CHAPTER XL

After Father La Combe was returned from Rome,
well approved, and furnished with testimonials of his
life and doctrine, he performed his functions of preach¬
ing and confessing as usual. I gave him an account of
what I had done and suffered in his absence, and what
care God had taken of all my concerns. I saw his
providence incessantly extended to the very smallest
things. After having been several months without any
news of my papers, when some pressed me to write,
and blamed my neglect, an invisible hand held me
back; my peace and confidence were great herein. I
received a letter from the ecclesiastic at home, which
informed me that he had orders to come and see me,
and bring me my papers. I had sent to Paris for a
pretty considerable bundle of things for my daughter.
I heard they were lost on the lake, and could learn no
further tidings about them.

But I gave myself no trouble, I always thought they
would be found. The man who had taken the charge
of them made a search after them a whole month,
in all the environs, without hearing any news about
them. At the end of three months they 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 had sent for all the money which was
to serve me a whole year; the person who had been to
receive cash for the bill of exchange, having put that

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247

money in two bags on horseback, forgot that it was
there, and gave the horse to a little boy to lead. The
money fell from the horse in the middle of the market
at Geneva. That instant I arrived, coming on the
other side, and having alighted from my litter, the first
thing I found was my money, in walking over it.
"What was surprising, a great throng was in this place,
and not one had perceived it. Many such things have
attended me, which, to avoid prolixity, I pass by.
These may suffice to show the continual protection of
God.

The Bishop of Geneva continued to persecute me.
When he wrote to me, it was with politeness and
thanks for my charities at Gex; while at the same time
he said to others, “I gave nothing to that house.” He
wrote against me to the TJrsulines with whom I lived,
charging them to hinder me from having any confer¬
ences with Father La Combe, for fear of bad conse¬
quences. The superior of the 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 to himself. He then excused himself with a pre¬
tended respect, saying, he did not mean it that way.
They wrote to him, “that I did not see the Father but
at the confessional, and not in conference; that they
were so much edified by me, as to think themselves
happy in having me, and to esteem it a great favor
from God.” What they said out of pure charity was
not 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 out of the diocese. Though
I knew all this, and these good sisters were troubled
at it, I could have no trouble by reason of the calm

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establishment which I was in, the will of God render¬
ing everything equal to me. The creatures, however
unreasonable or passionate they appear, not being re¬
garded in themselves but in God; for an habitual faith
causes everything to be seen in God without distinc¬
tion. Thus, when I see poor souls so ruffled for dis¬
courses in the air, so uneasy for explanations, I pity
them for their want of light. They have reasons, I
know, which self-love causes to appear very just.

To relieve myself a little from the fatigue of con¬
tinual conversation, as my body grew weak, I desired
Father La Combe to allow me a retreat. It was then
that I let myself be consumed by love all the day long.
Then also I perceived the quality of a spiritual mother;
for the Lord gave me what I cannot express for the
perfection of souls. This I could not hide from Father
La Combe. It seemed to me as if I entered into the
inmost recesses of his heart. Our Lord showed me he
was his servant, chosen among a thousand, singularly
to honor him ; but that he would lead him through
total death, and the entire destruction of the old man;
that he would have me contribute thereto, and be in¬
strumental to cause him to walk in the way in which
he had led me first; in order that I might be in a con¬
dition to direct others therein, and to tell them the
way through which I have passed; that the Lord would
have us to be conformed, and to become both one in
him; that though my soul was more advanced now, yet
he should one day pass beyond it, with a bold and
rapid flight. God knows how I rejoiced herein, and
with what joy I would see my spiritual children surpass
their mother in glory.

In this retreat I felt a strong propensity to write,

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249

but resisted it till I fell sick. I had nothing to write
about, not one idea to begin with. It was a divine
impulse, with such a fulness of grace as was hard to
contain, or bear. I opened this disposition of mine to
Father La Combe. He answered me, “that he had a
strong impulse to command me to write, but had not
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 me, “ But what is it you will write ? ’>
I replied, ‘“I know nothing of it, nor desire to know,
leaving it entirely to God to direct me.” He ordered
me to do so. At my taking the pen I knew not the
first word I should write; but when I began, suitable
matter flowed copiously, nay, impetuously; and as I
was writing I was relieved and grew better. I wrote
an entire treatise on the interior path of faith, under
the comparison of torrents, or of streams and rivers;
and though it is pretty long, the comparison in it holds
out to the end.

As the way, wherein God now conducted Father
La Combe, was very different from that in which he
had formerly walked; which had been all light, knowl¬
edge, ardor, assurance, sentiment; but now the poor,
low, despised path of faith, and of nakedness; he found
it very hard to submit thereto, which caused me no
little suffering. Who could express what it has cost
my heart before he was formed according to the will of
God ? Meanwhile, the possession which the Lord had
of my soul became every day stronger, insomuch that
I passed whole days without being able to pronounce
one word; for the Lord was pleased to make me pass
wholly into him by an entire internal transformation.

250

THE LIFE OF MADAME GUYON.

He became more and more the absolute master of my
heart, to such a degree as not to leave me a movement
of my own, in order that I might be continually supple
to every intimation of his will. This state did not hin¬
der me from condescending to my sister, and the others
in the house. Nevertheless, the useless things with
which they were taken up could not interest me.
That was what induced me to ask leave to make a
retreat, to let myself be possessed of him who holds me
so closely united to himself after an ineffable manner.

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CHAPTER YTT.

I had at that time so ardent a desire for the perfec¬
tion of Father La Combe, and to see him thoroughly
die to himself, that I could have wished him all the
crosses and afflictions imaginable, that might conduce
to this great and blessed end. "Whenever he was
unfaithful, or looked at things in any other light than
the true one, viz. to tend to this death of self, I felt
myself on the rack, which, as I had till then been so
indifferent, very much surprised me. To the Lord I
made my complaint, who graciously encouraged me,
both on this subject and on that entire dependence on
himself which he gave me, which was such that I was
like a new bora infant.

My sister had brought me a maid, whom God was
willing to give me, to fashion her according to his will,
not without some crucifixion to myself; for I believe it
never is to fall out, that our Lord will give me any
persons without giving them wherewith to make me
suffer for them, whether it be for the purpose of draw¬
ing them into a spiritual life, or never to leave me
without the cross. She was one on whom the Lord
had conferred very singular graces. She was in high
reputation in the country, where she passed for a saint.
Our Lord brought her to me, to let her see the differ¬
ence between the sanctity conceived and comprised in
those gifts, with which she was endowed, and that
which is obtained by our entire destruction, even by
8

252

THE LIFE OF MADAME GUYON.

the loss of those very gifts, and of all that raised us in
the esteem of men. Our Lord had given her the same
dependence on me, as I had in regard to Father La
Combe, nevertheless with some difference.

This girl fell grievously sick. I was willing to give
her all the assistance in my power, but I found I had
nothing to do but to command her bodily sickness, or
the disposition of her mind; and all that I said was
done. It was then that I learned what it was to com¬
mand by the Word, and to obey by the Word. It was
Jesus Christ in me equally commanding and obeying.

She, however, continued sick for sometime. One
day, after dinner, I was moved to say to her, “ Rise and
be no longer sick.” She arose and was cured. The
nuns were very much astonished; and as they knew
nothing of what had passed, but saw her walking, who
in the morning had appeared to be in the last extrem¬
ity, they attributed her disorder to a vivid imagina¬
tion.

I have at sundry times experienced, and felt in
myself, how much God respects the freedom of man,
and even demands his free concurrence; for when I
said, “Be healed,” or, “Be free from your troubles,” if
such persons acquiesced therein, the Word was effica¬
cious, and they were healed. If they doubted, or
resisted, though under fair pretexts, as saying, “ I shall
be 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 my condition,” then the Word
had no effect. I felt in myself, that the divine virtue
retired in me. I experienced what our Lord said,
when the woman afflicted with the issue of blood
touched him, and he instantly asked, “Who touched

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253

me?” The apostles said, “Master, the multitude
throng thee, and press thee; and sayest thou, Who
touched me?” But he replied, “It is because virtue
hath gone out of me.” (Luke viii. 45, 46.) Jesus
Christ had caused that healing virtue to flow, through
me, by means of his Word; but when that virtue met
not with a correspondence in the subject, I felt it sus¬
pended in its source, which gave me some pain. I
should be, as it were, displeased with those persons;
but when there was no resistance, but a full acquies¬
cence, this divine virtue had its full effect. One can¬
not conceive the delicacy of this healing virtue.
Although it 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. She went to declare her case to a
sister whom she thought very spiritual, and in a condi¬
tion capable of assisting her. But far from finding
succor here, she was very much discouraged and cast
down. The other despised and repulsed her, and treat¬
ing her with contempt and rigor, said, “Don’t come
near me, since you are that way.” This poor girl in a
frightful distress came to me, thinking herself undone,
on account of what the sister had said to her. I con¬
soled her, and our Lord relieved her immediately; but
I could not then forbear telling her, “that assuredly
the other 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, highly pleased with
herself in what she had done, saying, she abhorred such
tempted creatures; that as for herself, she was proof
against such sorts of temptations, and that she never

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had a bad thought.” I said to her, “My sister, from
the friendship I have for you I wish you the pain of
her who spoke to you, and even one still more violent.”
She answered me haughtily, “If you were to ask it
from God for me, and I ask of him the contrary, I
believe I shall be heard at least as soon as you.” I
answered her with great firmness, “ If it be only my
own interests which I ask, I shall not be heard; but if
it be those of God only, and yours too, I shall be heard
sooner than you are aware.” That very night she fell
into so violent a temptation that one equal to it has
seldom been known, and she continued in it a fort¬
night It was then she had ample occasion to ack¬
nowledge her own weakness, and what she would be
without grace. She conceived at first a violent hatred
for me, saying, that I was the cause of her pain. But
it served her, as the clay did to enlighten him who had
been bom 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 cover the great mysteries which it pleased
God to operate in me. Scarce ever was a disorder more
extraordinary, or of longer continuance in its excess.
Several times during its continuance, I saw in
dreams Father La Mothe raising persecutions against
me. Our Lord let me know that this would be the
case, and that Father La Combe would forsake me in
the time of persecution. This I wrote to him, and it
disquieted him greatly; because he thought his heart
was united to the will of God, and too desirious of
serving me, to admit such desertion; and yet it has
since been found quite tme; though not with his will,
but from necessity, having been himself persecuted the

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255

first. He was now to preach during Lent, and was so
much followed, that people came five leagues, to pass
several days there for the benefit of his ministry. I
heard he was so sick that he was thought like to die,
and prayed to the Lord to restore his health, and ena¬
ble him to preach to the people, who were longing to
hear him. My prayer was heard, and he soon recov¬
ered, and resumed his pious labors.

During this extraordinary sickness, which contin¬
ued more than six months, the Lord gradually taught
me that there was another manner of conversing
among souls wholly his, than by speech. Thou madest
me conceive, O divine Word, that as thou art ever
speaking and operating in a soul, though therein thou
appearest in profound silence; so there was also a way
of communication in thy creatures, in an ineffable
silence. I learned then a language which before had
been unknown to me. I gradually perceived, when
Father La Combe entered, that I could speak no more;
and that there was formed in my soul the same kind of
silence towards him, as was formed in it in regard to
God. I comprehended that God was willing to show
me that men might in this life learn the language of
angels. I was gradually reduced to speak to him only
in silence. It was then that we understood each other
in God, after a manner unutterable and all divine.
Our hearts spoke to each other, communicating a grace
which no words can express. It was like a new coun¬
try, both for him and for me, but so divine, that I can¬
not describe it. At first this was done in a manner so
perceptible, that is to say, God penetrated us with
himself in a manner so pure and so sweet, that we
passed hours in this profound silence, always communi-

256

THE LITE OP MADAME GUYON.

cative, without being able to utter one word. It waa
in this that we learned, by our own experience, the
operations of the heavenly Word to reduce souls into
unity with itself, and what purity one may arrive at in
this life. It was given me to communicate this way to
other good souta, but with this difference that I did
nothing but communicate to them the grace with
which they were filled, while near me, in this sacred
silence, which infused into them an extraordinary
strength and grace; but I received nothing from them;
whereas with Father La Combe there was a flow and
return of communication of grace, which he received
from me, and I from him, in the greatest purity.

In this long malady the love of God, and of him
alone, made up my whole occupation, I seemed so
entirely lost in him, as to have no sight of myself at all.
It seemed as if my heart never came out of that divine
ocean, having been drawn into it through deep humili¬
ations. Oh happy loss, which is the consummation of
bliss, though operated through crosses and through
deaths !

Jesus was then living in me; and I lived no more.
These words were imprinted in me, as a real state into
which I must enter, (Matt. viii. 20.) “The foxes have
holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son
of man hath not where to lay his head.” This I have
since experienced in all its extent, having no sure
abode, no refuge among my friends, who were ashamed
of me, and openly renounced me, when universally
decried; nor among my relations, most of whom
declared themselves my adversaries, and were my
greatest persecutors; while others looked on me with
contempt and indignation. I might as David say, “ For

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257

thy sake I have borne reproach; shame hath covered
my face; I am become a stranger to my brethren, and
an alien unto my mother’s children; a reproach to men,
and despised of the people.”

He showed me all the world in a rage against me,
without any one daring to appear for me; and assured
me in the ineffable silence of his eternal Word, that he
would give me vast numbers of children, which I should
bring forth by the cross. I left it to him to do with
me whatever he pleased, esteeming my whole and sole
interest to be placed entirely in his divine WilL He
gave me to see how the devil was going to stir up an
outrageous persecution against prayer, yet it should
prove the source of the same prayer, or rather the
means which God would make use of to establish it.
He gave me to see farther how he would guide me into
the wilderness, where he would cause me to be
nourished for a time. The wings, which were to bear
me thither, were the resignation of my whole self to his
holy will, and the love of the same will I think I am
at present in that wilderness, separated from the whole
world in my imprisonment; and I see already accom¬
plished in part what was then shown me. Can I ever
express the mercies which my God has bestowed on
me? No; they must ever remain in himself, being of
a nature not to be described, by reason of their purity
and immensity.

In this sickness I was often to all appearance at the
point of death. I fell into convulsions from violent
pains which lasted a long time with violence. Father
La Combe administered the sacrament to me, the Prio¬
ress of the Ursulines having desired him to do it. I
was well satisfied to die, as was he also in the expecta-

258

THE LIFE OF MADAME GUYON.

tion of my departure. For, being united in God after
a manner so pure, and so spiritual, death could not
separate us, but, on the contrary, would have more
closely united us. Father La Combe, who was on his
knees at my bed-side, remarking the change of my
countenance, and how my eyes faded, seemed ready to
give me up, when God inspired him to lift up his
hands, and with a strong voice, which was heard by all
who were in my chamber, at that time almost full, to
command death to relinquish its hold. Instantly it
seemed to be stopped; and thus God was pleased won¬
derfully to raise me up again; yet for a long time I
continued extremely weak, during all which our Lord
still gave me new testimonies of his love. How many
times was he pleased to make use of his servant to
restore me to life, when I was almost on the very point
of expiring! As they saw that my sickness and pain
did not entirely end, they judged that the air of the
lake on which the convent was situated, was very pre¬
judicial to my constitution. They concluded that it
would be necessary for me to remove.

During my indisposition, our Lord put it into the
heart of Father La Combe to establish an hospital in
this place for the poor people seized with maladies,
and to institute also a committee or congregation of
ladies, to furnish such as could not leave their families,
to go to the hospital, with the means of subsistence
during their illness, after the manner of France, there
not having been yet any institution of this kind in that
country. Willingly did I enter into it; and without
any other fund than Providence, and some useless
rooms which a gentleman of the town gave us, we began
it. We dedicated it to the holy Child Jesus, and he

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259

was pleased to give the first beds to it from the earnest-
pence of my pension, which belong to him. He gave
such a blessing thereto, that several other persons
joined us in this charity. In a short time there were
nearly twelve beds in it, and three persons of great piety
gave themselves to this hospital to serve it, who, with¬
out any salary, consecrated themselves to the service of
the poor patients. I supplied them with ointments and
medicines, which were freely given to such of the poor
people of the town as had need of them. These good
ladies were so hearty in the cause, that, through their
charity, and the care of the young women, this hospi¬
tal was very well maintained and served. These ladies
joined together also in providing for the sick, who
could not go to the hospital; and I gave them some
little regulations such as I had observed when in
France, which they continued to keep up with tender¬
ness and love.

All these little things, which cost but little, and
which owed all their success to the blessing which God
gave them, drew upon us new persecutions. The
Bishop of Geneva was offended with me more than
ever, especially in seeing that these small matters ren¬
dered me beloved. He said, “I won over everybody.”
He openly declared, “ that he could not bear me in his
diocese,” though I had done therein nothing but good,
or rather God by me. He extended the persecution to
those good religious women who had been my assist¬
ants. The prioress in particular had her own share to
bear, though it did not last long; for as I was obliged,
on account of the air, to remove, after having been
there about two years and a hah, they were then more
in peace and quietness. On another side, my sister was

260

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very weary of this house; and as the season for the
waters approached, they took occasion from thence to
send her away, with the maid which I brought with
me, who had molested me exceedingly in my late ill¬
ness. I only kept her whom Providence had sent me
by means of my sister; and I have ever thought that
God had ordered my sister’s journey hither, only to
bring her to me, as one chosen of him and proper for
the state which 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-gen¬
eral of the Bamabites, to seek among the religious, a
man of merit, piety and learning, in whom he might
place confidence, and who might serve him for a pre¬
bend and a counsellor. At first he cast his eyes on
Father La Combe; yet before he absolutely engaged
him with the said bishop, he wrote to him, to know,
“whether he had any objection thereto.” Father La
Combe replied, “that he had no other will but that of
obeying him, and that he might command him herein
as he should think best in the case.” He gave me an
account of this, and that we were going to be entirely
separated. I was glad to find that our Lord would
employ him, under a bishop who knew him, and would
be likely to do him justice. Yet it was some time
before he went, matters not being all arranged.

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261

CHAPTEB XITL

I then went off from the Ursulines, and they sought
for a house for me at a distance from the lake. There
was but one to be found empty, which had the look of
the greatest poverty. It had no chimney but in the
kitchen, through which one was obliged to pass to go
to the chamber. I took my daughter with me, and
gave up the largest chamber for her, and the maid
who was to take care of her. I was lodged in a little
hole, on straw, to which I went up by a ladder. As
we had no other furniture but our beds, which were
quite plain and homely, I bought some straw chairs
and some Dutch earthen and wooden ware. Never did
I enjoy a greater content than in this little hole, which
appeared so very conformable to the state of Jesus
Christ. I fancied everything better on wood than on
plate. I laid in all my provisions, hoping to stay there
a long time; but the devil did not leave me long in
such sweet peace. It would be difficult for me to tell
the persecutions which were stirred up against me.
They threw stones in at my windows, which fell at my
feet. I had put my little garden in order. 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 racket as if they were going
to break it open. These persons have since told who
the person was that put them on such work.

262

THE LIFE OF MADAME GUYON.

Though from time to time I continued my charities
at Gex, I was not the less persecuted for it. They
offered one person a warrant to compel Father La
Combe to stay at Tonon, thinking he would otherwise
be a support to me in the persecution, but we prevent¬
ed it. I knew not then the designs of God, and that
he would soon draw me from that poor solitary, place,
in which I enjoyed a sweet and solid satisfaction, not¬
withstanding the abuses from without. I thought
myself happier here than any sovereign on earth. It
was for me like a nest and a place of repose; and
Christ was willing that I should be like him. The
devil, as I have said, irritated my persecutors. They
sent to desire me to go out of the diocese. All the
good which the Lord had caused me to do in it was
condemned, more than the greatest crimes. Crimes
they tolerated, but me they could not endure. All this
while I never had any uneasiness or repentance for my
having left all; not that I was assured of having done
the will of God therein. Such an assurance would
have been too much for me. But I could neither see
nor regard anything, receiving everything alike from
the hand of God, who directed and disposed of these
crosses for me either in justice or in mercy.

The Marchioness of Prunai, sister of the chief Sec¬
retary of State to his Boyal Highness (the Duke of
Savoy) and his prime minister, had sent an express
from Turin, in the time of my illness, to invite me to
come to reside with her; and to let me know that,
“being so persecuted as I was in this diocese, I should
find an asylum with her; that during that time things
might grow better; that when they should be well dis¬
posed she would return with me, and join me with a

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263

Mend of mine from Paris, who was willing also to
come to labor there, according to the will of God.” I
was not at that time in a condition to execute what she
desired of me, and expected to continue with the Ursu-
lines till things should change. She then wrote to me
about it no more. This lady is one of extraordinary
piety, who had quitted the splendor and noise of the
Court, for the more silent satisfaction of a retired life,
and to give herself up to God. With an eminent share
of natural advantages, she has continued a widow
twenty-two years; and has refused every. offer of mar¬
riage, to consecrate herself to our Lord entirely and
without any reserve. When she knew that I had been
obliged to leave the Ursulines, yet without knowing
anything of the manner in which I had been treated,
she procured a letter to oblige Father La Combe to
go to pass some weeks at Turin, for her own benefit,
and to bring me with him thither, where I should find
a refuge. All this she did unknown to us; and, as she
has told us since, a superior force moved her to do it,
without knowing the cause thereof. If she had delib¬
erately reflected on it, being such a prudent lady, she
probably would not have done it; because the persecu¬
tions, which the Bishop of Geneva procured us in that
place, cost her more than a little of humiliations. Our
Lord permitted him to pursue me, after a surprising
manner, into all the places I have been in, without
giving me any relaxation; though I never did him any
harm, but on the contrary, would have laid down my
life for the good of his diocese.

As this fell out without any design on our part, we,
without hesitation, believed it was the will of God;
and thought it might be the means of his appointment

264

THE LIFE OF mat>amw GTJYON.

to draw us out of the reproach and persecution we
labored under, seeing myself chased on the one side,
and desired on the other. It was therefore concluded
that Father La Combe should conduct 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 taught theology for fourteen years past,
to take away from our enemies all cause for slander.
I also took with me a boy whom I had brought out of
France. They took horses, and I hired a carriage for
my daughter, my chambermaid and myself. But all
precautions are useless, when it pleases God to permit
them to be frustrated. Our adversaries immediately
wrote to Paris. A hundred ridiculous stories were
circulated about this journey; comedies were acted on
it, things invented 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 uttering all this stuff.
Had he believed it to be true, he ought out of charity
to have concealed it; and much more, being so very
false. They said, “ I was gone all alone with Father
La Combe, strolling about the country, from province
to province,” with many such fables, as weak and wick¬
ed as they were incoherent and badly put together.
We suffered all with patience, without vindicating our¬
selves, or making any complaint.

Scarcely were we arrived at Turin, but the Bishop
of Geneva wrote against us. As he could pursue us no
other way, he did it by his letters. Father La Combe
repaired to Verceil, and I staid at Turin, with the
Marchioness of Prunai. But what crosses was I
assaulted with in my own family, from the Bishop of
Geneva, from the Bamabites, and from a vast number

THE LIFE OF MADAME GUYON.

265

of persons besides ! My eldest son came to find me
out, on tbe death of my mother-in-law, which was an
augmentation of my troubles; but after we had heard
all his accounts of things, and how they had made sales
of all the moveables, chosen guardians, and settled
every article, without consulting me at ali, I seemed to
be there entirely useless. It was judged not proper
for me to return, considering the rigor of the season.

The Marchioness of Prunai, who had been so warm¬
ly desirous of my company, seeing my great crosses
and reproaches, looked coldly upon me. My childlike
simplicity, which was the state wherein God at that
time kept me, passed with her for stupidity, though in
that condition he inspired me to utter oracles. For
when the question was to help anyone, or about any¬
thing 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 fore¬
tell events which should happen, and which since that
time have actually been fulfilled, as well to herself as to
her daughter, and to the virtuous ecclesiastic who lived
at her house. She did not fail, at last, to conceive
more friendship for me, seeing then that Christ was in
me. It was the force of self-love, and fear of reproach,
which had closed up her heart. Moreover, she thought
her state more advanced than in reality it was, by
reason of her being without tests; but she soon saw by
experience that I had told her the truth. She was
obliged for family reasons to leave Turin, and go to
live on her own estate. She solicited me to go with
her; but the education of my daughter did not permit
of my compliance. To stay at Turin without her

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seemed improper, because, having lived very retired in
this place, I made no acquaintance in it. I knew not
which way to turn. The Bishop of Verceil, where
Father La Combe was, most obligingly wrote to me,
earnestly entreating me to come thither, promising me
his protection, and assuring me of his esteem, adding,
“that he should look upon me as his own sister; that
he wished extremely to have me there.” It was his
own sister, one of my particular friends, who had
written to him about me, as had also a French gentle¬
man, an acquaintance of his. But a point of honor
kept me from it. I would not have it said that I had
gone after Father La Combe, and that I had come to
Turin only for the purpose of going to Verceil. He
had also his reputation to preserve, which was the
cause that he could not agree to my going thither,
however importunate the Bishop was for it. Had we
believed it to be the will of God, we would both of us
have passed over these considerations. God kept us
both in so great a dependence on his orders, that he
did not let us foreknow them; but the divine moment
of his providence determined everything. This proved
of very great service to Father La Combe, who had
long walked in assurances, to die to them and to him¬
self; for God by an effect 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 on me very great favors. I found
myself every day more transformed into him, and
had continually more knowledge of the state of souls,
without ever being mistaken or deceived therein,
though some were willing to persuade me to think the

THE LIFE OF MADAME GUYON.

267

contrary. I had used my utmost endeavors to give
myself other thoughts, which has caused me not a little
pain. For when I told, or wrote to Father La Combe
about the state of some souls, which appeared to him
more perfect and advanced than the knowledge given
to me of them, he attributed it to pride. He was very
angry with me, and prejudiced against my state. I
had no uneasiness on account of his esteeming me the
less, for I was not in a condition to reflect whether he
esteemed me or not. He could not reconcile my will¬
ing obedience in most things, with so extraordinary a
firmness, which in certain cases he looked upon as
criminal. He admitted a distrust of my grace; for he
was not 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; and that if I had any
such power, I should have suited myself to what he
said, to spare myself the crosses which my firmness
caused me; or, at least, would have artfully dissembled
my real sentiments. But I could do neither. Were
all to perish by it, I was in such a manner constrained,
that I could not forbear telling him the things, just as
our Lord directed me to tell them to him. In this he
has given me an inviolable fidelity to the very Iasi No
crosses or pains have ever made me fail a moment
therein. These things then, which appeared to him to
be the strong prejudice of a conceited opinion, set him
at variance against me. And though he did not openly
show it, but on the contrary, tried to conceal it from
me; yet how far distant soever he were from me, I
could not be ignorant of it; my spirit felt it, and that
more or less, as the opposition was stronger or weaker;
and as soon as it abated or ended, my pain, occasioned

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THE LIFE OF MADAME GUYON.

thereby, ceased. He also, on his side, experienced the
like. He has told me and written to me many times
over, “When I stand well with G-od, 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 that when God received him into his bosom, it
was always in uniting him to me, as if he would accept
of nothing from him but in this union.

While he was at Turin, a widow who was a good
servant of God, all in the brightness of sensibility,
came to him to confess. She uttered wonderful things
of her state. I was then at the other side of the confes¬
sional He told me, “ He had met with a soul given
up to God; that it was she who was present; that he
was very much edified by her; that he was far from
finding the like in me; that I operated nothing but
death upon his souL” At first I rejoiced at his having
met with such a holy soul, as it ever gives me the high¬
est joy to see my God glorified. As I was returning,
the Lord showed me clearly the state of that soul, as
only 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, I was obliged to write
to him upon it On his first reading of my letter, he dis¬
covered the stamp of truth in it; but soon after, letting
in again his old reflections, he viewed all I wrote in the
light of pride; for he still had in his mind the ordinary
rules of humility conceived and comprised after our
maimer. As to me, I let myself be led as a child, who
says and does, without distinction, whatever it is made
to say and do. I left myself to be led wheresoever my
heavenly Father pleased, high or low; all was alike
good to me.

THE LIFE OF MADAME GUYON.

269

He wrote to me, that, at his first reading of my
letter, there appeared in it something of truth; but
that on reading it over again, he found it to be full of
pride, and of preference of my own discernments to
that of others. Some time after he was more enlight¬
ened hereupon, and in regard to the state I was in.
He then said to me, “Continue to believe as you have
done; I encourage and exhort you to do it.” Some
time after he sufficiently discovered, by that person’s
manner of acting, that she was very far from what he
had thought of her. I give this as only one instance.
I might give many others nearly like it; but this may
suffice.

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THE LIFE OF MADAME GUYON.