CHAPTER XYm.

About eight or nine months after my recovery from
the small-pox. Father LaCombe, passing by our house,
brought me a letter from Father de la Motte, recom¬
mending him to my esteem, and expressing the high¬
est friendship for him. I hesitated much, for I was
very loth to make new acquaintances, but the fear of
offending my brother prevailed. After a short conver¬
sation we both desired a farther opportunity. I thought
that he either loved God, or was disposed to love him,
and I wished everybody to love him. God had already
made use of me for the conversion of three of his order.
The strong desire he had of seeing me again induced
him to come to our country house, which was about
hah a league from the town. A little incident which
happened opened a way for me to speak to him. As
he was in discourse with my husband, who relished his
company, he was taken ill, and retired into the garden.
My husband bade me go and see what was the matter
with him. He told me he had remarked in my coun¬
tenance a deep inwardness and presence of God, which
had given him a strong desire of seeing me again
And God then assisted me to open to him the interior
path of the soul, and conveyed so much grace to him
through this poor channel, that he has owned to me
since, that he went away changed into quite another
man. I preserved an esteem for him; for it appeared
'•o me that he would be devoted to God; but little did

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I then foresee, that I should ever be led to the place
where he was to reside.

My disposition at this time, as I have said, was a
continual prayer, without knowing it to be such; for
the presence of God was so plentifully given, that it
seemed to be more in me than my very self. The sen¬
sibility thereof was so powerful, so penetrating, it
seemed to me irresistible; and love took from me all
liberty of my own. At other times I was so dry, I felt
nothing but the pain of absence, which was the keener
to me, as the divine presence had before been so sensi¬
ble. In these alternatives, when love was present, I
forgot in such a manner all my troubles and pains, that
it appeared to me as if I had never experienced any.
And, in its absence, it seemed as if it would never
return again. I still thought it was through some fault
of mine it was withdrawn, and that rendered me incon¬
solable. Had I known it had been a state through
which it was necessary to pass, I should not have been
troubled; for my strong love to the will of God would
have rendered everything easy to me; the property of
this prayer being to give a great love to the order of
God, with so sublime and perfect a reliance on him, as
to fear nothing, whether danger, thunders, spirits, or
death. It gives a great abstraction from one’s self, our
own interests and reputation, with an utter disregard
to every thing of the kind; all being swallowed up in
the esteem of the will of God.

At home, I was accused of everything that was ill
done, spoiled or broken. At first I told the truth, and
said it was not L They persisted, and accused me of
lying. I then made no reply. Besides, they told all
their tales to such as came to the house. But when I

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119

was afterwards alone with the same persons, I never
undeceived them. I often heard such things said of
me, before my friends, as were enough to make them
entertain a bad opinion of me. My heart kept its hab¬
itation in the tacit consciousness of my own innocence,
not concerning myself whether they thought well or ill
of me; excluding all the world, all opinions or censures,
out of my view, and minding nothing else but the
friendship of God only.

If through infidelity I happened at any time to
justify myself, I always failed, and drew upon myself
new crosses, both within and without. But notwith¬
standing all this, I was so enamored with it, that the
greatest cross of all would have been to be without any.
When the cross was taken from me for any short space,
it seemed to me that it was because of the bad use I
made of it; and that my unfaithfulness deprived me of
so great an advantage; for I never knew its value better
than in its loss. Oh, dear cross, my faithful companion !
As my Savior became incarnate, only to die in thy
arms, should I not be conformable to him in that?
And wilt not thou be the means of uniting me to him
forever? O my Love, I cried, punish me any way, but
take not the cross from me. This amiable cross
etumed to me with so much the more weight, as my
desire was more vehement. I could not reconcile two
things, they appeared to me so very opposite; viz., To
desire the cross with so much ardor, and to support it
with so much difficulty and pain.

God knows well, in the admirable economy he
observes, how to render the crosses more weighty, con¬
formable to the ability of the creature to bear them;
giving them always something new and unexpocted.

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Hereby my soul began to be more resigned, and to
comprehend that the state of absence, and of wanting
what I longed for, was in its turn more profitable than
that of always abounding; because this latter nourished
self-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 cleaves to everything.

What gave me most uneasiness, in this time of
darkness and crucifixion, both within and without, was
an inconceivable readiness to be quick and hasty.
When any answer a little too lively escaped me, (which
served not 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: for I was so
proud, passionate, and of a humor naturally thwarting,
wanting always to carry matters my own way, and
thinking my own reasons better than those of others;
that, hadst thou, O my God, spared the strokes of thy
hammer, I should never have been formed to thy will,
to be an instrument for thy use; for I was ridiculously
vain. Applause rendered me intolerable. I praised
my friends to excess, and blamed others without reason.
But, the more criminal I have been, the more I am
indebted to thee, and the less of any good can I attrib¬
ute to myself. Oh, how blind are men who attribute
to others the holiness that God gives them ! I believe,
my God, that thou hast had children, who under thy
grace, owed much to their own fidelity; but as for me,
I owe all to thee; I glory to confess it; 1 >annot
acknowledge it too much.

In acts of charity I was very assiduous. Bo great
was my tenderness for the poor, that I wished to have
supplied all their wants. I could not see their necessity.

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121

'without reproaching myself for the plenty I enjoyed.
I deprived myself of all I could to help them. The
very best at my table was distributed among them.
There were few of the poor where I lived, who did not
partake of my liberality. It seemed as if thou hadst
made me thy only almoner there, for being refused by
others, they all came to me. “Oh, my divine Love,”
I cried, “it is thy substance; I am only the steward.
I ought to distribute it according to thy will” I found
means to relieve them without letting myself be known,
because I had one who dispensed my alms privately.
When there were families who were ashamed to take it
in this way, I sent it to them as if I owed them a debt
I clothed such as were naked, and caused young girls
to be taught how to earn their livelihood, especially
such as were handsome; to the end that being em¬
ployed, and having whereon to live, they might not be
under a temptation to throw themselves away. God
made use of me to reclaim several from their disor¬
derly lives; and there was one of beauty and distinc¬
tion, who has since made a happy end. I went to visit
the sick, to comfort them, to make their beds. I made
ointments, dressed their wounds, buried their dead. I
privately furnished tradesmen and mechanics where¬
with to keep up their shops. My heart was much
opened toward my fellow-creatures in distress; and
few indeed could carry charity much 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 with my own self-love, he gave me
interior probations, which were very heavy. I began
to experience an insupportable weight, in that very

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piety which had formerly been so easy and delightful
to me; not that I did not love it extremely, but I found
myself defective in that noble practice of it, to which I
aspired. The more I loved it, the more I labored to
acquire what I saw I failed in. But, alas! I seemed
continually to be overcome by that which was the con¬
trary to it. My heart, indeed, was detached from all
sensual pleasures. For these several years past, it has
seemed to me that my mind is so detached and absent
from the body, that I do things as if I did them not.
If I eat, or refresh myself, it is done with such an
absence, or separation, as I wonder at, and with an
entire mortification of the keenness of sensation in ah
the natural functions.

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