myexterior crosses. 

CHAPTER 16

My maid became every day more haughty. Seeing that her scoldings andoutcries did not now torment me, she thought, if she could hinder mefrom going to the communion, she would give me the greatest of allvexations. 

She was not mistaken, O divine Spouse of pure souls, since the onlysatisfaction of my life was to receive and to honor Thee. I gaveeverything, of the finest I had, to furnish the churches withornaments, and contributed to the utmost extent of my abilities, tomake them have silver plates and chalices. 

"Oh, my Love, " I cried, "let me be thy victim! Spare nothing toannihilate me. " I felt an inexpressible longing to be more reduced, andto become, as it were, nothing. 

This girl then knew my affection for the holy sacrament, where, when Icould have liberty for it, I passed several hours on my knees. She tookit in her head to watch me daily. When she discovered me going, she ranto tell my mother-in-law and my husband. There needed no more tochagrin them. Their invectives lasted the whole day. If a word escapedme in my own justification, it was enough to make them say that I wasguilty of sacrilege, and to raise an outcry against all devotion. If Imade them no answer at all, they still heightened their indignation, and said the most grating things they could devise. If I fell sick, which often happened, they took occasion to come to quarrel with me atmy bed, saying, my communion and prayers were what made me sick. Theyspoke as if there had been nothing else could make me ill, but mydevotion to Thee, O my Beloved!

She told me one day that she was going to write to my director to gethim to stop me from going to the communion. When I made no answer, shecried out as loud as she could, that I treated her ill and despisedher. When I went to prayers, (though I had taken care to arrangeeverything about the house) she ran to tell my husband that I was goingand had left nothing in order. When I returned home his rage fell on mein all its violence. They would hear none of my reasons, but said, "they were all a pack of lies. " My mother-in-law persuaded my husbandthat I let everything go to wreck. If she did not take the care ofthings he would be ruined. He believed it, and I bore all withpatience, endeavoring, as well as I could, to do my duty. What gavemost trouble was the not knowing what course to take; for when Iordered anything without her, she complained that I showed her norespect, that I did things of my own head and that they were donealways the worse for it. Then she would order them contrary. If Iconsulted her to know what, or how she would have anything to be done, she said that I compelled her to have the care and trouble ofeverything. 

I had scarcely any rest but what I found in the love of Thy will, O myGod, and submission to Thy orders, however rigorous they might be. Theyincessantly watched my words and actions, to find occasion against me. They chided me all the day long, continually repeating, and harpingover and over the same things, even before the servants. How often haveI made my meals on my tears, which were interpreted as the mostcriminal in the world! They said, I would be damned; as if the tearswould open Hell for me, which surely they were more likely toextinguish. If I recited anything I had heard, they would render meaccountable for the truth of it. If I kept silence, they taxed me withcontempt and perverseness; if I knew anything without telling it, thatwas a crime; if I told it, then they said I had forged it. Sometimesthey tormented me for several days successively, without giving me anyrelaxation. The girls said, "I ought to feign sickness, to get a littlerest. " I made no reply. The love of God so closely possessed me, thatit would not allow me to seek relief by a single word, or even by alook. Sometimes I said in myself, "Oh, that I had but any one who couldtake notice of me, or to whom I might unburden myself, --what a reliefit would be to me!" But it was not granted me. 

Yet, if I happened to be for some days freed from the exterior cross, it was a most sensible distress to me, and indeed a punishment moredifficult to bear than the severest trials. I then comprehended whatSt. Teresa says, "Let me suffer or die. " For this absence of the crosswas so grievous to me, that I languished with desire for its return. But no sooner was this earnest longing granted, and the blessed crossreturned again, than strange as it may seem, it appeared so weighty andburdensome, as to be almost insupportable. 

Though I loved my father extremely, and he loved me tenderly, yet Inever spoke to him of my sufferings. One of my relations, who loved mevery much, perceived the little moderation they used toward me. Theyspoke very roughly to me before him. He was highly displeased, and toldmy father of it, adding, that I would pass for a fool. Soon after Iwent to see my father, who, contrary to his custom, sharply reprimandedme, "for suffering them to treat me in such a manner, without sayinganything in my own defence. " I answered, "If they knew what my husbandsaid to me, that was confusion enough for me, without my bringing anymore of it on myself by replies; that if they did not notice it, Iought not to cause it to be observed, nor expose my husband's weakness;that remaining silent stopped all disputes, whereas I might cause themto be continued and increased by my replies. " My father answered that Idid well, and that I should continue to act as God should inspire me. And after that, he never spoke to me of it any more. 

They were ever talking to me against my father, against my relations, and all such as I esteemed most. I felt this more keenly than all theycould say against myself. I could not forbear defending them, andtherein I did wrong; as whatever I said served only to provoke them. Ifany complained of my father or relations, they were always in theright. If any, whom they had disliked before, spoke against them, theywere presently approved of. If any showed friendship to me, such werenot welcome. A relation whom I greatly loved for her piety, coming tosee me, they openly bid her begone. They treated her in such a manneras obliged her to go, which gave me no small uneasiness. When anyperson of distinction came, they would speak against me; even to thosewho knew me not, which surprised them. But when they saw me they pitiedme. 

It mattered not what they said against me, love would not allow me tojustify myself. I spoke not to my husband of what either mymother-in-law or the girl did to me, except the first year, when I wasnot sufficiently touched with the power of God to suffer. Mymother-in-law and my husband often quarrelled. Then I was in favor, andto me they made their mutual complaints. I never told the one what theother had said. And though it might have been of service to me, humanlyspeaking, to take advantage of such opportunities, I never made use ofthem to complain of either. Nay, on the contrary, I did not rest till Ihad reconciled them. I spoke many obliging things of the one to theother, which made them friends again. I knew by frequent experiencethat I should pay dear for their reunion. Scarcely were they reconciledwhen they joined together against me. 

I was so deeply engaged within, as often to forget things without, yetnot anything which was of consequence. My husband was hasty, andinattention frequently irritated him. I walked into the garden, withoutobserving anything. When my husband, who could not go thither, asked meabout it, I knew not what to say, at which he was angry. I went thitheron purpose to notice everything, in order to tell him and yet whenthere did not think of looking. I went ten times one day, to see andbring him an account and yet forgot it. But when I did remember tolook, I was much pleased. Yet it happened I was then asked nothingabout them. 

All my crosses to me would have seemed little, if I might have hadliberty to pray and to be alone, to indulge the interior attractionwhich I felt. But I was obliged to continue in their presence, withsuch a subjection as is scarcely conceivable. My husband looked at hiswatch, if at any time I had liberty allowed me for prayer, to see if Istayed more than half an hour. If I exceeded, he grew very uneasy. Sometimes I said, "Grant me one hour to divert and employ myself as Ihave a mind. " Though he would have granted it to me for otherdiversions, yet for prayer he would not. I confess that inexperiencecaused me much trouble. I have often thereby given occasion for whatthey made me suffer. For ought I not to have looked on my captivity asan effect of the will of my God, to content myself and to make it myonly desire and prayer? But I often fell back again into the anxiety ofwishing to get time for prayer, which was not agreeable to my husband. Those faults were more frequent in the beginning. Afterward I prayed toGod in His own retreat, in the temple of my heart, and I went out nomore. 

CHAPTER 17

We went into the country, where I committed many faults. I thought Imight do it then because my husband diverted himself with building. IfI stayed from him he was dissatisfied. That sometimes happened as hewas continually talking with the workmen. I set myself in a corner, andthere had my work with me, but could scarcely do anything by reason ofthe force of the attraction which made the work fall out of my hands. Ipassed whole hours this way, without being able either to open my eyesor know what passed; but I had nothing to wish for, nor yet to beafraid of. Everywhere I found my proper center, because everywhere Ifound God. 

My heart could then desire nothing but what it had. This dispositionextinguished all its desires; and I sometimes said to myself, "Whatwantest thou? What fearest thou?" I was surprised to find upon trialthat I had nothing to fear. Every place I was in was my proper place. 

As I had generally no time allowed me for prayer but with difficulty, and would not be suffered to rise till seven o'clock, I stole up atfour, and kneeling in my bed, I wished not to offend my husband andstrove to be punctual and assiduous in everything. But this soonaffected my health and injured my eyes, which were still weak. It wasbut eight months since I had the smallpox. This loss of rest brought aheavy trial upon me. Even my sleeping hours were much broken, by thefear of not waking in time, I insensibly dropped asleep at my prayers. In the half hour that I got after dinner, though I felt quite wakeful, the drowsiness overpowered me. I endeavored to remedy this by theseverest bodily inflictions, but in vain. 

As we had not yet built the chapel, and were far from any church, Icould not go to prayers or sacrament without the permission of myhusband. He was very reluctant to permit me, except on Sundays andholidays. I could not go out in the coach, so that I was obliged tomake use of some stratagems, and to get service performed very early inthe morning, to which, feeble as I was, I made an effort to creep onfoot. It was a quarter of a league distant. Really God wrought wondersfor me. Generally, in the mornings when I went to prayers, my husbanddid not awake until after I was returned. Often, as I was going out, the weather was so cloudy, that the girl I took with me told me that Icould not go; or if I did, I should be soaked with the rain. I answeredher with my usual confidence, "God will assist us. " I generally reachedthe chapel without being wet. While there the rain fell excessively. When I returned it ceased. When I got home it began again with freshviolence. During several years that I have acted this way, I have neverbeen deceived in my confidence. When I was in town, and could findnobody, I was surprised that there came to me priests to ask me if Iwas willing to receive the communion, and that if I was they would giveit to me. I had no mind to refuse the opportunity which Thou thyselfoffered me; for I had no doubt of its being Thee who inspired them topropose it. Before I had contrived to get divine service at the chapelI have mentioned, I have often suddenly awoke with a strong impulse togo to prayers. My maid would say, "But, madam, you are going to tireyourself in vain. There will be no service. " For that chapel was notyet regularly served. I went full of faith and at my arrival have foundthem just ready to begin. If I could particularly enumerate theremarkable providences which were hereupon given in my favor therewould be enough to fill whole volumes. 

When I wanted to hear from, or write to Mother Granger, I often felt astrong propensity to go to the door. There to find a messenger with aletter from her. This is only a small instance of these kind ofcontinual providences. She was the only person I could be free to openmy heart to, when I could get to see her, which was with the greatestdifficulty. It was through providential assistance; because prohibitedby my confessor and husband. I placed an extreme confidence in MotherGranger. I concealed nothing from her either of sins or pains. I didnot now practice any austerities but those she was willing to allow me. My interior dispositions I was scarcely able to tell because I knew nothow to explain myself, being very ignorant of those matters, havingnever read or heard of them. 

One day when they thought I was going to see my father, I ran off toMother Granger. It was discovered, and cost me crosses. Their rageagainst me was so excessive, that it would seem incredible. Even mywriting to her was extremely difficult. I had the utmost abhorrence ofa lie, so I forbade the footman to tell any. When they were met theywere asked whither they were going, and if they had any letters. Mymother-in-law set herself in a little passage, through which those whowent out must necessarily pass. She asked them whither they were goingand what they carried. Sometimes going on foot to the Benedictines, Icaused shoes to be carried, that they might not perceive by the dirtyones that I had been far. I dared not go alone; those who attended mehad orders to tell of every place I went. If they were discovered tofail, they were either corrected or discharged. 

My husband and mother-in-law were always inveighing against that goodwoman, though in reality they esteemed her. I sometimes made my owncomplaint and she replied, "How should you content them, when I havebeen doing all in my power for twenty years to satisfy them withoutsuccess?" For as my mother-in-law had two daughters under her care, shewas always finding something to say against everything she did inregard to them. 

But the most sensible cross to me now was the revolting of my own sonagainst me. They inspired him with so great a contempt for me, that Icould not bear to see him without extreme affliction. When I was in myroom with some of my friends, they sent him to listen to what we said. As he saw this pleased them, he invented a hundred things to tell them. If I caught him in a lie, as I frequently did, he would upbraid me, saying, "My grandmother says you have been a greater liar than I. " Ianswered, "Therefore I know the deformity of that vice, and how hard athing it is to get the better of it; and for this reason, I would nothave you suffer the like. " He spoke to me things very offensive. Because he saw the awe I stood in of his grandmother and his father, ifin their absence I found fault with him for anything, he insultinglyupbraided me. He said that now I wanted to be set up over him becausethey were not there. All this they approved of. One day he went to seemy father and rashly began talking against me to him, as he was used todoing to his grandmother. But there it did not meet with the samerecompense. It affected my father to tears. Father came to our house todesire he might be corrected for it. They promised it should be done, and yet they never did it. I was grievously afraid of the consequencesof so bad an education. I told Mother Granger of it, who said thatsince I could not remedy it, I must suffer and leave everything to God. This child would be my cross. 

Another great cross was the difficulty I had in attending my husband. Iknew he was displeased when I was not with him; yet when I was withhim, he never expressed any pleasure. On the contrary, he only rejectedwith scorn whatever office I performed. He was so difficult with meabout everything, that I sometimes trembled when I approached him. Icould do nothing to his liking; and when I did not attend him he wasangry. He had taken such a dislike to soups, that he could not bear thesight of them. Those that offered them had a rough reception. Neitherhis mother nor any of the domestics would carry them to him. There wasnone but I who did not refuse that office. I brought them and let hisanger pass; then I tried in some agreeable manner to prevail on him totake them. I said to him, "I had rather be reprimanded several times aday, than let you suffer by not bringing you what is proper. " Sometimeshe took; at other times he pushed them back. 

When he was in a good humor and I was carrying something agreeable tohim, then my mother-in-law would snatch it out of my hands. She wouldcarry it herself. As he thought I was not so careful and studious toplease him he would fly in a rage against me and express greatthankfulness to his mother. I used all my skill and endeavors to gainmy mother-in-law's favor by my presents, my services; but could notsucceed. 

"How bitter and grievous, O my God, would such a life be were it notfor Thee! Thou hast sweetened and reconciled it to me. " I had a fewshort intervals from this severe and mortifying life. These served onlyto make the reverses more keen and bitter. 

CHAPTER 18

About eight or nine months after my recovery from the smallpox, FatherLa Combe, passing by our house, brought me a letter from Father de laMotte, recommending him to my esteem, and expressing the highestfriendship for him. I hesitated because I was very loath to make newacquaintances. The fear of offending my brother prevailed. After ashort conversation we both desired a farther opportunity. I thoughtthat he either loved God, or was disposed to love Him, and I wishedeverybody to love Him. God had already made use of me for theconversion of three of his order. The strong desire he had of seeing meagain induced him to come to our country house about half a league fromthe town. A little incident which happened opened a way for me to speakto him. As he was in discourse with my husband, who relished hiscompany, he was taken ill and retired into the garden. My husband bademe go and see what was the matter. He told me he had noticed in mycountenance a deep inwardness and presence of God, which had given hima strong desire of seeing me again. God then assisted me to open to himthe interior path of the soul, and conveyed so much grace to himthrough this poor channel, that he went away changed into quite anotherman. I preserved an esteem for him; for it appeared to me that he wouldbe devoted to God; but little did I then foresee, that I should ever beled to the place where he was to reside. 

My disposition at this time was a continual prayer, without knowing itto be such. The presence of God was so plentifully given that it seemedto be more in me than my very self. The sensibility thereof was sopowerful, so penetrating, it seemed to me irresistible. Love took fromme all liberty of my own. At other times I was so dry, I felt nothingbut the pain of absence, which was the keener to me, as the divinepresence had before been so sensible. In these alternatives I forgotall my troubles and pains. It appeared to me as if I had neverexperienced any. In its absence, it seemed as if it would never returnagain. I still thought it was through some fault of mine it waswithdrawn, and that rendered me inconsolable. Had I known it had been astate through which it was necessary to pass, I should not have beentroubled. My strong love to the will of God would have renderedeverything easy to me. The property of this prayer was to give a greatlove to the order of God, with so sublime and perfect a reliance onHim, as to fear nothing, whether danger, thunders, spirits, or death. It gives a great abstraction from one's self, our own interests andreputation, with an utter disregard to everything of the kind--allbeing swallowed up in the esteem of the will of God. 

At home, I was accused of everything that was ill done, spoiled orbroken. At first I told the truth, and said it was not I. Theypersisted, and accused me of lying. I then made no reply. Besides, theytold all their tales to such as came to the house. But when I wasafterward alone with the same persons, I never undeceived them. I oftenheard such things said of me, before my friends, as were enough to makethem entertain a bad opinion. My heart kept its habitation in the tacitconsciousness of my own innocence, not concerning myself whether theythought well or ill of me; excluding all the world, all opinions orcensures, out of my view, I minded nothing else but the friendship ofGod. 

If through infidelity I happened at any time to justify myself, Ialways failed, and drew upon myself new crosses, both within andwithout. But notwithstanding all this, I was so enamored with it, thatthe greatest cross of all would have been to be without any. When thecross was taken from me for any short space, it seemed to me that itwas because of the bad use I made of it; that my unfaithfulnessdeprived me of so great an advantage. I never knew its value betterthan its loss. 

I cried punish me any way, but take not the cross from me. This amiablecross returned to me with so much the more weight, as my desire wasmore vehement. I could not reconcile two things, they appeared to me sovery opposite. 1) To desire the cross with so much ardor. 2) To supportit with so much difficulty and pain. 

God knows well, in the admirable economy he observes, how to render thecrosses more weighty, conformable to the ability of the creature tobear them. Hereby my soul began to be more resigned, to comprehend thatthe state of absence, and of wanting what I longed for, was in its turnmore profitable than that of always abounding. This latter nourishedself-love. If God did not act thus, the soul would never die to itself. That principle of self-love is so crafty and dangerous, that it cleavesto everything. 

What gave me most uneasiness, in this time of darkness and crucifixion, both within and without, was an inconceivable readiness to be quick andhasty. When any answer a little too lively escaped me, (which servednot a little to humble me, ) they said "I was fallen into a mortal sin. "A conduct no less rigorous than this was quite necessary for me. I wasso proud, passionate, and of a humor naturally thwarting, wantingalways to carry matters my own way, thinking my own reasons better thanthose of others. Hadst thou, O my God, spared the strokes of thyhammer, I should never have been formed to Thy will, to be aninstrument for Thy use; for I was ridiculously vain. Applause renderedme intolerable. I praised my friends to excess, and blamed otherswithout reason. But, the more criminal I have been, the more I amindebted to Thee, and the less of any good can I attribute to myself. How blind are men who attribute to others the holiness that God givesthem! I believe, my God, that thou hast had children, who under thygrace, owed much to their own fidelity. As for me, I owe all to Thee; Iglory to confess it; I cannot acknowledge it too much. 

In acts of charity I was very assiduous. So great was my tenderness forthe poor, that I wished to have supplied all their wants. I could notsee their necessity without reproaching myself for the plenty Ienjoyed. I deprived myself of all I could to help them. The very bestat my table was distributed. There were few of the poor where I lived, who did not partake of my liberality. It seemed as if Thou hadst mademe thy only almoner there, for being refused by others, they came tome. I cried, "it is Thy substance; I am only the steward. I ought todistribute it according to Thy will. " I found means to relieve themwithout letting myself be known, because I had one who dispensed myalms privately. When there were families who were ashamed to take it inthis way, I sent it to them as if I owed them a debt. I clothed such aswere naked, and caused young girls to be taught how to earn theirlivelihood, especially those who were handsome; to the end that beingemployed, and having whereon to live, they might not be under atemptation to throw themselves away. God made use of me to reclaimseveral from their disorderly lives. I went to visit the sick, tocomfort them, to make their beds. I made ointments, dressed theirwounds, buried their dead. I privately furnished tradesmen andmechanics wherewith to keep up their shops. My heart was much openedtoward my fellow creatures in distress. Few indeed could carry charitymuch farther than our Lord enabled me to do, according to my state, both while married and since. 

To purify me the more from the mixture I might make of His gifts withmy own self-love, He gave me interior probations, which were veryheavy. I began to experience an insupportable weight, in that verypiety which had formerly been so easy and delightful to me; not that Idid not love it extremely, but I found myself defective in that noblepractice of it. The more I loved it, the more I labored to acquire whatI saw failed in. But, alas! I seemed continually to be overcome by thatwhich was the contrary to it. My heart, indeed, was detached from allsensual pleasures. For these several years past, it has seemed to methat my mind is so detached and absent from the body, that I do thingsas if I did them not. If I eat, or refresh myself, it is done with suchan absence, or separation, as I wonder at, with an entire mortificationof the keenness of sensation in all the natural functions. 

CHAPTER 19

To resume my history, the smallpox had so much hurt one of my eyes, that it was feared I would lose it. The gland at the corner of my eyewas injured. An imposthume arose from time to time between the nose andthe eye, which gave me great pain till it was lanced. It swelled all myhead to that degree that I could not bear even a pillow. The leastnoise was agony to me, though sometimes they made a great commotion inmy chamber. Yet this was a precious time to me, for two reasons. First, because I was left in bed alone, where I had a sweet retreat withoutinterruption; the other, because it answered the desire I had forsuffering, --which desire was so great, that all the austerities of thebody would have been but as a drop of water to quench so great a fire. Indeed the severities and rigors which I then exercised were extreme, but they did not appease this appetite for the cross. It is Thou alone, O Crucified Saviour, who canst make the cross truly effectual for thedeath of self. Let others bless themselves in their ease or gaiety, grandeur or pleasures, poor temporary heavens; for me, my desires wereall turned another way, even to the silent path of suffering forChrist, and to be united to Him, through the mortification of all thatwas of nature in me, that my senses, appetites and will, being dead tothese, might wholly live in Him. 

I obtained leave to go to Paris for the cure of my eye; and yet it wasmuch more through the desire I had to see Monsieur Bertot, a man ofprofound experience, whom Mother Granger had lately assigned to me formy director. I went to take leave of my father, who embraced me withpeculiar tenderness, little thinking then that it would be our lastadieu. 

Paris was a place now no longer to be dreaded as in times past. Thethrongs only served to draw me into a deep recollection, and the noiseof the streets augmented my inward prayer. I saw Monsieur Bertot, whodid not prove of that service to me, which he would have been if I hadthen the power to explain myself. Though I wished earnestly to hidenothing from him, yet God held me so closely to Him, that I couldscarcely tell anything at all. As soon as I spoke to him, everythingvanished from my mind, so that I could remember nothing but some fewfaults. As I saw him very seldom, and nothing stayed in myrecollection, and as I read of nothing any way resembling my case, Iknew not how to explain myself. Besides, I desired to make nothingknown, but the evil which was in me. Therefore Monsieur Bertot knew menot, even till his death. This was of great utility to me, by takingaway every support, and making me truly die to myself. 

I went to pass the ten days, from the Ascension to Whitsuntide, at anabbey four leagues from Paris, the abbess of which had a particularfriendship for me. Here my union with God seemed to be deeper and morecontinued, becoming always simple, at the same time more close andintimate. 

One day I awoke suddenly at four o'clock in the morning, with a strongimpression on my mind that my father was dead. At the same time my soulwas in a very great contentment, yet my love for him affected it withsorrow, and my body with weakness. Under the strokes and daily troubleswhich befell me, my will was so subservient to Thine, O my God, that itappeared absolutely united to it. There seemed, indeed, to be no willleft in me but Thine only. My own disappeared, and no desires, tendencies or inclinations were left, but to the one sole object ofwhatever was most pleasing to Thee, be it what it would. If I had awill, it was in union with thine, as two well tuned lutes in concert. That which is not touched renders the same sound as that which istouched; it is but one and the same sound, one pure harmony. It is thisunion of the will which establishes in perfect peace. Yet, though myown will was lost I have found since, in the strange states I have beenobliged to pass through, how much it had yet to cost me to have ittotally lost. How many souls are there which think their own willsquite lost, while they are yet very far from it! They would find theystill subsist, if they met with severe trials. Who is there who doesnot wish something for himself, either of interest, wealth, honor, pleasure, conveniency and liberty. He who thinks his mind loose fromall these objects, because he possesses them, would soon perceive hisattachment to them, were he stripped of those he possessed. If thereare found in a whole age three persons so dead to everything, as to beutterly resigned to providence without any exception, they may wellpass for prodigies of grace. 

In the afternoon as I was with the abbess, I told her I had strongpresentiments of my father's death. Indeed I could hardly speak, I wasso affected within. Presently one came to tell her that she was wantedin the parlor. It was a messenger come in haste, with an account frommy husband that my father was ill. And as I afterward found, hesuffered only twelve hours. He was therefore by this time dead. Theabbess returning, said, "Here is a letter from your husband, who writesthat your father is taken violently ill. " I said to her, "He is dead, Icannot have a doubt about it. "

I sent away to Paris immediately, to hire a coach, to go the sooner;mine waited for me at the midway. I went off at nine o'clock at night. They said. I "was going to destroy myself. " I had no acquaintance withme as I had sent away my maid to Paris, to put everything in orderthere. Being in a religious house, I had no mind to keep a footman withme. The abbess told me, that "since I thought my father was dead, itwould be rashness in me to expose myself, and run the risk of my lifein that manner. Coaches could hardly pass the way I was going, it beingno beaten road. " I answered, "It was my indispensable duty to go toassist my father, and that I ought not, on a bare apprehension, toexempt myself from it. " I then went alone, abandoned to Providence, with people unknown. My weakness was so great, that I could hardly keepmy seat in the coach. I was often forced to alight, on account ofdangerous places in the road. 

In this way I was obliged, about midnight, to cross a forest, notoriousfor murders and robberies. The most intrepid dreaded it; but myresignation left me scarce any room to think at all about it. Whatfears and uneasiness does a resigned soul spare itself! All alone Iarrived within five leagues of my own habitation, where I found myconfessor who had opposed me, with one of my relations, waiting for me. The sweet consolation I had enjoyed, when alone, was now interrupted. My confessor, ignorant of my state, restrained me entirely. My griefwas of such a nature that I could not shed a tear. And I was ashamed tohear a thing which I knew but too well, without giving any exteriormark of grief. The inward and profound peace I enjoyed dawned on mycountenance. The state I was in did not permit me to speak, or to dosuch things as are usually expected from persons of piety. I could donothing but love and be silent. 

I found on my arrival at home, that my father was already buriedbecause of the excessive heat. It was ten o'clock at night. All worethe habit of mourning. I had traveled thirty leagues in a day and anight. As I was very weak, not having taken any nourishment, I wasinstantly put to bed. 

About two o'clock in the morning my husband got up, and having gone outof my chamber, he returned presently, crying out with all his might, "My daughter is dead!" She was my only daughter, as dearly beloved astruly lovely. She had so many graces both of body and mind conferred onher, that one must have been insensible not to have loved her. She hadan extraordinary share of love to God. Often was she found in cornersat prayer. As soon as she perceived me at prayer, she came and joined. If she discovered that I had been without her, she would weep bitterlyand cry, "Ah, mamma, you pray but I don't. " When we were alone and shesaw my eyes closed she would whisper, "Are you asleep?" Then she wouldcry out, "Ah no, you are praying to our dear Jesus. " Dropping on herknees before me she would begin to pray too. She was several timeswhipped by her grandmother, because she said, she would never have anyother husband but our Lord. She could never make her say otherwise. Shewas innocent and modest as a little angel; very dutiful and endearing, and withal very beautiful. Her father doted on her, to me she was verydear, much more for the qualities of her mind than those of herbeautiful person. I looked upon her as my only consolation on earth. She had as much affection for me, as her brother had aversion andcontempt. She died of an unseasonable bleeding. But what shall I say?She died by the hands of Him who was pleased, for wise reasons of Hisown, to strip me of all. 

There now remained to me only the son of my sorrow. He fell ill to thepoint of death, but was restored at the prayer of Mother Granger whowas now my only consolation after God. I no more wept for my child thanfor my father. I could only say, "Thou, O Lord, gave her to me; itpleases Thee to take her back again, for she was Thine. " As for myfather, his virtue was so generally known, that I must rather besilent, than enter upon the subject. His reliance on God, his faith andpatience were wonderful. Both died in July, 1672. Henceforth crosseswere not spared me, and though I had abundance of them hitherto, yetthey were only the shadows of those which I have been since obliged topass through. In this spiritual marriage I claimed for my dowry onlycrosses, scourges, persecutions, ignominies, lowliness, and nothingnessof self, which in God's great goodness, and for wise ends, as I haveseen, has been pleased to grant and confer upon me. 

One day, being in great distress on account of the redoubling ofoutward and inward crosses, I went into my closet to give vent to mygrief. M. Bertot was brought into my mind, with this wish, "Oh, that hewas sensible of what I suffer!" Though he wrote but very seldom, andwith great difficulty, yet he wrote me a letter dated the same dayabout the cross. It was the finest and most consolatory he ever wroteme on that subject. Sometimes my spirit was so oppressed with continualcrosses, which scarcely gave me any relaxation, that when alone my eyesturned every way, to see if they could find anything to give relief. Aword, a sigh, a trifle, or to know that anyone took part in my grief, would have been some comfort. That was not granted me, not even to looktoward Heaven, or to make any complaint. Love held me then so closely, that it would have this miserable nature to perish, without giving itany support or nourishment. 

Oh, my dearest Lord! Thou yet gavest my soul a victorious support, which made it triumph over all the weaknesses of nature, and seized Thyknife to sacrifice it without sparing. And yet this nature so perverse, and full of artifices to save its life, at last took the course ofnourishing itself on its own despair, on its fidelity under such heavyand continual oppression. It sought to conceal the value it attributedthereto. But thy eyes were too penetrating not to detect the subtilty. Wherefore, thou, O my Shepherd, changed Thy conduct toward it. Thousometimes comforted it with thy crook and Thy staff; that is to say, byThy conduct as loving as crucifying; but it was only to reduce it tothe last extremity, as I shall show hereafter. 

CHAPTER 20

A lady of rank, whom I sometimes visited, took a particular liking tome, because (as she was pleased to say) my person and manners wereagreeable. She said that she observed in me something extraordinary anduncommon. I believe it was the inward attraction of my soul thatappeared on my very countenance. One day a gentleman of fashion said tomy husband's aunt, "I saw the lady your niece; and it is very evidentthat she lives in the presence of God. " I was surprised at this, as Ilittle thought such an one as he could know what it was to have Godthus present. This lady of rank began to be touched with the sense ofGod. Wanting once to take me to the play, I refused to go; (I neverwent to plays) making use of the pretext of my husband's continualindispositions. She pressed me exceedingly, and said, "I should not beprevented by his sickness from taking some amusement and I was not ofan age to be confined with the sick like a nurse. " I told her myreasons. She then perceived that it was more from a principle of piety, than the indispositions of my husband. Insisting to know my sentimentof plays, I told her, I entirely disapproved of them, and especiallyfor a Christian woman. And as she was far more advanced in years than Iwas, what I then said made such an impression on her mind, she neverwent again. 

Once with her and another lady, who was fond of talking and who hadread "the fathers, " they spoke much of God. This lady spoke learnedlyof Him. I said scarcely anything, being inwardly drawn to silence, andtroubled at this conversation about God. My acquaintance came next dayto see me. The Lord had so touched her heart, she could hold out nolonger. I attributed this to something the other lady had said, but shesaid to me, "Your silence had something in it which penetrated to thebottom of my soul. I could not relish what the other said. " We spoke toone another with open hearts. 

It was then that God left indelible impressions of His grace on hersoul, and she continued so athirst for Him, that she could scarcelyendure to converse on any other subject. That she might become whollyHis, He deprived her of a most affectionate husband. He visited herwith such severe crosses, and at the same time poured His grace soabundantly into her heart, that He soon became the sole master thereof. After the death of her husband, and the loss of most of her fortune, she went to reside four leagues from our house, on a small estate, which was left. She obtained my husband's consent to my going to spenda week with her, to console her. God gave her by my means all shewanted. She had a great share of understanding, but was surprised at myexpressing things to her so far above my natural capacity. I shouldhave been surprised at it myself. It was God who gave me the gift forher sake, diffusing a flood of grace into her soul, without regardingthe unworthiness of the channel of which He was pleased to make use. Since that time her soul has been the temple of the Holy Ghost, and ourhearts have been indissolubly united. 

My husband and I took a little journey together, in which both myresignation and humility were exercised, yet without difficulty orconstraint, so powerful was the influence of divine grace. We had allliked to have perished in a river. The rest of the company in desperatefright threw themselves out of the coach, which sunk in the movingsand. I continued so much inwardly occupied, that I did not once thinkof the danger. God delivered me from it without my thought of avoidingit. I was quite content to be drowned, had He permitted it. It may besaid, "I was rash. " I believe I was so; yet I rather chose to perish, trusting in God, than make my escape in a dependence on myself. Whatsay I? We do not perish, but for want of trusting Him. My pleasure isto be indebted to Him for everything. This renders me content in mymiseries, which I would rather endure all my life long, in a state ofresignation to Him, than put an end to them, in a dependence on myself. However, I would not advise others to act thus, unless they were in thesame disposition which I was in. 

As my husband's maladies daily increased, he resolved to go to St. Reine. He appeared very desirous of having none but me with him, andtold me one day, "If they never spoke to me against you, I should bemore easy, and you more happy. " In this journey I committed many faultsof self-love and self-seeking. I was become like a poor traveler thathad lost his way in the night and could find no way, path, or track. Myhusband, in his return from St. Reine, passed by St. Edm. Having now nochildren but my first-born son, who was often at the gates of death, hewished exceedingly for heirs, and prayed for them earnestly. Godgranted his desire, and gave me a second son. As I was several weekswithout any one daring to speak to me, on account of my great weakness, it was a time of retreat and of silence. I tried to indemnify myselffor the loss of time I had sustained in the others, to pray to Thee, Omy God, and to continue alone with Thee. I may say that God took a newpossession of me, and left me not. It was a time of continual joywithout interruption. As I had experienced many inward difficulties andweaknesses it was a new life. It seemed as if I was already in thefruition of beatitude. How dear did this happy time cost me, since itwas only a preparative to a total privation of comfort for severalyears, without any support, or hope of return! It began with the deathof Mrs. Granger, who had been my only consolation under God. Before myreturn from St. Reine I heard she was dead. 

When I received this news, I confess it was the most afflicting strokeI had ever felt. I thought that had I been with her at her death Imight have spoken to her and received her last instructions. God has soordered it that I was deprived of her assistance in almost all mylosses, in order to render the strokes more painful. Some months indeedbefore her death, it was shown to me, that though I could not see herbut with difficulty, and suffering for it, yet she was still somesupport to me. The Lord let me know that it would be profitable for meto be deprived of her. But at the time she died I did not think so. Itwas in that trying season when my paths were all blocked up, she wastaken from me. She who might have guided me in my lonesome anddifficult road, bounded as it were with precipices, and entangled withbriars and thorns. 

Adorable conduct of my God! there must be no guide for the person whomThou art leading into the regions of darkness and death, no conductorfor the man whom thou art determined to destroy, (that is, to cause todie totally to himself). After having saved me with much mercy, afterhaving led me by the hand in rugged paths, it seems Thou wast bent onmy destruction. May it not be said that Thou dost not save but todestroy, nor go to seek the lost sheep, but to cause it to be yet morelost; that Thou art pleased in building what is demolished, and indemolishing what is built. Thou wouldst overturn the temple built byhuman endeavors, with so much care and industry, in order as it weremiraculously to erect a divine structure, a house not built with hands, eternal in the Heavens. Secrets of the incomprehensible wisdom of God, unknown to any besides Himself! Man, sprung up only of a few days, wants to penetrate, and to set bounds to it. Who is it that hath knownthe mind of the Lord, or who hath been His counselor? Is it a wisdomonly to be known through death to everything, and through the entireloss of all self?

My brother now openly showed his hatred for me. He married at Orleansand my husband had the complaisance to go to his marriage. He was in apoor state of health, the roads bad, and so covered over with snow, that we had like to have been overturned twelve or fifteen times. Yetfar from appearing obliged by his politeness, my brother quarreled withhim more than ever, and without reason. I was the butt of both theirresentments. While I was at Orleans, meeting with one whom at that timeI thought highly of, I was too forward and free in speaking to him ofspiritual things, thinking I was doing well, but had a remorse for itafterwards. How often we mistake nature for grace! One must be dead toself, when such fowardness comes from God only. 

My brother treated me with the utmost contempt. Yet, my mind was sofully drawn inward, that although we had much more danger on the roadthan when going, I had no thought about myself, but all about myhusband. Seeing the coach overturning, I said, "Fear not, it is on myside that it falls; it will not hurt you. " I believe, had all perished, I should not have been moved. My peace was so profound that nothingcould shake it. If these times continued, we should be too strong. Theynow began to come but seldom and were followed with long and wearisomeprivations. Since that time my brother has changed for the better, andhas turned on the side of God, but he has never turned to me. It hasbeen by particular permission of God, and the conduct of His providenceover my soul, that has caused him and other religious persons, who havepersecuted me, to think they were rendering glory to God, and doingacts of justice therein. Indeed, it is just that all creatures shouldbe treacherous to me, and declare against me, who have too many timesbeen treacherous to God, and sided with His enemy. 

After this there was a very perplexing affair. To me it caused greatcrosses, and seemed designed for nothing else. A certain personconceived so much malice against my husband, that he was determined toruin him if possible. He found no other way to attempt it, but byentering into a private engagement with my brother. He obtained a powerto demand, in the name of the king's brother, two hundred thousandlivres, which he pretended that my brother and I owed him. My brothersigned the processes, upon an assurance given him that he should notpay anything. I think his youth engaged him in what he did notunderstand. This affair so chagrined my husband, that I have reason tobelieve it shortened his days. He was so angry with me (although I wasinnocent), that he could not speak to me except in a fury. He wouldgive me no light into the affair, and I did not know in what itconsisted. In the height of his rage, he said he would not meddle withit, but give me my portion, and let me live as I could. On the otherside, my brother would not move in it, nor suffer anything to be done. The day of the trial, after prayer, I felt myself strongly pressed togo to the judges. I was wonderfully assisted even so as to discover andunravel all the turns and artifices of this affair, without knowing howI could have been able to do it. The first judge was so surprised tosee the affair so different from what he had thought it before, that hehimself exhorted me to go to the other judges, and especially to theintendant, who was just then going to court. He was quite misinformedabout the matter. God enabled me to manifest the truth in so clear alight, and gave such power to my words, that the intendant thanked mefor having so seasonably come to undeceive, and set him right. Had Inot done this, he assured me the cause had been lost. As they saw thefalsehood of every point, they would have condemned the plaintiff topay the costs, if he had not been so great a prince, who lent his nameto the scheme. To save the honor of the prince they ordered us to payhim fifty crowns. Hereby the two hundred thousand livres were reducedto only one hundred and fifty. My husband was exceedingly pleased atwhat I had done. My brother appeared as outrageous against me, as if Ihad caused him some great loss. Thus moderately and at once ended anaffair, which had at first appeared so very weighty and alarming. 

CHAPTER 21

About this time I fell into a state of total privation which lastednearly seven years. I seemed to myself cast down like Nebuchadnezzar, to live among beasts; a deplorable state, yet of the greatest advantageto me, by the use which divine wisdom made of it. This state ofemptiness, darkness, and impotency, went far beyond any trials I hadever yet met. I have since experienced, that the prayer of the heartwhen it appears most dry and barren, nevertheless is not ineffectualnor offered in vain. God gives what is best for us, though not what wemost relish or wish for. Were people but convinced of this truth, theywould be far from complaining all their lives. By causing us death Hewould procure us life; for all our happiness, spiritual, temporal andeternal, consists in resigning ourselves to God, leaving it to Him todo in us and with us as He pleases, and with so much the moresubmission; as things please us less. By this pure dependence on HisSpirit, everything is given us admirably. Our very weaknesses, in Hishand, prove a source of humilition. If the soul were faithful to leaveitself in the hand of God, sustaining all His operations whethergratifying or mortifying, suffering itself to be conducted, from momentto moment, by His hand, and annihilated by the strokes of HisProvidence, without complaining, or desiring anything but what it has;it would soon arrive at the experience of the eternal truth, though itmight not at once know the ways and methods by which God conducted itthere. 

People want to direct God instead of resigning themselves to bedirected by Him. They want to show Him a way, instead of passivelyfollowing that wherein He leads them. Hence many souls, called to enjoyGod Himself, and not barely His gifts, spend all their lives in runningafter little consolations, and feeding on them--resting there only, making all their happiness to consist therein. 

If my chains and my imprisonment in any way afflict you, I pray thatthey may serve to engage you to seek nothing but God for Himself alone, and never to desire to possess Him but by the death of your wholeselves, never to seek to be something in the ways of the Spirit, butchoose to enter into the most profound nothingness. 

I had an internal strife, which continually racked me--two powers whichappeared equally strong seemed equally to struggle for the masterywithin me. On the one hand, a desire of pleasing Thee, O my God, a fearof offending, and a continual tendency of all my powers to Thee--on theother side, the view of all my inward corruptions, the depravity of myheart, and the continual stirring and rising of self. What torrents oftears, what desolations have these cost me? "Is it possible, " I cried, "that I have received so many graces and favors from God only to losethem;--that I have loved Him with so much ardor, but to be eternallydeprived of Him; that His benefits have only produced ingratitude; Hisfidelity been repaid with infidelity; that my heart has been emptied ofall creatures, and created objects, and filled with His blessedpresence and love, in order now to be wholly void of divine power, andonly filled with wanderings and created objects!"

I could now no longer pray as formerly. Heaven seemed shut to me, and Ithought justly. I could get no consolation or make any complaint; norhad I any creature on earth to apply to. I found myself banished fromall beings without finding a support of refuge in anything. I could nomore practice any virtue with facility. "Alas!" said I, "is it possiblethat this heart, formerly all on fire, should now become like ice!" Ioften thought all creatures combined against me. Laden with a weight ofpast sins, and a multitude of new ones, I could not think God wouldever pardon me, but looked on myself as a victim designed for Hell. Iwould have been glad to do penances, to make use of prayers, pilgrimages, and vows. But still, whatever I tried for a remedy seemedonly to increase the malady. I may say that tears were my drink, andsorrow my food. I felt in myself such a pain as I never could bring anyto comprehend, but such as have experienced it. I had within myself anexecutioner who tortured me without respite. Even when I went tochurch, I was not easy there. To sermons I could give no attention;they were now of no service or refreshment to me. I scarcely conceivedor understood anything in them, or about them. 

CHAPTER 22

As my husband drew near his end, his distempers had no intermission. Nosooner was he recovered from one when he fell into another. He boregreat pains with much patience offering them to God and making a gooduse of them. Yet his anger toward me increased, because reports andstories of me were multiplied to him, and those about him did nothingbut vex him. He was the more susceptible of such impressions, as hispains gave him a stronger bent to vexation. At this time, the maid, whoused to torment me sometimes took pity on me. She came to see me assoon as I was gone into my closet, and said, "Come to my master thatyour mother-in-law may not speak any more to him against you. " Ipretended to be ignorant of it all but he could not conceal hisdispleasure, nor even suffer me near him. My mother-in-law at the sametime kept no bounds. All that came to the house were witnesses of thecontinual scoldings, which I was forced to bear, and which I bore withmuch patience, notwithstanding my being in the condition I havementioned. 

My husband having, sometime before his death, finished the building ofthe chapel in the country, where we spent a part of the summer, I hadthe conveniency of hearing prayers every day, and of the communion. Notdaring to do it openly every day, the priest privately admitted me tothe communion. They solemnized the dedication of this little chapel. Ifelt myself all on a sudden inwardly seized, which continued more thanfive hours, all the time of the ceremony, when our Lord made a newconsecration of me to Himself. I then seemed to myself a templeconsecrated to Him, both for time and for eternity. I said withinmyself, (speaking both of the one and the other) "May this temple neverbe profaned; may the praises of God be sung therein forever!" It seemedto me at that time as if my prayer was granted. But soon all this wastaken from me, and not so much as any remembrance left to console me. 

When I was at this country house, which was only a little place ofretreat before the chapel was built, I retired for prayer to woods andcaverns. How many times, here, has God preserved me from dangerous andvenomous beasts! Sometimes, unawares, I kneeled upon serpents, whichwere there in great plenty; they fled away without doing me any harm. Once I happened to be alone in a little wood wherein was a mad bull;but he betook himself to flight. If I could recount all the providencesof God in my favor, it would appear wonderful. They were indeed sofrequent and continual, that I could not but be astonished at them. Godeverlastingly gives to such as have nothing to repay Him. If thereappears in the creature any fidelity or patience, it is He alone whogives it. If He ceases for an instant to support, if He seems to leaveme to myself, I cease to be strong, and find myself weaker than anyother creature. If my miseries show what I am, His favors show what Heis, and the extreme necessity I am under of ever depending on Him. 

After twelve years and four months of marriage, crosses as great aspossible, except poverty which I never knew, though I had much desiredit, God drew me out of that state to give me still stronger crosses ofsuch a nature as I had never met with before. For if you giveattention, sir, to the life which you have ordered me to write, youwill remark that my crosses have been increasing till the present time, one removed to give place to another to succeed it, still heavier thanthe former. Amid the troubles imposed upon me, when they said, I "wasin a mortal sin, " I had nobody in the world to speak to. I could havewished to have had somebody for a witness of my conduct; but I hadnone. I had no support, no confessor, no director, no friend, nocouncillor. I had lost all. And after God had taken from me one afteranother, He withdrew also Himself. I remained without any creature; andto complete my distress, I seemed to be left without God, who alonecould support me in such a deeply distressing state. 

My husband's illness grew every day more obstinate. He apprehended theapproach of death, and even wished for it, so oppressive waslanguishing life. To his other ills was great dislike to every sort ofnourishment; he did not take anything necessary to sustain life. Ialone had the courage to get him to take what little he did. The doctoradvised him to go to the country. There for a few days at first heseemed to be better, when he was suddenly taken with a complication ofdiseases. His patience increased his pain. I saw plainly he could notlive long. It was a great trouble to me, that my mother-in-law kept mefrom him as much as she could. She infused into his mind such adispleasure against me, that I was afraid lest he should die in it. Itook a little interval of time when she happened not to be with him, and drawing near his bed, I kneeled down and said to him, "That if Ihad ever done any thing that displeased him I begged his pardon, assuring him it had not been voluntary. " He appeared very muchaffected. As he had just come out of a sound sleep, he said to me, "Itis I who beg your pardon, I did not deserve you. " After that time hewas not only pleased to see me, but gave me advice what I should doafter his death; not to depend on the people on whom now I depended. Hewas for eight days very resigned and patient. I sent to Paris for themost skillful surgeon; but when he arrived my husband was dead. 

No mortal could die in a more Christian disposition, or with morecourage than he did, after having received the sacrament in a mannertruly edifying. I was not present when he expired, for out oftenderness he made me retire. He was above twenty hours unconscious andin the agonies of his death. It was in the morning of July 21, 1676, that he died. Next day I entered into my closet, in which was the imageof my divine spouse, the Lord Jesus Christ. I renewed mymarriage-contract, and added thereto a vow of chastity, with a promiseto make it perpetual, if M. Bertot my director, would permit me. Afterthat I was filled with great joy, which was new to me, as for a longtime past I had been plunged in the deepest bitterness. 

As soon as I heard that my husband had expired, "Oh, my God, " I cried, "thou hast broken my bonds, and I will offer thee a sacrifice ofpraise. " After that I remained in a deep silence, both exterior andinterior, quite dry and without any support. I could neither weep norspeak. My mother-in-law said very fine things, and was very muchcommended for it by everyone. They were offended at my silence, whichthey attributed to want of resignation. A friar told me, that everyoneadmired the fine acts which my mother-in-law did; but as for me, theyheard me say nothing; that I must sacrifice my loss to God. But I couldnot say one single word, let me strive as I would. 

I was indeed very much exhausted. Although I was but recently deliveredof my daughter, yet I attended and sat up with my husband four andtwenty nights before his death. I was more than a year after inrecovering from fatigue, joined to my great weakness and pain both ofbody and of mind. The great depression, or dryness and stupidity whichI was in, was such that I could not say a word about God. It bore medown in such a manner that I could hardly speak. However, I entered forsome moments into the admiration of thy goodness, O my God. I saw wellthat my crosses would not fail, since my mother-in-law had survived myhusband. Also I was still tied, in having two children given me in soshort a time before my husband's death, which evidently appeared theeffect of divine wisdom; for had I only my eldest son, I would have puthim in a college; and have gone myself into the convent of theBenedictines, and so frustrated all the designs of God upon me. 

I was willing to show the esteem I had for my husband, in causing themost magnificent funeral to be made for him at my own expense. I paidoff the legacies he had left. My mother-in-law violently opposedeverything I could do for securing my own interests. I had nobody toapply to for advice or help; for my brother would not give me the leastassistance. I was ignorant of business affairs; but God, independent ofmy natural understandings, always made me fit for everything thatpleased Him, and supplied me with such a perfect intelligence that Isucceeded. I omitted not the least minutia, and was surprised that inthese matters I should know without ever having learned. I digested allmy papers, and regulated all my affairs, without assistance from anyone. My husband had abundance of writings deposited in his hands. Itook an exact inventory of them, and sent them severally to theirowners, which, without divine assistance, would have been verydifficult for me; because, my husband having been a long time sick, everything was in the greatest confusion. This gained me the reputationof being a skillful woman. 

There was one matter of great importance. A number of persons, who hadbeen contending at law for several years, applied to my husband tosettle their affairs. Though it was not properly the business of agentleman, yet they applied to him, because he had both understandingand prudence; and as he had a love for several of them, he consented. There were twenty actions one upon another, and in all twenty-twopersons concerned, who could not get any end put to their differences, by reason of new incidents continually falling out. My husband chargedhimself with getting lawyers to examine their papers, but died beforehe could make any procedure therein. After his death I sent for them togive them their papers; but they would not receive them, begging of methat I would accommodate them, and prevent their ruin. It appeared tome as ridiculous, as impossible, to undertake an affair of so greatconsequence, and which would require so long a discussion. Nevertheless, relying on the strength and wisdom of God, I consented. Ishut myself up about thirty days for all these affairs, without evergoing out, but to mass and to my meals. The arbitration being at lengthprepared, they all signed it without seeing it. They were all so wellsatisfied therewith, that they could not forbear publishing iteverywhere. It was God alone who did those things; for after they weresettled I knew nothing about them; and if I now hear any talk of suchthings, to me it sounds like Arabic. 

CHAPTER 23

Being now a widow, my crosses, which one would have thought should haveabated, only increased. That turbulent domestic I have often mentioned, instead of growing milder, now that she depended on me became morefurious than ever. In our house she had amassed a good fortune, and Isettled on her, besides, an annuity for the remainder of her life, forthe services she had done my husband. She swelled with vanity andhaughtiness. Having been used to sit up so much with an invalid, shehad taken to drink wine, to keep up her spirits. This had now passedinto a habit. As she grew aged and weak, a very little of it affectedher. I tried to hide this fault, but it grew so that it could not beconcealed. I spoke of it to her confessor, in order that he might try, softly and artfully to reclaim her from it; but instead of profiting byher director's advice, she was outrageous against me. My mother-in-law, who could hardly bear the fault of intemperance, and had often spokento me about it, now joined in reproaching me and vindicating her. Thisstrange creature, when any company came, would cry out with all hermight, that I had dishonored her, thrown her into despair, and would bethe cause of her damnation, as I was taking the ready course to my own. Yet God gave me an unbounded patience. I answered only with mildnessand charity all her passionate invectives, giving her besides everypossible mark of my affection. If any other maid came to wait on me, she would drive her back in a rage, crying out, that I hated her onaccount of the affection with which she had served my husband. When shehad not a mind to come, I was obliged to serve myself; and when she didcome, it was to chide me and make a noise. When I was very unwell, aswas often the case, this girl would appear to be in despair. From henceI thought it was from Thee, O Lord, that all this came upon me. Withoutthy permission, she was scarcely capable of such unaccountable conduct. She seemed not sensible of any faults, but always to think herself inthe right. All those whom Thou hast made use of to cause me to suffer, thought they were rendering service to Thee in so doing. 

Before my husband's death, I went to Paris on purpose to see MonsieurBertot, who had been of very little service to me as a director. Notknowing my state, and I being incapable of telling him of it, he grewweary of the charge. At length he gave it up, and wrote to me to takeanother director. I made no doubt but God had revealed to him my wickedstate; and this desertion of me seemed a most certain mark of myreprobation. This was during the life of my husband. But now my renewedsolicitations, and his sympathy with me on my husband's death, prevailed on him to resume my direction, which to me still proved ofvery little service. I went again to Paris to see him. While there, Ivisited him twelve or fifteen times, without being able to tell himanything of my condition. I told him, indeed, that I wanted someecclesiastic to educate my son, to rid him of his bad habits, and ofthe wrong impressions he had conceived against me. He found one for me, of whom he had received very good recommendations. 

I went to make a retreat with M. Bertot and Madame de C. All that timehe spoke to me not a quarter of an hour at most. As he saw that I saidnothing to him, for indeed I knew not what to say, as I had not spokento him of the favors which God had conferred on me (not from a desireto conceal them, but because the Lord did not permit me to do it, as Hehad over me only the designs of death) he therefore spoke to such as helooked upon to be more advanced in grace. He let me alone as one forwhom there was nothing to be done. So well did God hide from him thesituation of my soul, in order to make me suffer, that he wanted torefer me, thinking that I had not the spirit of prayer, and that Mrs. Granger was mistaken when she told him I had. I did what I could toobey him, but it was entirely impossible. On this account I wasdispleased with myself, because I believed M. Bertot rather than myexperience. Through this whole retreat my inclination, which Idiscerned only by my resistance to it, was to rest in silence andnakedness of thought. In the settling of my mind therein I feared I wasdisobeying the orders of my director. This made me think that I hadfallen from grace. I kept myself in a state of nothingness, contentwith my poor low degree of prayer, without envying the higher degree ofothers, of which I judged myself unworthy. I would have, however, desired much to do the will of God, and to please Him, but despairedaltogether of ever attaining that desirable end. 

There was in the place where I lived, and had been for some years, onewhose doctrine was suspected. He possessed a dignity in the church, which always obliged me to have a deference for him. As he understoodhow averse I was to all who were suspected of unsoundness in the faith, and knowing that I had some credit in the place, he used his utmostefforts to engage me in his sentiments. I answered him with so muchclearness and energy, that he had not a word to reply. This increasedhis desire to win me in order to do it, to contract a friendship forme. He continued to importune me for two years and a half. As he wasvery polite, and of an obliging temper, and had a good share oflearning, I did not mistrust him. I even conceived a hope of hisconversion, in which I found myself mistaken. I then ceased going nearhim. He came to inquire why he could see me no more. At that time hewas so agreeable to my sick husband, in his assiduities about him, thatI could not avoid him though I thought the shortest and best way for mewould be break off all acquaintance with him, which I did after thedeath of my husband. M. Bertot would not permit me to do it before. When he now saw that he could not renew it, he and his party raised upstrong persecutions against me. 

These gentlemen had at that time a method among them, by which theysoon knew who were of their party, and who were opposite. They sent toone another circular letters, by means of which, in a very little time, they cried me down on every side, after a very strange manner. Yet thisgave me little trouble. I was glad of my new liberty, intending neveragain to enter into an intimacy with anyone, which would give me somuch difficulty to break. 

This inability I was now in, of doing those exterior acts of charity Ihad done before, served this person with a pretext to publish that itwas owing to him I had formerly done them. Willing to ascribe tohimself the merit of what God alone, by His grace, had made me do, hewent so far as to preach against me publicly, as one who had been abright pattern to the town, but was now become a scandal to it. Severaltimes he preached very offensive things. Though I was present at thosesermons, and they were enough to weigh me down with confusion, for theyoffended all that heard them, I could not be troubled. I carried inmyself my own condemnation beyond utterance. I thought I meritedabundantly worse than all he could say of me, and that, if all men knewme, they would trample me under their feet. My reputation then wasblasted by the industry of this ecclesiastic. He caused all such aspassed for persons of piety to declare against me. I thought he andthey were in the right and therefore quietly bore it all. Confused likea criminal that dares not lift up his eyes, I looked upon the virtue ofothers with respect. I saw no fault in others and no virtue in myself. When any happened to praise me, it was like a heavy blow struck at me, and I said in myself, "They little know my miseries, and from whatstate I have fallen. " When any blamed me, I agreed to it, as right andjust. Nature wanted sometimes to get out of such an abject condition, but could not find any way. If I tried to make an outward appearance ofrighteousness, by the practice of some good thing, my heart in secretrebuked me as guilty of hypocrisy, in wanting to appear what I was not;and God did not permit that to succeed. Oh, how excellent are thecrosses of Providence! All other crosses are of no value. 

I was often very ill and in danger of death, and knew not how toprepare myself for it. Several persons of piety, who had beenacquainted with me, wrote to me about those things which the gentlemanspread about me. I did not offer to justify myself, although I knewmyself innocent of the things whereof they accused me. One day being inthe greatest desolation and distress, I opened the New Testament onthese words, "My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is madeperfect in weakness. " That for a little time gave me some relief. 

CHAPTER 24

The Lord took from me all the sensibility which I had for thecreatures, or things created, even in an instant, as one takes off arobe. After that time I had none for any whatsoever. Though He had doneme that favor, for which I can never be sufficiently grateful, I was, however, neither more contented nor less confused by it. My God seemedto be so estranged and displeased with me, that there remained nothingbut the grief of having lost His blessed presence through my fault. Theloss of my reputation every day increasing, became sensible to myheart, though I was not allowed to justify or bewail myself. 

As I became always more impotent for every kind of exterior works, as Icould not go to see the poor, nor stay at church, nor practice prayer;as I became colder toward God, in proportion as I was more sensible ofmy wrong steps, all this destroyed me the more both in my own eyes andin those of others. There were some very considerable gentlemen whomade proposals for me, and even such persons as according to the rulesof fashion ought not to think of me. They presented themselves duringthe very depth of my outward and inward desolation. At first itappeared to me a means of drawing me out of the distress I was in. Butit seemed to me then notwithstanding my pains of body and mind, that ifa king had presented himself to me, I would have refused him withpleasure, to show thee, O my God, that with all my miseries I wasresolved to be thine alone. 

If Thou wouldst not accept of me, I should at least have theconsolation of having been faithful to Thee to the utmost of my power. For as to my inward state, I never mentioned it to anybody. I neverspoke thereof, nor of the suitors, though my mother-in-law would saythat if I did not marry, it was because none would have me. It wassufficient for me that Thou, O my God, knewest that I sacrificed themto Thee, (without saying a word to anybody) especially one whose highbirth and amiable exterior qualities might have tempted both my vanityand inclination. Oh, could I but have hoped, to become agreeable toThee, such a hope would have been like a change from Hell to Heaven. Sofar was I from presuming to hope for it, that I feared this sea ofaffliction might also be followed by everlasting misery, in the loss ofThee. I dared not even desire to enjoy Thee--I only desired not tooffend Thee. 

I was for five or six weeks at the last extremity. I could not take anynourishment. A spoonful of broth made me faint. My voice was so gone, that when they put their ears close to my mouth, they could scarcelydistinguish my words. I could not see any hope of salvation, yet wasnot unwilling to die. I bore a strong impression that the longer Ilived the more I would sin. Of the two, I thought I would rather chooseHell than sin. All the good, which God made me do, now seemed to meevil or full of faults. All my prayers, penances, alms and charities, seemed to rise up against me, and heighten my condemnation. I thoughtthere appeared on the side of God, on my own, and from all creatures, one general condemnation, my conscience was a witness against me, whichI could not appease. What may appear strange, the sins of my youth didnot then give me any pain at all. They did not rise up in judgmentagainst me, but there appeared one universal testimony against all thegood I had done, and all the sentiments of evil I had entertained. If Iwent to confessors, I could tell them nothing of my condition. If Icould have told them, they would have not understood me. They wouldhave regarded as eminent virtues, what, O my God, thy eyes all pure andchaste rejected as infidelity. It was then that I felt the truth ofwhat Thou hast said, that Thou judgest our righteousness. Oh, how pureart thou! Who can comprehend it? It was then that I turned my eyes onevery side, to see what way succor might come to me; but my succorcould come no way but from Him who made Heaven and earth. As I sawthere was no safety for me, or spiritual health in myself, I enteredinto a secret complacency in seeing no good in myself whereon to rest, or presume for salvation. The nearer my destruction appeared, the moreI found in God Himself, wherewith to augment my trust and confidence, notwithstanding He seemed so justly irritated against me. It seemed tome that I had in Jesus Christ all that was wanting in myself. Oh, yestout and righteous men! Observe as much as ye please of excellence inwhat ye have done to the glory of God. As for me, I only glory in myinfirmities, since they have merited for me such a Saviour!

All my troubles, joined to the loss of my reputation, which yet was notso great as I apprehended, (it being only among a party) rendered me sounable to eat, that it seemed wonderful how I lived. In four days I didnot eat as much as would make one very moderate repast. I was obligedto keep my bed through mere weakness, my body being no longer able tosupport the burden laid upon it. If I had thought, known, or heardtell, that there had ever been such a state as mine, it would haveexceedingly relieved me. My very pain appeared to me to be sin. Spiritual books, when I tried to read them, all contributed only toaugment it. I saw in myself none of those states which they set down. Idid not so much as comprehend them. And when they treated the pains ofcertain states, I was very far from attributing any of them to myself. I said to myself, "These persons feel the pains of divine operations;but as to me, I sin, and feel nothing but my own wicked state. " I couldhave wished to separate the sin from the confusion of sin, and providedI had not offended God, all would have been easy to me. 

A slight sketch of my last miseries, which I am glad to let you know, because in their beginning I omitted many infidelities, having had toomuch of an earnest attachment, vain complaisance, unprofitable andtedious conversations, though self-love and nature made a sort ofnecessity for them; but toward the latter part I could not have borne aspeech too human, nor the least thing of the kind. 

CHAPTER 25

The first religious person that God made use of to draw me to Himself, to whom (according to his desire) I had written from time to time, wrote to me in the depth of my distress, desiring me to write to him nomore, signifying his disapprobation of what came from me, and that Idispleased God greatly. A father, a Jesuit, who had esteemed me much, wrote to me in like manner. No doubt, it was by Thy permission, theythus contributed to complete my desolation. I thanked them for theircharity, and commended myself to their prayers. It was then soindifferent to me to be decried of everybody, even of the greatestsaints, that it added but little to my pain. The pain of displeasingGod, and the strong propensity I felt in myself to all sorts of faults, caused me most lively and sensible pain. 

I had been accustomed from the beginning to dryness and privation. Ieven preferred it to the state of abounding, because I knew that I mustseek God above all. I had even at the first beginnings, an instinct ofmy inmost soul to pass over every manner of thing whatsoever, and toleave the gifts to run after the Giver. But at this time my spirit andsenses were in such a manner struck, by Thy permission, O my Lord, whowert pleased to destroy me without mercy, that the farther I went, themore everything appeared to me a sin; even crosses appeared to me nomore crosses but real faults. I thought I drew them all on myself by myimprudent words and actions, I was like those, who, looking through acolored glass, behold everything of the same color with which it isstained. Had I been able to perform any exterior acts as formerly, orpenances for my evil, it would have relieved me. I was forbidden to dothe latter, besides I grew so timorous, and felt in myself such aweakness, as made it appear impossible for me to do them. I looked onthem with horror, I found myself now so weak and incapable of anythingof the kind. 

I omit many things, both of providences of the Lord in my favor, and ofrugged paths through which I was obliged to pass. But as I have onlyone general view, I leave them in the knowledge of the Lord only. Afterward, being forsaken of my director, the coldness toward me whichI remarked in the persons conducted by him, gave me no more trouble, nor indeed the estrangement of all the creatures, on account of myinward humiliation. My brother also joined with those who exclaimedagainst me, even though he had never seen them before. I believe it wasthe Lord who conducted things in this way, for my brother has worth, and undoubtedly thought he did well in acting thus. 

I was obliged to go about some business to a town where some nearrelations of my mother-in-law lived. How did I find things changedthere! When I was there before, they entertained me in a most elegantand obliging manner, regaling me from house to house with emulation. Now they treated me with the utmost contempt, saying, they did it torevenge what I made their relation suffer. As I saw the thing went sofar, and that notwithstanding all my care and endeavors to please her, I had not been able to succeed, I resolved to come to an explanationwith her. I told her that there was a current report that I treated herill, though I made it my study to give her every mark of my esteem. Ifthe report were true, I desired her to allow me to remove from her; forthat I would not choose to stay to give her pain, but only with a quitecontrary view. She answered very coldly, "I might do what I would; forshe had not spoken about it, but was resolved to live apart from me. "This was fairly giving me my discharge, and I thought of taking mymeasures privately to retire. As I had not, since my widowhood, madeany visits but such as were of pure necessity, or charity, there werefound too many discontented spirits, who made a party with her againstme. The Lord required of me an inviolable secrecy of all my pains, bothexterior and interior. There is nothing which makes nature die so much, as to find neither support nor consolation. In short I saw myselfobliged to go out, in the middle of winter, with my children and mydaughters' nurse. At that time there was no house empty in the town, sothe Benedictines offered me an apartment in theirs. 

I was now in a great strait; on one side fearing lest I was shunningthe cross, on the other side thinking it unreasonable to impose my stayon one to whom it was only painful. Besides what I have related of herbehavior, which still continued, when I went into the country to take alittle repose she complained that I left her alone. If I desired her tocome thither she would not. If I said, "I dare not ask her to come, forfear of incommoding her by changing her bed, " she replied, "It was onlyan excuse, because I would not have her go; and that I only went to beaway from her. " When I heard that she was displeased at my being in thecountry, I returned to the town. Then she could not bear to speak tome, or to see me. I accosted her without appearing to notice how shereceived it. Instead of making me any answer, she turned her headanother way. I often sent her my coach, desiring her to come and spenda day in the country. She sent it back empty, without any answer. If Ipassed some days there without sending it, she complained aloud. Inshort, all I did to please her soured her, God so permitting it. Shehad in the main a good heart, but was troubled with an uneasy temper:and I do not fail to think myself under much obligation to her. 

Being with her on Christmas day, I said to her with much affection: "Mymother, on this day was the King of peace born, to bring it to us; Ibeg peace of you in His name. " I think that touched her, though shewould not let it appear. The ecclesiastic, whom I had met with at home, far from strengthening and comforting me, did nothing but weaken andafflict me, telling me that I ought not to suffer certain things. I hadnot credit enough to discharge any domestic, however defective orculpable. As soon as any of them were warned to go away, she sided withthem, and all her friends interfered. As I was ready to go off, one ofmy mother-in-law's friends, a man of worth, who had always an esteemfor me, without daring to show it, having heard it, was much afraidlest I should leave the town; for the removal of my alms, he thought, would be a loss to the country. He resolved to speak to mymother-in-law in the softest manner he could for he knew her. After hehad spoken to her, she said, that she would not put me away, but if Iwent, she would not hinder me. After this he came to see me, anddesired me to go and make an excuse to her, in order to content her. Itold him, I should be willing to make a hundred, although "I did notknow about what; that I did it continually about everything, which madeher uneasy. But that was not now the matter, for I make no complaint ofher, but thought it not proper for me to continue with her, to give herpain; that it was but just that I should contribute to her ease. "However, he went with me into her room. Then I told her, that I beggedher pardon, if ever I had displeased her in anything, that it had neverbeen my intention to do it; that I desired her, before this gentleman, who was her friend, to tell me wherein I had given her any offense. Here God permitted; she made a declaration of the truth in hispresence. She said, "She was not a person to suffer herself to beoffended; that she had no other complaint against me but that I did notlove her, and that I wished her dead. " I answered her that thesethoughts were far from my heart, so far from it, that I should be glad, by my best care and attendance on her, to prolong her days; that myaffection was real, but that she never would be persuaded to believeit, whatever testimonies I could give, so long as she hearkened topeople who spoke to her against me; that she had with her a maid, who, far from showing me any respect, treated me ill, so far as to push mewhen she wanted to pass by. She had done it at church, making me giveway to her with as much violence as contempt, several times, also, inmy room grating me with her words: that I had never complained of it, because such a temper might one day give her trouble. She took thegirl's part. Nevertheless we embraced and it was left so. Soon after, when I was in the country, this maid, having me no more to vent herchagrins on behaved in such a manner to my mother-in-law that she couldnot bear it. She immediately put her out of doors. I must say here onmy mother-in-law's behalf, that she had both sense and virtue, andexcept certain faults, which persons who do not practice prayer areliable to, she had good qualities. Perhaps I caused crosses to herwithout intending it, and she to me without knowing it. I hope what Iwrite will not be seen by any who may be offended with it, or who maynot be in a condition to see these matters in God. 

That gentleman who had used me so ill, for breaking off my acquaintancewith him, among his penitents had one who, for affairs which befell herhusband, was obliged to quit the country. He himself was accused of thesame things which he had so liberally and unjustly accused me, and eventhings much worse, and with more noise and outcry. Though I well knewall this, God granted me the favor never to make his downfall thesubject of my discourse. On the contrary, when any spoke to me of it, Ipitied him, and said what I could in mitigation of his case. And Godgoverned my heart so well, that it never offered to go into any vainjoy at seeing him overtaken, and oppressed, with those kind of evilswhich he had been so assiduous in endeavoring to bring upon me. ThoughI knew that my mother-in-law was informed of it all, I never spoke toher about it, or about the sad confusions he had caused in a certainfamily. 

CHAPTER 26

One day during my husband's lifetime, laden with sorrow, not knowingwhat to do, I wished to speak to a person of distinction, and merit, who came often into the country. I wrote to request an opportunity withhim, for that I wanted his instruction and advice. But soon after Ifelt remorse for it; this voice spoke in my heart, "What, --dost thouseek for ease, and to shake off my yoke?" Hereupon I instantly sent anote again to desire him to excuse me, adding that what I had writtenwas only from self-love, not necessity; that as he knew what it was tobe faithful to God, I hoped he would not disapprove my acting with thisChristian simplicity. Yet he resented it, which surprised me much, as Ihad conceived a high idea of his virtue. Virtues he had, but such asare full of the life and activities of nature, and unacquainted withthe paths of mortification and death. 

Thou, O my God, hast been my conductor even in these paths, as withadmiration I have discovered since they are past. Blessed be Thy nameforever. I am obliged to bear this testimony to Thy goodness. 

Before I continue my narration, I must add one remark, which the Lordgave me to make upon the way by which He, in His goodness, was pleasedto conduct me; which is, that this obscure path is the surest tomortify the soul, as it leaves it not any prop to lean upon forsupport. Though it has no application to any particular state of JesusChrist; yet, at its coming out, it finds itself clothed with all Hisdispositions. The impure and selfish soul, is hereby purified, as goldin the furnace. Full of its own judgment and its own will before, butnow obeys like a child and finds no other will in itself. Before, itwould have contested for a trifle; now it yields at once, not withreluctance and pain by way of practicing virtue, but as it werenaturally. Its own vices are vanished. This creature so vain before nowloves nothing but poverty, littleness and humiliation. Before, itpreferred itself above everybody; now everybody above itself, having aboundless charity for its neighbor, to bear with his faults andweaknesses, in order to win him by love, which before it could not dobut with very great constraint. The rage of the wolf is changed to themeekness of the lamb. 

During all the time of my experiencing my miseries and my deep trials, I went after no fine sights or recreations. I wanted to see and knownothing but Jesus Christ. My closet was my only diversion. Even whenthe queen was near me, whom I had never seen, and whom I had desireenough to see; I had only to open my eyes, and look out to see her; yetdid not do it. I had been fond of hearing others sing; yet I was oncefour days with one who passed for the finest voice in the world, without ever desiring her to sing; which surprised her, because she wasnot ignorant that, knowing her name, I must know the charmingexcellence of her voice. However, I committed some infidelities, ininquiring what others said of me by way of blame. I met with one whotold me everything. Though I showed nothing of it, it served only tomortify me. I saw I was yet too much alive to self. 

I shall never be able to express the number of my miseries. They are sovastly surmounted by the favours of God, and so swallowed up in thesethat I can see them no more. One of the things which gave me most painin the seven years I have spoken of, especially the last five, was sostrange a folly of my imagination that it gave me no rest. My sensesbore it company. I could no more shut my eyes at church. Thus havingall the gates and avenues open, I was like a vineyard exposed, becausethe hedges which the father of the family had planted were torn away. Isaw every one that came and went, and everything that passed in thechurch. For the same force, which had drawn me inward to recollection, seemed to push me outward to dissipation. 

Laden with miseries, weighed down with oppressions, and crushed undercontinual crosses, I thought of nothing but ending my days thus. Thereremained in me not the least hope of ever emerging. Notwithstanding, Ithought I had lost grace forever, and the salvation which it merits forus, I longed at least to do what I could for God, though I feared Ishould never love Him. Seeing the happy state from whence I had fallen, I wished in gratitude to serve Him, though I looked on myself as avictim doomed to destruction. Sometimes the view of that happy periodcaused secret desires to spring up in my heart, of recovering it again. I was instantly rejected and thrown back into the depth of the abyss; Ijudged myself to be in a state which was due to unfaithful souls. Iseemed, my God, as if I was forever cast off from Thy regard, and fromthat of all creatures. By degrees my state ceased to be painful. Ibecame even insensible to it, and my insensibility seemed like thefinal hardening of my reprobation. My coldness appeared to me a mortalcoldness. It was truly so, O my God, since I thus died to self, inorder to live wholly in Thee, and in thy precious love. 

To resume my history, a servant of mine wanted to become a Barnabite. Iwrote about it to Father de la Mothe. He answered me, that I mustaddress Father La Combe, who was then the superior of the Barnabites ofTonon. That obliged me to write to him. I had always preserved secretrespect and esteem for him, as one under grace. I was glad of thisopportunity of recommending myself to his prayers. I wrote to him aboutmy fall from the grace of God, that I had requited His favors with theblackest ingratitude; that I was miserable, and a subject worthy ofcompassion; and far from having advanced toward God, I was becomeentirely alienated from Him. He answered in such a manner, as if he hadknown, by a supernatural light, the frightful description I had givenof myself. 

In the midst of my miseries, Geneva came into my mind, a singularmanner, which caused me many fears. "What, " said I, "to complete myreprobation, shall I go to such an excess of impiety, as to quit thefaith through apostacy? (The inhabitants of Geneva being generallyProtestant Calvinists. ) Am I then about quitting that church, for whichI would give a thousand lives? Or, shall I ever depart from that faithwhich I would even wish to seal with my blood?" I had such a distrustof myself, that I dared hope for nothing, but had a thousand reasonsfor fear. Nevertheless the letter which I had received from Father LaCombe, in which he wrote me an account of his present disposition, somewhat similar to mine, had such an effect, as to restore peace andcalmness to my mind. I felt myself inwardly united to him, as to aperson of great fidelity to the grace of God. Afterward a womanappeared to me in a dream to be come down from Heaven, to tell me thatGod demanded me at Geneva. 

About eight or ten days before Magdalene's day, 1680, it came into mymind to write to Father La Combe, and to request him, if he received myletter before that day, to pray particularly for me. It was so ordered, contrary even to my expectations, that he received my letter on St. Magdalene's eve, and when praying for me the next day, it was said tohim, thrice over, with much power, "Ye shall both dwell in one and thesame place. " He was very much surprised, as he never had receivedinterior words before. I believe, O my God, that that has been muchmore verified, both in our inward sense and experience, and in the samecrucifying events which have befallen us, pretty much alike; and inThyself, who art our dwelling, than in any temporal abode. 

CHAPTER 27

On that happy Magdalene's Day my soul was perfectly delivered from allits pains. It had already begun since the receipt of the first letterfrom Father La Combe, to recover a new life. It was then only like thatof a dead person raised, though not yet unbound from grave clothes. Onthis day I was, as it were, in perfect life, and set wholly at liberty. I found myself as much raised above nature, as before I had beendepressed under its burden. I was inexpressibly overjoyed to find Him, whom I thought I had lost forever, returned to me again withunspeakable magnificence and purity. It was then, O God, that I foundagain in Thee with new advantages, in an ineffable manner, all I hadbeen deprived of; the peace I now possessed was all holy, heavenly andinexpressible. All I had enjoyed before was only a peace, a gift ofGod, but now I received and possessed the God of peace. Yet theremembrance of my past miseries still brought a fear upon me, lestnature should find means to take to itself any part therein. As soon asit wanted to see or taste anything, the Spirit ever watchful crossedand repelled it. I was far from elevating myself, or attributing tomyself anything of this new state. My experience made me sensible ofwhat I was. 

I hoped I should enjoy this happy state for some time, but little did Ithink my happiness so great and immutable as it was. If one may judgeof a good by the trouble which precedes it, I leave mine to be judgedof by the sorrows I had undergone before my attaining it. The apostlePaul tells us, that "the sufferings of this life are not to be comparedwith the glory that is prepared for us. " How true is that of this life!One day of this happiness was worth more than years of suffering. Itwas indeed, at that time well worth all I had undergone, though it wasthen only dawning. An alacrity for doing good was restored to me, greater than ever. It seemed to me all quite free and natural to me. Atthe beginning, this liberty was less extensive; but as I advanced itgrew greater. I had occasion to see Mon. Bertot for a few moments, andtold him, I thought my state much changed. He, seemingly attentive tosomething else, answered, "No. " I believed him; because grace taught meto prefer the judgment of others, and rather believe them than my ownopinions or experience. This did not give me any kind of trouble. Everystate seemed equally indifferent if I only had the favor of God. I felta kind of beatitude every day increasing in me. I did all sorts ofgood, without selfishness or premeditation. Whenever a self-reflectivethought was presented to my mind, it was instantly rejected, and as itwere a curtain in the soul drawn before it. My imagination was kept sofixed, that I had now very little trouble on that. I wondered at theclearness of my mind and the purity of my whole heart. 

I received a letter from Father La Combe, wherein he wrote that God haddiscovered to him that he had great designs in regard to me. "Let thembe, " then said I to myself, "either of justice or mercy, all is equalto me. " I still had Geneva deeply at heart; but said nothing of it toanybody, waiting for God to make known to me His all powerful will andfearing lest any stratagem of the Devil should be concealed therein, that might tend to draw me out of my proper place, or steal me out ofmy condition. The more I saw my own misery, incapacity and nothingness, the plainer it appeared that they rendered me fitter for the designs ofGod, whatever they might be. "Oh, my Lord, " said I, "take the weak andthe wretched to do thy works, that Thou mayest have all the glory andthat man may attribute nothing of them to himself. If Thou shouldsttake a person of eminence and great talents, one might attribute to himsomething; but if Thou takest me, it will be manifest that thou aloneart the Author of whatever good shall be done. " I continued quiet in myspirit, leaving the whole affair to God, being satisfied, if He shouldrequire anything of me, that He would furnish me with the means ofperforming it. I held myself in readiness with a full resolution toexecute His orders, whenever he should make them known, though it wereto the laying down of my life. I was released from all crosses. Iresumed my care of the sick, and dressing of wounds, and God gave me tocure the most desperate. When surgeons could do no more, it was thenthat God made me cure them. 

Oh, the joy that accompanied me everywhere, finding still Him who hadunited me to Himself, in His own immensity and boundless vastitude! Oh, how truly did I experience what He said in the Gospel, by the fourevangelists, and by one of them twice over, "Whosoever will lose hislife for my sake shall find it; and whosoever will save his life shalllose it. "

When I had lost all created supports, and even divine ones, I thenfound myself happily compelled to fall into the pure divine, and tofall into it through all those very things which seemed to remove mefurther from it. In losing all the gifts, with all their supports, Ifound the Giver. In losing the sense and perception of Thee inmyself--I found Thee, O my God, to lose Thee no more in Thyself, in Thyown immutability. Oh, poor creatures, who pass all your time in feedingupon the gifts of God, and think therein to be the most favored andhappy. How I pity you if you stop here, short of the true rest, andcease to go forward to God Himself, through the loss of those cherishedgifts which you now delight in! How many pass all their lives in thisway, and think highly of themselves! There are others who, being calledof God to die to themselves, yet pass all their time in a dying life, in inward agonies, without ever entering into God through death and atotal loss of self, because they are always willing to retain somethingunder plausible pretexts, and so never lose themselves to the wholeextent of the designs of God. They never enjoy God in all His fullness;which is a loss that cannot be perfectly known in this life. 

Oh, my Lord, what happiness did I not largely taste in my solitude, andwith my little family, where nothing interrupted my tranquillity! As Iwas in the country, the slender age of my children did not require myapplication too much, they being in good hands, I retired a great partof the day into a wood. I passed as many days of happiness as I had hadmonths of sorrow. Thou, O my God, dealt by me as by thy servant Job, rendering me double for all thou hadst taken, and delivering me fromall my crosses. Thou gavest me a marvelous facility to satisfyeveryone. What was surprising now was that my mother-in-law, who hadever been complaining of me, without my doing anything more than usualto please her, declared that none could be better satisfied with methan she was. Such as before had cried me down the most, now testifiedtheir sorrow for it and became full of my praises. My reputation wasestablished with much more advantage, in proportion as it had appearedto be lost. I remained in an entire peace, as well without as within. It seemed to me that my soul was become like New Jerusalem, spoken ofin the Apocalypse, prepared as a bride for her husband and where thereis no more sorrow, or sighing. I had a perfect indifference toeverything that is here, a union so great with the will of God, that myown will seemed entirely lost. My soul could not incline itself on oneside or the other, since another will had taken the place of its own, but only nourished itself with the daily providences of God. It nowfound a will all divine, yet was so natural and easy that it founditself infinitely more free than ever it had been in its own. 

These dispositions have still subsisted, and still grown stronger, andmore perfect even to this hour. I could neither desire one thing noranother, but was content with whatever fell. If any in the house askedme, "Will you have this, or that?" then I was surprised to find thatthere was nothing left in me which could desire or choose. I was as ifeverything, of smaller matters, quite disappeared, a higher powerhaving taken up and filled all their place. I even perceived no morethat soul which He had formerly conducted by His crook and His staff, because now He alone appeared to me, my soul having given up its placeto Him. It seemed to me, as if it was wholly and altogether passed intoits God, to make but one and the same thing with Him; even as a littledrop of water, cast into the sea, receives the qualities of the sea. Oh, union of unity, demanded of God by Jesus Chirst for men and meritedby him! How strong is this in a soul that is become lost in its God!After the consummation of this divine unity, the soul remains hid withChrist in God. This happy loss is not like those transient ones whichecstacy operates, which are rather an absorption than union because thesoul afterwards finds itself again with all its own dispositions. Hereshe feels that prayer fulfilled--John 17:21: "That they all may be oneas thou Father art in me, and I in thee; that they also may be one inus. "

CHAPTER 28

I was obliged to go to Paris about some business. Having entered into achurch, that was very dark, I went up to the first confessor I found, whom I did not know, nor have ever seen since. I made a simple andshort confession; but to the confessor himself I said not a word. Hesurprised me saying, "I know not who you are whether maid, wife orwidow; but I feel a strong inward motion to exhort you to do what theLord has made known to you, that he requires of you. I have nothingelse to say. " I answered him, "Father, I am a widow who have littlechildren. What else could God require of me, but to take due care ofthem in their education?" He replied, "I know nothing about this. Youknow if God manifests to you that He requires something of you; thereis nothing in the world which ought to hinder you from doing His will. One may have to leave one's children to do that. " This surprised memuch. However, I told him nothing of what I felt about Geneva. Idisposed myself submissively to quit everything, if the Lord requiredit of me. I did not look upon it as a good I aspired to, or a virtue Ihoped to acquire, or as anything extraordinary, or as an act that wouldmerit some return on God's part; but only gave myself up to be led inthe way of my duty, whatever it might be, feeling no distinctionbetween my own will and the will of God in me. 

In this disposition, I lived with my family in the greatesttranquility, until one of my friends had a great desire to go on amission to Siam. He lived twenty leagues from my house. As he was readyto make a vow to this purpose, he found himself stopped, with animpulse to come and speak to me. He came immediately, and as he hadsome reluctance to declare his mind to me, he went to read prayers inmy chapel, hoping God would be satisfied with his making the vow. As hewas performing divine service in my hearing, he was stopped again. Heleft the chapel to come and speak to me. He then told me his intention. 

Though I had no thought of saying anything positive to him, I felt animpression in my soul to relate to him my case, and the idea I had fora long time past for Geneva. I told him a dream I had, which appearedto me supernatural. When I had done, I felt a strong impulse to say tohim, "You must go to Siam, and you must also serve me in this affair. It is for that end God has sent you hither; I desire you to give meyour advice. " After three days, having considered the matter, andconsulted the Lord in it, he told me that he believed I was to gothither; but to be the better assured of it, it would be needful to seethe Bishop of Geneva. If he approved of my design, it would be a signthat it was from the Lord; if not, I must drop it. I agreed with hissentiment. He then offered to go to Annecy, to speak to the Bishop, andto bring me a faithful account. As he was advanced in years, we weredeliberating in what way he could take so long a journey, when therecame two travelers, who told us the Bishop was at Paris. This I lookedon as an extraordinary providence. He advised me to write to Father LaCombe, and recommend the affair to his prayers, as he was in thatcountry. He then spoke to the Bishop at Paris. I, having occasion to gothither, spoke to him also. 

I told him, that "my design was to go into the country, to employ theremy substance, to erect an establishment for all such as should bewilling truly to serve God, and to give themselves unto him withoutreserve; and that many of the servants of the Lord had encouraged methereto. " The bishop approved of the design. He said, "there were NewCatholics going to establish themselves at Gex, near Geneva, and thatit was a providential thing. " I answered him, "that I had no vocationfor Gex, but for Geneva. " He said, "I might go from hence to thatcity. "

I thought this was a way which divine Providence had opened, for mytaking this journey with the less difficulty. As I yet knew nothingpositive of what the Lord would acquire at my hand, I was not willingto oppose anything. "Who knows, " said I, "but the will of the Lord isonly that I should contribute to this establishment?"

I went to see the prioress of the New Catholics at Paris. She seemedmuch rejoiced, and assured me she would gladly join me. As she is agreat servant of God, this confirmed me. When I could reflect a little, which was but seldom, I thought God would make choice of her for hervirtue, and me for my worldly substance. When I inadvertently looked atmyself, I could not think God would make use of me; but when I saw thethings in God, then I perceived that the more I was nothing, the fitterI was for His designs. As I saw nothing in myself extraordinary, andlooked on myself as being in the lowest stage of perfection, andimagined that an extraordinary degree of inspiration was necessary forextraordinary designs, this made me hesitate, and fear deception. Itwas not that I was in fear of anything, as to my perfection andsalvation which I had referred to God; but I was afraid of not doingHis will by being too ardent and hasty in doing it. I went to consultFather Claude Martin. At that time he gave me no decisive answer, demanding time to pray about it; saying he would write to me whatshould appear to him to be the will of God concerning me. 

I found it hard to get to speak to M. Bertot, both on account of hisbeing difficult of access, and of my knowing how he condemned thingsextraordinary, or out of the common road. Being my director, Isubmitted, against my own views or judgment, to what he said, layingdown all my own experiences when duty required me to believe and obey. I thought, however, than in an affair of this importance, I ought toaddress myself to him, and prefer his sense of the matter to that ofevery one beside. Persuaded, he would infallibly tell me the will ofGod. I went to him then, and he told me that my design was of God, andthat he had had a sense given him of God for some time past, that herequired something of me. I therefore returned home to set everythingin order. I loved my children much, having great satisfaction in beingwith them, but resigned all to God to follow His will. 

On my return from Paris, I left myself in the hands of God, resolvednot to take any step, either to make the thing succeed or to hinder it, either to advance or retard it, but singly to move as He should bepleased to direct me. I had mysterious dreams, which portended nothingbut crosses, persecutions and afflictions. My heart submitted towhatever it should please God to ordain. I had one which was verysignificant. 

Being employed in some necessary work, I saw near me a little animalwhich appeared to be dead. This animal I took to be the envy of somepersons, which seemed to have been dead for some time. I took it up, and as I saw it strove hard to bite me, and that it magnified to theeye, I cast it away. I found thereupon that it filled my fingers withsharp-pointed prickles like needles. I came to one of my acquaintanceto get him to take them out; but he pushed them deeper in, and left meso, till a charitable priest of great merit, (whose countenance isstill present with me, though I have not yet seen him, but believe Ishall before I die) took this animal up with a pair of pincers. As soonas he held it fast, those sharp prickles fell off, of themselves. Ifound that I easily entered into a place, which before had seemedinaccessible. And although the mire was up to my girdle, in my way to adeserted church, I went over it without getting any dirt. It will beeasy to see in the sequel what this signified. 

Doubtless you will wonder that I, who makes so little account of thingsextraordinary, relate dreams. I do it for two reasons; first out offidelity, having promised to omit nothing of what should come to mymind; secondly, because it is the method God makes use of tocommunicate Himself to faithful souls, to give them foretokens ofthings to come, which concern them. Thus mysterious dreams are found inmany places of the holy Scriptures. They have singular properties, as--

1. To leave a certainty that they are mysterious, and will have theireffect in their season. 

2. To be hardly ever effaced out of the memory, though one forgets allothers. 

3. To redouble the certainty of their truth every time one thinks ofthem. 

4. They generally leave a certain unction, a divine sense or savor atone's waking. 

I received letters from sundry religious persons, some of whom livedfar from me, and from one another, relating to my going forth in theservice of God, and some of them to Geneva in particular, in such amanner as surprised me. One of them intimated that I must there bearthe cross and be persecuted; and another of them that I should be eyesto the blind, feet to the lame, and arms to the maimed. 

The ecclesiastic, or chaplain, of our house was much afraid lest I wasunder a delusion. What at that time greatly confirmed me was FatherClaude Martin, whom I mentioned above, wrote to me that, after manyprayers, the Lord had given him to know that He required me at Geneva, and to make a free sacrifice of everything to Him. I answered him, "that perhaps the Lord required of me nothing more than a sum of moneyto assist in founding an institution which was going to be establishedthere. " He replied, that the Lord had made him know that He wanted notmy worldly substance but myself. At the very same time with this letterI received one from Father La Combe, who wrote to me that the Lord hadgiven him a certainty, as he had done to several of his good andfaithful servants and handmaids, that he wanted me at Geneva. Thewriters of these two letters lived above a hundred and fifty leaguesfrom each other; yet both wrote the same thing. I could not but besomewhat surprised to receive at the same time two letters exactlyalike, from two persons living so far distant from each other. 

As soon as I became fully convinced of its being the will of the Lord, and saw nothing on earth capable of detaining me, my senses had somepain about leaving my children. And upon reflecting thereon a doubtseized my mind. O my Lord! Had I rested on myself, or on the creatures, I would have revolted; "leaned on a broken reed, which would havepierced my hand. " But relying on Thee alone, what needed I to fear? Iresolved then to go, regardless of the censures of such as understandnot what it is to be a servant of the Lord, and to receive and obey Hisorders. I firmly believe that He, by His Providence, would furnish themeans necessary for the education of my children. I put everything bydegrees in order, the Lord alone being my guide. 

CHAPTER 29

While providence, on the one hand, appointed my forsaking all things, it seemed on the other to make my chains the stronger, and myseparation the more blameable. None could receive stronger marks ofaffection from one's own mother than those which I received at thistime from my mother-in-law. Even the least sickness which befell memade her very uneasy. She said, "she had veneration for my virtue. " Ibelieve what contributed not a little to this change was, that she hadheard that three persons had offered suit to me, and that I had refusedthem, although their fortune and quality were quite superior to mine. She remembered how she had upbraided me on this head, and I answeredher not a word, whereby she might understand that it depended on myselfto marry to advantage. She began to fear lest such rigorous treatment, as hers had been toward me, might excite me to deliver myself by suchmeans, with honor, from her tyranny, and was sensible what damage thatmight be to my children. So she was now very tender to me on everyoccasion. 

I fell extremely ill. I thought that God had accepted of my willingnessto sacrifice all to him, and required that of my life. During thisillness, my mother-in-law went not from my bedside; her many tearsproved the sincerity of her affection. I was very much affected at it, and thought I loved her as my true mother. How, then, should I leaveher now, being so far advanced in age? The maid, who till then had beenmy plague, took an inconceivable friendship for me. She praised meeverywhere, extolling my virtue to the highest and served me withextraordinary respect. She begged pardon for all that she had made mesuffer, and died of grief after my departure. 

There was a priest of merit, a spiritual man, who had fallen in withtemptation of taking upon him employment which I was sensible God didnot call him to do. Fearing it might be a snare to him, I advised himagainst it. He promised me he would not do it, and yet accepted it. Hethen avoided me, joined in calumniating me, gradually fell away fromgrace, and died soon after. 

There was a nun in a monastery I often went to, who was entered into astate of purification, which everyone in the house looked on asdistraction. They locked her up and all who went to see her called itphrenzy or melancholy. I knew her to be devout I requested to see her. As soon as I approached, I felt an impression that she sought purity. Idesired of the Superior that she should not be locked up, nor shouldpeople be admitted to see her, but that she would confide her to mycare. I hoped things would change. I discovered that her greatest painwas at being counted a fool. I advised her to bear the state offoolishness, since Jesus Christ had been willing to bear it beforeHerod. This sacrifice gave her a calmness at once. But as God waswilling to purify her soul, He separated her from all those things forwhich she had before the greatest attachment. At last, after she hadpatiently undergone her sufferings, her Superior wrote to me that "Iwas in the right, and that she had now come out of that state ofdejection, in greater purity than ever. " The Lord gave to me alone atthat time to know her state. This was the commencement of the gift ofdiscerning spirits, which I afterward received more fully. 

The winter before I left home was one of the longest and hardest thathad been for several years (1680). It was followed with extremescarcity, which proved to me an occasion of exercising charity. Mymother-in-law joined me heartily and appeared to me so much changed. Icould not but be both surprised and overjoyed at it. We distributed atthe house ninety-six dozen loaves of bread every week, but privatecharities to the bashful poor were much greater. I kept poor boys andgirls employed. The Lord gave such blessings to my alms, that I did notfind that my family lost anything by it. Before the death of myhusband, my mother-in-law told him that I would ruin him with mycharities, though he himself was so charitable, that in a very dearyear, while he was young, he distributed a considerable sum. Sherepeated this to him so often, that he commanded me to set down inwriting all the money I laid out, both what I gave for the expense ofthe house, and all that I caused to be bought, that he might betterjudge of what I gave to the poor. This new obligation, which I wasbrought under, appeared to me so much the harder, as for above elevenyears we had been married I never before had this required of me. Whattroubled me most was the fear of having nothing to give to such aswanted. However, I submitted to it, without retrenching any part of mycharities. I did not indeed set down any of my alms, and yet my accountof expenses was found to answer exactly. I was much surprised andastonished, and esteemed it one of the wonders of Providence. I sawplainly it was simply given out of Thy treasury, O my Lord, that mademe more liberal of what I thought was the Lord's, and not mine. Oh, ifwe but knew how far charity, instead of wasting or lessening thesubstance of the donor, blessed, increased and multiplied it profusely. How much is there in the world of useless dissipation, which, ifproperly applied, might amply serve for the subsistence of the poor, and would abundantly be restored, and amply rewarded to the families ofthose who gave it. 

In the time of my greatest trials, some years after my husband's death(for they began three years before my widowhood, and lasted four yearsafter) my footman came one day to tell me, (I was then in the country)that there was in the road a poor soldier dying. I had him brought in, and ordering a separate place to be made ready for him, I kept above afortnight. His malady was a flux, which he had taken in the army. Itwas so nauseous, that though the domestics were charitably inclined, nobody could bear to come near him. I went myself to take away hisvessels. But I never did anything of the kind which was so hard. Ifrequently made efforts for a full quarter of an hour at a time. Itseemed as if my very heart was going to come up; yet I never desisted. I sometimes kept the poor people at my house to dress their putridsores; but never met with anything so terrible as this. The poor man, after I had made him receive the sacrament, died. 

What gave me now no small concern was the tenderness I had for mychildren, especially my younger son, whom I had strong reasons forloving. I saw him inclined to be good; everything seemed to favor thehopes I had conceived of him. I thought it running a great risk toleave him to another's education. My daughter I designed to take withme, though she was at this time ill of a very tedious fever. Providencewas pleased, however, so to order it that she speedily recovered. Theties, with which the Lord held me closely united to Himself, wereinfinitely stronger than those of flesh and blood. The laws of mysacred marriage obliged me to give up all, to follow my spousewhithersoever it was His pleasure to call me after Him. Though I oftenhesitated, and doubted much before I went, I never doubted after mygoing of its being His will; and though men, who judge of things onlyaccording to the success they seem to have, have taken occasion from mydisgraces and sufferings, to judge of my calling, and to run it down aserror, illusion and imagination; it is that very persecution, and amultitude of strange crosses it has drawn upon me, (of which thisimprisonment I now suffer is one, ) which have confirmed me in thecertainty of its truth and validity. I am more than ever convinced thatthe resignation which I have made of everything is in pure obedience tothe divine will. 

The gospel effectually in this point shows itself to be true, which haspromised to those that shall leave all for the love of the Lord, "anhundred fold in this life, and persecutions also. " And have not Iinfinitely more than an hundred fold, in so entire a possession as myLord hast taken of me; in that unshaken firmness which is given me inmy sufferings, in a perfect tranquillity in the midst of a furioustempest, which assaults me on every side; in an unspeakable joy, enlargedness and liberty which I enjoy in a most straight and rigorouscaptivity. I have no desire that my imprisonment should end before theright time. I love my chains. Everything is equal to me, as I have nowill of my own, but purely the love and will of Him who possesses me. My senses indeed have not any relish for such things, but my heart isseparated from them. My perseverance is not of myself, but of Him whois my life; so that I can say with the apostle, "It is no more I thatlive, but Jesus Christ that liveth in me. " It is He in whom I live, move, and have my being. 

To return to the subject, I say that I was not so reluctant to go withthe New Catholics, as I was to engage with them, not finding asufficient attraction, though I sought for it. I longed indeed tocontribute to the conversion of wandering souls, and God made use of meto convert several families before my departure, one of which wascomposed of eleven or twelve persons. Besides, Father La Combe hadwritten to me, to make use of this opportunity for setting off, but didnot tell me whether I ought to engage with them or not. Thus it was theProvidence of my God alone, which ordered everything, to which I wasresigned without any reserve; and that hindered me from engaging withthem. 

One day reflecting humanly on this undertaking of mine, I found myfaith staggering, weakened with a fear lest I were under a mistake, which slavish fear was increased by an ecclesiastic at our house, whotold me it was a rash and ill-advised design. Being a littlediscouraged, I opened the Bible, and met with this passage in Isaiah, "Fear not thou worm Jacob, and ye men of Israel. I will help thee saiththe Lord, and thy Redeemer, the holy one of Israel. " (Chap. 61:14) andnear it, "Fear not; for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thyname; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will bewith thee. "

I had a very great courage given me for going, but could not persuademyself that it would be best to settle with the New Catholics. It was, however, necessary to see Sister Garnier, their superior at Paris, inorder to take our measures together. But I could not go to Paris, because that journey would have hindered me from taking another, whichI had to take. She then, though much indisposed, resolved to come andsee me. In what a wonderful manner, O my God, didst Thou conduct thingsby Thy Providence, to make everything come to the point of Thy will!Every day I saw new miracles, which both amazed and still moreconfirmed me; for with a paternal goodness Thou tookest care of eventhe smallest things. As she intended setting off, she fell sick. AndThou permitted it to fall out so, to give room thereby for a person, who would have discovered everything, in the meantime to take a journeyto see me. As this person had given me notice of the day she intendedto set off, seeing that day was excessively hot, and so sultry that Iimagined that being taken so much tender care of as she was at home, they would not suffer her to begin her journey, (which really proved tobe the case, as she afterward told me, ) I prayed to the Lord to bepleased to grant a wind to rise, to moderate the violent heat. Scarcehad I prayed, but there arose suddenly so refreshing a wind, that I wassurprised and the wind did not cease during her whole journey. 

I went to meet her, and brought her to my countryhouse, in such a waythat she was not seen or known of anybody. What embarrassed me a littlewas, that two of my domestics knew her. But as I was then endeavoringthe conversion of a lady, they thought that it was on this account Ihad sent for her, and that it was necessary to keep it secret, that theother lady might not be discouraged from coming. Though I knew nothingof controversial points, yet God so furnished me that I did not fail toanswer all her objections, and resolve all her doubts, to such adegree, that she could not but give herself up entirely to God. ThoughSister Garnier had a good share of both of grace and naturalunderstanding, yet her words had not such an effect on this soul asthose with which God furnished me, as she assured me herself. She evencould not forbear speaking of it. I felt a movement to beg her of God, as a testimony of His holy will concerning me. But He was pleased notto grant it then, being willing that I should go off alone without anyother assurance than His divine Providence was conducting all things. Sister Garnier did not declare her thoughts to me for four days. Thenshe told me she would not go with me. At this I was the more surprised, as I had persuaded myself that God would grant to her virtue what Hemight refuse to my demerits. Besides, the reason she gave appeared tome to be merely human, and void of supernatural grace. That made mehesitate a little; then, taking new courage, through the resignation ofmy whole self, I said, "As I go not thither for your sake, I will notfail to go even without you. " This surprised her, as she acknowledgedto me; for she thought that, on her refusal, I would decline my purposeof going. 

I regulated everything, wrote down the contract of association withthem as I thought proper. No sooner had I done it, but I felt greatperturbation and trouble of mind. I told her my pain, and that I had nodoubt but the Lord demanded me at Geneva, yet did not let me see thatHe would have me to be of their congregation. She desired to have sometime till after prayers and communion, and that then she would tell mewhat she thought the Lord required of me. Accordingly, He directed hercontrary both to her interests and inclination. She then told me that Iought not to connect myself with her, that it was not the Lord'sdesign; that I only ought to go with her sister's, and that when Ishould be there, Father La Combe, (whose letter she had seen) wouldsignify to me the divine will. I entered at once into these sentiments, and my soul then regained the sweets of inward peace. 

My first thought had been (before I heard of the New Catholics going toGex) to go directly to Geneva. At this time there were Catholics therein service, and otherwise; to take some little room without any noise, and without declaring myself at first; and as I knew how to make up allsorts of ointments to heal wounds and especially the king's evil, ofwhich there is abundance in that place, and for which I had a mostcertain cure. I hoped easily to insinuate myself by this way and withthe charities which I should have done to have won over many of thepeople. I have no doubt but, if I had followed this impulse, thingswould have succeeded better. But I thought I ought to follow thesentiments of the Bishop rather than my own. What am I saying? Has notThy eternal Word, O my Lord, had its effect and accomplishment in me?Man speaks as man; but when we behold things in the Lord, we see themin another light. Yes, my Lord, Thy design was to give Geneva not to mycares, words or works, but to my sufferings; for the more I see thingsappear hopeless, the more do I hope for the conversion of that city bya way known to Thee only. 

Father La Combe has told me since, that he had a strong impulse towrite to me, not to engage with the New Catholics. He believed it notto be the will of the Lord concerning me; but he omitted doing it. Asto my director, M. Bertot, he died four months before my departure. Ihad some intimations of his death, and it seemed as if he bequeathed mea portion of his spirit to help his children. 

I was seized with a fear, that the check I had felt, at giving solargely in favor of the New Catholics, what I had designed for Geneva, was a stratagem of nature, which does not love to be stripped. I wroteto Sister Garnier to get a contract drawn up according to my firstmemorial. God permitted me to commit this fault, to make me the moresensible of His protection over me. 

PART TWO

CHAPTER 1

I went off, in a strange renunciation, and in great simplicity, scarcely able to render the reason why I should in such a manner quitmy family, which I most tenderly love, being without any positiveassurance, yet hoping even against hope itself. I went to the NewCatholics at Paris, where Providence wrought wonders to conceal me. They sent for the notary, who had drawn up the contract of engagement. When he read it to me, I felt such a repugnance to it, that I could notbear to hear it to the end, much less sign it. The notary wondered andmuch more so when Sister Garnier came in, and told him, that thereneeded no contract of engagement. I was enabled through divineassistance, to put my affairs in very good order, and to write sundryletters by the inspiration of the Spirit of God, and not by my own. This was what I had never experienced before. It was given me at thattime only as a beginning, and has since been granted me much moreperfectly. 

I had two domestics, whom it was very difficult for me to discharge, asI did not think to take them with me. If I had left them, they wouldhave told of my departure; and I should have been sent after. I waswhen it became known. But God so ordered it that they were willing tofollow me. They were of no use to me, and soon after turned intoFrance. I took with me only my daughter, and two maids to serve usboth. We set off in a boat upon the river, though I had taken places inthe stage-coach, in order that, if they searched for me in the coach, they might not find me. I went to Melun to wait for it there. 

It was surprising that in this boat the child could not forbear makingcrosses, employing a person to cut rushes for her to use for thatpurpose. She then put around, and all over me, above three hundred ofthem. I let her do it, and inwardly apprehended that it was not withoutits meaning. I felt an interior certainty that I was going to meet withcrosses in abundance and that this child was sowing the cross for me toreap it. Sister Garnier, who saw that they could not restrain her fromcovering me with crosses, said to me, "What that child does appears tobe significant. " Turning to the little girl, she said, "Give me somecrosses, too, my pretty pet. " "No, " she replied, "they are all for mydear mother. " Soon she gave her one to stop her importunity, thencontinued putting more on me; after which she desired someriver-flowers, which floated on the water, to be given her. Braiding agarland she put it on my head, and said to me, "After the cross youshall be crowned. " I admired all this in silence, and offered myself upto the pure love of God, as a victim, free and willing to be sacrificedto Him. 

Some time before my departure, a particular friend, a true servant ofGod, related to me a vision she had respecting me. "She saw my heartsurrounded with thorns; that our Lord appeared in it well pleased;that, though the thorns seemed likely to tear it, yet, instead of doingthat, they only rendered it fairer, and our Lord's approbation thestronger. "

At Corbeil, (a little town on the river Seine, sixteen miles south ofParis, ) I met with the priest whom God had first made use of sopowerfully to draw me to His love. He approved of my design to leaveall for the Lord; but he thought I should not be well suited with theNew Catholics. He told me some things about them, to show that ourleadings were incompatible. He cautioned me not to let them know that Iwalked in the inward path. If I did, I must expect nothing butpersecution from them. But it is in vain to contrive to hide, when Godsees it best for us to suffer, and when our wills are utterly resignedto Him, and totally passed into His. 

While at Paris I gave the New Catholics all the money I had. I reservednot to myself a single penny, rejoicing to be poor after the example ofJesus Christ. I brought from home nine thousand livres. As by mydonation I had reserved nothing to myself and by a contract lent themsix thousand; this six thousand has returned to my children but none ofit to me. That gives me no trouble; poverty, thus procured, constitutesmy riches. The rest I gave entirely to the sisters that were with us, as well to supply their traveling expenses, for the purchase offurniture. I did not reserve so much as my linen for my own use, putting it in the common fund. I had neither a locked coffer, norpurse. I had brought but little linen for fear of mistrust. In wantingto carry off clothes I should have been discovered. My persecutors didnot fail to report that I had brought great sums from home, which I hadimprudently expended, and given to the friends of Father La Combe. False as I had not a penny. On my arrival at Annecy a poor man wasasking alms. I, having nothing else, gave him the buttons from mysleeves. At another time I gave a poor man a little plain ring, in thename of Jesus Christ. I had worn it as a token of marriage with Him. 

We joined the flying stage at Melun where I left Sister Garnier. I wenton with the other sisters with whom I had no acquaintance. Thecarriages were very fatiguing; I got no sleep through so long ajourney. My daughter, a very tender child, only five years of age, gotscarcely any. We bore great fatigue without falling sick by the way. Mychild had not an hour's uneasiness, although she was only three hoursin bed every night. At another time half this fatigue, or even the wantof rest, would have thrown me into a fit of sickness. God only knowsboth the sacrifices which He induced me to make, and the joy of myheart in offering up everything to Him. Had I kingdoms and empires, Ithink I would yield them up with still more joy, to give Him the highermarks of my love. 

As soon as we arrived at the inn, I went to church and stayed theretill dinner time. In the coach, my divine Lord communed with me, and inme, in a manner which the others could not comprehend, indeed notperceive. The cheerfulness I showed in the greatest dangers encouragedthem. I even sang hymns of joy at finding myself disengaged from theriches, honors and entanglements of the world. God in such a mannerprotected us. He seemed to be to us "a pillar of fire by night, and apillar of a cloud by day. " We passed over a very dangerous spot betweenLyons and Chamberry. Our carriage broke as we were coming out of it. Had it happened a little sooner, we would have perished. 

We arrived at Annecy on Magdalene's eve, 1681. On Magdalene's day theBishop of Geneva performed divine service for us, at the tomb of St. Francis de Sales. There I renewed my spiritual marriage with myRedeemer, as I did every year on this day. There also I felt a sweetremembrance of that saint, with whom our Lord gives me a singularunion. I say union, for it appears to me that the soul in God is unitedwith saints, the more so in proportion as they are conformable to Him. It is a union which it pleases God sometimes to revive after death, andawaken in the soul for His own glory. At such times departed saints arerendered more intimately present to that soul in God; and this revivalis as it were an holy intercourse of friend with friend, in Him whounites them all in one immortal tie. 

That day we left Annecy, and on the next went to prayers at Geneva. Ihad much joy at the communion. It seemed to me as if God morepowerfully united me to Himself. There I prayed to Him for theconversion of that great people. That evening we arrived late at Gex, where we found only bare walls. The Bishop of Geneva had assured methat the house was furnished; undoubtedly he believed it to be. Welodged at the house of the sisters of charity, who were so kind as togive us their beds. 

I was in great pain of mind for my daughter, who visibly lost weight. Ihad a strong desire to place her with the Ursulines at Tonon. My heartwas so affected on her behalf, that I could not forbear weeping insecret for her. Next day I said, "I would take my daughter to Tonon, and leave her there, till I should see how we might be accommodated. "They opposed it strongly, after a manner which seemed very hard-heartedas well as ungrateful, seeing she was a skeleton. I looked upon thechild as a victim whom I had imprudently sacrificed. I wrote to FatherLa Combe, entreating him to come and see me, to consult together aboutit. I thought I could not in conscience keep her in this place anylonger. Several days passed without my having any answer. In themeantime I became resigned to the will of God, whether to have succoror not. 

CHAPTER 2

Our Lord took pity on the lamentable condition of my daughter, and soordered it, that the Bishop of Geneva wrote to Father La Combe, to comeas speedily as possible to see us, and to console us. As soon as I sawthat father, I was surprised to feel an interior grace, which I maycall communication; such as I had never had before with any person. Itseemed to me that an influence of grace came from him to me, throughthe innermost of the soul; returned from me to him, in such a way thathe felt the same effect. Like a tide of grace it caused a flux andreflux, flowing on into the divine and invisible ocean. This is a pureand holy union, which God alone operates, and which has stillsubsisted, and even increased. It is an union exempt from all weakness, and from all self-interest. It causes those who are blessed with it torejoice in beholding themselves, as well as those beloved, laden withcrosses and afflictions--an union which has no need of the presence ofthe body. At certain times absence makes not more absent, nor presencemore present; a union unknown to men, but such as are come toexperience it. It can never be experienced but between such souls asare united to God. As I never before felt a union of this sort with anyone, it then appeared to me quite new. I had no doubt of its being fromGod; so far from turning the mind from Him, it tended to draw it moredeeply into Him. It dissipated all my pains, and established me in themost profound peace. 

God gave him at first much openness of mind toward me. He related to methe mercies God had shown him, and several extraordinary things, whichgave me at first some fear. I suspected some illusion, especially insuch things as flatter in regard to the future; little imagining thatGod would make use of me to draw him from this state and bring him intothat naked faith. But the grace, which flowed from Him into my soul, recovered me from that fear. I saw that it was joined withextraordinary humility. Far from being elevated with the gifts whichGod had liberally conferred upon him, or with his own profoundlearning, no person could have a lower opinion of himself than he had. He told me as to my daughter, it would be best for me to take her toTonon, where he thought she would be very well situated. As to myself, after I had mentioned to him my dislike to the manner of life of theNew Catholics, he told me, that he did not think it would be my properplace to be long with them. It would be best for me to stay there, freefrom all engagements, till God, by the guidance of His Providence, should make known to me how he would dispose of me, and draw my mind tothe place whither he would have me remove. I had already begun to awakeregularly at midnight, in order to pray. I awoke with these wordssuddenly put in my mind, "It is written of me, I will do thy will, O myGod. " This was accompanied with the most pure, penetrating, andpowerful communication of grace that I had ever experienced. Though thestate of my soul was already permanent in newness of life; yet this newlife was not in that immutability in which it has been since. It was abeginning life and a rising day, which goes on increasing unto the fullmeridian; a day never followed by night; a life which fears death nomore, not even in death itself; because he who has suffered the firstdeath, shall no more be hurt of the second. From midnight I continuedon my knees, till four o'clock in the morning, in prayer, in a sweetintercourse with God, and did the same also the night following. 

The next day, after prayers, Father La Combe told me, that he had avery great certainty, that I was a stone which God designed for thefoundation of some great building. What that building was he knew nomore than I. After whatever manner then it is to be, whether His divineMajesty will make use of me in this life, for some design known tohimself only, or will make me one of the stones of the new and heavenlyJerusalem, it seems to me that such stone cannot be polished, but bythe strokes of the hammer. Our Lord has given to this soul of mine thequalities of the stone, firmness, resignation, insensibility, and powerto endure hardness under the operations of His hand. 

I carried my little daughter to the Ursulines at Tonon. That child tooka great fondness for Father La Combe, saying, "He is a good father, onefrom God. " Here I found a hermit, whom they called Anselm. He was aperson of the most extraordinary sanctity that had appeared for sometime. He was from Geneva; God had miraculously drawn him from thence, at twelve years of age. He had at nineteen years of age taken the habitof hermit of St. Augustine. He and another lived alone in a littlehermitage, where they saw nobody but such as came to visit theirchapel. He had lived twelve years in this hut, never eating anythingbut pulse with salt, and sometimes oil. Three times a week he lived onbread and water. He never drank wine, and generally took but one mealin twenty-four hours. He wore for a shirt a coarse hair cloth, andlodged on the bare ground. He lived in a continual state of prayer, andin the greatest humility. God had done by him many signal miracles. 

This good hermit had a great sense of the designs of God on Father LaCombe and me. But God showed him at the same time that strange crosseswere preparing for us both; that we were both destined for the aid ofsouls. I did not find, as I expected, any suitable place for mydaughter at Tonon. I thought myself like Abraham, when going tosacrifice his son. Father La Combe said, "Welcome, daughter ofAbraham!" I found little encouragement to leave her and could not keepher with myself, because we had no room. The little girls, whom theytook to make Catholics, were all mixed and had contracted habits aswere pernicious. To leave her there I thought not right. The languageof the country, where scarce anyone understood French, and the food, which she could not take, being far different from ours, were greathardships. All my tenderness for her was awakened, and I looked onmyself as her destroyer. I experienced what Hagar suffered when she putaway her son Ishmael in the desert that she might not be forced to seehim perish. I thought that even if I had ventured to expose myself, Iought at least to have spared my daughter. The loss of her education, even of her life, appeared to me inevitable. Everything looked dark inregard to her. 

With her natural disposition and fine qualities, she might haveattracted admiration, if educated in France, and been likely to havesuch offers of marriage, as she could never hope to meet with in thispoor country; in which, if she should recover, she would never belikely to be fit for anything. Here she could eat nothing of what wasoffered her. All her subsistence was a little unpleasant anddisagreeable broth, which I forced her to take against her will. Iseemed like a second Abraham, holding the knife over her to destroyher. Our Lord would have me make a sacrifice to Him, without anyconsolation, and plunged in sorrow, night was the time in which I gavevent to it. He made me see, on one side the grief of her grandmother, if she should hear of her death, which she would impute to my takingthe child away from her; the great reproach, it would be accountedamong all the family. The gifts of nature she was endowed with were nowlike pointed darts which pierced me. I believe that God so ordered itto purify me from too human an attachment still in me. After I returnedfrom the Ursulines at Tonon, they changed her manner of diet, and gaveher what was suitable; in a short time she recovered. 

CHAPTER 3

As soon as it was known in France that I was gone there was a generaloutcry. Father de la Mothe wrote to me, that all persons of learningand of piety united in censuring me. To alarm me still more, heinformed me that my mother-in-law, with whom I had entrusted my youngerson and my children's substance, was fallen into a state of childhood. This, however, was false. 

I answered all these fearful letters as the Spirit dictated. My answerswere thought very just, and those violent exclamations were soonchanged into applauses. Father La Mothe appeared to change his censuresinto esteem; but it did not last. Self interest threw him back again;being disappointed in his hopes of a pension, which he expected I wouldhave settled on him. Sister Garnier, whatever was her reason, changedand declared against me. 

I both ate and slept little. The food which was given us was putrid andfull of worms, by reason of the great heat of the weather, also beingkept too long. What I should have formerly beheld with the greatestabhorrence, now became my only nourishment. Yet everything was renderedeasy to me. In God I found, without increase, everything which I hadlost for Him. That spirit, which I once thought I had lost in a strangestupidity, was restored to me with inconceivable advantages. I wasastonished at myself. I found there was nothing which I was not fit foror in which I did not succeed. Those who observed said that I had aprodigious capacity. I well knew that I had but meager capabilities, but that in God my spirit had received a quality which it had never hadbefore. I thought I experienced something of the state which theapostles were in, after they had received the Holy Ghost. I knew, Icomprehended, I understood, I was enabled to do everything necessary. Ihad every sort of good thing and no want of anything. When JesusChrist, the eternal wisdom, is formed in the soul, after the death ofthe first Adam, it finds in Him all good things communicated to it. 

Sometime after my arrival at Gex, the Bishop of Geneva came to see us. He was so clearly convinced, and so much affected, that he could notforbear expressing it. He opened his heart to me on what God hadrequired of him. He confessed to me his own deviations andinfidelities. Every time when I spoke to him he entered into what Isaid, and acknowledged it to be the truth. Indeed it was the Spirit oftruth which inspired me to speak to him, without which I should be onlya mere simpleton. Yet as soon as those persons spoke to him, who soughtfor pre-eminence, and who could not suffer any good but what came fromthemselves, he was so weak as to be imposed on with impressions againstthe truth. This weakness has hindered him from doing all the good whichotherwise he might have done. 

After I had spoken to him, he said that he had it in his mind to giveme Father La Combe for director; he was a man illuminated of God, whowell understood the inward path, and had a singular gift of pacifyingsouls. Greatly was I rejoiced when the Bishop appointed him, seeingthereby his authority united with the grace which already seemed tohave given him to me, by a union and effusion of supernatural life andlove. The fatigues I had, and watchings with my daughter, threw me intoa violent sickness attended with exquisite pain. The physicians judgedme in danger, yet the sisters of the house quite neglected me;especially the stewardess. She was so penurious, that she did not giveme what was necessary to sustain life. I had not a penny to help myselfwith, as I had reserved nothing to myself. Besides, they received allthe money which was remitted to me from France, which was veryconsiderable. I practiced poverty and was in necessity even among thoseto whom I had given all. They wrote to Father La Combe, desiring him tocome to me, as I was so extremely ill. Hearing of my condition he wasso touched with compassion as to walk on foot all night. He travelednot otherwise, endeavoring in that, as in everything else, to imitateour Lord Jesus Christ. 

As soon as he entered the house my pains abated; when he had prayed andblessed me, laying his hand on my head, I was perfectly cured, to thegreat astonishment of my physicians; who were not willing toacknowledge the miracle. 

These sisters advised me to return to my daughter. Father La Combereturned with me. A violent storm arose on the Lake, which made me verysick, and seemed likely to upset the boat. But the hand of Providenceremarkably appeared in our favor; so much so, that it was taken noticeof by the mariners and passengers. They looked upon Father La Combe asa saint. We arrived at Tonon, where I found myself so perfectlyrecovered, that, instead of making and using the remedies I hadproposed, I went into a retreat, and stayed twelve days. Here I madevows of perpetual chastity, poverty and obedience, covenanting to obeywhatever I should believe to be the will of God also to obey thechurch, and to honor Jesus Christ in such a manner as He pleased. 

At this time I found that I had the perfect chastity of love to theLord, it being without any reserve, division, or view of interest. Perfect poverty, by the total privation of everything that was mine, both inwardly and outwardly. Perfect obedience to the will of the Lord, submission to the church, and honor to Jesus Christ in loving Himselfonly; the effect of which soon appeared. When by the loss of ourselveswe are passed into the Lord, our will is made one and the same withthat of the Lord, according to the prayer of Christ, "As thou Fatherart in me, and I in thee, grant that they also may be one of us. " John17:21. Oh, but it is then that the will is rendered marvelous, bothbecause it is made the will of the Lord, which is the greatest ofmiracles; also because it works wonders in Him. For as it is the Lordwho wills in the soul, that will has its effect. Scarcely has it willedbut the thing is done. 

But some may say, Why then so many oppressions endured? Why do notthese souls, if they have such a power, set themselves free from them?We answer that if they had any will to do anything of that sort, against divine providence, that would be the will of flesh, or the willof man, and not the will of God, John 1:13. 

I rose generally at midnight, waking at the proper time; but if I woundup my alarm-watch, then I used not to awake in time. I saw that theLord had the care of a father and a spouse over me. When I had anyindisposition, and my body wanted rest, He did not awake me; but atsuch times I felt even in my sleep a singular possession of Him. Someyears have passed wherein I have had only a kind of half-sleep; but mysoul waked the more for the Lord, as sleep seemed to steal from itevery other attention. The Lord made it known also to many persons, that He designed me for a mother of great people, but a people simpleand childlike. They took these intelligences in a literal sense andthought it related to some institution or congregation. But it appearedto me that the persons whom it would please the Lord that I should winover to Him, and to whom I should be as a mother, through His goodness, should have the same union of affection for me as children have for aparent, but a union much deeper and stronger; giving me all that wasnecessary for them, to bring them to walk in the way by which He wouldlead them, as I shall show. 

CHAPTER 4

I would willingly suppress what I am now about to write if anything ofit were my own, also on account of the difficulty of expressing myselfas because few souls are capable of understanding divine leadings whichare so little known, and so little comprehended. I have myself neverread of anything like it. I shall say something of the interiordispositions I was then in, and I shall think my time well employed, ifit serves you who are willing to be of the number of my children; itserves such as are already my children, to induce them to let Godglorify Himself in them after His manner, and not after their own. Ifthere be anything which they do not comprehend, let them die tothemselves. They will find it much easier to learn by experience thanfrom anything I could say; expression never equals experience. 

After I had come out of the trying condition I have spoken of I foundit had purified my soul, instead of blackening it as I had feared. Ipossessed God after a manner so pure, and so immense, as nothing elsecould equal. In regard to thoughts or desires, all was so clean, sonaked, so lost in the divinity, that the soul had no selfish movement, however plausible or delicate; both the powers of the mind and the verysenses being wonderfully purified. Sometimes I was surprised to findthat there appeared not one selfish thought. The imagination, formerlyso restless, now no more troubled me. I had no more perplexity oruneasy reflections. The will, being perfectly dead to all its ownappetites, was become void of every human inclination, both natural andspiritual, and only inclined to whatever God pleased, and to whatevermanner He pleased. This vastness or enlargedness, which is not boundedby anything, however plain or simple it may be, increases every day. Mysoul in partaking of the qualities of her Spouse seems also to partakeof His immensity. My prayer was in an openness and singlenessinconceivable. I was, as it were, borne up on high, out of myself. Ibelieve God was pleased to bless me with this experience. At thebeginning of the new life, He made me comprehend, for the good of othersouls, the simplicity and desirableness of this passage of the soulinto God. 

When I went to confess, I felt such an immersion of the soul into Him, that I could scarcely speak. This ascension of the spirit, wherein Goddraws the soul so powerfully, not into its own inmost recess, but intoHimself, is not operated till after the death of self. The soulactually comes out of itself to pass into its divine object. I call itdeath, that is to say, a passage from one thing to another. It is trulya happy passover for the soul, and its passage into the promised land. The spirit which is created to be united to its divine Origin, has sopowerful a tendency to Him, that if it were not stopped by a continualmiracle, its moving quality would cause the body to be drawn after itby reason of its impetuosity and noble assent. But God has given it aterrestrial body to serve for a counterpoise. This spirit then, createdto be united to its Origin, without any medium or interstice, feelingitself drawn by its divine object, tends to it with an extremeviolence; in such sort that God, suspending for sometime the powerwhich the body has to hold back the spirit, it follows with ardency. When it is not sufficiently purified to pass into God, it graduallyreturns to itself; as the body resumes its own quality, it turns to theearth. The saints who have been the most perfect have advanced to thatdegree, as to have nothing of all this. Some have lost it toward theend of their lives, becoming single and pure as the others, becausethey then had in reality and permanence what they had at first only astransient fruitions, in the time of the prevalence or dominion of thebody. It is certain then that the soul, by death to itself, passes intoits divine Object. This is what I then experienced. I found, thefarther I went, the more my spirit was lost in its Sovereign, whoattracted it more and more to Himself. He was pleased at first that Ishould know this for the sake of others and not for myself. Indeed Hedrew my soul more and more into Himself, till it lost itself entirelyout of sight, and could perceive itself no more. It seemed at first topass into Him. As one sees a river pass into the ocean, lose itself init, its water for a time distinguished from that of the sea, till itgradually becomes transformed into the same sea, and possesses all itsqualities; so was my soul lost in God, who communicated to it Hisqualities, having drawn it out of all that it had of its own. Its lifeis an inconceivable innocence, not known or comprehended of those whoare still shut up in themselves or only live for themselves. 

The joy which such a soul possesses in its God is so great, that itexperiences the truth of those words of the royal prophet, "All theywho are in thee, O Lord, are like persons ravished with joy. " To such asoul the words of our Lord seem to be addressed, "Your joy no man shalltake from you. " John 16:22. It is as it were plunged in a river ofpeace. Its prayer is continual. Nothing can hinder it from praying toGod, or from loving Him. It amply verifies these words in theCanticles, "I sleep but my heart waketh;" for it finds that even sleepitself does not hinder it from praying. Oh, unutterable happiness! Whocould ever have thought that a soul, which seemed to be in the utmostmisery, should ever find a happiness equal to this? Oh, happy poverty, happy loss, happy nothingness, which gives no less than God Himself inHis own immensity, no more circumscribed to the limited manner of thecreature, but always drawing it out of that, to plunge it wholly intoHis own divine essence. 

Then the soul knows that all the states of self-pleasing visions, openings, ecstasies and raptures, are rather obstacles; that they donot serve this state which is far above them; because the state whichhas supports, has pain to lose them; yet cannot arrive at this withoutsuch loss. In this are verified the words of an experienced saint;"When I would, " says he, "possess nothing through self-love, everythingwas given me without going after it. " Oh, happy dying of the grain ofwheat, which makes it produce an hundredfold! The soul is then sopassive, so equally disposed to receive from the hand of God eithergood or evil, as is astonishing. It receives both the one and the otherwithout any selfish emotions, letting them flow and be lost as theycome. They pass away as if they did not touch. 

After I finished my retreat with the Ursulines at Tonon, I returnedthrough Geneva and, having found no other means of conveyance, theFrench resident lent me a horse. As I knew not how to ride I made somedifficulty of doing it; but as he assured me that it was a very quiethorse, I ventured to mount. There was a sort of a smith, who looking atme with a wild haggard look, struck the horse a blow on the back, justas I had got upon him, which made him give a leap. He threw me on theground with such force that they thought I was killed. I fell on mytemple. My cheekbone and two of my teeth were broken. I was supportedby an invisible hand and in a little time I mounted as well as I couldon another horse and had a man by my side to keep me up. 

My relations left me in peace at Gex. They had heard at Paris of mymiraculous cure; it made a great noise there. Many persons inreputation for sanctity then wrote to me. I received letters fromMademoiselle De Lamoignon, and another young lady, who was so movedwith my answer, that she sent me a hundred pistoles for our house, andlet me know besides that, when we wanted money, I had only to write toher; and that she would send me all I could desire. They talked inParis of printing an account of the sacrifice I had made, and insertingin it the miracle of my sudden recovery. I don't know what preventedit; but such is the inconstancy of the creature, that this journey, which drew upon me at that time so much applause, has served for apretext for the strange condemnation which has since passed upon me. 

CHAPTER 5

My near relations did not signify any eager desire for my return. Thefirst thing they proposed to me, a month after my arrival at Gex, wasnot only to give up my guardianship, but to make over all my estate tomy children and to reserve an annuity to myself. This proposition, coming from people who regarded nothing but their own interest, to somemight have appeared very unpleasing; but it was in no wise so to me. Ihad not any friend to advise with. I knew not anyone whom I couldconsult about the manner of executing the thing, as I was quite freeand willing to do it. It appeared to me that I had now the means ofaccomplishing the extreme desire I had of being conformable to JesusChrist, poor, naked, and stripped of all. They sent me an article toexecute, which had been drawn under their inspection, and I innocentlysigned it, not perceiving some clauses which were inserted therein. Itexpressed that, when my children should die, I should inherit nothingof my own estate, but that it should revolve to my kindred. There weremany other things, which appeared to be equally to my disadvantage. Though what I had reserved to myself was sufficient to support me inthis place; yet it was scarcely enough to do so in some other places. Ithen gave up my estate with more joy, for being thereby conformed toJesus Christ, than they could have who asked it from me. It is what Ihave never repented of, nor had any uneasiness about. What pleasure tolose all for the Lord! The love of poverty, thus contracted, is thekingdom of tranquillity. 

I forgot to mention that toward the end of my miserable state ofprivation, when just ready to enter into newness of life, our Lordilluminated me so clearly to see that the exterior crosses came fromHim, that I could not harbor any resentment against the persons whoprocured me them. On the contrary, I felt the tenderness of compassionfor them, and had more pain for those afflictions which I innocentlycaused to them, than for any which they had heaped upon me. I saw thatthese persons feared the Lord too much to oppress me as they did, hadthey known it. I saw His hand in it, and I felt the pain which theysuffered, through the contrariety of their humors. It is hard toconceive the tenderness which the Lord gave me for them, and the desirewhich I have had, with the utmost sincerity, to procure them every sortof advantage. 

After the accident which befell me (fall from the horse) from which Isoon wonderfully recovered, the Devil began to declare himself moreopenly mine enemy, to break loose and become outrageous. One night, when I least thought of it, something very monstrous and frightfulpresented itself. It seemed a kind face, which was seen by a glimmeringblueish light. I don't know whether the flame itself composed thathorrible face or appearance; for it was so mixed and passed by sorapidly, that I could not discern it. My soul rested in its calmsituation and assurance, and it appeared no more after that manner. AsI arose at midnight to pray, I heard frightful noises in my chamber andafter I had lain down they were still worse. My bed often shook for aquarter of an hour at a time, and the sashes were all burst. Everymorning while this continued, they were found shattered and torn, yet Ifelt no fear. I arose and lighted my wax candle at a lamp which I keptin my room, because I had taken the office of sacristan and the care ofwaking the sisters at the hour they were to rise, without having oncefailed in it for my indispositions, ever being the first in all theobservances. I made use of my little light to look all over the roomand at the sashes, at the very time the noise was strongest. As he sawthat I was afraid of nothing, he left off all on a sudden, and attackedme no more in person. But he stirred up men against me, and thatsucceeded far better with him; for he found them disposed to do what heprompted them to, zealously, inasmuch as they counted it a good thingto do me the worst of injuries. 

One of the sisters whom I had brought with me, a very beautiful girl, contracted an intimacy with an ecclesiastic, who had authority in thisplace. At first he inspired her with an aversion for me, being wellassured that if she placed confidence in me, I should advise her not tosuffer his visits so frequently. She was undertaking a religiousretreat. That ecclesiastic was desirous to induce her to make it, inorder to gain her entire confidence, which would have served as a cloakto his frequent visits. The Bishop of Geneva had given Father La Combefor director to our house. As he was going to cause retreats to bemade, I desired her to wait for him. As I had gained some share in heresteem, she submitted even against her inclination, which was to havemade it under this ecclesiastic. I began to talk to her on the subjectof inward prayer, and drew her into the practice of this duty. Our Lordgave such a blessing thereto, that this girl gave herself to God inright earnest, and with her whole heart and the retreat completely wonher over. She then became more reserved, and on her guard, toward thisecclesiastic, which exceedingly vexed him. It enraged him both againstFather La Combe and me. This proved the source of the persecutionswhich afterward befell me. The noise in my chamber, which may have beentraced to him, ended as these commenced. 

This ecclesiastic began to talk privately of me with much contempt. Iknew it, but took no notice. There came a certain friar to see him, whomortally hated Father La Combe, on account of his regularity. Thesecombined together to force me to quit the house, that they might becomemasters of it. All the means they could devise they used for thatpurpose. 

My manner of life was such, that in the house I did not meddle inaffairs at all, leaving the sisters to dispose of the temporalities asthey pleased. Soon after my entrance into it I received eighteenhundred livres, which a lady, a friend of mine, lent me to complete ourfurniture, which I had repaid her at my late giving up of my estate. This sum they received, as well as what I had before given them. Isometimes spoke a little to those who retired thither to becomeCatholics. Our Lord favored with so much benediction what I said tothem, that some, whom they knew not before what to make of, becamesensible, solid women, and exemplary in piety. 

I saw crosses in abundance likely to fall to my lot. At the same timethese words came, "Who for the joy that was set before him endured thecross. " Heb. 12:2. I prostrated myself for a long time with my face onthe ground, earnestly desiring to receive all thy strokes. Oh, Thou whospared not thine own son! Thou couldst find none but Him worthy ofThee, and thou still findest in Him hearts proper for thee. 

A few days after my arrival at Gex, I saw in a sacred and mysteriousdream (for as such I very well distinguished it) Father La Combefastened up to an enormous cross, stripped in like manner as they paintour Saviour. I saw around it a frightful crowd, which covered me withconfusion, and threw back on me the ignominy of his punishment. Heseemed to have most pain, but I more reproaches than he. I have sincebeheld this fully accomplished. 

The ecclesiastic won over to his party one of our sisters, who was thehouse-steward and soon after the prioress. I was very delicate, thegood inclination which I had did not give strength to my body. I hadtwo maids to serve me; yet, as the community had need of one of themfor their cook, and the other to attend the door and other occasions, Igave them up, not thinking but they would allow them to serve mesometimes. Besides this, I let them still receive all my income, theyhaving had my first half of this year's annuity. Yet they would notpermit either of my maid-servants, to do anything for me. By my officeof sacristan I was obliged to sweep the church, which was large, andthey would not let anyone help me. I have several times fainted overthe broom and have been forced to rest in corners. This obliged me tobeg them, that they would suffer it sometimes to be swept by some ofthe strong country girls, New Catholics, to which at last they had thecharity to consent. What most embarrassed me was that I never hadwashed. I was now obliged to wash all the vestry linen. I took one ofmy maids to help me, because in attempting it I had done up the linenmost awkwardly. These sisters pulled her by the arms out of my chamber, telling her she should do her own work. I let it quietly pass, withoutmaking any objection. The other good sister, the girl I just mentioned, grew more and more fervent. By the practice of prayer in her dedicationof herself to the Lord she became more and more tender in her sympathywith me. It irritated this ecclesiastic. After all his impotentattempts here, he went off to Annecy, in order to sow discord, and toeffect more mischief to Father La Combe. 

CHAPTER 6

He went directly to the Bishop of Geneva, who till then had manifestedmuch esteem and kindness for me. He persuaded him, that it would beproper to secure me to that house, to oblige me to give up to it theannual income I had reserved to myself; to engage me thereto, by makingme prioress. He had gained such an ascendancy over the Bishop, that thepeople in the country called him the Little Bishop. He drew him toenter heartily and with zeal into this proposition, and to resolve tobring it about whatever it should cost. 

The ecclesiastic, having so far carried his point, and being swelledwith his success, no longer kept any measures in regard to me. He beganwith causing all the letters which I sent, and those which weredirected to me, to be stopped. That was in order to have it in hispower to make what impressions he pleased on the minds of others, andthat I should neither be able to know it, nor to defend myself, nor togive or send to my friends any account of the manner in which I wastreated. One of the maids I had brought wanted to return. She couldhave no rest in this place, the other that remained was infirm, toomuch taken up by others to help me in anything. As Father La Combe wassoon to come, I thought he would soften the violent spirit of this man, and that he would give me proper advice. 

In the meantime they proposed to me the engagement, and the post ofprioress. I answered, that as to the engagement it was impossible forme, since my vocation was elsewhere. And I could not regularly be theprioress, till after passing through the novitiate, in which they hadall served two years before their being engaged. When I should havedone as much, I should see how God would inspire me. The prioressreplied quite tartly, that if I would ever leave them it were best forme to do it immediately. Yet I did not offer to retire, but continuedstill to act as usual. I saw the sky gradually thickening and stormsgathering on every side. The prioress then affected a milder air. Sheassured me, that she had a desire, as well as I, to go to Geneva; thatI should not engage, but only promise her to take her with me, if Iwent thither. She pretended to place a great confidence in me, andprofessed a high esteem for me. As I am very free, and have nothing butuprightness, I let her know that I had no attraction for the manner oflife of the New Catholics, by reason of the intrigues from without. Several things did not please me, because I wanted them to be uprightin everything. She signified that she did not consent to such things, but because that ecclesiastic told her they were necessary to give thehouse a credit in distant parts and to draw charities from Paris. Ianswered that if we walked uprightly God would never fail us. He wouldsooner do miracles for us. I remarked to her that when, instead ofsincerity, they had recourse to artifice, charity grew cold, and keptherself shut up. It is God alone who inspires charity; how, then, is itto be drawn by disguises?

Soon after, Father La Combe came about the retreats. This was the thirdand last time that he came to Gex. This prioress, after she had beentampering a good deal with me, having written him a long letter beforehis coming, and received his answer, which she showed me, now went toask him whether she would one day be united to me at Geneva. Heanswered with his usual uprightness, "Our Lord has made it known to methat you shall never be established at Geneva. " Soon after she died. When he had uttered this declaration, she appeared enraged against bothhim and me. She went directly to that ecclesiastic, who was in a roomwith the house-steward; and they took their measures together, tooblige me either to engage or retire. They thought that I would soonerengage than retire, and they watched my letters. 

With a design to lay snares for him, he requested Father La Combe topreach. He did on this text "The King's daughter is beautiful within. "That ecclesiastic, who was present with his confidant, said that it waspreached against him, and was full of errors. He drew up eightpropositions, and inserted in them what the other had not preached, adjusting them as maliciously as ever he could, then sent them to oneof his friends in Rome, to get them examined by the SacredCongregation, and by the Inquisition. Though he had very illy digestedthem, at Rome they were pronounced good. That greatly disappointed andvexed him. After having been treated in this manner, and opprobriouslyreviled by him in the most offensive terms, the Father, with muchmildness and humility, told him that he was going to Annecy about someaffairs of the convent. If he had anything to write to the Bishop ofGeneva, he would take care of his letter. He then desired him to waitawhile, as he was going to write. The good Father had the patience towait above three hours, without hearing from him; though he had treatedhim exceedingly ill, so far as to snatch out of his hands a letter Ihad given him for that worthy hermit I have mentioned. Hearing he wasnot gone, but was still in the church, I went to him, and begged him tosend to see if the other's packet was ready. The day was so far gonethat he would be obliged to lodge by the way. When the messengerarrived, he found a servant of the ecclesiastic on horseback, orderedto go at full speed, to be at Annecy before the Father. He thenreturned an answer, that he had no letters to send by him. This was socontrived, that he might gain time to prepossess the Bishop for hispurposes. Father La Combe then set off for Annecy, and on his arrivalfound the Bishop prepossessed, and in an ill humor. This was thesubstance of the discourse. 

BISHOP--You must absolutely engage this lady to give what she has tothe house at Gex, and make her the prioress of it. 

F. LA COMBE--My lord, you know what she has told you herself of hervocation, both at Paris and in this country. I therefore do not believethat she will engage; nor is there any likelihood that, after quittingher all, in the hope of entering Geneva, she should engage elsewhere, and thereby put it out of her power to accomplish the designs of God inregard to her. She has offered to stay with those sisters as a boarder. If they are willing to keep her as such, she will remain with them; ifnot, she is resolved to retire into some convent, till God shalldispose of her otherwise. 

BISHOP--I know all that; but I likewise know that she is so veryobedient, that, if you order her, she will assuredly do it. 

F. LA COMBE--It is for that reason, my lord, that one ought to be verycautious in the commands which they lay on her. Can I induce a foreignlady, who, for all her subsistence, has nothing but a small pittanceshe has reserved to herself, to give that up in favor of a house whichis not yet established, and perhaps never will be? If the house shouldhappen to fail, or be no longer of use, what shall that lady live on?Shall she go to the hospital? And indeed this house will not long be ofany use, since there are no Protestants in any part of France near it. 

BISHOP--These reasons are good for nothing. If you do not make her dowhat I have said, I will degrade and suspend you. 

This manner of speaking somewhat surprised the Father. He well enoughunderstands the rules of suspension, which is not executed on suchthings. He replied:

"My lord, I am ready, not only to suffer the suspension, but evendeath, rather than do anything against my conscience. " Having saidthat, he retired. 

He directly sent me this account by an express, to the end that I mighttake proper measures. I had no other course to take but to retire intoa convent. I received a letter informing me that the nun to whom I hadentrusted my daughter had fallen sick, and desiring me to go to her forsome time. I showed this letter to the sisters of our house, tellingthem that I had a mind to go; but if they ceased to persecute me, andwould leave Father La Combe in peace, I would return as soon as themistress of my daughter should be recovered. Instead of this, theypersecuted me more violently, wrote to Paris against me, stopped all myletters, and sent libels against me around the country. 

The day after my arrival at Tonon, Father La Combe set off for thevalley of Aoust, to preach there in Lent. He had come to take leave ofme, and told me that he should go from thence to Rome, and perhaps notreturn, as his superiors might detain him there; that he was sorry toleave me in a strange country, without succor, and persecuted ofeveryone. I replied, "My father, that gives me no pain; I use thecreatures for God, and by His order. Through His mercy, I do very wellwithout them, when He withdraws them. I am very well contented never tosee you, and to abide under persecution, if such be His will. " He saidhe would go well satisfied to see me in such a disposition, and thendeparted. 

As soon as I got to the Ursulines, a very aged and pious priest, whofor twenty years past had not come out of his solitude, came to findme. He told me that he had a vision relative to me; that he had seen awoman in a boat on the lake; and that the Bishop of Geneva, with someof his priests, exerted all their efforts to sink the boat she was in, and to drown her; that he continued in this vision above two hours, with pain of mind; that it seemed sometimes as if this woman were quitedrowned, as for some time she quite disappeared; but afterward sheappeared again, and ready to escape the danger, while the Bishop neverceased to pursue her. This woman was always equally calm; but he neversaw her entirely free from him. From whence I conclude, added he, thatthe Bishop will persecute you without intermission. 

I had an intimate friend, wife of that governor of whom I have madesome mention. As she saw I had quitted everything for God, she had awarm desire to follow me. With diligence did she dispose of all hereffects and settle her affairs in order to come to me; but when sheheard of the persecution, she was discouraged from coming to a place, from whence she thought I should be obliged to retire. Soon after shedied. 

CHAPTER 7

After Father La Combe was gone, the persecution raised against mebecame more violent. But the Bishop of Geneva still showed me somecivilities, as well to try whether he could prevail on me to do what hedesired, as to sound out how matters passed in France, and to prejudicethe minds of the people there against me, preventing me from receivingthe letters sent me. The ecclesiastic and his family had twenty-twointercepted letters, opened, on their table. There was one wherein wassent me a power of attorney to sign, of immediate consequence. Theywere obliged to put it under another cover, and send it to me. Thebishop wrote to Father La Mothe, and had no difficulty to draw him intohis party. He was displeased with me on two accounts. First, that I hadnot settled on him a pension, as he expected, and as he told me veryroughly several times. Second, I did not take his advice in everything. He at once declared against me. The bishop made him his confidant. Itwas he who uttered and spread abroad the news about me. They imagined, as was supposed, that I would annul the donation I had made, if Ireturned; that, having the support of friends in France, I would findthe means of breaking it; but in that they were much mistaken. I had nothought of loving anything but the poverty of Jesus Christ. For sometime yet, the Father acted with caution toward me. He wrote me someletters, which he addressed to the Bishop of Geneva, and they agreed sotogether, that he was the only person from whom I received any letters, to which I returned very moving answers. He, instead of being touchedwith them, became only more irritated against me. 

The bishop continued to treat me with a show of respect; yet at thesame time he wrote to many persons in Paris, as did also the sisters ofthe house, to all those persons of piety who had written letters to me, to bias them as much as possible against me. To avoid the blame whichought naturally to fall upon them for having so unworthily treated aperson who have given up everything to devote herself to the service ofthat diocese. After I had done this, and was not in a condition toreturn to France, they treated me extremely ill in every respect. Therewas scarcely any kind of false or fabulous story, likely to gain anycredit, which they did not invent to cry me down. Beside my having noway to make the truth known in France, our Lord inspired me with awillingness to suffer everything, without justifying myself; so that inmy case nothing was heard but condemnation, without any vindication. 

I was in this convent, and had seen Father La Combe no further than Ihave mentioned; yet they did not cease to publish, both of him and me, the most scandalous stories; as utterly false as anything could be, forhe was then a hundred and fifty leagues from me. 

For some time I was ignorant of this. As I knew that all my letterswere kept from me, I ceased to wonder at receiving none. I lived inthis house with my little daughter in a sweet repose, which was a verygreat favor of Providence. My daughter had forgotten her French, andamong the little girls from the mountains had contracted a wild lookand disagreeable manners. Her wit, sense and judgment, were indeedsurprising, and her disposition exceedingly good. There were only somelittle fits of peevishness, which they had caused to arise in her, through certain contrarieties out of season, caresses ill applied, andfor want of knowing the proper manner of education. But the Lordprovided in regard to her. During this time my mind was preserved calmand resigned to God. Afterward that good sister almost continuallyinterrupted me; I answered everything she desired of me, both out ofcondescension, and from a principle which I had to obey like a child. 

When I was in my apartment, without any other director than our Lord byHis Spirit, as soon as one of my little children came to knock at mydoor, he required me to admit the interruption. He showed me that it isnot the actions in themselves which please Him, but the constant readyobedience to every discovery of His will, even in the minutest things, with such a suppleness, as not to stick to anything, but still to turnwith Him at every call. My soul was then, I thought, like a leaf, or afeather, which the wind moves what way soever it pleases and the Lordnever suffers a soul so dependent upon, and dedicated to Him, to bedeceived. 

Most men appear to me very unjust, when they readily resign themselvesto another man, and look upon that as prudence. They confide in men whoare nothing, and boldly say, "Such a person cannot be deceived. " But ifone speaks of a soul wholly resigned to God, which follows himfaithfully, they cry aloud, "That person is deceived with hisresignation. " Oh, divine Love! Dost thou want either strength, fidelity, love, or wisdom, to conduct those who trust in thee and whoare thy dearest children? I have seen men bold enough to say, "Followme, and you shall not be misled. " How sadly are those men misledthemselves by their presumption! How much sooner should I go to him whowould be afraid of misleading me; who trusting neither to his learningnor experience, would rely upon God only!

Our Lord showed me, in a dream, two ways by which souls steer theircourse, under the figure of two drops of water. The one appeared to meof an unparalleled beauty, brightness and purity; the other to havealso a brightness, yet full of little streaks; both good to quenchthirst; the former altogether pleasant, but the latter not so perfectlyagreeable. By the former is represented the way of pure and nakedfaith, which pleases the Spouse much, it is so pure, so clear from allself-love. The way of emotions or gifts is not so; yet it is that inwhich many enlightened souls walk, and into which they had drawn FatherLa Combe. But God showed me, that He had given him to me, to draw himinto one more pure and perfect. I spoke before the sisters, he beingpresent, of the way of faith, how much more glorious it was to God, andadvantageous for the soul, than all those gifts, emotions andassurances, which ever cause us to live to self. This discouraged themat first and him also. I saw they were pained, as they have confessedto me since. I said no more of it at that time. But, as he is a personof great humility, he bid me unfold what I had wanted to say to him. Itold him a part of my dream of the two drops of water; yet, he did notthen enter into what I said, the time for it being not yet come. Whenhe came to Gex, it was to make the retreats. I told him thecircumstances of a certain time past; he recollected that it was thetime of so extraordinary a touch with which the Lord favored him, thathe was quite overwhelmed with contrition. This gave him such aninterior renovation, that having retired to pray, in a very ardentframe of mind, he was filled with joy, and seized with a powerfulemotion, which made him enter into what I had told him of the way offaith. I give these things, as they happen to come to my remembrance, without carrying them on in order. 

After Easter, in 1682, the bishop came to Tonon. I had occasion tospeak to him, which when I had done, our Lord so pointed my words thathe appeared thoroughly convinced. But the persons who had influencedhim before returned. He then pressed me very much to return to Gex andto take the place of Prioress. I gave him the reasons against it. Ithen appealed to him, as a bishop, desiring him to take care to regardnothing but God in what he should say to me. He was struck into a kindof confusion; and then said to me, "Since you speak to me in such amanner, I cannot advise you to it. It is not for us to go contrary toour vocations; but do good, I pray you, to this house. " I promised himto do it. Having received my pension, I sent them a hundred pistoles, with a design of doing the same as long as I should be in the diocese. The bishop said to me, "I love Father La Combe. He is a true servant ofGod and he has told me many things to which I was forced to assent forI felt them in myself. But, " added he, "when I say so, they tell me Iam mistaken, and that before the end of six months he will run mad. " Hetold me, "he approved of the nuns, which had been under the care andinstruction of Father La Combe, finding them to come up fully to whathe had heard of them. " From thence I took occasion to tell him "that ineverything he ought to refer himself to his own breast, or to theinstructions there immediately received, and not to others. " He agreedto what I said, and acknowledged it to be right; yet no sooner was hereturned, than, so great was his weakness that he re-entered into hisformer dispositions. He sent the same ecclesiastic to tell me that Imust engage myself at Gex; that it was his sentiment. I answered, thatI was determined to follow the counsel he had given me, when he hadspoken to me as from God, since now they made him speak only as man. 

CHAPTER 8

My soul was in a state of entire resignation and very great content, inthe midst of such violent tempests. Those persons came to tell me ahundred extravagant stories against Father La Combe. The more they saidto me to his disadvantage, the more esteem I felt for him. I answeredthem, "Perhaps I may never see him again, but I shall ever be glad todo him justice. It is not he who hinders me from engaging at Gex. It isonly because I know it to be none of my vocation. " They asked me, "Whocould know that better than the bishop?" They further told me, "I wasunder a deception, and my state was good for nothing. " This gave me nouneasiness, having referred to God the care of requiring, and ofexacting what He requires, and in whatever manner He demands it. 

A soul in this state seeks nothing for itself, but all for God. Somemay say, "What, then, does this soul?" It leaves itself to be conductedby God's providences and creatures. Outwardly, its life seems quitecommon; inwardly, it is wholly resigned to the divine will. The moreeverything appears adverse, and even desperate, the more calm it is, inspite of the annoyance and pain of the senses and of the creatures, which, for some time after the new life, raise some clouds andobstructions, as I have already signified. But when the soul isentirely passed into its original Being, all these things no more causeany separation or partition. It finds no more of that impurity whichcame from self-seeking, from a human manner of acting, from anunguarded word, from any warm emotion or eagerness, which caused such amist, as it then could neither prevent nor remedy, having so oftenexperienced its own efforts, to be useless, and even hurtful, as theydid nothing else but sill more and more defile it. There is in suchcase no other way or means of remedy, but in waiting till the Sun ofRighteousness dissipate those fogs. The whole work of purificationcomes from God only. Afterward this conduct becomes natural; then thesoul can say with the royal prophet, "Though an host should encampagainst me, my heart shall not fear. Though war should rise up againstme, in him will I confide. " For then, though assaulted on every side, it continues fixed as a rock. Having no will but for what God sees meetto order, be it what it may, high or low, great or small, sweet orbitter, honor, wealth, life, or any other object, what can shake itspeace? It is true, our nature is so crafty that it worms itself througheverything; a selfish sight is like the basilisk's, it destroys. 

Trial are suited to the state of the soul, whether conducted by lights, gifts, or ecstasies, or by the entire destruction of self in the way ofnaked faith. Both these states are found in the apostle Paul. He tellsus, "And lest I should be exalted above measure, through the abundanceof revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, themessenger of Satan to buffet me. " He prayed thrice, and it was said tohim, "My grace is sufficient for thee; for my strength is made perfectin weakness. " He proved also another state when he thus expressedhimself, "Oh, wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from thebody of this death?" To which he replies, "I thank God, it is donethrough Jesus Christ our Lord. " It is He who conquers death in usthrough His own life. Then there is no longer a sting in death, orthorn in the flesh, capable of paining or hurting any more. 

At first indeed, and for a pretty long time after, the soul sees thatnature wants to take some part with it in its trials; then its fidelityconsists in withholding it, without allowing it the least indulgence, till it leaves everything to go on with God in purity as it comes fromHim. Till the soul be in this state, it always sullies, by its ownmixture, the operation of God; like those rivulets which contract thecorruption of the places they pass through, but, flowing in a pureplace, they then remain in the purity of their source. Unless Godthrough experience, makes known His guidance to the soul, it can nevercomprehend it. 

Oh, if souls had courage enough to resign themselves to the work ofpurification, without having any weak and foolish pity on themselves, what a noble, rapid and happy progress would they make! But few arewilling to lose the earth. If they advance some steps, as soon as thesea is ruffled they are dejected; they cast anchor, and often desistfrom the prosecution of the voyage. Such disorders doth selfishinterest and self-love occasion. It is of consequence not to look toomuch at one's own state, not to lose courage, not to afford anynourishment to self-love, which is so deep-rooted, that its empire isnot easily demolished. Often the idea which a man falsely conceives ofthe greatness of his advancement in divine experience, makes him wantto be seen and known of men, and to wish to see the very sameperfection in others. He conceives too low ideas of others, and toohigh of his own state. Then it becomes a pain to him to converse withpeople too human; whereas, a soul truly mortified and resigned wouldrather converse with the worst, by the order of Providence, than withthe best, of its own choice; wanting only to see or to speak to any asProvidence directs, knowing well that all beside, far from helping, only hurt it, or at least prove very unfruitful to it. 

What, then, renders this soul so perfectly content? It neither knows, nor wants to know, anything but what God calls it to. Herein it enjoysdivine content, after a manner vast, immense, and independent ofexterior events; more satisfied in its humiliation, and in theopposition of all creatures, by the order of Providence, than on thethrone of its own choice. 

It is here that the apostolic life begins. But do all reach that state?Very few, indeed, as far as I can comprehend. There is a way of lights, gifts and graces, a holy life in which the creature appears alladmirable. As this life is more apparent, so it is more esteemed ofsuch, at least, as have not the purest light. The souls which walk inthe other path are often very little known, for a length of time, as itwas with Jesus Christ Himself, till the last years of His life. Oh, ifI could but express what I conceive of this state! But I can onlystammer about it. 

CHAPTER 9

Being, as I have said, with the Ursulines at Tonon, after having spokento the Bishop of Geneva, and seeing how he changed, just as othersturned him, I wrote to him and to Father La Mothe; but all my effortswere useless. The more I endeavored to accommodate matters, the morethe ecclesiastic tried to confound them, hence I ceased to meddle. 

One day I was told that the ecclesiastic had won over the good girlwhom I dearly loved. So strong a desire I had for her perfection thatit had cost me much. I should not have felt the death of a child somuch as her loss; at the same time I was told how to hinder it, butthat human way of acting was repugnant to my inward sense; these wordsarose in my heart, "Except the Lord build the house. "

And indeed He provided herein Himself, hindering her from yielding tothis deceitful man, after a manner to be admired, and very thwarting tothe designs of him and his associates. As long as I was with her shestill seemed wavering and fearful; but oh, the infinite goodness ofGod, to preserve without our aid what without His we should inevitablylose! I was no sooner separated from her, but she became immovable. 

As for me, there scarcely passed a day but they treated me with newinsults; their assaults came on me at unawares. The New Catholics, bythe instigation of the Bishop of Geneva, the ecclesiastic, and thesisters at Gex, stirred up all the persons of piety against me. I hadbut little uneasiness on my own account. If I could have had it at all, it would have been on account of Father La Combe, whom they vilelyaspersed, though he was absent. They even made use of his absence, tooverset all the good he had done in the country, by his missions andpious labors, which were inconceivably great. At first I was too readyto vindicate him, thinking it justice to do it. I did not do it at allfor myself; and our Lord showed me that I must cease doing it for him, in order to leave him to be more thoroughly annihilated; because fromthence he would draw a greater glory, than ever he had done from hisown reputation. 

Every day then invented some new slander. No kind of stratagem, ormalicious device in their power, did they omit. They came to surpriseand ensnare me in my words; but God guarded me so well, that thereinthey only discovered their own malevolence. I had no consolation fromthe creatures. She who had the care of my daughter behaved roughly tome. Such are the persons who regulate themselves only by their giftsand emotions. When they do not see things succeed, and as they regardthem only by their success, and are not willing to have the affront oftheir pretensions being though uncertain, and liable to mistake, theyseek without for supports. As for me who pretended to nothing, Ithought all succeeded well, inasmuch as all tended to self-annihilation. On another side, the maid I had brought, and who stayed with me, grewtired out. Wanting to go back again, she stunned me with her complaints, thwarting and chiding me from morning till night, upbraiding me withwhat I had left, and coming to a place where I was good for nothing. I was obliged to bear all her ill-humor and the clamor of her tongue. 

My own brother, Father La Mothe, wrote to me that I was rebel to mybishop, staying in his diocese only to give him pain. Indeed, I sawthere was nothing for me to do here, so long as the bishop should beagainst me. I did what I could to gain his goodwill, but this wasimpossible on any other terms than the engagement he demanded, and thatI knew to be my duty not to do. This, joined to the poor education ofmy daughter, affected my heart. When any glimmering of hope appeared, it soon vanished; and I gained strength from a sort of despair. 

During this time Father La Combe was at Rome, where he was receivedwith so much honor, and his doctrine was so highly esteemed, that theSacred Congregation was pleased to take his sentiments on some pointsof doctrine, which were found to be so just, and so clear, that itfollowed them. Meanwhile the sister would take no care of my daughter;when I took care of her she was displeased. I was not able, by anymeans, to prevail on her to promise me that she would try to preventher contracting bad habits. However, I hoped that Father La Combe, athis return, would bring everything into order, and renew myconsolation. Yet I left it all to God. 

About July, 1682, my sister, who was an Ursuline, got permission tocome. She brought a maid with her, which was very seasonable. My sisterassisted in the education of my daughter, but she had frequent jarringwith her tutoress--I labored but in vain for peace. By some instanceswhich I met with in this place, I saw clearly that it is not greatgifts which sanctify, unless they be accompanied with a profoundhumility; that death to everything is infinitely more beneficial; forthere was one who thought herself at the summit of perfection, but hasdiscovered since, by the trials which have befallen her, that she wasyet very far from it. O, my God, how true it is that we may have of Thygifts, and yet be very imperfect, and full of ourselves!

How very straight is the gate which leads to a life in God! How littleone must be to pass through it, it being nothing else but death toself! But when we have passed through it, what enlargement do we find!David said, (Psalm 18:19) "He brought me forth into a large place. " Andit was through humiliation and abasement that he was brought thither. 

Father La Combe, on his arrival, came to see me. The first thing hesaid was about his own weakness, and that I must return. He added, "that all seemed dark, and there was no likelihood that God would makeuse of me in this country. " The Bishop of Geneva wrote to Father LaMothe to get me to return; he wrote to me accordingly to do it. Thefirst Lent which I passed with the Ursulines, I had a very great painin my eyes; for that same imposthume which I formerly had between theeye and the nose, returned upon me three times. The bad air, and thenoisome room which I was in, contributed hereto. My head wasfrightfully swelled, but great was my inward joy. It was strange to seeso many good creatures, who did not know me, love and pity me; all therest enraged against me, and most of them on reports entirely false, neither knowing me, nor why they so hated me. To swell the stream ofaffliction yet more, my daughter fell sick and was likely to die; therewas but little hope of her recovery, when her mistress also fell ill. My soul, leaving all to God, continued to rest in a quiet and peaceablehabitation. Oh, Principal and sole object of my love! Were there neverany other reward of what little services we do, or of the marks ofhomage we render Thee, than this fixed state above the vicissitudes inthe world, is it not enough? The senses indeed are sometimes ready tostart aside, and to run off like truants; but every trouble fliesbefore the soul which is entirely subjected to God. By speaking of afixed state, I do not mean one which can never decline or fall, thatbeing only in Heaven. I call it fixed and permanent, compared with thestates which have preceded it, which were full of vicissitudes andvariations. I do not exclude a state of suffering in the senses, orarising from superficial impurity, which remains to be done away, andwhich one may compare to refined but tarnished gold. It has no moreneed to be purified in the fire, having undergone that operation; butneeds only to be burnished. So it seemed to be with me at that time. 

CHAPTER 10

My daughter had the smallpox. They sent for a physician from Geneva, who gave her over. Father La Combe then came in to visit, and pray withher. He gave her his blessing; soon after she wonderfully recovered. The persecution of the New Catholics against me continued andincreased; yet, for all that, I did not fail to do them all the good inmy power. My daughter's mistress came often to converse with me, butmuch imperfection appeared in her discourses, though they were onreligious subjects. Father La Combe regulated many things in regard tomy daughter, which vexed her mistress so much, that her formerfriendship was turned into coldness. She had grace, but suffered naturetoo frequently to prevail. I told her my thought on her faults, as Iwas inwardly directed to do; but though, at that time, God enlightenedher to see the truth of what I said, and she has been more enlightenedsince, yet the return of her coldness toward me ensued upon it. Thedebates between her and my sister grew more tart and violent. Mydaughter, who was only six years and a half old, by her littledexterities found a way to please them both, choosing to do herexercises twice over, first with the one, then with the other, whichcontinued not long; for as her mistress generally neglected her, doingthings at one time, and leaving them at another, she was reduced tolearn only what my sister and I taught her. Indeed the changeablenessof my sister was so excessive, that, without great grace, it was hardto suit one's self to it; yet she appeared to me to surmount herself inmany things. Formerly, I could scarce bear her manners; but I havesince loved everything in God, who has given me a very great facilityto bear the faults of my neighbor, with a readiness to please andoblige everyone and such a compassion for their calamities ordistresses as I never had before. 

I have no difficulty to use condescension with imperfect persons; Ishould be secretly smitten if I failed therein; but with souls of graceI cannot bear this human manner of acting, nor suffer long and frequentconversations. It is a thing of which few are capable. Some religiouspersons say that these conversations are of great service. I believe itmay be true for some, but not for all; for there is a period wherein ithurts, especially when it is of our own choice; the human inclinationcorrupting everything. The same things which would be profitable, whenGod, by His Spirit, draws to them, become quite otherwise, when we ofourselves enter into them. This appears to me so clear, that I preferbeing a whole day with the worst of persons, in obedience to God, before being one hour with the best, only from my own choice andinclination. 

The order of divine providence makes the whole rule and conduct of asoul entirely devoted to God. While it faithfully gives itself upthereto, it will do all things right and well, and will have everythingit wants, without its own care; because God in whom it confides, makesit every moment do what He requires, and furnishes the occasions properfor it. God loves what is of His own order, and of His own will, notaccording to the idea of the merely rational or even enlightened man;for He hides these persons from the eyes of others, in order topreserve them in that hidden purity for Himself. 

But how comes it that such souls commit any faults; because they arenot faithful, in giving themselves up to the present moment. Often tooeagerly bent on something, or wanting to be over-faithful, they slideinto many faults, which they can neither foresee nor avoid. Does Godthen leave souls which confide in Him? Surely not. Sooner would He worka miracle to hinder them from falling, if they were resigned enough toHim. They may be resigned as to the general will, and yet fail as tothe present moment. Being out of the order of God, they fall. Theyrenew such falls as long as they continue out of that divine order. When they return into it, all goes right and well. 

Most assuredly if such souls were faithful enough, not to let any ofthe moments of the order of God slip over, they would not thus fall. This appears to me as clear as the day. As a dislocated bone out of theplace in which the economy of divine wisdom had fixed it, givescontinual pain till restored to its proper order, so the many troublesin life come from the soul not abiding in its place, and not beingcontent with the order of God, and what is afforded therein from momentto moment. If men rightly knew this secret, they would all be fullycontent and satisfied. But alas! instead of being content with whatthey have, they are ever wishing for what they have not; while thesoul, which enters into divine light begins to be in paradise. What isit that makes paradise? It is the order of God, which renders all thesaints infinitely content, though very unequal in glory! From whencecomes it that so many poor indigent persons are so contented, and thatprinces and potentates, who abound to profusion, are so wretched andunhappy? It is because the man who is not content with what he has, will never be without craving desires; and he who is the prey of anunsatisfied desire, can never be content. 

All souls have more or less of strong and ardent desires, except thosewhose will is lost in the will of God. Some have good desires, so as tosuffer martyrdom for God; others thirst for the salvation of theirneighbor, and some pant to see God in glory. All this is excellent. Buthe who rests in the divine will, although he may be exempt from allthese desires, is infinitely more content, and glorifies God more. Itis written concerning Jesus Christ, when he drove out of the templethose who profaned it. "The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up. " John2:17. It was in that moment of the order of God, that these words hadtheir effect. How many times had Jesus Christ been in the templewithout such a conduct? Does not He occasionally say of Himself, thatHis hour was not yet come?

CHAPTER 11

After Father La Combe returned from Rome, well approved, and furnishedwith testimonials of life and doctrine, he performed his functions ofpreaching and confessing as usual. I gave him an account of what I haddone and suffered in his absence, and what care God had taken of all myconcerns. I saw his providence incessantly extended to the verysmallest things. After having been several months without any news ofmy papers, when some pressed me to write, and blamed my neglect, aninvisible hand held me back; my peace and confidence were great. Ireceived a letter from the ecclesiastic at home, which informed me thathe had orders to come and see me, and bring my papers. I had sent toParis for a pretty considerable bundle of things for my daughter. Iheard they were lost on the lake, and could learn no further tidingsabout them. 

I gave myself no trouble; I always thought they would be found. The manwho had taken charge of them made a search after them a whole month, inall the environs, without hearing any news. At the end of three monthsthey were brought to me, having been found in the house of a poor man, who had not opened them, nor knew who brought them there. Once I hadsent for all the money which was to serve me a whole year; the personwho had been to receive cash for the bill of exchange, having put thatmoney in two bags on horseback, forgot that it was there, and gave thehorse to a little boy to lead. The money fell from the horse in themiddle of the market at Geneva. That instant I arrived, coming on theother side, and having alighted from my litter, the first thing I foundwas my money. What was surprising, a great throng was in this place andnot one had perceived it. Many such things have attended me. Theseaccounts may suffice to show the continual protection of God. 

The Bishop of Geneva continued to persecute me. When he wrote, it waswith politeness and thanks for my charities at Gex; while at the sametime he said to others that I "gave nothing to that house. " He wroteagainst me to the Ursulines with whom I lived, charging them to hinderme from having any conferences with Father La Combe. The superior ofthe house, a man of merit, and the prioress, as well as the community, were so irritated at this, that they could not forbear testifying it tohim. He then excused himself with a pretended respect, saying, he didnot mean it that way. They wrote to him that "I did not see the Fatherbut at the confessional, and not in conference; that they were so muchedified by me, as to think themselves happy in having me, and to esteemit a greater favor from God. " What they said out of pure charity wasnot pleasing to the Bishop, who, seeing they loved me in this house, said, that I won over everybody to myself and that he wished I were outof the diocese. Though I knew all this, and these good sisters weretroubled at it, I could have no trouble by reason of the calmestablishment which I was in. The will of God rendering everythingequal to me. The creatures, however unreasonable or passionate theyappear, not being regarded in themselves but in God; an habitual faithcauses everything to be seen in God without distinction. Thus, when Isee poor souls so ruffled for discourses in the air, so uneasy forexplanations, I pity them. They have reasons, I know, which self-lovecauses to appear very just. 

To relieve myself a little from the fatigue of continual conversation, I desired Father La Combe to allow me a retreat. It was then that I letmyself be consumed by love all the day long. Also I perceived thequality of a spiritual mother; for the Lord gave me what I cannotexpress for the perfection of souls. This I could not hide from FatherLa Combe. It seemed to me as if I entered into the inmost recesses ofhis heart. Our Lord showed me he was His servant, chosen among athousand, singularly to honor Him; but that He would lead him throughtotal death, and the entire destruction of the old man. He would haveme contribute thereto and be instrumental to cause him to walk in theway in which He had led me first; in order that I might be in acondition to direct others, to tell them the way through which I havepassed. The Lord would have us to be conformed, and to become both onein Him; though my soul was more advanced now, yet he should one daypass beyond it, with a bold and rapid flight. God knows with what joy Iwould see my spiritual children surpass their mother. 

In this retreat I felt a strong propensity to write, but resisted ittill I fell sick. I had nothing to write about, not one idea to beginwith. It was a divine impulse, with such a fulness of grace as was hardto contain. I opened this disposition of mine to Father La Combe. Heanswered that he had a strong impulse to command me to write, but hadnot dared to do it yet, on account of my weakness. I told him, that"weakness was the effect of my resistance, " and I believed it would, through my writing, go off again. He asked, "But what is it you willwrite?"

I replied, "I know nothing of it, nor desire to know, leaving itentirely to God to direct me. "

He ordered me to do so. At my taking the pen I knew not the first wordI should write; when I began, suitable matter flowed copiously, nay, impetuously. As I was writing I was relieved and grew better. I wrotean entire treatise on the interior path of faith, under the comparisonof torrents, or of streams and rivers. 

As the way, wherein God now conducted Father La Combe, was verydifferent from that in which he had formerly walked (all light, knowledge, ardor, assurance, sentiment) now the poor, low, despisedpath of faith, and of nakedness; he found it very hard to submitthereto. Who could express what it has cost my heart before he wasformed according to the will of God?

Meanwhile, the possession which the Lord had of my soul became everyday stronger, insomuch that I passed whole days without being able topronounce one word. The Lord was pleased to make me pass wholly intoHim by an entire internal transformation. He became more and more theabsolute master of my heart, to such a degree as not to leave me amovement of my own. This state did not hinder me from condescending tomy sister, and the others in the house. Nevertheless, the uselessthings with which they were taken up could not interest me. That waswhat induced me to ask leave to make a retreat, to let myself bepossessed of Him who holds me so closely to Himself after an ineffablemanner. 

CHAPTER 12

I had at that time so ardent a desire for the perfection of Father LaCombe, and to see him thoroughly die to himself, that I could havewished him all the crosses and afflictions imaginable, that mightconduce to this great and blessed end. Whenever he was unfaithful, orlooked at things in any other light than the true one--to tend to thisdeath of self--I felt myself on the rack, which, as I had till thenbeen so indifferent, very much surprised me. To the Lord I made mycomplaint; He graciously encouraged me, both on this subject and onthat entire dependence on Himself which He gave me, which was such thatI was like a new born infant. 

My sister had brought me a maid, whom God was willing to give me tofashion according to His will, not without some crucifixion to myself. I believe it never is to fall out, that our Lord will give me anypersons without giving them wherewith to make me suffer, whether it befor the purpose of drawing them into a spiritual life, or never toleave me without the cross. She was one on whom the Lord had conferredvery singular graces. She was in high reputation in the country, whereshe passed for a saint. Our Lord brought her to me, to let her see thedifference between the sanctity conceived and comprised in those gifts, with which she was endowed, and that which is obtained by our entiredestruction, even by the loss of those very gifts, and of all thatraised us in the esteem of men. Our Lord had given her the samedependence on me, as I had in regard to Father La Combe. 

This girl fell grievously sick. I was willing to give her all theassistance in my power, but I found I had nothing to do but to commandher bodily sickness, or the disposition of her mind; all that I saidwas done. It was then that I learned what it was to command by theWord, and to obey by the Word. It was Jesus Christ in me equallycommanding and obeying. 

She, however, continued sick for sometime. One day, after dinner, I wasmoved to say to her, "Rise and be no longer sick. " She arose and wascured. The nuns were very much astonished. They knew nothing of whathad passed, but saw her walking, who in the morning had appeared to bein the last extremity. They attributed her disorder to a vividimagination. 

I have at sundry times experienced, and felt in myself, how much Godrespects the freedom of man, even demands his free concurrence; forwhen I said, "Be healed, " or, "Be free from your troubles, " if suchpersons acquiesced, the Word was efficacious, and they were healed. Ifthey doubted, or resisted, though under fair pretexts, saying, "I shallbe healed when it pleases God, I will not be healed till He wills it;"or, in the way of despair, "I cannot be healed; I will not quit mycondition, " then the Word had no effect. I felt in myself that thedivine virtue retired in me. I experienced what our Lord said, when thewoman afflicted with the issue of blood touched him. He instantlyasked, "Who touched me?" The apostles said, "Master, the multitudethrong thee, and press thee; and sayest thou, Who touched me?" Hereplied, "It is because virtue hath gone out of me" (Luke 8:45, 46). Jesus Christ had caused that healing virtue to flow, through me, bymeans of His Word. When that virtue met not with a correspondence inthe subject, I felt it suspended in its source. That gave me some pain. I should be, as it were, displeased with those persons; but when therewas no resistance, but a full acquiescence, this divine virtue had itsfull effect. Healing virtue has so much power over things inanimate, yet the least thing in man either restrains it, or stops it entirely. 

There was a good nun much afflicted and under a violent temptation. Shewent to declare her case to a sister whom she thought very spiritual, and in a condition capable of assisting her. But far from findingsuccor, she was very much discouraged and cast down. The other despisedand repulsed her, and treating her with contempt and rigor, she said, "Don't come near me, since you are that way. " This poor girl, in afrightful distress, came to me thinking herself undone on account ofwhat the sister had said to her. I consoled her and our Lord relievedher immediately. But I could not forbear telling her that assuredly theother would be punished, and would fall into a state worse than hers. The sister who had used her in such a manner came also to me, highlypleased with herself in what she had done, saying, she abhorred suchtempted creatures. As for herself, she was proof against such sorts oftemptations, and that she never had a bad thought. I said to her, "Mysister, from the friendship I have for you I wish you the pain of herwho spoke to you, and even one still more violent. "

She answered haughtily, "If you were to ask it from God for me, and Iask of Him the contrary, I believe I shall be heard at least as soon asyou. "

I answered with great firmness, "If it be only my own interests which Iask, I shall not be heard; but if it be those of God only, and yourstoo, I shall be heard sooner than you are aware. " That very night shefell into so violent a temptation that one equal to it has seldom beenknown. It was then she had ample occasion to acknowledge her ownweakness, and what she would be without grace. She conceived at first aviolent hatred for me, saying that I was the cause of her pain. But itserved her, as the clay did to enlighten him who had been born blind. She soon saw very well what had brought on her so terrible a state. 

I fell sick even to extremity. This sickness proved a means to coverthe great mysteries which it pleased God to operate in me. Scarce everwas a disorder more extraordinary, or of longer continuance in itsexcess. Several times I saw in dreams Father La Mothe raisingpersecutions against me. Our Lord let me know that this would be andthat Father La Combe would forsake me in the time of persecution. Iwrote to him, and it disquieted him greatly. He thought his heart wasunited to the will of God and too desirous of serving me, to admit suchdesertion; yet it has since been found quite true. He was now to preachduring Lent, and was so much followed, that people came five leagues, to pass several days for the benefit of his ministry. I heard he was sosick that he was thought to die. I prayed to the Lord to restore hishealth, and enable him to preach to the people, who were longing tohear him. My prayer was heard, and he soon recovered, and resumed hispious labors. 

During this extraordinary sickness, which continued more than sixmonths, the Lord gradually taught me that there was another manner ofconversing among souls wholly His, than by speech. Thou madest meconceive, O divine Word, that as Thou art ever speaking and operatingin a soul, though therein thou appearest in profound silence; so therewas also a way of communication in thy creatures, in an ineffablesilence. I heard then a language which before had been unknown to me. Igradually perceived, when Father La Combe entered, that I could speakno more. There was formed in my soul the same kind of silence towardhim, as was formed in it in regard to God. I comprehended that God waswilling to show me that men might in this life learn the language ofangels. I was gradually reduced to speak to him only in silence. It wasthen that we understood each other in God, after a manner unutterableand divine. Our hearts spoke to each other, communicating a grace whichno words can express. It was like a new country, both for him and forme; but so divine, that I cannot describe it. At first this was done ina manner so perceptible, that is to say, God penetrated us with Himselfin a manner so pure and so sweet, that we passed hours in this profoundsilence, always communicative, without being able to utter one word. Itwas in this that we learned, by our own experience, the operations ofthe heavenly Word to reduce souls into unity with itself, and whatpurity one may arrive at in this life. It was given me to communicatethis way to other good souls, but with this difference: I did nothingbut communicate to them the grace with which they were filled, whilenear me, in this sacred silence, which infused into them anextraordinary strength and grace; but I received nothing from them;whereas with Father La Combe there was a flow and return ofcommunication of grace, which he received from me, and I from him, inthe greatest purity. 

In this long malady the love of God, and of Him alone, made up my wholeoccupation, I seemed so entirely lost to Him, as to have no sight ofmyself at all. It seemed as if my heart never came out of that divineocean, having been drawn into it through deep humiliations. Oh, happyloss, which is the consummation of bliss, though operated throughcrosses and through deaths!

Jesus was then living in me and I lived no more. These words wereimprinted in me, as a real state into which I must enter, (Matt. 8:20)"The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Sonof Man hath not where to lay his head. " This I have since experiencedin all its extent, having no sure abode, no refuge among friends, whowere ashamed of me, and openly renounced me, when universally decried;nor among my relations, most of whom declared themselves myadversaries, and were my greatest persecutors; while others looked onme with contempt and indignation. I might as David say, "For thy sake Ihave borne reproach; shame hath covered my face; I am become a strangerto my brethren, and an alien unto my mother's children; a reproach tomen, and despised of the people. "

He showed me all the world in a rage against me, without anyone daringto appear for me and assured me in the ineffable silence of His eternalWord, that He would give me vast numbers of children, which I shouldbring forth by the cross. I left it to Him to do with me whatever Hepleased, esteeming my whole and sole interest to be placed entirely inHis divine will. He gave me to see how the Devil was going to stir upan outrageous persecution against prayer, yet it should prove thesource of the same prayer, or rather the means which God would make useof to establish it. He gave me to see farther how He would guide meinto the wilderness, where He would cause me to be nourished for atime. The wings, which were to bear me thither, were the resignation ofmy whole self to His holy will. I think I am at present in thatwilderness, separated from the whole world in my imprisonment. I seealready accomplished in part what was then shown me. Can I ever expressthe mercies which my God has bestowed on me? No; they must ever remainin Himself, being of a nature not to be described, by reason of theirpurity and immensity. 

I was often to all appearance at the point of death. I fell intoconvulsions from violent pains which lasted a long time with violence. Father La Combe administered the sacrament to me, the Prioress of theUrsulines having desired him to do it. I was well satisfied to die, aswas he also in the expectation of my departure. For, being united inGod after a manner so pure, and so spiritual, death could not separateus. On the contrary it would have more closely united us. Father LaCombe, who was on his knees at my bedside, remarking the change of mycountenance, and how my eyes faded, seemed ready to give me up, whenGod inspired him to lift up his hands, and with a strong voice, whichwas heard by all who were in my room, at that time almost full, tocommand death to relinquish its hold. Instantly it seemed to bestopped. Thus God was pleased wonderfully to raise me up again; yet fora long time I continued extremely weak, during all of which our Lordgave me new testimonies of His love. How many times was He pleased tomake use of His servant to restore me to life, when I was almost on thevery point of expiring! As they saw that my sickness and pain did notentirely end, they judged that the air of the lake on which the conventwas situated, was very prejudicial to my constitution. They concludedthat it would be necessary for me to remove. 

During my indisposition, our Lord put it into the heart of Father LaCombe to establish a hospital in this place for the poor people seizedwith maladies, to institute also a committee or congregation of ladiesto furnish such as could not leave their families to go to the hospitalwith the means of subsistence during their illness, after the manner ofFrance, there having been yet no institution of this kind in thatcountry. Willingly did I enter into it; and without any other fund thanProvidence and some useless rooms which a gentleman of the town gaveus, we began it. We dedicated it to the holy Child Jesus, and He waspleased to give the first beds to it from my pension. He gave such ablessing that several other persons joined us in this charity. In ashort time there were nearly twelve beds in it and three persons ofgreat piety gave themselves to this hospital to serve it, who, withoutany salary, consecrated themselves to the service of the poor patients. I supplied them with ointments and medicines, which were freely givento such of the poor people of the town as had need of them. These goodladies were so hearty in the cause, that, through their charity, andthe care of the young women, this hospital was very well maintained andserved. These ladies joined together also in providing for the sick whocould not go to the hospital. I gave them some little regulations suchas I had observed when in France, which they continued to keep up withtenderness and love. 

All these little things, which cost but little, and which owed alltheir success to the blessing which God gave them, drew upon us newpersecutions. The Bishop of Geneva was offended with me more than ever, especially in seeing that these small matters rendered me beloved. Hesaid that I won over everybody. He openly declared, "he could not bearme in his diocese, " though I had done nothing but good, or rather Godby me. He extended the persecution to those good religious women whohad been my assistants. The prioress in particular had her own share tobear, though it did not last long. As I was obliged, on account of theair, to remove, after having been there about two years and a half, they were then more in peace and quietness. On another side, my sisterwas very weary of this house; and as the season for the watersapproached, they took occasion from thence to send her away with themaid which I brought with me, who had molested me exceedingly in mylate illness. I only kept her whom Providence had sent me by means ofmy sister. I have ever thought that God had ordered my sister's journeyonly to bring her to me, as one chosen of Him and proper for the statewhich it was His pleasure to cause me to bear. 

While I was yet indisposed, the Ursulines, with the Bishop of Verceil, earnestly requested the Father-general of the Barnabites, to seek amongthe religious, a man of merit, piety and learning, in whom he mightplace confidence, and who might serve him for a prebend and acounselor. At first he cast his eyes on Father La Combe; yet before heabsolutely engaged him with the said bishop, he wrote to him, to knowwhether he had any objection thereto. Father La Combe replied that hehad no other will but that of obeying him, and that he might commandhim herein as he should think best in the case. He gave me an accountof this, and that we were going to be entirely separated. I was glad tofind that our Lord would employ him, under a bishop who knew him, andwould be likely to do him justice. Yet it was some time before he went, matters not being all arranged. 

CHAPTER 13

I then went off from the Ursulines and they sought for a house for meat a distance from the lake. There was but one to be found empty whichhad the look of the greatest poverty. It had no chimney but in thekitchen, through which one was obliged to pass. I took my daughter withme and gave up the largest room for her and the maid who was to takecare of her. I was lodged in a little hole on straw, to which I went upby ladder. As we had no other furniture but our beds, quite plain andhomely, I brought some straw chairs and some Dutch earthen and woodenware. Never did I enjoy a greater content than in this little hole, which appeared so very conformable to the state of Jesus Christ. Ifancied everything better on wood than on plate. I laid in all myprovisions, hoping to stay there a long time; but the Devil did notleave me long in such sweet peace. It would be difficult for me to tellthe persecutions which were stirred up against me. They threw stones inat my windows which fell at my feet. I had put my little garden inorder. They came in the night, tore it all up, broke down the arbor, and overturned everything in it, as if it had been ravaged by soldiers. They came to abuse me at the door all night long, making such a racketas if they were going to break it open. These persons have since toldwho the person was that put them on such work. 

Though from time to time I continued my charities at Gex, I was not theless persecuted for it. They offered one person a warrant to compelFather La Combe to stay at Tonon, thinking he would otherwise be asupport to me in the persecution, but we prevented it. I knew not thenthe designs of God, and that He would soon draw me from that poorsolitary place, in which I enjoyed a sweet and solid satisfaction, notwithstanding the abuse. I thought myself happier here than anysovereign on earth. It was for me like a nest and a place of repose andChrist was willing that I should be like Him. The Devil, as I havesaid, irritated my persecutors. They sent to desire me to go out of thediocese. All the good which the Lord had caused me to do in it wascondemned, more than the greatest crimes. Crimes they tolerated, but methey could not endure. All this while I never had any uneasiness orrepentance for my having left at all; not that I was assured of havingdone the will of God therein. Such an assurance would have been toomuch for me. But I could neither see nor regard anything, receivingeverything alike from the hand of God, who directed and disposed ofthese crosses for me either in justice or in mercy. 

The Marchioness of Prunai, sister of the chief Secretary of State tohis Royal Highness (the Duke of Savoy) and his prime minister, had sentan express from Turin, in the time of my illness, to invite me to cometo reside with her; and to let me know that, "being so persecuted as Iwas in this diocese, I should find an asylum with her; that during thattime things might grow better; that when they should be well disposedshe would return with me and join me with a friend of mine from Paris, who was willing also to come to labor there, according to the will ofGod. " I was not at that time in a condition to execute what she desiredand expected to continue with the Ursulines till things should change. She then wrote to me about it no more. This lady is one ofextraordinary piety, who had quitted the splendor and noise of theCourt, for the more silent satisfaction of a retired life, and to giveherself up to God. With an eminent share of natural advantages, she hascontinued a widow twenty-two years; has refused every offer of marriageto consecrate herself to our Lord entirely and without any reserve. When she knew that I had been obliged to leave the Ursulines, yetwithout knowing anything of the manner in which I had been treated, sheprocured a letter to oblige Father La Combe to go to pass some weeks atTurin, for her own benefit, and to bring me with him thither, where Ishould find a refuge. All this she did unknown to us. As she has toldus since, a superior force moved her to do it, without knowing thecause. If she had deliberately reflected on it, being such a prudentlady, she probably would not have done it; because the persecutions, which the Bishop of Geneva procured us in that place, cost her morethan a little of humiliations. Our Lord permitted him to pursue me, after a surprising manner, into all the places I have been in, withoutgiving me any relaxation. I never did him any harm, but on thecontrary, would have laid down my life for the good of his diocese. 

As this fell out without any design on our part, we, withouthesitation, believed it was the will of God; and thought it might bethe means of His appointment to draw us out of the reproach andpersecution we labored under, seeing myself chased on the one side, desired on the other. It was concluded that Father La Combe shouldconduct me to Turin, and that he should go from thence to Verceil. 

Beside him, I took with me a religious man of merit, who had taughttheology for fourteen years past, to take away from our enemies allcause for slander. I also took with me a boy whom I had brought out ofFrance. They took horses, and I hired a carriage for my daughter, mychambermaid and myself. But all precautions are useless, when itpleases God to permit them to be frustrated. Our adversariesimmediately wrote to Paris. A hundred ridiculous stories werecirculated about this journey; comedies were acted on it, thingsinvented at pleasure, and as false as anything in the world could be. It was my brother, Father de la Mothe, who was so active in utteringall this stuff. Had he believed it to be true, he ought out of charityto have concealed it; much more, being so very false. They said that Iwas gone all alone with Father La Combe, strolling about the country, from province to province, with many such fables, as weak and wicked asthey were incoherent and badly put together. We suffered all withpatience, without vindicating ourselves, or making any complaint. 

Scarcely were we arrived at Turin, but the Bishop of Geneva wroteagainst us. As he could pursue us no other way, he did it by letters. Father La Combe repaired to Verceil, and I staid at Turin, with theMarchioness of Prunai. But what crosses was I assaulted with in my ownfamily, from the Bishop of Geneva, from the Barnabites, and from a vastnumber of persons besides! My eldest son came to find me on the deathof my mother-in-law, which was an augmentation of my troubles. After wehad heard all his accounts of things and how they had made sales of allthe moveables, chosen guardians, and settled every article, withoutconsulting me. I seemed to be there entirely useless. It was judged notproper for me to return, considering the rigor of the season. 

The Marchioness of Prunai, who had been so warmly desirous of mycompany, seeing my great crosses and reproaches, looked coldly upon me. My childlike simplicity, which was the state wherein God at that timekept me, passed with her for stupidity. For when the question was tohelp anyone, or about anything which God required of me, He gave me, with the weakness of a child, the evident tokens of divine strength. Her heart was quite shut up to me all the time I was there. Our Lord, however, made me foretell events which should happen, which since thattime have actually been fulfilled, as well to herself as to herdaughter, and to the virtuous ecclesiastic who lived at her house. Shedid not fail, at last, to conceive more friendship for me, seeing thenthat Christ was in me. It was the force of self-love, and fear ofreproach, which had closed up her heart. Moreover, she thought herstate more advanced than in reality it was, by reason of her beingwithout tests; but she soon saw by experience that I had told her thetruth. She was obliged for family reasons to leave Turin, and go tolive on her own estate. She solicited me to go with her; but theeducation of my daughter did not permit. To stay at Turin without herseemed improper, because, having lived very retired in this place, Imade no acquaintance in it. I knew not which way to turn. The Bishop ofVerceil, where Father La Combe was, most obligingly wrote to me, earnestly entreating me to come, promising me his protection, andassuring me of his esteem, adding, "that he should look upon me as hisown sister; that he wished extremely to have me there. " It was his ownsister, one of my particular friends, who had written to him about me, as had also a French gentleman, an acquaintance of his. But a point ofhonor kept me from it. I would not have it said that I had gone afterFather La Combe, and that I had come to Turin only for the purpose ofgoing to Verceil. He had also his reputation to preserve, which was thecause that he could not agree to my going thither, however importunatethe Bishop was for it. Had we believed it to be the will of God, wewould both of us have passed over these considerations. God kept usboth in so great a dependence on His orders, that He did not let usforeknow them; but the divine moment of His providence determinedeverything. This proved of very great service to Father La Combe, whohad long walked in assurances, to die to them and to Himself. God by aneffect of His goodness, that he might thus die without any reserve, took them all from him. 

During the whole time of my residence at Turin, our Lord conferred onme very great favors. I found myself every day more transformed intoHim, and had continually more knowledge of the state of souls, withoutever being mistaken or deceived therein, though some were willing topersuade me to think the contrary. I had used my utmost endeavors togive myself other thoughts, which had caused me not a little pain. WhenI told, or wrote to Father La Combe about the state of some souls, which appeared to him more perfect and advanced than the knowledgegiven to me of them, he attributed it to pride. He was angry with me, and prejudiced against my state. I had no uneasiness on account of hisesteeming me the less, for I was not in a condition to reflect whetherhe esteemed me or not. He could not reconcile my willing obedience inmost things, with so extraordinary a firmness, which in certain caseshe looked upon as criminal. He admitted a distrust of my grace; he wasnot yet sufficiently confirmed in his way, nor did he duly comprehend, that it did not in any wise depend on me to be one way or another. If Ihad any such power I should have suited myself to what he said, tospare myself the crosses which my firmness caused me. Or, at least, Iwould have artfully dissembled my real sentiments. I could do neither. Were all to perish by it, I was in such a manner constrained, that Icould not forbear telling him the things, just as our Lord directed meto tell them to him. In this he had given me an inviolable fidelity tothe very last. No crosses or pains have ever made me fail a momenttherein. These things then, which appeared to him to be the strongprejudice of a conceited opinion, set him at variance against me. Though he did not openly show it, on the contrary tried to conceal itfrom me; yet how far distant soever he were from me, I could not beignorant of it. My spirit felt it, and that more or less, as theopposition was stronger or weaker; as soon as it abated or ended, mypain, occasioned thereby, ceased. He also, on his side, experienced thesame. He has told me and written to me many times over, "When I standwell with God, I find I am well with you. When I am otherwise with Him, I then find myself to be so with you also. " Thus he saw clearly thatwhen God received him, it was always in uniting him to me, as if Hewould accept of nothing from him but in this union. 

While he was at Turin, a widow who was a good servant of God, all inthe brightness of sensibility, came to him to confess. She utteredwonderful things of her state. I was then at the other side of theconfessional. He told me, "He had met with a soul given up to God; thatit was she who was present; that he was very much edified by her; thathe was far from finding the like in me; that I operated nothing butdeath upon his soul. " At first I rejoiced at his having met with such aholy soul. It ever gives me the highest joy to see my God glorified. AsI was returning, the Lord showed me clearly the state of that soul, asonly a beginning of devotion mixed with affection and a little silence, filled with a new sensation. This and more, as it was set before me, Iwas obliged to write to him. On his first reading of my letter hediscovered the stamp of truth in it; but soon after, letting in againhis old reflections, he viewed all I wrote in the light of pride. Hestill had in his mind the ordinary rules of humility conceived andcomprised after our manner. As to me, I let myself be led as a child, who says and does, without distinction, whatever it is made to say anddo. I left myself to be led wheresoever my heavenly Father pleased, high or low; all was alike good to me. 

He wrote to me, that, at his first reading of my letter there appearedin it something of truth; but that on reading it over again, he foundit to be full of pride, and of preference of my own discernments tothat of others. Some time after he was more enlightened in regard tothe state I was in. He then said, "continue to believe as you havedone; I encourage and exhort you to do it. " Some time after hesufficiently discovered, by that person's manner of acting, that shewas very far from what he had thought. I give this as only oneinstance. I might give many others, but this may suffice. 

CHAPTER 14

One night in a dream our Lord showed me, that He would also purify themaid whom He had given me, make her truly enter into death to herself. I freely resolved to suffer for her, as I did for Father La Combe. Asshe resisted God much more than he, and was much more under the powerof self-love, she had more to be purified from. What I could nottolerate in her was her regard for herself. I saw clearly that thedevil cannot hurt us only so far as we retain some fondness for thiscorrupt self. This sight was from God. He gave me the discerning ofspirits, which would ever accept what was from Him, or reject what wasnot; that not from any common methods of judging, not from any outwardinformation, but by an inward principle which is His gift alone. 

It is needful to mention here that souls which are yet in themselves, whatever degree of light and ardor they have attained, are unqualifiedfor it. They often think they have this discernment, when it is nothingelse but sympathy or antipathy of nature. Our Lord destroyed in meevery sort of natural antipathy. The soul must be very pure, anddepending on God alone, that all these things may be experienced inHim. In proportion as this maid became inwardly purified, my painabated, till the Lord let me know her state was going to be changed, which soon happily ensued. In comparison of inward pain for souls, outward persecutions, though ever so violent, scarce gave me any. 

The Bishop of Geneva wrote to different persons. He wrote in my favorto such as he thought would show me his letters, and quite the contraryin the letters which he thought I would never see. It was so orderedthat these persons, having showed each other their letters receivedfrom him, were struck with indignation to see in him so shameful aduplicity. They sent me those letters that I might take properprecautions. I kept them two years, and then burned them, not to hurtthe prelate. The strongest battery he raised against me was what he didwith the Secretary of State, who held that post in conjunction with theMarchioness of Prunai's brother. He used all imaginable endeavors torender me odious. He employed certain abbots for that purpose, insomuchthat, though I appeared very little abroad, I was well known by thedescription this bishop had given of me. This did not make so muchimpression as it would have done, if he had appeared in a better lightat Court. Some letters of his, which her royal highness found after theprince's death, written to him against her, had effect on the princess, that, instead of taking any notice of what he now wrote against me, sheshowed me great respect. She sent her request to me to come to see her. Accordingly I waited on her. She assured me of her protection, and thatshe was glad of my being in her dominions. 

It pleased God here to make use of me to the conversion of two or threeecclesiastics. But I had much to suffer from their repugnances and manyinfidelities--one of whom had vilified me greatly--and even after hisconversion turned aside into his old ways. God at length graciouslyrestored him. 

As I was undetermined whether I should place my daughter at theVisitation of Turin, or take some other course; I was exceedinglysurprised, at a time I least expected it, to see Father La Combe arrivefrom Verceil. He told me that I must return to Paris without any delay. It was in the evening, and he said, "set off the next morning. " Iconfess this sudden news startled me. It was for me a double sacrificeto return to a place where they had cried me down so much; also towarda family which held me in contempt, and who had represented my journey, caused by pure necessity, as a voluntary course, pursued through humanattachments. Behold me then disposed to go off, without offering asingle word in reply, with my daughter and my maid, without anybody toguide and attend us. Father La Combe was resolved not to accompany me, not so much as passing the mountains. The Bishop of Geneva had writtenon all sides that I was gone to Turin to run after him. But the FatherProvincial, who was a man of quality, and well acquainted with thevirtue of Father La Combe, told him, that it was improper and unsafe toventure on these mountains, without some person of acquaintance; themore as I had my little daughter with me. He therefore ordered him toaccompany me. Father La Combe confessed to me that he had somereluctance to do it, and only obedience, and the danger to which Ishould have been exposed, made him surmount it. He was only toaccompany me to Grenoble, and from thence to return to Turin. I wentoff then, designing for Paris, there to suffer whatever crosses andtrials it should please God to inflict. 

What made me go by Grenoble was the desire I had to spend two or threedays with a lady, an eminent servant of God, and one of my friends. When I was there Father La Combe and that lady spoke to me not to goany farther. God would glorify Himself in me and by me in that place. He returned to Verceil, and I left myself to be conducted as a child byProvidence. This lady took me to the house of a good widow, there notbeing accommodations at the inn. As I was ordered to stop at Grenoble, at her house I resided. I placed my daughter in a convent, and resolvedto employ all this time in resigning myself to be possessed in solitudeby Him who is the absolute Sovereign of my soul. I made not any visitin this place; no more had I in any of the others where I hadsojourned. I was greatly surprised when, a few days after my arrival, there came to see me several persons who made profession of a singulardevotion to God. I perceived immediately a gift which He had given me, of administering to each that which suited their states. I felt myselfinvested, all of a sudden, with the apostolic state. I discerned theconditions of the souls of such persons as spoke to me, and that withso much facility, that they were surprised at it, and said one toanother, that I gave every one of them "the very thing they had stoodin need of. " It was thou, O my God, who didst all these things; some ofthem sent others to me. It came to such excess, that, generally fromsix in the morning till eight in the evening, I was taken up inspeaking of the Lord. People flocked on all sides, far and near, friars, priests, men of the world, maids, wives, widows, all came oneafter another. The Lord supplied me with what was pertinent andsatisfactory to them all, after a wonderful manner, without any shareof my study or meditation therein. Nothing was hid from me of theirinterior state, and of what passed within them. Here, O my God, Thoumadest an infinite number of conquests known to Thyself only. They wereinstantly furnished with a wonderful facility of prayer. God conferredon them His grace plentifully, and wrought marvelous changes in them. The most advanced of these souls found, when with me, in silence, agrace communicated to them which they could neither comprehend, norcease to admire. The others found an unction in my words, and that theyoperated in them what I said. Friars of different orders, and priestsof merit, came to see me, to whom our Lord granted very great favors, as indeed He did to all, without exception, who came in sincerity. 

One thing was surprising; I had not a syllable to say to such as cameonly to watch my words, and to criticize them. Even when I thought totry to speak to them, I felt that I could not, and that God would nothave me do it. Some of them in return said, "The people are fools to goto see that lady. She cannot speak. " Others of them treated me as if Iwere only a stupid simpleton. After they left me there came one andsaid, "I could not get hither soon enough to apprize you not to speakto those persons; they come from such and such, to try what they cancatch from you to your disadvantage. " I answered them, "Our Lord hasprevented your charity; for I was not able to say one word to them. "

I felt that what I spoke flowed from the fountain, and that I was onlythe instrument of Him who made me speak. Amid this general applause, our Lord made me comprehend what the apostolic state was, with which Hehad honored me; that to give one's self up to the help of souls, in thepurity of His Spirit, was to expose one's self to the most cruelpersecutions. These very words were imprinted on my heart: "To resignourselves to serve our neighbor is to sacrifice ourselves to a gibbet. Such as now proclaim, 'Blessed is he who cometh in the name of theLord, ' will soon cry out, 'Away with him, crucify him. '" When one of myfriends speaking of the general esteem the people had for me, I said toher, "Observe what I now tell you, that you will hear curses cut of thesame mouths which at present pronounce blessings. " Our Lord made mecomprehend that I must be conformable to Him in all His states; andthat, if He had continued in a private life with His parents, He neverhad been crucified; that, when He would resign any of His servants tocrucifixion, He employed such in the ministry and service of theirneighbors. It is certain that all the souls employed herein byapostolic destination from God, and who are truly in the apostolicstate, are to suffer extremely. I speak not of those who put themselvesinto it, who, not being called of God in a singular manner, and havingnothing of the grace of the apostleship, have none of its crosses; butof those only who surrender themselves to God without any reserve, andwho are willing with their whole hearts to be exposed, for His sake, tosufferings without any mitigation. 

CHAPTER 15

Among so great a number of good souls, on whom our Lord wrought much byme, some were given me only as plants to cultivate. I knew their state, but had not that near connection with, or authority over them, which Ihad over others. It was then that I comprehended the true maternitybeyond what I had done before; for those of the latter kind were givenme as children, of whom some were faithful. I knew they would be so;they were closely united to me in pure charity. Others were unfaithful;I knew that of these some would never return from their infidelity, andthey were taken from me. Some, after slipping aside, were recovered. Both of them cost me much distress and inward pain, when, for want ofcourage to die to themselves, they gave up the point; and revolted fromthe good beginning they had been favored with. 

Our Lord, among such multitudes as followed Him on earth, had few truechildren. Wherefore He said to His Father, "Those that thou gavest me Ihave kept, and none of them is lost but the son of perdition, " showingthat He lost not any beside of His apostles, or disciples, though theysometimes made false steps. 

Among the friars who came to see me, there was one order whichdiscovered the good effects of grace more than any other. Some of thatvery order had before this, in a little town where Father La Combe wasin the exercise of his mission, been actuated with a false zeal, andviolent in persecuting all the good souls which had sincerely dedicatedthemselves to God, plaguing them after such a manner as can scarce beconceived. They burned all their books which treated of silence andinward prayer, refusing absolution to such as were in the practice ofit, driving into consternation, and almost into despair, such as hadformerly led wicked lives, but were now reformed, and preserved ingrace by means of prayer, becoming spotless and blameless in theirconduct. These friars had proceeded to such an excess of wild zeal asto raise a sedition in that town, in which a father of the oratory, aperson of distinction and merit, received strokes with a stick in theopen street, because he prayed extempore in the evenings, and onSundays made a short fervent prayer, which insensibly habituated thesegood souls to the use and practice of the like. 

I never had so much consolation as to see in this little town so manypious souls who with a heavenly emulation gave up their whole hearts toGod. There were girls of twelve or thirteen years of age, whoindustriously followed their work almost all the day long, in silence, and in their employments enjoyed a communion with God, having acquireda fixed habit. As these girls were poor, they placed themselves two andtwo together, and such as could do it read to the others who could not. One saw there the innocence of the primitive Christians revived. Therewas in that town a poor laundress who had five children, and a husbandparalytic, lame in the right arm, and yet worse distempered in mindthan in body. He had little strength left for anything else than tobeat her. This poor woman bore it with all the meekness and patience ofan angel, while she by her labor supported him and his five children. She had a wonderful gift of prayer, and amid her great suffering andextreme poverty, preserved the presence of God, and tranquility ofmind. There was also a shopkeeper, and one who made locks, very muchaffected with God. These were close friends. Sometimes the one andsometimes the other read to this laundress; and they were surprised tofind that she was instructed by the Lord Himself in all they read toher, and spoke divinely of it. 

Those friars sent for this woman, and threatened her much if she didnot leave off prayer, telling her it was only for churchmen to pray, and that she was very bold to practice it. She replied, that "Christhad commanded all to pray, " that He had said, "What I say unto you Isay unto all" (Mark 13:33, 37), without specifying either priests orfriars; that without prayer she could not support her crosses andpoverty; that formerly she had lived without it, and then was verywicked; that since she had been in the exercise of it, she had lovedGod with all her soul; so that to leave off prayer was to renounce hersalvation, which she could not do. She added that they might taketwenty persons who had never practiced prayer, and twenty of those whowere in the practice of it. Then, said she, "Inform yourselves of thelives of both sorts, and ye will see if ye have any reason to cry outagainst prayer. " Such words as these, from such a woman, one wouldthink might have fully convinced them; but instead of that, it onlyirritated them the more. They assured her that she should have noabsolution till she promised them to desist from prayer. She said thatdepended not on her, and that Christ is master of what He communicatesto His creatures, and of doing with it what He pleases. They refusedher absolution; and after railing at a good tailor, who served God withhis whole heart, they ordered all the books without exception, whichtreated on prayer to be brought to them. They burned them with theirown hands in the public square. They were very much elated with theirperformance; but all the town presently arose in an uproar. Theprincipal men went to the Bishop of Geneva, and complained to him ofthe scandals of these new missionaries, so different from the others. Speaking of Father La Combe, who had been there before them on hismission, they said that these seemed as if they were sent to destroyall the good he had done. The bishop was forced to come himself to thattown, and there to mount the pulpit, protesting that he had no share init, and that these fathers had pushed their zeal too far. The friars, on the other side declared, they had done all they did, pursuant to theorders given them. 

There were also at Tonon young women who had retired together, beingpoor villagers, the better to earn their livelihood and to serve God. One of them read from time to time, while the others were at work, andnot one went out without asking leave of the eldest. They woveribbands, or spun, the strong supporting the weak. They separated thesepoor girls, and others beside them, in several villages, and drove themout of the church. 

It was the friars of the very order whom our Lord made use of toestablish prayer in (I know not how) many places. Into the places wherethey went, they carried a hundred times more books of prayer than thosewhich their brethren had burned. The hand of God appeared to mewonderfully in these things. 

One day when I was sick, a brother who had skill in curing diseases, came for a charitable collection, but hearing I was ill, came in to seeme, and gave me medicines proper for my disorder. We entered into aconversation which revived in him the love he had for God, which heacknowledged had been too much stifled by his occupations. I made himcomprehend that there was no employment which should hinder him fromloving God, and from being occupied within himself. He readily believedme, as he already had a good share of piety, and of an interiordisposition. Our Lord conferred on him many favors, and gave him to beone of my true children. 

I saw at this time, or rather experienced the ground on which Godrejects sinners from His bosom. All the cause of God's rejection is inthe will of the sinner. If that will submits, how horrible soever hebe, God purifies him in his love, and receives him into his grace; butwhile that will rebels, the rejection continues. For want of abilityseconding his inclination, he should not commit the sin he is inclinedto, yet he never can be admitted into grace till the cause ceases, which is this wrong will, rebellious to the divine law. If that oncesubmits, God then totally removes the effects of sin, which stain thesoul, by washing away the defilements which he has contracted. If thatsinner dies in the time that his will is rebellious and turned towardsin, as death fixes forever the disposition of the soul, and the causeof its impurity is ever subsisting, such soul can never be receivedinto God. Its rejection must be eternal, as there is such an absoluteopposition between essential purity and essential impurity. And as thissoul, from its own nature necessarily tends to its own center, it iscontinually rejected of the Lord, by reason of its impurity, subsistingnot only in the effects, but in their cause. It is the same way in thislife. This cause, so long as it subsists, absolutely hinders the graceof God from operating in the soul. But if the sinner comes to die trulypenitent, then the cause, which is the wrong will, being taken away, there remains only the effect or impurity caused by it. He is then in acondition to be purified. God of his infinite mercy has provided alaver of love and of justice, a painful laver indeed, to purify thissoul. And as the defilement is greater or less, so is the pain; butwhen the cause is utterly taken away, the pain entirely ceases. Souls, are received into grace, as soon as the cause of sin ceases; but theydo not pass into the Lord Himself, till all its effects are washedaway. If they have not courage to let Him, in His own way and will, thoroughly cleanse and purify them, they never enter into the puredivinity in this life. 

The Lord incessantly solicits this will to cease to be rebellious, andspares nothing on His side for this good end. The will is free, yetgrace follows it still. As soon as the will ceases to rebel, it findsgrace at the door, ready to introduce its unspeakable benefits. O, thegoodness of the Lord and baseness of the sinner, each of them amazingwhen clearly seen!

Before I arrived at Grenoble, the lady, my friend, saw in a dream thatour Lord gave me an infinite number of children all uniformly clad, bearing on their habits the marks of candor and innocence. She thoughtI was coming to take care of the children of the hospital. But as soonas she told me, I discerned that it was not that which the dream meant;but that our Lord would give me, by a spiritual fruitfulness, a greatnumber of children; that they would not be my true children, but insimplicity, candor and innocence. So great an aversion I have toartifice and disguise. 

CHAPTER 16

The physician of whom I have spoken, was disposed to lay open his heartto me. Our Lord gave him through me all that was necessary for him; forthough disposed to the spiritual life, yet for want of courage andfidelity he had not duly advanced in it. 

He had occasion to bring to me some of his companions who were friars;and the Lord took hold of them all. It was at the very same time, thatthe others of the same order were making all the ravages I havementioned, and opposing with all their might the Holy Spirit of theLord. I could not but admire to see how the Lord was pleased to makeamends for former damages, pouring out His Spirit in abundance on thesemen, while the others were laboring vehemently against it, doing allthey could to destroy its dominion and efficacy in theirfellow-mortals. But those good souls instead of being staggered bypersecutions, grew the stronger by it. The Superior, and the master ofthe novices of the house in which this doctor was declared against me, without knowing me. They were grievously chagrined that a woman, asthey said, should be so much flocked to, and so much sought after. Looking at things as they were in themselves, and not as they were inthe Lord, who does whatever pleases Him, they had contempt for the giftwhich was lodged in so mean an instrument, instead of esteeming theLord and His grace. Yet this good brother at length got the superior tocome to see me, and thank me for the good which he said I had done. OurLord so ordered, that he found something in my conversation whichreached and took hold of him. At length he was completely brought over. He it was, who some time after, being visitor, dispersed such a numberof those books, bought at their own charge, which the others had triedutterly to destroy. Oh, how wonderful art Thou, my God! In all Thy wayshow wise, in all Thy conduct how full of love! How well Thou canstfrustrate all the false wisdom of men, and triumph over their vainpretensions!

There were in this noviciate many novices. The eldest of them grew sovery uneasy under his vocation, that he knew not what to do. So greatwas his trouble that he could neither read, study, pray, nor doscarcely any of his duties. His companion brought him to me. We spokeawhile together, and the Lord discovered to me both the cause of hisdisorder and its remedy. I told it to him; and he began to practiceprayer, even that of the heart. He was on a sudden wonderfully changed, and the Lord highly favored him. As I spoke to him grace wrought in hisheart, and his soul drank it in, as the parched ground does the gentlerain. He felt himself relieved of his pain before he left the room. Hethen readily, joyfully, and perfectly performed all his exercises, which before were done with reluctance and disgust. He now both studiedand prayed easily, and discharged all his duties, in such a manner, that he was scarce known to himself or to others. What astonished himmost was a remarkable gift of prayer. He saw that there was readilygiven him what he could never have before, whatever pains he took forit. This enlivening gift was the principle which made him act, gave himgrace for his employments, and an inward fruition of the grace of God, which brought all good with it. He gradually brought me all thenovices, all of whom partook of the effects of grace, thoughdifferently, according to their different temperaments. Never was therea more flourishing noviciate. 

The master and superior could not forbear admiring so great a change intheir novices, though they did not know the cause of it. One day, asthey were speaking of it to the collector, for they esteemed him highlyon account of his virtue, he said, "My fathers, if you will permit me, I will tell you the reason of it. It is the lady against whom you haveexclaimed so much without knowing her, whom God has made use of for allof this. " They were very surprised; and both the master, thoughadvanced in age, and his superior then submitted humbly to practiceprayer, after the manner taught by a little book, which the Lordinspired me to write, and of which I shall say more hereafter. Theyreaped such benefit from it, that the superior said to me, "I am becomequite a new man. I could not practice prayer before, because myreasoning faculty was grown dull and exhausted; but now I do it asoften as I will, with ease, with much fruit, and a quite differentsensation of the presence of God. " And the master said, "I have been afriar these forty years, and can truly say that I never knew how topray; nor have I ever known or tasted of God, as I have done since Iread that little book. "

Many others were gained to God, whom I looked on to be my children. Hegave me three famous friars, of an order by which I have been, andstill am, very much persecuted. He made me also of service to a greatnumber of nuns, of virtuous young women, and even men of the world;among the rest a young man of quality, who had quitted the order of theknights of Malta, to take that of the priesthood. He was the relationof a bishop near him, who had other designs of preferment for him. Hehas been much favored of the Lord, and is constant in prayer. I couldnot describe the great number of souls which were then given me, aswell maids, as wives, priests and friars. But there were three curates, one canon, and one grand-vicar, who were more particularly given me. There was one priest for whom I suffered much, through his not beingwilling to die to himself, and loving himself too much. With a sadregret I saw him decaying, falling away. As for the others there aresome of them who have continued stedfast and immovable, and some whomthe tempest has shaken a little, but not torn away. Though these startaside, yet they still return. But those who are snatched quite awayreturn no more. 

There was one true daughter given me, whom our Lord made use of to gainmany others to Him. She was in a strange state of death when I firstsaw her, and by me He gave her life and peace. She afterward, fellextremely ill. The doctors said she would die; but I had an assuranceof the contrary, and that God would make use of her to gain souls, ashe has done. There was in a monastery a young woman confined in a stateof distraction. I saw her, knew her case, and that it was not what theythought it was. As soon as I had spoken to her she recovered. But theprioress did not like that I should tell her my thoughts of it, becausethe person who had brought her thither was her friend. They plagued hermore than before, and threw her back again into her distraction. 

A sister of another monastery had been for eight years in a deepmelancholy unrelieved by anyone. Her director increased it, bypracticing remedies contrary to her disorder. I had never been in thatmonastery; for I did not go into such places, unless I was sent for, asI did not think it right to intrude, but left myself to be conducted ofProvidence. I was very much surprised that at eight o'clock at nightone came for me from the prioress. It was in the long days of summer, and being near, I went. I met with a sister who told me her case. Shehad gone to such excess, that seeing no remedy for it, she had taken aknife to kill herself. The knife fell out of her hand and a personcoming to see her had advised her to speak to me. Our Lord made me knowat first what the matter was; and that He required her to resignherself to Him, instead of resisting Him as they had made her do foreight years. I was instrumental to draw her into such a resignation, that she entered at once into a peace of paradise; all her pains andtroubles were instantly banished; and never returned again. She has thegreatest capacity of any in the house. She was presently so changed asto be the admiration of the whole community. Our Lord gave her a verygreat gift of prayer and His continual presence, with a faculty andreadiness for everything. A domestic also, who had troubled her fortwenty-two years past, was delivered from her troubles. That produced aclose tie of friendship between the prioress and me, as the wonderfulchange and the peace of this sister surprised her, she having so oftenseen her in her terrible sorrow. I also contracted other such ties inthis monastery, where there are souls under the Lord's special regard, whom He drew to Himself by the means He had been pleased to makechoice. 

I was specially moved to read the Holy Scriptures. When I began I wasimpelled to write the passage, and instantly its explication was givenme, which I also wrote, going on with inconceivable expedition, lightbeing poured in upon me in such a manner, that I found I had in myselflatent treasures of wisdom and knowledge which I had not yet known of. Before I wrote I knew not what I was going to write. And after I hadwritten, I remembered nothing of what I had penned; nor could I makeuse of any part of it for the help of souls. The Lord gave me, at thetime I spoke to them (without any study or reflection of mine) all thatwas necessary for them. Thus the Lord made me go on with an explanationof the holy internal sense of the Scriptures. I had no other book butthe Bible, nor ever made use of any but that, and without even seekingfor any. When, in writing on the Old Testament, I made use of passagesof the New, to support what I had said, it was without seeking them, they were given me along with the explication; and in writing on theNew Testament, therein making use of passages of the Old, they weregiven me in like manner without my seeking anything. I had scarce anytime for writing but in the night, allowing only one or two hours tosleep. The Lord made me write with so much purity, that I was obligedto leave off or begin again, as He was pleased to order. When I wroteby day, often suddenly interrupted, I left the word unfinished, and Heafterward gave me what He pleased. If I gave way to reflection I waspunished for it, and could not proceed. Yet sometimes I was not dulyattentive to the divine Spirit, thinking I did well to continue when Ihad time, even without feeling His immediate impulse or enlightninginfluence, from whence it is easy to see some places clear andconsistent, and others which have neither taste nor unction; such isthe difference of the Spirit of God from the human and natural spirit. Although they are left just as I wrote them, yet I am ready, ifordered, to adjust them according to my present light. 

Didst thou not, O my God, turn me a hundred ways, to prove whether Iwas without any reserve, through every kind of trial, or whether I hadnot yet some little interest for myself? My soul became hereby readilytoo pliable to every discovery of the divine will, and whatever kind ofhumiliations attended me to counterbalance my Lord's favors, tilleverything, high or low, was rendered alike to me. 

Methinks the Lord acts with His dearest friends as the sea with itswaves. Sometimes it pushes them against the rocks where they break inpieces, sometimes it rolls them on the sand, or dashes them on themire, then instantly it retakes them into the depths of its own bosom, where they are absorbed with the same rapidity that they were firstejected. Even among the good the far greater part are souls only ofmercy; surely that is well; but to appertain to divine justice, oh, howrare and yet how great! Mercy is all distributive in favor of thecreature, but justice destroys everything of the creature, withoutsparing anything. 

The lady, who was my particular friend, began to conceive some jealousyon the applause given me, God so permitting if for the fartherpurification of her soul, through this weakness, and the pain it causedher. Also some confessors began to be uneasy, saying that it was noneof my business to invade their province, and to meddle in the helps ofsouls; that there were some of the penitents which had a greataffection for me. It was easy for me to observe the difference betweenthose confessors who, in their conducting of souls, seek nothing butGod, and those who seek themselves therein. The first came to see me, and rejoiced greatly at the grace of God bestowed on their penitents, without fixing their attention on the instrument. The others, on thecontrary, tried underhand to stir up the town against me. I saw thatthey would be in the right to oppose me, if I had intruded of myself;but I could do nothing but what the Lord made me do. At times therecame some to dispute and oppose me. Two friars came, one of them a manof profound learning and a great preacher. They came separately, afterhaving studied a number of difficult things to propose to me. Thoughthey were matters far out of my reach, the Lord made me answer asjustly as if I had studied them all my life; after which I spoke tothem as He inspired me. They went away not only convinced andsatisfied, but affected with the love of God. 

I still continued writing with a prodigious swiftness; for the handcould scarcely follow fast enough the Spirit which dictated. Throughthe whole progress of so long a work I never altered my manner nor madeuse of any other book than the Bible itself. The transcriber, whateverdiligence he used, could not copy in five days what I wrote in onenight. Whatever is good in it comes from God only. Whatever isotherwise from myself; I mean from the mixture which I have made, without duly attending to it, of my own impurity with his pure andchaste doctrine. In the day I had scarcely time to eat, by reason ofthe vast numbers of people which came thronging to me. I wrote thecanticles in a day and a half, and received several visits besides. 

Here I may add to what I have said about my writings, that aconsiderable part of the book of Judges happened by some means to belost. Being desired to render that book complete, I wrote again theplaces lost. Afterward when the people were about leaving the house, they were found. My former and latter explications, on comparison, werefound to be perfectly conformable to each other, which greatlysurprised persons of knowledge and merit, who attested the truth of it. 

There came to see me a counselor of the parliament, a servant of God, who finding on my table a tract on prayer, which I had written longbefore, desired me to lend it. Having read it and liked it much, helent it to some friends, to whom he thought it might be of service. Everyone wanted copies of it. He resolved therefore to have it printed. The impression was begun, and proper approbations given to it. Theyrequested me to write a preface, which I did, and thus was that littlebook printed. This counselor was one of my intimate friends, and apattern of piety. The book has already passed through five or sixeditions; and our Lord has given a very great benediction to it. Thosegood friars took fifteen hundred of them. The devil became so enragedagainst me on account of the conquest which God made by me, that I wasassured he was going to stir up against me a violent persecution. Allthat gave me no trouble. Let him stir up against me ever so strangepersecutions. I know they will all serve to the glory of my God. 

CHAPTER 17

A poor girl of very great simplicity, who earned her livelihood by herlabor, and was inwardly favored of the Lord, came all sorrowful to me, and said, "Oh my mother, what strange things have I seen!" I asked whatthey were, "Alas" said she, "I have seen you like a lamb in the midstof a vast troop of furious wolves. I have seen a frightful multitude ofpeople of all ranks and robes, of all ages, sexes and conditions, priests, friars, married men, maids and wives, with pikes, halberts anddrawn swords, all eager for your instant destruction. You let themalone without stirring, or being surprised and without offering any wayto defend yourself. I looked on all sides to see whether anyone wouldcome to assist and defend you; but I saw not one. "

Some days after, those, who through envy were raising private batteriesagainst me, broke forth. Libels began to spread. Envious people wroteagainst me, without knowing me. They said that I was a sorceress, thatit was by a magic power I attracted souls, that everything in me wasdiabolical; that if I did charities, it was because I coined, and putoff false money, with many other gross accusations, equally false, groundless and absurd. 

As the tempest increased every day, some of my friends advised me towithdraw, but before I mention my leaving Grenoble, I must saysomething farther of my state while here. 

It seemed to me that all our Lord made me do for souls, would be inunion with Jesus Christ. In this divine union my words, had wonderfuleffect, even the formation of Jesus Christ in the souls of others. Iwas in no wise able of myself to say the things I said. He whoconducted me made me say what He pleased, and as long as He pleased. Tosome I was not permitted to speak a word; and to others there flowedforth as it were a deluge of grace, and yet this pure love admitted notof any superfluity, or a means of empty amusement. When questions wereasked, to which an answer were useless, it was not given me. It was thesame in regard to such as our Lord was pleased to conduct through deathto themselves, and who came to seek for human consolation. I hadnothing for them but what was purely necessary, and could proceed nofarther. I could at least only speak of indifferent things, in suchliberty as God allows, in order to suit everyone, and not to beunsociable or disagreeable to any; but for His own word, He Himself isthe dispenser of it. Oh, if preachers were duly careful to speak onlyin that spirit what fruits would they bring forth in the lives of thehearers! With my true children I could communicate best in silence, inthe spiritual language of the divine Word. I had the consolation sometime before to hear one read in St. Augustine a conversation he hadwith his mother. He complains of the necessity of returning from thatheavenly language to words. I sometimes said, "Oh, my Love, give mehearts large enough to receive and contain the fulness bestowed on me. "

After this manner, when the Holy Virgin approached Elizabeth, awonderful commerce was maintained between Jesus Christ and St. John theBaptist, who after this manifested no eagerness to come to see Christ, but was drawn to retire into the desert, to receive the likecommunications with the greatest plenitude. When he came forth topreach repentance, he said, not that he was the Word, but only a Voicewhich was sent to make way, or open a passage into the hearts of thepeople for Christ the Word. He baptized only with water, for that washis function; for, as the water in running off leaves nothing, so doesthe Voice when it is past. But the Word baptized with the Holy Ghost, because He imprinted Himself on souls, and communicated with them bythat Holy Spirit. It is not observed that Jesus Christ said anythingduring the whole obscure part of His life, though it is true that notany of His words shall be lost. Oh Love, if all thou hast said andoperated in silence were to be written, I think the whole world couldnot contain the books that should be written. John 21:25. 

All that I experienced was shown me in the Holy Scripture. I saw withadmiration that there passed nothing within my soul which was not inJesus Christ and in the Holy Scriptures. I must pass over very manythings in silence, because they cannot be expressed. If they wereexpressed they could not be understood or comprehended. 

I often felt much for Father La Combe, who was not yet fixed in hisstate of interior death, but often rose and fell into alternatives. Iwas made sensible that Father La Combe was a vessel of election, whomGod had chosen to carry His name among the Gentiles, and that He wouldshow him how much he must suffer for that name. A carnal world judgescarnally of them, and imputes to human attachment what is from thepurest grace. If this union by any deviation be broken, the more pureand perfect it is, the more painfully will it be felt; the separationof the soul from God by sin being worse than that from the body ofdeath. For myself I may say I had a continual dependence on God, inevery state; my soul was ever willing to obey every motion of HisSpirit. I thought there could not be anything in the world which Hecould require from me, to which I would not give myself up readily andwith pleasure. I had no interest at all for myself. When God requiresanything from this wretched nothing, I find no resistance left in me todo His will, how rigorous soever it may appear. If there is a heart inthe world of which Thou art the sole and absolute master, mine seems tobe one of that sort. Thy will, however rigorous, is its life and itspleasure. 

To resume the thread of my story, the Bishop of Grenoble's Almonerpersuaded me to go for some time to Marseilles, to let the storm passover. He told me that I would be well received there, it being hisnative soil, and that many people of merit were there. I wrote toFather La Combe for his consent. He readily gave it. I might have goneto Verceil; for the Bishop of Verceil had written me very obligingletters, earnestly pressing me to come. But a human respect, and fearof affording a handle to my enemies, gave me an extreme aversionthereto. 

Beside the above, the Marchioness of Prunai, who, since my departurefrom her, had been more enlightened by her own experience, having metwith a part of the things which I thought would befall her, hadconceived for me a very strong friendship and intimate union of spirit, in such a manner that no two sisters could be more united than we. Shewas extremely desirous that I would return to her, as I had formerlypromised her. But I could not resolve upon this, lest it should bethought that I was gone after Father La Combe. There had been no roomgiven to anybody to accuse me of any indirect attachment to him; forwhen it depended on myself not to continue with him, I did not do it. The Bishop of Geneva had not failed to write against me to Grenoble, ashe had done to other places. His nephew had gone from house to house tocry me down. All this was indifferent to me; and I did not cease to doto his diocese all the good in my power. I even wrote to him in arespectful manner; but his heart was too much closed to yield toanything. 

Before I left Grenoble, that good girl I have spoken of came to meweeping, and told me that I was going, and that I hid it from her, because I would have nobody know it; but that the Devil would be beforeme in all the places I should go to; that I was going to a town, whereI would scarce be arrived, before he would stir up the whole townagainst me, and would do me all the harm he possibly could. What hadobliged me to conceal my departure, was my fear of being loaded withvisits, and testimonies of friendship from a number of good persons, who had a very great affection for me. 

I embarked then upon the Rhone, with my maid and a young woman ofGrenoble, whom the Lord has highly favored through my means. The Bishopof Grenoble's Almoner also accompanied me, with another very worthyecclesiastic. We met with many alarming accidents and wonderfulpreservations; but those instant dangers, which affrighted others, farfrom alarming me, augmented my peace. The Bishop of Grenoble's Almonerwas much astonished. He was in a desperate fright, when the boat struckagainst a rock, and opened at the stroke. In his emotion lookingattentively at me, he observed that I did not change my countenance, ormove my eyebrows, retaining all my tranquillity. I did not so much asfeel the first emotions of surprise, which are natural to everybody onthose occasions, as they depend not on ourselves. What caused my peacein such dangers as terrify others, was my resignation to God, andbecause death is much more agreeable to me than life, if such were Hiswill, to which I desire to be ever patiently submissive. 

A man of quality, a servant of God, and one of my intimate friends hadgiven me a letter for a knight of Malta, who was very devout, and whomI have esteemed since I have known him, as a man whom our Lord designedto serve the order of Malta greatly, and to be its ornament and supportby his holy life. I had told him that I thought he should go thither, and that God would assuredly make use of him to diffuse a spirit ofpiety into many of the knights. He has actually gone to Malta, wherethe first places were soon given him. This man of quality sent him mylittle book of prayer and printed at Grenoble. He had a chaplain veryaverse to the spiritual path. He took this book, and condemning it atonce, went to stir up a part of the town, and among the rest a set ofmen who called themselves the seventy-two disciples of St. Cyran. Iarrived at Marseilles at ten o'clock in the morning, and that veryafternoon all was in a noise against me. Some went to speak to thebishop, telling him that, on account of that book, it was necessary tobanish me from the city. They gave him the book which he examined withone of his prebends. He liked it well. He sent for Monsieur Malaval anda father Recollect, who he knew had come to see me a little after myarrival, to inquire of them from whence that great tumult had its rise, which indeed had no other effect on me than to make me smile, seeing sosoon accomplished what that young woman had foretold me. MonsieurMalaval and that good father told the bishop what they thought of me;after which he testified much uneasiness at the insult given me. I wasobliged to go to see him. He received me with extraordinary respect, and begged my excuse for what had happened; desired me to stay atMarseilles, and assured me that he would protect me. He even askedwhere I lodged, that he might come to see me. 

Next day the Bishop of Grenoble's Almoner went to see him, with thatother priest who had come with us. The Bishop of Marseilles againtestified to them his sorrow for the insults given me without anycause; and told them, that it was usual with those persons to insultall such as were not of their cabal, that they had even insultedhimself. They were not content with that. They wrote to me the mostoffensive letters possible, though at the same time they did not knowme. I apprehended that our Lord was beginning in earnest to take fromme every place of abode; and those words were renewed in my mind, "Thefoxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son ofman hath not where to lay his head. "

In the short time of my stay at Marseilles, I was instrumental insupporting some good souls, and among others an ecclesiastic, who tillthen was unacquainted with me. After having finished his thanksgivingin the church, seeing me go out, he followed me into the house in whichI lodged. Then he told me that the Lord had inspired him to address me, and to open his inward state to me. He did it with as much simplicityas humility, and the Lord gave him through me all that was necessaryfor him, from whence he was filled with joy, and thankfulacknowledgments to God. Although there were many spiritual personsthere, and even of his intimate friends, he never had been moved toopen his mind to any of them. He was a servant of God, and favored byHim with a singular gift of prayer. During the eight days I was atMarseilles, I saw many good souls there. Through all my persecutions, our Lord always struck some good stroke of His own right hand, and thatgood ecclesiastic was delivered from an anxiety of mind, which had muchafflicted him for some years. 

After I had left Grenoble, those who hated me, without knowing me, spread libels against me. A woman for whom I had great love, and whom Ihad even extricated from an engagement which she had continued in forseveral years, and contributed to her discarding the person to whom shehad been attached, suffered her mind to resume its fondness for thatpernicious engagement. She became violently enraged against me forhaving broken it off. Although I had freely been at some expense toprocure her freedom, still she went to the Bishop of Grenoble, to tellhim that I had counseled her to do an act of injustice. She then wentfrom confessor to confessor, repeating the same story, to animate themagainst me. As they were too susceptible of the prejudices infused, thefire was soon kindled in all quarters. There were none but those whoknew me, and who loved God, that took my part. They became more closelyunited to me in sympathy through my persecution. It would have beenvery easy for me to destroy the calumny, as well with the Bishop ofGrenoble. I needed only to tell who the person was, and show the fruitsof her disorder. I could not declare the guilty person, without makingknown at the same time the other who had been her accomplice, who now, being touched of God, was very penitent, I thought it best for me tosuffer and be silent. There was a very pious man who knew all herhistory, from the beginning to the end of it, who wrote to her, that ifshe did not retract her lies, he would publish the account of herwicked life, to make known both her gross iniquity and my innocence. She continued some time in her malice, writing that I was a sorceress, with many other falsehoods. Some time after she had such a cruelremorse of conscience on this account, that she wrote both to thebishop and others to retract what she had said. She induced one towrite to me, to inform me that she was in despair for what she haddone; that God had punished her. After these recantations the outcryabated, the bishop disabused, and since that time he has testified agreat regard for me. This creature had, among other things, said that Icaused myself to be worshiped; also other unparalleled follies. 

From Marseilles I knew not how or whither I should turn next. I saw nolikelihood either of staying or of returning to Grenoble, where I hadleft my daughter in a convent. Father La Combe had written to me thathe did not think I ought to go to Paris. I even felt a strongrepugnance to the idea of going, which made me think it was not yet thetime for it. One morning I felt myself inwardly pressed to gosomewhere. I took a conveyance to go to see the Marchioness of Prunai, which was, I thought, the most honorable refuge for me in my presentcondition. I thought I might pass through Nice on my way to herhabitation, as some had assured me I might. But when I arrived at Nice, I was greatly surprised to learn that the conveyance could not pass themountain. I knew not what to do, nor which way to turn, alone, forsakenof everybody, and not knowing what God required of me. My confusion andcrosses seemed to increase. I saw myself, without refuge or retreat, wandering as a vagabond. All the tradesmen, whom I saw in their shops, appeared to me happy, in having a dwelling of their own in which toretire. Nothing in the world seemed harder than this wandering life tome, who naturally loved propriety and decorum. As I was in thisuncertainty, not knowing what course to take, one came to tell me thatnext day a sloop would set off, which used to go in one day to Genoa;and that if I chose it, they would land me at Savona, from whence Imight get myself carried to the Marchioness of Prunai's house. To thatI consented, as I could not be supplied with any other way. 

I had some joy at embarking on the sea. I said in myself, "If I am thedregs of the earth, the scorn and offscouring of nature, I am now goingto embark on the element which above all others is the mosttreacherous; if it be the Lord's pleasure to plunge me in the waves, itshall be mine to perish in them. " There came a tempest in a placedangerous for a small boat; and the mariners were some of thewickedest. The irritation of the waves gave a satisfaction to my mind. I pleased myself in thinking that those mutinous billows might probablysupply me with a grave. Perhaps I carried the point too far in thepleasure I took, at seeing myself beaten and bandied by the waters. Those who were with me, took notice of my intrepidity, but knew not thecause of it. I asked some little hole of a rock to be placed in, thereto live separate from all creatures. I figured to myself, that someuninhabited island would have terminated all my disgraces, and put mein a condition of infallibly doing Thy will. Thou designedst me aprison far different from that of the rock, and quite anotherbanishment than that of the uninhabited island. Thou reservest me to bebattered by billows, more irritated than those of the sea. Calumniesproved to be the unrelenting waves, to which I was to be exposed, inorder to be lashed and tossed by them without mercy. By the tempest wewere kept back, and instead of a short day's passage to Genoa, we wereeleven days making it. How peaceable was my heart in so violent anagitation! We could not land at Savona. We were obliged to go on toGenoa. We arrived there in the beginning of the week before Easter. 

While I was there I was obliged to bear the insults of the inhabitants, caused by the resentment they had against the French because of thehavoc of a late bombardment. The Doge was newly gone out of the city, and had carried off with him all the coaches. I could not get one, andwas obliged to stay several days at excessive expenses. The peoplethere demanded of us exorbitant sums, and as much for every singleperson as they would have asked for a company at the best eating placein Paris. I had little money left, but my store in Providence could notbe exhausted. I begged with the greatest earnestness for a carriage atany price, to pass the feast of Easter at the Marchioness of Prunai'shouse. It was then within three days of Easter. I could scarce any wayget myself to be understood. By the force of entreaty, they brought meat length a sorry coach with lame mules, and told me that they wouldtake me readily to Verceil, which was only two days journey, butdemanded an enormous sum. They would not engage to take me to theMarchioness of Prunai's house, as they knew not where her estate lay. This was to me a strong mortification; for I was very willing to go toVerceil; nevertheless the proximity of Easter; and want of money, in acountry where they used every kind of extortion and tyranny, left me nochoice. I was under an absolute necessity of submitting to be thusconveyed to Verceil. 

Thus Providence led me whither I would not. Our muleteer was one of themost brutal men; and for an increase of my affliction, I had sent awayto Verceil the ecclesiastic who accompanied us, to prevent theirsurprise at seeing me there, after I had protested against going. Thatecclesiastic was very coarsely treated on the road, through the hatredthey bore to the French. They made him go part of the way on foot, sothat, though he set off the day before me, he arrived there only a fewhours sooner than I did. As for the fellow who conducted us, seeing hehad only women under his care, he treated us in the most insolent andboorish manner. 

We passed through a wood infested with robbers. The muleteer wasafraid, and told us, that, if we met any of them on the road, we shouldbe murdered. They spared nobody. Scarcely had he uttered these words, when there appeared four men well armed. They immediately stopped us!The man was exceedingly frightened. I made a light bow of my head, witha smile, for I had no fear, and was so entirely resigned to Providence, that it was all one to die this way or any other; in the sea, or by thehands of robbers. When the dangers were most manifest, then was myfaith the strongest, as well as my intrepidity, being unable to wishfor anything else than what should fall out, whether to be dashedagainst the rocks, drowned, or killed in any other way; everything inthe will of God being equal to me. The people who used to convey orattend me said that they had never seen a courage like mine; for themost alarming dangers, and the time when death appeared the mostcertain, were those which seemed to please me the most. Was it not thypleasure, O my God, which guarded me in every imminent danger, and heldme back from rolling down the precipice, on the instant of sliding overits dizzy brow? The more easy I was about life, which I bore onlybecause Thou wast pleased to bear it, the more care Thou tookest topreserve it. There seemed a mutual emulation between us, on my part toresign it, and on thine to maintain it. The robbers then advanced tothe coach; but I had no sooner saluted them, than God made them changetheir design. Having pushed off one another, as it were, to hinder eachof them from doing any harm; they respectfully saluted me, and, with anair of compassion, unusual to such sorts of persons, retired. I wasimmediately struck to the heart with a full and clear conviction thatit was a stroke of Thy right hand, who had other designs over me thanto suffer me to die by the hand of robbers. It is Thy sovereign powerwhich takes away their all from Thy devoted lovers; and destroys theirlives with all that is of self without pity or sparing anything. 

The muleteer, seeing me attended only with two young women, thought hemight treat me as he would, perhaps expecting to draw money from me. Instead of taking me to the inn, he brought me to a mill, in whichthere was a woman. There was but one single room with several beds init, in which the millers and muleteers lay together. In that chamberthey forced me to stay. I told the muleteer I was not a person to liein such a place and wanted to oblige him to take me to the inn. Nothingof it would he do. I was constrained to go out on foot, at ten o'clockat night, carrying a part of my clothes, and to go a good way more thana quarter of a league in the dark, in a strange place, not knowing theway, crossing one end of the wood infested with robbers, to endeavor toget to the inn. That fellow, seeing us go off from the place, where hehad wanted to make me lodge, hooted after us in a very abusive manner. I bore my humiliation cheerfully, but not without feeling it. But thewill of God and my resignation to it rendered everything easy to me. Wewere well received at the inn; and the good people there did the bestin their power for our recovery from the fatigue we had undergone. Theyassured us the place we had left was very dangerous. Next morning wewere obliged to return on foot to the carriage for that man would notbring it to us. On the contrary, he gave us a shower of fresh insults. To consummate his base behavior, he sold me to the post, whereby I wasforced to go the rest of the way in a post-chaise instead of acarriage. 

In this equipage I arrived at Alexandria, a frontier town, subject toSpain, on the side of the Milanese. Our driver took us, according totheir custom, to the posthouse. I was exceedingly astonished when I sawthe landlady coming out not to receive him, but to oppose his entrance. She had heard there were women in the chaise, and taking us for adifferent sort of women from what we were, she protested against ourcoming in. On the other hand, the driver was determined to force hisentrance in spite of her. Their dispute rose to such a height, that agreat number of the officers of the garrison, with a mob, gathered atthe noise, who were surprised at the odd humor of the woman in refusingto lodge us. With earnestness I entreated the post to take us to someother house, but he would not; so obstinately was he bent on carryinghis point. He assured the landlady we were persons of honor and pietytoo; the marks whereof he had seen. At last, by force of pressingentreaties, he obliged her to come to see us. As soon as she had lookedat us, she acted as the robbers had done; she relented at once andadmitted us. 

No sooner had I alighted from the chaise, than she said, "Go shutyourselves up in that chamber hard by, and do not stir, that my son maynot know you are here; as soon as he knows it he will kill you. " Shesaid it with so much force, as did also the servant maid, that, ifdeath had not so many charms for me, I should have been ready to diewith fear. The two poor girls with me were under frightfulapprehensions. When any stirred, or came to open the door, they thoughtthey were coming to kill them. In short they continued in a dreadfulsuspense, between life and death, till next day, when we learned thatthe young man had sworn to kill any woman who lodged at the house. Afew days before, an event had fallen out, which had like to have ruinedhim; a woman of a bad life having there privately murdered a man insome esteem, that had cost the house a heavy fine; and he was afraid ofany more such persons coming, not without reason. 

CHAPTER 18

After these adventures, and others which it would be tedious to recite, I arrived at Verceil. I went to the inn, where I was badly received. Isent for Father La Combe, who I thought had been already apprised of mycoming, by the ecclesiastic whom I had sent before, and who would be ofso much service to me. This ecclesiastic was only a little whilearrived. How much better on the road should I have fared, if I had himwith me! For in that country they look upon ladies, accompanied withecclesiastics, with veneration, as persons of honor and piety. FatherLa Combe came in a strange fret at my arrival, God so permitting it. Hesaid that every one would think I was come after him, and that wouldinjure his reputation, which in that country was very high. I had noless pain to go. It was necessity only which had obliged me to submitto such a disagreeable task. The father received me with coolness, andin such a manner as let me sufficiently see his sentiments, and indeedredoubled my pain. I asked him if he required me to return, adding, ifhe did, "I would go off that moment however oppressed and spent, bothwith fatigues and fastings. " He said that he did not know how theBishop of Verceil would take my arrival, after he had given over allhis expectations of it, and after I had so long, and so obstinately, refused the obliging offers he had made me; since which he no longerexpressed any desire to see me. 

It seemed to me then as if I were rejected from the face of the earth, without being able to find any refuge, and as if all creatures werecombined to crush me. I passed that night without sleep, not knowingwhat course I should be obliged to take, being persecuted by myenemies, and a subject of disgrace to my friends. 

When it was known at the inn, that I was one of Father La Combe'sacquaintance, they treated me with greatest respect and kindness. Theyesteemed him as a saint. The father knew not how to tell the bishop ofmy arrival, and I felt his pain more than my own. As soon as thatPrelate knew that I was arrived, he sent his niece, who took me in hercoach, and carried me to her house. These things were only done out ofceremony; and the bishop, not having seen me yet, knew not what tothink of a journey so very unexpected, after I had thrice refused, though he sent expresses on purpose to bring me to him. He was out ofhumor with me. Nevertheless, as he was informed that my design was notto stay at Verceil, but to go to the Marchioness of Prunai's house, hegave orders for me to be well treated. He could not see me till EasterSunday was over. He officiated all the eve and all that day. After itwas over, he came in a chaise to his niece's house to see me. Though heunderstood French hardly any better than I did Italian, he was verywell satisfied with the conversation he had with me. He appeared tohave as much favour for me as he had of indifference before. 

He conceived as strong a friendship for me as if I had been his sister;and his only pleasure, amid his continual occupations, was to come andpass half an hour with me in speaking of God. He wrote to the Bishop ofMarseilles to thank him for having protected me in the persecutionsthere. He wrote to the Bishop of Grenoble; and he omitted nothing tomanifest his regard for me. He now seemed to think alone of finding outmeans to detain me in his diocese. He would not hear of my going to seethe Marchioness of Prunai. On the contrary, he wrote to her to come andsettle with me in his diocese. He sent Father La Combe to her, onpurpose to exhort her to come; assuring her that he would unite us allto make a congregation. The Marchioness entered into it readily, and sodid her daughter. They would have come with Father La Combe, but theMarchioness was sick. The bishop was active and earnest in collectingand establishing a society of us, and found several pious persons andsome very devout young ladies, who were all ready to come to join us. But it was not the will of God for fix me thus, but to crucify me yetmore. 

The fatigue of traveling made me sick. The girl also whom I broughtfrom Grenoble fell sick. Her relations, who were covetous took it intheir heads that, if she should die in my service, I would get her tomake a will in my favor. They were much mistaken. Far from desiring theproperty of others, I had given up my own. Her brother, full of thisapprehension, came with all speed; the first thing he spoke to herabout, although he found her recovered, was to make a will. That made agreat noise in Verceil. He wanted her to return with him, but sherefused. I advised her to do what her brother desired. He contracted afriendship with some of the officers of the garrison, to whom he toldridiculous stories, as that I wanted to use his sister badly. Hepretended she was a person of quality. They gave out what I was stillafraid of, --that I was come after Father La Combe. They even persecutedhim on my account. The bishop was much troubled, but could not remedyit. The friendship he had for me increased every day; because, as heloved God, so he did all those whom he thought desired to love God. Ashe saw me so much indisposed, he came to see me with assiduity andcharity, when at leisure from his occupations. He made me littlepresents of fruits and other things. His relations were jealous. Theysaid that I was come to ruin him, and to carry off his money intoFrance, which was farthest from my thoughts. The bishop patiently borethese affronts, hoping still to keep me in his diocese, when I shouldbe recovered. 

Father La Combe was the bishop's prebend and his confessor. He esteemedhim highly. God made use of him to convert several of the officers andsoldiers, who, from being men of scandalous lives, became patterns ofpiety. In that place everything was mixed with crosses, but souls weregained to God. There were some of his friars, who, after his example, were advancing toward perfection. Though I neither understood theirlanguage nor they mine, the Lord made us understand each other in whatconcerned His service. The Rector of the Jesuits took his time, whenFather La Combe was gone out of town, to prove me, as he said. He hadstudied theological matters, which I did not understand. He propoundedseveral questions. The Lord inspired me to answer him in such a manner, that he went away both surprised and satisfied. He could not forbearspeaking of it. 

The Barnabites of Paris, or rather Father de la Mothe took it in headto try to draw Father La Combe to go and preach at Paris. He wrote tothe Father-general about it, because they had no one at Paris tosupport their house, that their church was deserted; that it was a pityto leave such a man as Father La Combe in a place where he onlycorrupted his language. It was necessary to make his fine talentsappear at Paris, where he himself could not bear the burden of thehouse, if they did not give him an assistant of such qualifications andexperience. Who would not have thought all this to be sincere? TheBishop of Verceil, who was very much a friend of Father-general, havingadvice thereof, opposed it, and answered that it would be doing him thegreatest injury to take from him a man who was so exceedingly useful tohim, and at a time when he had the greatest need of him. 

The Father-general of the Barnabites would not agree to the request ofFather de la Mothe, for fear of offending the Bishop of Verceil. As tome, my indisposition increased. The air, which is there extremely bad, caused me a continual cough, with frequent returns of fever. I grew somuch worse that it was thought I could not get over it. The Bishop wasafflicted to see it, but, having consulted the physicians, they assuredhim that the air of the place was mortal to me, whereupon he said tome, "I had rather have you live, though distant from me, than see youdie here. " He gave up his design of establishing his congregation, formy friend would not settle there without me. The Genoese lady could noteasily leave her own city, where she was respected. The Genoesebesought her to set up there what the Bishop of Verceil had wanted herto set up. It was a congregation almost like that of Madame deMiramion. When the Bishop had first proposed this, however agreeable itappeared, I had a presentiment that it would not succeed, and that itwas not what our Lord required of me, though I submissively yielded tothe good proposal, were it only to acknowledge the many special favoursof this prelate. I was assured that the Lord would know well how toprevent what He should now require of me. As this good prelate saw hemust resign himself to let me go, he said to me, "You were willing tobe in the diocese of Geneva, and there they persecuted and rejectedyou; I, who would gladly have you, cannot keep you. " He wrote to FatherLa Mothe that I should go in the spring, as soon as the weather wouldpermit. He was sorry to be obliged to let me go. Yet he still hoped tohave kept Father La Combe, which probably might have been, had not thedeath of the Father-general given it another turn. 

Here it was that I wrote upon the Apocalypse, and that there was givenme a greater certainty of all the persecutions of the most faithfulservants of God. Here also I was strongly moved to write to Madame DeCh----. I did it with great simplicity; and what I wrote was like thefirst foundation of what the Lord required of her, having been pleasedto make use of me to help to bring her into His ways, being one to whomI am much united, and by her to others. 

The Bishop of Verceil's friend, the Father-general of the Barnabites, departed this life. As soon as he was dead, Father La Mothe wrote tothe Vicar-general who now held his place till another should be electedrenewing his request to have Father La Combe as an assistant. Thefather, hearing that I was obliged on account of my indisposition toreturn into France, sent an order to Father La Combe to return toParis, and to accompany me in my journey, as his doing that wouldexempt their house at Paris, already poor, from the expenses of so longa journey. Father La Combe, who did not penetrate the poison under thisfair outside, consented thereto; knowing it was my custom to have someecclesiastic with me in traveling. Father La Combe went off twelve daysbefore me, in order to transact some business, and to wait for me atthe passage over the mountains, as the place where I had most need ofan escort. I set off in Lent, the weather then being fine. It was asorrowful parting to the Bishop. I pitied him; he was so much affectedat losing both Father La Combe and me. He caused me to be attended, athis own expense, as far as Turin, giving me a gentleman and one of hisecclesiastics to accompany me. 

As soon as the resolution was taken that Father La Combe shouldaccompany me, Father La Mothe reported everywhere "that he had beenobliged to do it, to make him return into France. " He expatiated on theattachment I had for Father La Combe, pretending to pity me. Upon thiseveryone said that I ought to put myself under the direction of FatherLa Mothe. In the meantime he deceitfully palliated the malignity of hisheart, writing letters full of esteem to Father La Combe, and some tome of tenderness, "desiring him to bring his dear sister, and to serveher in her infirmities, and in the hardships of so long a journey; thathe should be sensibly obliged to him for his care;" with many otherthings of the like nature. 

I could not resolve to depart without going to see my good friend, theMarchioness of Prunai, notwithstanding the difficulty of the roads. Icaused myself to be carried, it being scarcely possible to go otherwiseon account of the mountains. She was extremely joyful at seeing mearrive. Nothing could be more cordial than what passed between us. Itwas then that she acknowledged that all I had told her had come topass. A good ecclesiastic, who lives with her, told me the same. Wemade ointments and plasters together, and I gave her the secret of myremedies, I encouraged her, and so did Father La Combe, to establish anhospital in that place; which was done while we were there. Icontributed my mite to it which has ever been blest to all thehospitals, which have ever been established in reliance on Providence. 

I believe I had forgotten to tell, that the Lord had made use of me toestablish one near Grenoble, which subsists without any other fund thanthe supplies of Providence. My enemies made use of that afterward toslander me, saying that I had wasted my children's substance inestablishing hospitals, though, far from spending any of theirsubstance, I had even given them my own. All those hospitals have beenestablished only on the fund of divine Providence, which isinexhaustible. But so it has been ordered for my good, that all ourLord has made me to do His glory has ever been turned into crosses forme. 

As soon as it was determined that I should come into France, the Lordmade known to me, that it was to have greater crosses than I ever had. Father La Combe had the like sense. He encouraged me to resign myselfto the divine will, and to become a victim offered freely to newsacrifices. He also wrote to me, "Will it not be a thing very gloriousto God, if He should make us serve in that great city, for a spectacleto angels and to men?" I set off then with a spirit of sacrifice, tooffer myself up to new kinds of punishments, if pleasing to my dearLord. All along the road something within me repeated the very words ofSt. Paul, "I go bound in the Spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing thethings should befall me there, save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth, saying that bonds and afflictions abide me. But none of these thingsmove me; neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I mightfinish my course with joy. " (Acts 20:22, 23, 24. ) I could not forbearto testify it to my most intimate friends, who tried hard to prevail onme to stop, and not to proceed. They were all willing to contribute ashare of what they had, for my settlement there, and to prevent mycoming to Paris. But I found it my duty to hold on my way, and tosacrifice myself for Him who first sacrificed Himself for me. 

At Chamberry we saw Father La Mothe, who was going to the election of aFather-general. Though he affected an appearance of friendship, it wasnot difficult to discover that his thoughts were different from hiswords, and that he conceived dark designs against us. I speak not ofhis intentions, but to obey the command given me to omit nothing. Ishall necessarily be obliged often to speak of him. I could wish withall my heart it were in my power to suppress what I have to say of him. If what he has done respected only myself, I would willingly bury all;but I think I owe it to the truth, and to the innocence of Father LaCombe, so cruelly oppressed, and grievously crushed so long, by wickedcalumnies, by an imprisonment of several years, which in allprobability will last as long as life. Though Father La Mothe mayappear heavily charged in what I say of him, I protest solemnly, and inthe presence of God, that I pass over in silence many of his badactions. 

CHAPTER 19

Scarcely had I arrived at Paris, when I readily discovered the blackdesigns entertained against both Father La Combe and me. Father LaMothe who conducted the whole tragedy, artfully dissembled, accordingto his custom; flattering me to my face, while he was aiming thekeenest wounds behind my back. He and his confederates wanted, fortheir own interest, to persuade me to go to Montargis (my nativeplace), hoping, thereby, to get the guardianship of my children, and todispose of both my person and effects. All the persecutions from FatherLa Mothe and my family have been attended on their part with views ofinterest; those against Father La Combe have sprung from rage andrevenge, because he, as my director, did not oblige me to do what theywanted; as well as out of jealousy. I might enter into a long detail onthis, sufficient to convince all the world; but I suppress, to avoidprolixity. I shall only say, that they threatened to deprive me of whatlittle I had reserved to myself. To this I only replied that I wouldnot go to law, that if they were resolved to take from me little I haveleft (little indeed in comparison of what I had given up) I wouldsurrender it entirely to them; being quite free and willing not only tobe poor, but to be even in the very extremity of want in imitation ofour Lord Jesus Christ. 

I arrived at Paris on Magdalene's eve, 1686, exactly five years aftermy departure from that city. After Father La Combe arrived, he was soonfollowed and much applauded. I perceived some jealously in Father LaMothe hereupon, but did not think that matters would be carried so faras they have been. The greater part of the Barnabites of Paris, and itsneighborhood, joined against Father La Combe, induced from severalcauses that particularly related to their order. But all theircalumnies and evil attempts were overthrown by the unaffected piety hemanifested, and the good which multitudes reaped from his labors. 

I had deposited a little sum of money in his hands (with the consent ofhis superior) to serve for the entrance of a nun. I thought myselfobliged in conscience to do it. She had, through my means, quitted theNew Catholics. It was that young woman whom I mentioned before, whomthe priest of Gex wanted to win over. As she is beautiful, though veryprudent, there always continues a cause for fear, when such an one isexposed in the world. La Mothe wanted to have that money, and signifiedto La Combe that, if he did not make me give it to him for a wall, which he had to rebuild in his convent, he would make him suffer forit. But the latter, who is always upright, answered that he could notin conscience advise me to do anything else, but what I had alreadyresolved, in favour of that young woman. Hence he and the provincialardently longed to satisfy their desire of revenge. They employed alltheir thoughts on the means of effecting it. 

A very wicked man who was employed for that purpose, wrote defamatorylibels, declaring that the propositions of Molinos, which had beencurrent for two year past in France, were the sentiments of Father LaCombe. These libels were spread about in the community. Father La Motheand the provincial, acting as persons well affected to the church, carried them to the official, or judge of the ecclesiastical court, whojoined in the dark design. They showed them to the Archbishop, saying, It was out of their zeal, and that they were exceedingly sorry thatone of their fraternity was an heretic, and as such execrable. Theyalso brought me in, but more moderately, saying Father La Combe wasalmost always at my house, which was false. I could scarcely see him atall except at the confessional, and then for a very short time. Severalother things equally false they liberally gave out concerning both ofus. 

They bethought themselves of one thing further likely to favor theirscheme. They knew I had been at Marseilles, and thought they had a goodfoundation for a fresh calumny. They counterfeited a letter from aperson at Marseilles (I heard it was from the Bishop) addressed to theArchbishop of Paris, or to his official, in which they wrote the mostabominable scandal. Father La Mothe came to try to draw me into hissnare, and to make me say, in the presence of the people whom he hadbrought, that I had been at Marseilles with Father La Combe. "Thereare, " said he, "shocking accounts against you, sent by the Bishop ofMarseilles. You have there fallen into great scandal with Father LaCombe. There are good witnesses of it. " I replied with a smile, "Thecalumny is well devised; but it would have been proper to know firstwhether Father La Combe had been at Marseilles, for I do not believe hewas ever there in his life. While I was there, Father La Combe waslaboring at Verceil. " He was confounded and went off, saying, "Thereare witnesses of its being true. " He went immediately to ask Father LaCombe if he had not been at Marseilles. He assured him he never hadbeen there. They were struck with disappointment. They then gave outthat it was not Marseilles but Seisel. Now this Seisel is a place Ihave never been at, and there is no bishop there. 

Every imaginable device was used to terrify me by threats, forgedletters, and by memorials drawn up against me, accusing me of teachingerroneous doctrines, and of living a bad life and urging me to flee thecountry to escape the consequences of exposure. Failing in all these, at length La Mothe took off the mask, and said to me in the church, before La Combe, "It is now, my sister, that you must think of fleeing, you are charged with crimes of a deep dye. " I was not moved in theleast, but replied with my usual tranquillity, "If I am guilty of suchcrimes I cannot be too severely punished; wherefore I will not flee orgo out of the way. I have made an open profession of dedicating myselfto God entirely. If I have done things offensive to Him, whom I wouldwish both to love, and to cause to be loved by the whole world, even atthe expense of my life, I ought by my punishment to be made an exampleto the world; but if I am innocent, for me to flee is not the way formy innocence to be believed. "

Similar attempts were made to ruin Father La Combe. He was grosslymisrepresented to the king, and an order procured for his arrest andimprisonment in the Bastile. 

Although on his trial he appeared quite innocent, and they could notfind anything whereupon to ground a condemnation, yet they made theking believe he was a dangerous man in the article of religion. He wasthen shut up in a certain fortress of the Bastile for life; but as hisenemies heard that the captain in that fortress esteemed him, andtreated him kindly, they had him removed into a much worse place. God, who beholds everything, will reward every man according to his works. Iknow by an interior communication that he is very well content, andfully resigned to God. 

La Mothe now endeavored more than ever to induce me to flee, assuringme that, if I went to Montargis, I should be out of all trouble; butthat if I did not, I should pay for it. He insisted on my takinghimself for my director, to which I could not agree. He decried mewherever he went, and wrote to his brethren to do the same. They sentme very abusive letters, assuring me that, if I did not put myselfunder his direction, I was undone. I have the letters by me still. Onefather desired me in this case to make a virtue of necessity. Nay, someadvised me to pretend to put myself under his direction, and to deceivehim. I abhorred the thought of deceit. I bore everything with thegreatest tranquillity, without taking any care to justify or defendmyself, leaving it entirely to God to order as he should please aboutme. Herein he was graciously pleased to increase the peace of my soul, while every one seemed to cry against me, and to look on me as aninfamous creature, except those few who knew me well by a near union ofspirit. At church I heard people behind me exclaim against me, and evensome priests say it was necessary to cast me out of the church. I leftmyself to God without reserve, being quite ready to endure the mostrigorous pains and tortures, if such were His will. 

I never made any solicitation either for Father La Combe or myself, though charged with that among other things. Willing to owe everythingto God, I have no dependence on any creature. I would not have it saidthat any but God had made Abraham rich. Gen. 14:23. To lose all for Himis my best gain; and to gain all without Him would be my worst loss. Although at this time so general an outcry was raised against me, Goddid not fail to make use of me to gain many souls to Himself. The morepersecution raged against me the more children were given me, on whomthe Lord conferred great favors through His handmaid. 

One must not judge of the servants of God by what their enemies say ofthem, nor by their being oppressed under calumnies without anyresource. Jesus Christ expired under pangs. God uses the like conducttoward His dearest servants, to render them conformable to His Son, inwhom He is always well pleased. But few place that conformity where itought to be. It is not in voluntary pains or austerities, but in thosewhich are suffered in a submission ever equal to the will of God, in arenunciation of our whole selves, to the end that God may be our all inall, conducting us according to His views, and not our own, which aregenerally opposite to His. All perfection consists in this entireconformity with Jesus Christ, not in shining things which men esteem. It will only be seen in eternity who are the true friends of God. Nothing pleases Him but Jesus Christ, and that which bears His mark orcharacter. 

They were continually pressing me to flee, though the Archbishop hadspoken to myself, and bidden me not to leave Paris. But they wanted togive the appearance of criminality both to me and to Father La Combe bymy flight. They knew not how to make me fall into the hands of theofficial. If they accused me of crimes, it must be before other judges. Any other judge would have seen my innocence; the false witnesses wouldhave run the risk of suffering for it. They continually spread storiesof horrible crimes; but the official assured me that he had heard nomention of any. He was afraid lest I should retire out of hisjurisdiction. They then made the king believe that I was an heretic, that I carried on a literary correspondence with Molinos (I, who neverknew there was a Molinos in the world, till the Gazette had told me ofit) that I had written a dangerous book; and that on those accounts itwould be necessary to issue an order to put me in a convent, that theymight examine me. I was a dangerous person, it would be proper for meto be locked up, to be allowed no commerce with any one; since Icontinually held assemblies, which was very false. To support thiscalumny my handwriting was counterfeited, and a letter was forged asfrom me, importing, that I had great designs, but feared that theywould prove abortive, through the imprisonment of Father La Combe, forwhich reason I had left off holding assemblies at my house, being tooclosely watched; but that I would hold them at the houses of otherpersons. This forged letter they showed the king, and upon it an orderwas given for my imprisonment. 

This order would have been put in execution two months sooner than itwas, had I not fallen very sick. I had inconceivable pains and a fever. Some thought that I had a gathering in my head. The pain I suffered forfive weeks made me delirious. I had also a pain in my breast and aviolent cough. Twice I received the holy sacrament, as I was thought tobe expiring. One of my friends had acquainted Father La Mothe, (notknowing him to have had any hand in F. La Combe's imprisonment) thatshe had sent me a certificate from the inquisition in Father La Combe'sfavor, having heard that his own was lost. This answered a very goodpurpose; for they had made the king believe that he had run away fromthe inquisition; but this showed the contrary. 

Father La Mothe then came to me, when I was in excessive pain, counterfeiting all the affection and tenderness in his power, andtelling me "that the affair of Father La Combe was going on very well, that he was just ready to come out of prison with honor, that he wasvery glad of it. If he had only this certificate, he would soon bedelivered. Give me it then, " said he, "and he will be immediatelyreleased. " At first I made a difficulty of doing it. "What! said he, will you be the cause of ruining poor Father La Combe, having it inyour power to save him, and cause us that affliction, for want of whatyou have in your hands. " I yielded, ordering it to be brought and givenhim. But he suppressed it, and gave out that it was lost. It nevercould be got from him again. The Ambassador from the Court of Turinsent a messenger to me for this certificate, designing the proper useof it to serve Father La Combe. I referred him to Father La Mothe. Themessenger went to him and asked him for it. He denied I had given it tohim, saying, "Her brain is disordered which makes her imagine it. " Theman came back to me and told me his answer. The persons in my chamberbore witness that I had given it to him. Yet all signified nothing; itcould not be got out of his hands; but on the contrary, he insulted me, and caused others also to do it, though I was so weak that I seemed tobe at the very gates of death. 

They told me they only waited for my recovery to cast me into prison. He made his brethren believe that I had treated him ill. They wrote tome that it was for my crimes that I suffered and that I should putmyself under the control of Father La Mothe, otherwise I should repentit; that I was mad and ought to be bound; and was a monster of pride, since I would not suffer myself to be conducted by Father La Mothe. Such was my daily feast in the extremity of my pain; deserted of myfriends, and oppressed by my enemies; the former being ashamed of me, through the calumnies which were forged and industriously spread; thelatter let loose to persecute me; under all which I kept silence, leaving myself to the Lord. 

There was not any kind of infamy, error, sorcery, or sacrilege, ofwhich they did not accuse me. As soon as I was able to be carried tothe church in a chair, I was told I must speak to the prebend. (It wasa snare concerted between Father La Mothe and the Canon at whose houseI lodged). I spoke to him with much simplicity and he approved of whatI said. Yet, two days after they gave out that I had uttered manythings, and accused many persons; and from hence they procured thebanishment of sundry persons with whom they were displeased, personswhom I had never seen or of whom I never heard. They were men of honor. One of them was banished, because he said my little book is a good one. It is remarkable that they say nothing to those who prefixed theirapprobations, and that, far from condemning the book, it has beenreprinted since I have been in prison, and advertisements of it havebeen posted up at the Archbishop's palace, and all over Paris. Inregard to others, when they find faults in their books, they condemnthe books and leave the person at liberty; but as for me, my book isapproved, sold and spread, while I am kept a prisoner for it. 

The same day that those gentlemen were banished, I received a letter decachet, or sealed order to repair to the Convent of the Visitation ofSt. Mary's, in a suburb of St. Antoine. I received it with atranquillity which surprised the bearer exceedingly. He could notforbear expressing it, having seen the extreme sorrow of those who wereonly banished. He was so touched with it as to shed tears. And althoughhis order was to carry me off directly, he was not afraid to trust me, but left me all the day, desiring me to repair to St. Mary's in theevening. On that day many of my friends came to see me, and found mevery cheerful, which surprised such of them as knew my case. I couldnot stand, I was so weak, having the fever every night, it being only afortnight since I was thought to be expiring. I imagined they wouldleave me my daughter and maid to serve me. 

CHAPTER 20

On January 29, 1688, I went to St. Mary's. There they let me know Imust neither have my daughter nor a maid to serve me, but must belocked up alone in a chamber. Indeed it touched me to my heart when mydaughter was taken from me. They would neither allow her to be in thathouse, nor anybody to bring me any news of her. I was then obliged tosacrifice my daughter, as if she were mine no longer. The people of thehouse were prepossessed with so frightful an account of me, that theylooked at me with horror. For my jailer they singled out a nun, who, they thought, would treat me with the greatest rigor, and they were notmistaken therein. 

They asked me who was now my confessor. I named him; but he was seizedwith such a fright that he denied it; though I could have produced manypersons who had seen me at his confessional. So then they said they hadcaught me in a lie; I was not to be trusted. My acquaintance then saidthey knew me not, and others were at liberty to invent stories, and sayall manner of evil of me. The woman, appointed for my keeper, wasgained over by my enemies, to torment me as an heretic, an enthusiast, one crackbrained and an hypocrite. God alone knows what she made mesuffer. As she sought to surprise me in my words, I watched them, to bemore exact in them; but I fared the worse for it. I made more slips andgave her more advantages over me thereby, beside the trouble in my ownmind for it. I then left myself as I was, and resolved, though thiswoman would bring me to the scaffold, by the false reports she wascontinually carrying to the prioress, that I would simply resign myselfto my lot; so I re-entered into my former condition. 

Monsieur Charon the Official, and a Doctor of Sorbonne, came four timesto examine me. Our Lord did me the favor which He promised to Hisapostles, to make me answer much better than if I had studied. Luke21:14, 15. They said to me, if I had explained myself, as I now did, inthe book entitled, Short and Easy Method of Prayer, I would not nowhave been here. My last examination was about a counterfeit letter, which they read and let me see. I told them the hand was no way likemine. They said it was only a copy; they had the original at home. Idesired a sight of it, but could not obtain it. I told them I neverwrote it, nor did I know the person to whom it was addressed; but theytook scarcely any notice of what I said. 

After this letter was read, the official turned to me and said, "Yousee, madam, that after such a letter there was foundation enough forimprisoning you. " "Yes, sir, " said I, "if I had written it. " I showedthem its falsehoods and inconsistencies, but all in vain. I was lefttwo months, and treated worse and worse, before either of them cameagain to see me. Till then I had always some hope that, seeing myinnocence, they would do me justice; but now I saw that they did notwant to find me innocent, but to make me appear guilty. 

The official alone came the next time, and told me, "I must speak nomore of the false letter; that it was nothing. " "How nothing, " said I, "to counterfeit a person's writing, and to make one appear an enemy tothe State!" He replied, "We will seek out the author of it. " "Theauthor, " said I, "is no other than the Scrivener Gautier. " He thendemanded where the papers were which I wrote on the Scriptures. I toldhim, "I would give them up when I should be out of prison; but was notwilling to tell with whom I had lodged them. "

About three or four days before Easter he came again, with the doctor, and a verbal process was drawn up against me for rebelling, in notgiving up papers. Copies of my writings were then put into their hands;for I had not the originals. I know not where those who got them fromme have put them; but I am firm in the faith that they will all bepreserved, in spite of the storm. The prioress asked the official howmy affair went. He said, very well, and that I should soon bedischarged; this became the common talk; but I had a presentiment ofthe contrary. 

I had an inexpressible satisfaction and joy in suffering, and being aprisoner. The confinement of my body made me better relish the freedomof my mind. St. Joseph's day was to me a memorable day; for then mystate had more of Heaven than of earth beyond what any expression canreach. This was followed, as it were, with a suspension of every favorthen enjoyed, a dispensation of new sufferings. I was obliged tosacrifice myself anew, and to drink the very dregs of the bitterdraught. 

I never had any resentment against my persecutors, though I well knewthem, their spirit and their actions. Jesus Christ and the saints sawtheir persecutors, and at the same time saw that they could have nopower except it were given them from above. John 19:11. 

Loving the strokes which God gives, one cannot hate the hand which Hemakes use of to strike with. 

A few days after, the official came, and told me he gave me the libertyof the cloister, that is, to go and come in the house. They were nowvery industrious in urging my daughter to consent to a marriage, whichhad it taken place, would have been her ruin. To succeed herein, theyhad placed her with a relation of the gentleman whom they wanted her tomarry. All my confidence was in God, that He would not permit it to beaccomplished, as the man had no tincture of Christianity, beingabandoned both in his principles and morals. 

To induce me to give up my daughter they promised me an immediaterelease from prison and from every charge under which I labored. But ifI refused, they threatened me with imprisonment for life and with deathon the scaffold. In spite of all their promises and threatenings, Ipersistently refused. 

Soon after, the official and doctor came to tell the prioress I must beclosely locked up. She represented to them that the chamber I was in, was small, having an opening to the light or air, only on one side, through which the sun shone all the day long, and being the month ofJuly, it must soon cause my death. They paid no regard. She asked why Imust be thus closely locked up. They said I had committed horriblethings in her house, even within the last month, and had scandalizedthe nuns. She protested the contrary, and assured them the wholecommunity had received great edification from me, and could not butadmire my patience and moderation. But it was all in vain. The poorwoman could not refrain from tears, at a statement so remote from thetruth. 

They then sent for me, and told me I had done base things in the lastmonth. I asked what things? They would not tell me. I said then that Iwould suffer as long and as much as it should please God; that thisaffair was begun on forgeries against me, and so continued. That Godwas witness of everything. The doctor told me, that to take God for awitness in such a thing was a crime. I replied nothing in the worldcould hinder me from having recourse to God. I was then shut up moreclosely than at first, until I was absolutely at the point of death, being thrown into a violent fever, and almost stifled with thecloseness of the place, and not permitted to have any assistance. 

In the time of the ancient law, there were several of the Lord'smartyrs who suffered for asserting and trusting in the one true God. Inthe primitive church of Christ the martyrs shed their blood, formaintaining the truth of Jesus Christ crucified. Now there are martyrsof the Holy Ghost, who suffer for their dependence on Him, formaintaining His reign in souls and for being victims of the Divinewill. 

It is this Spirit which is to be poured out on all flesh, as saith theprophet Joel. The martyrs of Jesus Christ have been glorious martyrs, He having drunk up the confusion of that martyrdom; but the martyrs ofthe Holy Spirit are martyrs of reproach and ignominy. The Devil no moreexercises his power against their faith or belief, but directly attacksthe dominion of the Holy Spirit, opposing His celestial motion insouls, and discharging his hatred on the bodies of those whose minds hecannot hurt. Oh, Holy Spirit, a Spirit of love, let me ever besubjected to Thy will, and, as a leaf is moved before the wind, so letme be moved by Thy Divine breath. As the impetuous wind breaks all thatresists it, so break thou all that opposes Thy empire. 

Although I have been obliged to describe the procedure of those whopersecute me, I have not done it out of resentment, since I love themat my heart, and pray for them, leaving to God the care of defendingme, and delivering me out of their hands, without making any movementof my own for it. I have apprehended and believed that God would haveme write everything sincerely, that His name may be glorified; that thethings done in secret against His servants should one day be publishedon the housetops; for the more they strive to conceal them from theeyes of men, the more will God in His own time make them all manifest. 

August 22, 1688, it was thought I was about coming out of prison, andeverything seemed to tend toward it. But the Lord gave me a sense that, far from being willing to deliver me they were only laying new snaresto ruin me more effectually, and to make Father La Mothe known to theking, and esteemed by him. On the day mentioned, which was my birthday, being forty years of age, I awaked under an impression of Jesus Christin an agony, seeing the counsel of the Jews against Him. I knew thatnone but God could deliver me out of prison, and I was satisfied thatHe would do it one day by His own right hand, though ignorant of themanner, and leaving it wholly to Himself. 

In the order of Divine Providence my case was laid before Madame deMaintenon, who became deeply interested in the account given her of mysufferings, and at length procured my release. A few days afterward Ihad my first interview with the Abbe Fenelon. 

Coming out of St. Mary's I retired into the community of Mad. Miramion, where I kept my bed of a fever three months, and had an imposthume inmy eye. Yet at this time I was accused of going continually out, holding suspected assemblies, together with other groundlessfalsehoods. In this house my daughter was married to Mons. L. NicholasFouquet, Count de Vaux. I removed to my daughter's house, and onaccount of her extreme youth, lived with her two years and an half. Even there my enemies were ever forging one thing after another againstme, I then wanted to retire quite secretly, to the house of theBenedictines at Montargis, (my native place) but it was discovered, andboth friends and enemies jointly prevented it. 

The family in which my daughter was married being of the number of AbbeFenelon's friends, I had the opportunity of often seeing him at ourhouse. We had some conversations on the subject of a spiritual life, inwhich he made several objections to my experiences therein. I answeredthem with my usual simplicity, which, as I found, gained upon him. Asthe affair of Molinos at that time made a great noise, the plainestthings were distrusted, and the terms used by mystic writers exploded. But I so clearly expounded everything to him, and so fully solved allhis objections, that no one more fully imbibed my sentiments than he;which has since laid the foundation of that persecution he hassuffered. His answers to the Bishop of Meaux evidently show this to allwho have read them. 

I now took a little private house, to follow the inclination I had forretirement; where I sometimes had the pleasure of seeing my family anda few particular friends. Certain young ladies of St. Cyr, havinginformed Mad. Maintenon, that they found in my conversation somethingwhich attracted them to God, she encouraged me to continue myinstructions to them. By the fine change in some of them with whombefore she had not been well pleased, she found she had no reason torepent of it. She then treated me with much respect; and for threeyears after, while this lasted, I received from her every mark ofesteem and confidence. But that very thing afterward drew on me themost severe persecution. The free entrance I had into the house, andthe confidence which some young ladies of the Court, distinguished fortheir rank and piety, placed in me, gave no small uneasines to thepeople who had persecuted me. The directors took umbrage at it, andunder pretext of the troubles I had some years before, they engaged theBishop of Chartres, Superior of St. Cyr, to present to Mad. Maintenonthat, by my particular conduct, I troubled the order of the house; thatthe young women in it were so attached to me, and to what I said tothem, that they no longer hearkened to their superiors. I then went nomore to St. Cyr. I answered the young ladies who wrote to me, only byletters unsealed, which passed through the hands of Mad. Maintenon. 

Soon after I fell sick. The physicians, after trying in vain the usualmethod of cure, ordered me to repair to the waters of Bourbon. Myservant had been induced to give me some poison. After taking it, Isuffered such exquisite pains that, without speedy succor, I shouldhave died in a few hours. The man immediately ran away, and I havenever seen him since. When I was at Bourbon, the waters which I threwup burned like spirits of wine. I had no thought of being poisoned, till the physicians of Bourbon assured me of it. The waters had butlittle effect. I suffered from it for above seven years. 

God kept me in such a disposition of sacrifice, that I was quiteresigned to suffer everything, and to receive from His hand all thatmight befall me, since for me to offer in any way to vindicate myself, would be only beating the air. When the Lord is willing to make any onesuffer, He permits even the most virtuous people to be readily blindedtoward them; and I may confess that the persecution of the wicked isbut little, when compared with that of the servants of the church, deceived and animated with a zeal which they think right. Many of thesewere now, by the artifices made use of, greatly imposed on in regard tome. I was represented to them in an odious light, as a strangecreature. Since, therefore, I must, O my Lord, be conformable to Thee, to please Thee; I set more value on my humiliation, and on seeingmyself condemned of everybody, than if I saw myself on the summit ofhonor in the world. How often have I said, even in the bitterness of myheart, that I should be more afraid of one reproach of my conscience, than of the outcry and condemnation of all men!

CHAPTER 21

At this time I had my first acquaintance with the Bishop of Meaux. Iwas introduced by an intimate friend, the Duke of Chevreuse. I gave himthe foregoing history of my life, and he confessed, that he had foundtherein such an unction as he had rarely done in other books, and thathe had spent three days in reading it, with an impression of thepresence of God on his mind all that time. 

I proposed to the bishop to examine all my writings, which he took fouror five months to do, and then advanced all his objections; to which Igave answers. From his unacquaintance with the interior paths, I couldnot clear up all the difficulties which he found in them. 

He admitted that looking into the ecclesiastical histories for agespast, we may see that God has sometimes made use of laymen, and ofwomen to instruct, edify, and help souls in their progress toperfection. I think one of the reasons of God's acting thus, is thatglory may not be ascribed to any, but to Himself alone. For thispurpose, He has chosen the weak things of this world, to confound suchas are mighty. 1 Cor. 1:27. 

Jealous of the attributes which men pay to other men, which are dueonly to Himself, He has made a paradox of such persons, that He alonemay have the glory of His own works. I pray God, with my whole heart, sooner to crush me utterly, with the most dreadful destruction, than tosuffer me to take the least honor to myself, of anything which He hasbeen pleased to do by me for the good of others. I am only a poornothing. God is all-powerful. He delights to operate, and exercise Hispower by mere nothings. 

The first time that I wrote a history of myself, it was very short. Init I had particularized my faults and sins, and said little of thefavors of God. I was ordered to burn it, to write another, and in it toomit nothing anyway remarkable that had befallen me. I did it. It is acrime to publish secrets of the King; but it is a good thing to declarethe favors of the Lord our God, and to magnify His mercies. 

As the outcry against me became more violent, and Madame Maintenon wasmoved to declare against me, I sent to her through the Duke ofBeauvilliers, requesting the appointment of proper persons to examinemy life and doctrines, offering to retire into any prison until fullyexculpated. My proposal was rejected. In the meantime, one of my mostintimate friends and supporters, Mons. Fouquet, was called away bydeath. I felt his loss very deeply, but rejoiced in his felicity. Hewas a true servant of God. 

Determined to retire out of the way of giving offense to any, I wroteto some of my friends, and bade them a last farewell; not knowingwhether I were to be carried off by the indisposition which I then had, which had been a constant fever for forty days past, or to recover fromit. 

Referring to the Countess of G. And the Duchess of M. , I wrote, "Whenthese ladies and others were in the vanities of the world, when theypatched and painted, and some of them were in the way to ruin theirfamilies by gaming and profusion of expense in dress, nobody arose tosay anything against it; they were quietly suffered to do it. But whenthey have broken off from all this, then they cry out against me, as ifI had ruined them. Had I drawn them from piety into luxury, they wouldnot make such an outcry. The Duchess of M. At her giving herself up toGod, thought herself obliged to quit the court, which was to her like adangerous rock, in order to bestow her time on the education of herchildren and the care of her family, which, till then, she hadneglected. I beseech you, therefore, to gather all the memorials youcan against me; if I am found guilty of the things they accuse me of, Iought to be punished more than any other, since God has brought me toknow Him and love Him, and I am well assured that there is no communionbetween Christ and Belial. "

I sent them my two little printed books, with my commentaries on theHoly Scriptures. I also, by their order, wrote a work to facilitatetheir examination, and to spare them as much time and trouble as Icould, which was to collect a great number of passages out of approvedwriters, which showed the conformity of my writings with those used bythe holy penmen. I caused them to be transcribed by the quire, as I hadwritten them, in order to send them to the three commissioners. I also, as occasion presented, cleared up the dubious and obscure places. I hadwritten them at a time when the affairs of Molinos had not broken out, I used the less precaution in expressing my thoughts, not imaginingthat they would ever be turned into an evil sense. This work wasentitled, 'THE JUSTIFICATIONS. ' It was composed in fifty days, andappeared to be very sufficient to clear up the matter. But the Bishopof Meaux would never suffer it to be read. 

After all the examinations, and making nothing out against me, whowould not have thought but they would have left me to rest in peace?Quite otherwise, the more my innocence appeared, the more did they, whohad undertaken to render me criminal, put every spring in motion toeffect it. I offered the Bishop of Meaux to go to spend some time inany community within his diocese, that he might be better acquaintedwith me. He proposed to me that of St. Mary de Meaux, which I accepted;but in going in the depth of winter I had like to have perished in thesnow, being stopped four hours, the coach having entered into it, andbeing almost buried in it, in a deep hollow. I was taken out at thedoor with one maid. We sat upon the snow, resigned to the mercy of God, and expected nothing but death. I never had more tranquillity of mind, though chilled and soaked with the snow, which melted on us. Occasionslike these are such as show whether we are perfectly resigned to God ornot. This poor girl and I were easy in our minds, in a state of entireresignation, though sure of dying if we passed the night there, andseeing no likelihood of anyone coming to our succor. At length somewaggoners came up, who with difficulty drew us through the snow. 

The bishop, when he heard of it, was astonished, and had no littleself-complacency to think that I had thus risked my life to obey him sopunctually. Yet afterward he denounced it as artifice and hypocrisy. 

There were times indeed when I found nature overcharged; but the loveof God and His grace rendered sweet to me the very worst of bitters. His invisible hand supported me; else I had sunk under so manyprobations. Sometimes I said to myself, "All thy waves and thy billowsare gone over me, " (Psa. 42:7). "Thou hast bent thy bow and set me as amark for the arrow; thou has caused all the arrows of thy quiver toenter into my reins" (Lam. 3:12, 13). It seemed to me as if everyonethought he was in the right to treat me ill, and rendered service toGod in doing it. I then comprehended that it was the very manner inwhich Jesus Christ suffered. He was numbered with the transgressors, (Mark 15:28). He was condemned by the sovereign pontiff, chief priests, doctors of the law, and judges deputed by the Romans, who valuedthemselves on doing justice. Happy they who by suffering for the willof God under all the like circumstances, have so near a relation to thesufferings of Jesus Christ!

For six weeks after my arrival at Meaux, I was in a continual fever, nor had I recovered from my indisposition, when I was waited on by thebishop, who would fain have compelled me to give it under my hand, thatI did not believe the Word incarnate, (or Christ manifest in theflesh). I answered him, that "through the grace of God, I know how tosuffer, even to death, but not how to sign such a falsehood. " Severalof the nuns who overheard this conversation, and perceiving thesentiments of the bishop, they joined with the Prioress, in giving atestimonial, not only of my good conduct, but of their belief in thesoundness of my faith. 

The bishop some days after, brought me a confession of faith, and arequest to submit my books to the church, that I may sign it, promisingto give me a certificate, which he had prepared. On my delivering mysubmission signed, he, notwithstanding his promise, refused to give thecertificate. Some time after, he endeavored to make me sign hispastoral letter, and acknowledge that I had fallen into those errors, which he there lays to my charge, and made many demands of me of thelike absurd and unreasonable nature, threatening me with thosepersecutions I afterward endured, in case of non-compliance. However, Icontinued resolute in refusing to put my name to falsehoods. At length, after I had remained about six months at Meaux, he gave me thecertificate. Finding Mad. Maintenon disapproved of the certificate hehad granted, he wanted to give me another in place of it. My refusal todeliver up the first certificate enraged him, and as I understood theyintended to push matters with the utmost violence, "I thought thatalthough I were resigned to whatever might fall out, yet I ought totake prudent measures to avoid the threatening storm. " Many places ofretreat were offered me; but I was not free in my mind to accept ofany, nor to embarrass anybody, nor involve in trouble my friends and myfamily, to whom they might attribute my escape. I took the resolutionof continuing in Paris, of living there in some private place with mymaids, who were trusty and sure, and to hide myself from the view ofthe world. I continued thus for five or six months. I passed the dayalone in reading, in praying to God, and in working. But the December27, 1695, I was arrested, though exceedingly indisposed at that time, and conducted to Vincennes. I was three days in the custody of Mons. Des Grez, who had arrested me; because the king would not consent to mybeing put into prison; saying several times over, that a convent wassufficient. They deceived him by still stronger calumnies. They paintedme in his eyes, in colors so black, that they made him scruple hisgoodness and equity. He then consented to my being taken to Vincennes. 

I shall not speak of that long persecution, which has made so muchnoise, for a series of ten years imprisonments, in all sorts ofprisons, and of a banishment almost as long, and not yet ended, throughcrosses, calumnies, and all imaginable sorts of sufferings. There arefacts too odious on the part of divers persons, which charity inducesme to cover. 

I have borne long and sore languishings, and oppressive and painfulmaladies without relief. I have been also inwardly under greatdesolations for several months, in such sort that I could only saythese words, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me!" All creaturesseemed to be against me. I then put myself on the side of God, againstmyself. 

Perhaps some will be surprised at my refusing to give the details ofthe greatest and strongest crosses of my life, after I have relatedthose which were less. I thought it proper to tell something of thecrosses of my youth, to show the crucifying conduct which God held overme. I thought myself obliged to relate certain facts, to manifest theirfalsehood, the conduct of those by whom they had passed, and theauthors of those persecutions of which I have been only the accidentalobject, as I was only persecuted, in order to involve therein personsof great merit; whom, being out of their reach by themselves, they, therefore, could not personally attack, but by confounding theiraffairs with mine. I thought I owed this to religion, piety, myfriends, my family, and myself. 

While I was prisoner at Vincennes, and Monsieur De La Reine examinedme, I passed my time in great peace, content to pass the rest of mylife there, if such were the will of God. I sang songs of joy, whichthe maid who served me learned by heart, as fast as I made them. Wetogether sang thy praises, O, my God! The stones of my prison looked inmy eyes like rubies; I esteemed them more than all the gaudybrilliancies of a vain world. My heart was full of that joy which Thougivest to them who love Thee, in the midst of their greatest crosses. 

When things were carried to the greatest extremities, being then in theBastile, I said, "O, my God, if thou art pleased to render me a newspectacle to men and angels, Thy holy will be done!"

DECEMBER, 1709. 

Here she left off her narrative, though she lived a retired life aboveseven years after this date. What she had written being only done inobedience to the commands of her director. She died June 9, 1717, atBlois, in her seventieth year.