CHAPTER XXIV.

The Lord took from me all the sensibility which I
had for the creatures, or things created, even in an
instant, as one takes off a robe, in such sort that after
that time I had none for any whatsoever. Though he
had done me that favor, for which I can never be
sufficiently grateful, I was, however, neither more con¬
tented nor less confused by it. My God seemed to be
so estranged and displeased with me, that there
remained nothing but the grief of having lost his
blessed presence through my fault. The loss of my
reputation every day increasing, (by means of that
gentleman’s party whom I have mentioned,) became
more sensible to my heart, though I was not allowed
to justify or bewail myself.

As I became always more impotent for every kind
of exterior works, a3 I could not go to see the poor, nor
stay at Church, nor practice prayer; and as I became
colder towards God, in proportion as I was more sensi¬
ble of my wrong steps, all this destroyed me the more
both in my own eyes and in those of others. There were
in the meantime, some very considerable gentlemen
who made proposals for me, and even such persons as
according to the rules of fashion ought not to think of
me. They presented themselves during the very depth
of my outward and inward desolation. At first it
appeared to me a means of drawing me out of the dis¬
tress I was in. But it seemed to me then, notwith-
6

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standing my pains of body and mind, that if a king
had presented himself to me, I would have refused
him with pleasure, to show thee, O my God, that with
all my miseries I was resolved to be thine alone; and
that if thou wouldst not accept of me, I should at least
have the consolation 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 never spoke
thereof, nor of the suitors, though my mother-in-law
would say, “ If I did not marry, it was because none
would have me.” It was sufficient for me that thou,
O my God, knewest that I sacrificed them to thee, (with¬
out saying a word to anybody,) especially one whose
high birth and amiable exterior qualities might have
tempted both my vanity and inclination. Oh, could I
but have hoped, through those sacrifices and heavy
afflictions to become agreeable to thee, such a hope
would have been like a change from hell to heaven.
But so far was I from presuming to hope for it, that I
feared this sea of affliction might also be followed by
everlasting misery, in the loss of thee. I durst not
even desire to enjoy thee, — I only desired not to offend
thee.

I was for five or six weeks at the last extremity. I
could not take any nourishment. A spoonfull of broth
made me faint. My voice was so gone, that when they
put their ears close to my mouth, they could scarcely
distinguish my words. I could not see any hope of
salvation, yet was not unwilling to die, as I bore a
strong impression that the longer I lived the more I
would sin. Of the two, I thought I would rather
choose hell than sin. All the good, which God made
me do, now seemed to me evil, or full of faulta All

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my prayers, penances, alms and charities, seemed to
rise up against me, and heighten my condemnation.
I thought there appeared on the side of God, on my
own, and from all creatures, one general condemnation,
my conscience was a witness against me, which I could
not appease; yet what may appear strange, the sins of
my youth did not then give me any pain at all. They
did not rise up in judgment against me, but there ap¬
peared one universal testimony against all the good I
had done, and all the sentiments of evil I had enter¬
tained. If I went to confessors, I could tell them noth¬
ing of my condition; and if I could have told them,
they would not have understood me. They would have
regarded as eminent virtues, what, O my God, thy
eyes all pure and chaste rejected as infidelity. It was
then that I felt the truth of what thou hast said, that
thou judgest our righteousness. Oh, how pure art
thou ! Who can comprehend it ? It was then that I
turned my eyes on every side, to see what way succor
might come to me; but my succor could come no way
but from him who made heaven and earth. As I saw
there was no safety for me, or spiritual health in my¬
self, I entered into a secret complacency in seeing no
good in myself whereon to rest, or presume for salva¬
tion. The nearer my destruction appeared, the more
I found in God himself, wherewith to augment my
trust and confidence, notwithstanding he seemed so
justly irritated against me. It seemed to me that I had
in Jesus Christ all that was wanting in myself. Oh,
Holy Jesus ! I was that lost sheep of the House of Is¬
rael, whom thou wast come to save: Thou wast come
to save her who could find no salvation out of thee.
Oh, ye stout and righteous men ! Observe as much as

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ye please of excellence in what ye have done to the
glory of God. As for me, I only glory in my infirmi¬
ties, since they have merited for me such a Savior !

All my troubles, joined to the loss of my reputation,
which yet was not so great as I apprehended, (it being
only amongst a party) rendered me so unable to eat,
that it seemed wonderful how I lived. In four days I
did not eat as much as would make one very moderate
repast. I was obliged to keep my bed through mere
weakness, my body being no longer able to support the
burden laid upon it. If I had thought, known, or
heard tell, that there had ever been such a state as
mine, it would have exceedingly relieved me: But my
very pain appeared to me to be sin. Spiritual books,
when I tried to read them, all contributed only to aug¬
ment it; for I saw in myself none of those states which
they set down. I did not so much as comprehend
them. And when they treated of the pains of certain
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 could have
wished to separate the sin from the confusion of sin,
and provided I had not offended God, all would have
been easy to me.

See here 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 too much of an
earnest attachment, vain complaisance, unprofitable
and tedious conversations, though self-love and nature
made a sort of necessity for them ; but toward the lat¬
ter part I could not have borne a speech too human,
nor the least thing of the kind.

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159

CHAPTEE XXY.

The first religions 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 no
more, signifying his disapprobation of what came from
me, and that I displeased God greatly. A father, a Je¬
suit, who had esteemed me much, wrote to me in like
manner. No doubt, it was by thy permission, they
thus contributed to complete my desolation. I thanked
them for their charity, and commended myself to their
prayers. It was then so indifferent to me to be decried
of everybody, even of the greatest saints, that it added
but little to my pain. The pain of displeasing God,
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 dry¬
ness and to privation. I even preferred it to the state
of abounding, because I knew that I must seek God
above all. I had even, at the first beginnings, an in¬
stinct of my inmost soul to pass over every manner oi
thing whatsoever, and to leave the gifts to run after the
giver. But at this time my spirit and senses were in
such a manner struck, by thy permission, O my Lord,
who wast pleased to destroy me without mercy, that
the farther I went, the more everything appeared to
me a sin; even crosses appeared to me no more crosses
but real faults. I thought I drew them all on myself

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by my imprudent words and actions. I was like those,
who, looking through a colored glass, behold every¬
thing of the same color with which it is stained. Had
I been able to perform any exterior acts as formerly,
or penances for my evil, it would have relieved me ;
but, I was forbidden to do the latter, beside, I grew so
timorous, and felt in myself such a weakness, as made
it appear impossible for me to do them; I looked on
them with horror, I found myself now so weak and in¬
capable of anything of the kind.

Methinks I omit many things, both of providences
of the Lord in my favor, and of rugged paths through
which I was obliged to pass : But as I have only one
general view, I leave them in the knowledge of the
Lord only. Afterwards, being forsaken of my director,
the coldness towards me which I remarked in the per¬
sons conducted by him, gave me no more trouble, nor
inde ed the estrangement of all the creatures, on account
of my inward humiliation. My brother also joined with
those who exclaimed against me, even though he had
never seen them before. I believe it was the 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 near relations of my mother-in-law lived.
How did I find things changed here ! "When I was
there before, they entertained me in a most elegant and
obliging manner, regaling me from house to house with
emulation : But now they treated me with the utmost
contempt, saying, they did it to revenge what I made
their relation suffer. As I saw the thing went so far,
and that notwithstanding all my care and endeavors to
please her, I had not been able to succeed, I resolved

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161

to come to an explanation with her. I told her, “ that
there was a current report that I treated her ill, though
I made it my study to give her every mark of my es¬
teem. If the report were true, I desired her to allow
me to remove from her; for that I would not choose
to stay to give her pain, but only with a quite con¬
trary view.” She answered very coldly, “ I might do
what I would; for she 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 my
measures privately to retire. As I had not, since my
widowhood, made any visits but such as were of pure
necessity, or charity, there were found too many dis¬
contented spirits, who made a party with her against
me ; while the Lord required of me an inviolable
secrecy of all my pains, both exterior and interior.
There is nothing which makes nature die so much, as
to find neither support nor consolation. In short I saw
myself obliged to go out, in the middle of winter, with
my children and my daughter’s nurse. At that time
there was no house empty in the town, hence the Bene¬
dictines offered me an apartment in theirs.

I was now in a great strait; on one side fearing lest
I was shunning the cross, on the other side thinking it
unreasonable to impose my stay on one to whom it
was only painful. Besides what I have related of her
behavior, which still continued; when I went into the
country to take a little repose, she complained that I
left her alone. If I desired her to come thither she
would not. If I said, “ I durst not ask her to come,
for fear of incommoding her, by changing her bed,”
She replied, “ It Was only an excuse, because I would
not have her go; and that I only went to be away

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from her.” "When I heard that she was displeased at
my being in the country, I returned to the town. Then
she could not bear to speak to me, or to see me. I
accosted her without appealing to notice how she
received it; but instead of making me any answer, she
turned her head another way. I often sent her my
coach, desiring her to come and spend a day in the
country. She sent it back empty, without any answer.
If I passed some days there without sending it, she
complained aloud. In short, all I did to please her
soured her, God so permitting it; for she had 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: “My mother, on this day was the King
of peace bora, to bring it to us; I beg peace of you in
his name.” I think that touched her, though she
would not let it appear. The ecclesiastic, whom I had
met with at home, far from strengthening and comfort¬
ing me, did nothing but weaken and afflict me, telling
me that I ought not to suffer certain things. I had not
credit enough to discharge any domestic, however
defective or culpable. As soon as any of them were
warned to go away, she sided with them, and all her
friends interfered in it. As I was ready to go off, one
of my mother-in-law’s friends, a man of worth, who had
always an esteem for me, without daring to show it,
having heard it, was much afraid lest 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 my mother-in-law, in the softest manner he could;
for he knew her. After he had spoken to her, she said,

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“ Slie would not put me away, but il I went, she would
not hinder me.” After this he came to see me, and
desired me to go and make an excuse to her, in order
to content her. I told him, I should be willing to
make a hundred, although “I did not know about
what; that I did it continually about everything, which
made her uneasy. But that was not now the matter,
for I make no complaint of her, but thought it not
proper for me to continue with her, to give her pain;
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 begged her pardon, if ever I
had displeased her in anything, that it had never been
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 offence.” Here God permitted, that
she made a declaration of the truth in his presence.
She said, “ She was not a person to suffer herself to be
offended; that she had no other complaint against me
but that I did not love her, and that I wished her
dead.” I answered her, “That these thoughts 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 my affection was real, but that she never
would be persuaded to believe it, whatever testimonies
I could give, so long a3 she hearkened to people 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 me when she wanted to pass by. She
bad done it at Church, making me give way to her
with as much violence as contempt, several times, also,
in my chamber grating me with her words: that I had
never complained of it, because such a temper might

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one day give her trouble.” She took the girl’s part.
Nevertheless we embraced each other, and it was left
so. Soon after, when I was in the country, this maid,
having me no more to vent her chagrins on, behaved
in such a manner to my mother-in-law that she could
not bear it. She immediately put her out of doors. I
must say here on my mother-in-law’s behalf, that she
had both sense and virtue, and except certain faults,
which persons who do not practice prayer are liable to,
she had good qualities. Perhaps I caused crosses to
her without intending it, and she to me without know¬
ing it. I hope what I write will not be seen by any
who may be offended with it, or who may not be in a
condition to see these matters in God.

That gentleman who had used me so ill, for break¬
ing off my acquaintance with him, among his penitents
had one who, for affairs which befell her husband, was
obliged to quit the country. He himself was accused
of the same things of which he had so liberally and
unjustly accused me, and even of things much worse,
and with more noise and outcry. Though I well knew
all this, God granted me the favor never to make his
downfall the subject of my discourse; never to open
my lips about it. On the contrary, when any spoke to
me of it, I pitied him, and said what I could in mitiga¬
tion of his case. And God governed my heart so well,
that it never offered to go into any vain joy at seeing
him overtaken, and oppressed, with those kind of evils
which he had been so assiduous in endeavoring to
bring upon me. And though I knew that my mother-
in-law was informed of it all, I never spoke to her
about it, or about the sad confusions he had caused in
a certain family.

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