Chapter 11

CHAPTER XU

✦

The treatment of my husband and mother-in-law,
however rigorous and insulting, I now bore silently —
and made them no replies; and this was not so difficult
for me, for the greatness of my interior occupation,
and what passed within, rendered me insensible to all
the rest; yet there were times when I was left to my¬
self. And then I could not refrain from tears, when
they fell violently on me. I did the lowest offices for
them, to humble myself. Yet all this did not win their
favor. When they were in a rage, although I could
not find that I had given them any occasion for it; yet
I did not fail to beg their pardon, and even from the
girl I have spoken of. I had a good deal of pain to
surmount myself, as to the last; because she became
the more insolent for it; reproaching me with things
which ought to have made her blush, and to have cov¬
ered her with shame. As she saw that I contradicted
and resisted her no more in anything, she proceeded
to treat me still worse. And when I asked her pardon
for the very offences which she had given me, she
triumphed, saying, “I knew very well I was in the
right.” Her arrogance rose to that height, that I
would not have treated the meanest slave, or vassal, as
she treated me.

One day, as she was dressing me, she pulled me
very roughly, and spoke to me very insolently. I said
to her, “ It is not on my account that I am wining to

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answer you, for you give me no pain, but lest you
should act thus before persons to whom it would give
offence. Moreover, as I am your mistress, God is
assuredly offended therewith.” She left me that mo¬
ment, and ran like a mad woman to meet my husband,
telling him, “ she would stay no longer, I treated her
so ill, and that I hated her for the care she took, of
him in his indispositions, which were continual, want¬
ing her not to do any service for him.” As my husband
was very hasty, he took fire at these words. I finished
the dressing of myself alone, since she had left me, and
I durst not call another girl; for she would not suffer
another girl to come near me. All on a sudden, I saw
my husband coming like a lion, for he was never in
such a rage as this. I thought he was going to strike
me; I awaited the blow with tranquility; he threatened
me with his uplifted crutch; I thought he was going
to knock me down with it; and holding myself closely
united to God, I beheld it without pain. However, he
did not strike me, for he had presence of mind enough
to see what an indignity it would be; but in his rage
he threw it at me. It fell near me, but it did not
touch me; after which he discharged himself in such
language, as if I had been a street beggar, or the most
infamous of all' creatures. I kept a profound silence,
being recollected in the Lord, to suffer for his love all
these things.

The girl in the meantime came in. At the sight of
her his rage redoubled. I kept near to God, as a vic¬
tim disposed to suffer whatever he would permit. My
husband ordered me to beg her pardon, which I readily
did, and thereby appeased him. I went presently into
my dear closet, where I no sooner was, than my divine

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Director impelled me to make this girl a present, to
recompense her for the cross which she had caused me,
which I did. She was a little astonished, but her heart
was too hard to be gained.

I often acted thus, for she frequently gave me such
opportunities. She had a singular dexterity in attend¬
ing the sick, and my husband ailing almost continually,
no other person would be suffered to administer to
him. For this reason he had a very great regard for
her. Moreover, she was so artful, that in his presence
she affected an extraordinary respect for me; but when
he was not present, if I said a word to her, though with
the greatest mildness; if she heard him coming, she
cried out with all her might, that she was unhappy;
and acted like one distressed in such a manner, that,
without informing himself of the truth, 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 I could hold out no longer. I was
quite spent with it. It seemed sometimes as if I was
inwardly rent, and I have often fallen sick with the
struggle. She did not forbear exclaiming against me,
even before persons of distinction, who came to see me.
If I was silent, she took offence at that yet more, and
said, “ I despised her.” She cried me down, and made
complaints of me to everybody. But all this redounded
to my honor and her own disgrace. My reputation
was so well established, on account of my exterior
modesty, my devotion, and the great acts of charity
which I did, that nothing could shake it.

Sometimes she ran out into the very street, crying
out against me. At one time she exclaimed, “Am not
I very unhappy to have such a mistress?” People

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gathered about her to know what I had done to her;
and not knowing what to say, she answered, “I had
not spoken to her all the day.” They returned, laugh¬
ing, and said, “ She has done you no great harm then.”

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

My husband was out of humor with my devotion.
It became insupportable to him. “What,” said he,
“you love God so much, that you love me no longer.”
So little did he comprehend that the true conjugal love
is that which the Lord himself forms in the heart that
loves him. Oh, thou who art pure and holy, thou didst
imprint in me from the first such a love of chastity,
that there was nothing in the world which I would not
have undergone to possess and preserve it. I endeav¬
ored to be agreeable to my husband in anything, and
\o please him in everything he could require of me.
God gave me such a purity of soul at that time, that I
had not so much as a bad thought. Sometimes my
husband said to me, “ One sees plainly that you never
lose the presence of God.”

The world, seeing I quitted it, persecuted and
turned me into ridicule. I was its entertainment, and
the subject of its fables. It could not bear that a
woman, who was scarce twenty years of age, should
thus make war against it, and overcome. My mother-
in-law took part with the world, and blamed me for
not doing many things, that in her heart she would

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have been highly offended had I done them. I was as
one lost, and ail alone; so little communion had I with
the creature, farther than necessity required. I seemed
to experience literally those words of St. Paul, “ I live,
yet, no more I, but Christ liveth in me;” for he was
become the soul of my soul, and the life of my life.
His operations were so powerful, so sweet, and so
secret, all together, that I could not express them. We
went into the country on some business. Oh! what
unutterable communications did I there experience in
retirement !

I was insatiable for prayer; I arose at four o’clock
in the morning to pray. I went very far to the Church,
which was so situated, that the coach could not come
to it. There was a steep hill to go down and anothei
to ascend. All that cost me nothing; I had such a
longing desire to meet with God, as my only good,
who on his part was graciously forward to give himself
to his poor creature, and for it to do even visible mira-
acles. Such as saw me lead a life so very different
from the women of the world, said I was a fool. They
attributed it to stupidity. Sometimes they said,
“What can all this mean? Some people think thiR
lady has parts, but nothing of them appears.” For if I
went into company, often I could not speak; so much
was I engaged within, so inward with the Lord, as not
to attend to anything else. If any near me spoke, I
heard nothing of what they said. I generally took one
with me, that this might not appear. I took some
work, to hide under that appearance the real employ
of my heart. When I was alone, the work dropped
out of my hands; and I could do nothing else but
resign myself to be wholly taken up with love. I

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wanted to persuade a relation of my husband’s to prac¬
tice prayer. She thought me a fool, for depriving
myself of all the amusements of the age. But the
Lord has since opened her eyes, to make her despise
them. I could have wished to teach all the world to
love God; and thought it depended only on them to
feel what I felt. The Lord made use of my thinking
thus, to gain many souls to himself.

The good father I have spoken of, who was the
instrument of my conversion, made me acquainted
with Genevieve Granger, prioress of the Benedictines,
one of the greatest servants of God of her time. She
proved of very great service to me, as in the sequel
will appear. My confessor, who had told everyone
that I was a saint before, when so full of miseries, and
so far from the condition to which the Lord in his
mercy had now brought me, seeing I placed a confi¬
dence in the father of whom I have spoken, and that I
steered in a road which was unknown to him, declared
openly against me; and the monks of his order perse¬
cuted me much. They even preached publicly against
me, as a person under a delusion.

My husband and mother-in-law, who till now had
been indifferent about this confessor, then joined him
and ordered me to leave off prayer, and the exercise of
piety; but that I could not do. Even when I was in
company, the Lord seized my heart more powerfully.
There was earned on a conversation within me, very
different from that which passed without. I did what
I could to hinder it from appearing, but could not.
The presence of so great a Master manifested itself,
even on my countenance. And that pained my hus¬
band, as he sometimes told me. I did what I could to

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hinder it from being noticed, but was not able com¬
pletely to hide it. I was so much inwardly occupied
that I knew not what I eat. I made as if I eat some
kinds of meat, though I did not take any, and acted so
dexterously that they did not perceive it. This deep
inward attention suffered me scarcely to hear or see
anything. I still continued to use many severe morti¬
fications and austerities; yet they did not in the least
diminish the freshness of my countenance.

I had often grievous fits of sickness and no consol¬
ation in life, but in the practice of prayer, and in see¬
ing Mother Granger. How dear did these cost me,
especially the former ! But what do I say, O my Love !
Is this esteeming the cross as I ought ? — should I not
rather say that prayer to me was recompensed with
the cross, and the cross with prayer. Oh, ye insepara¬
ble gifts, united in my heart and life! When youi
eternal light arose in my soul, how perfectly it recon¬
ciled me, and made ye the object of my love ! From
the moment I received thee I' have never been free
from the cross, nor it seems without prayer — though
for a long time I thought myself deprived thereof,
which exceedingly augmented my afflictions.

My confessor at first exerted his efforts to hinder
me from practicing prayer, and from seeing Mother
Granger. And he violently stirred up my husband and
mother-in-law to hinder me from praying. The method
they took to effect it was, to watch me from morning
till night. I durst not go out from my mother-in-law’s
chamber, or from my husband’s bedside. Sometimes
I carried my work to the window, under a pretence of
seeing better, in order to relieve myself with some
moment’s repose; but they came to watch me very

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closely, to see if I did not pray instead of working.
When my husband and mother-in-law played at cards,
if I did but turn towards the fire, they watched to see
if I continued my work or shut my eyes. If they
observed I closed them, they would be in a fury against
me for several hours. But what is most strange, when
my husband went abroad, having some days of health,
he would not allow me to pray in his absence. He
marked my work, and sometimes, after he was just
gone out, returning immediately, if he found me in my
closet, he would be in a rage. In vain I said to him,
‘‘Surely, sir, what matters it what I do when you are
absent, if I be assiduous in attending you when you are
present? That would not satisfy him; he insisted
upon it that I should no more pray in his absence than
in his presence.

I believe there is hardly a torment equal to that of
being ardently drawn to retirement, and not having it
in one’s power to be retired. But, O my God, the war
they raised, to hinder me from loving thee, did but
augment my love; and while they were striving to
prevent my addresses to thee, thou drewest me into an
inexpressible silence; and the more they labored to
separate me from thee, the more closely didst thou
unite me to thyself. The flame of thy love was kindled,
and kept up by everything that was done to extin¬
guish it.

Often through compliance I played at piquet with
my husband, and at such times was even more inte¬
riorly attracted than if I had been at Church. 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 its impetuosity; for the more ardent,

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the more peaceable it was. This fire gained strength
from everything that was done to suppress it. And
the spirit of prayer was nourished and increased, from
their contrivances and endeavors to disallow me any
time for practising it. I loved, without considering a
motive, or reason for loving; for nothing passed in my
head, but much in the innermost recesses of my soul.

I thought not about any recompense, gift, or favor,
which he could bestow or I receive. The Well-beloved
was himself the only object which attracted my heart.

I could not contemplate his attributes. I knew noth¬
ing else, but to love and to suffer. Oh, ignorance
more truly learned than any science of the doctors,
since it taught me so well Jesus Christ crucified, and
brought me to be in love with his holy cross. I could
then have wished to die, in order to be inseparably
united to him who so powerfully attracted my heart.
As all this passed in the will, the imagination and the
understanding being absorbed in it, in an union of
enjoyment, I knew not what to say, having never read
or heard of such a state as I experienced. I dreaded
delusion and feared that all was not right, for before
this I had known nothing of the operations of God in
souls. I had only read St. Francis de Sales, Thomas
a’Kempis, The Spiritual Combat, and the Holy Scrip¬
tures. I was quite a stranger to those interior and
spiritual books wherein such states are described.

Then all those amusements and pleasures that are
prized and esteemed, appeared to me dull and insipid,
so that I wondered how it could be that I had evei
enjoyed them. And indeed since that time, I could
never find any satisfaction or enjoyment out of God,
although I have sometimes been unfaithful enough to

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endeavor it. I was not astonished that martyrs gave
their lives for Jesus Christ. I thought them happy,
and sighed after their privilege of suffering for him; —
for I so esteemed the cross, that my greatest trouble
was the want of suffering as much as my heart thirsted
for.

This respect and esteem for the cross continually
increased, and although afterwards I lost the sensible
relish and enjoyment thereof, yet the love and esteem
has no more left me than the cross itself. Indeed, it
has ever been my faithful companion, changing and
augmenting, in proportion to the changes and disposi¬
tions of my inward state. O blessed cross, thou hast
never quitted me, since I surrendered myself to my
divine crucified Master, and I still hope that thou wilt
never abandon me. So eager was I for the cross, that
I endeavored to make myself feel the utmost rigor of
every mortification, and felt them to the quick. Yet
this only served to awaken my desire of suffering, and
to show me that it is God alone that can prepare and
send crosses suitable to a soul that thirsts for a follow¬
ing of his sufferings, and a conformity to his death.
The more my state of prayer augmented, my desire of
suffering grew stronger, as the full weight of heavy
crosses from every side came thundering upon me.

The peculiar property of this prayer of the heart is
to give a strong faith. Mine was without limits, as
was also my resignation to God, and my confidence in
him, — my love of his will, and of the order of his prov¬
idence 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 of the Gospel, “My yoke is
easy, and my burden is light.” Matt. xi. 30.

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