After about eight months, my father took me home. My mother kept me
more 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 was
sick and there was anything I liked, he demanded it. It was taken from
me, and given to him, and he was in perfectly good health. One day he
made me mount the top of the coach; then threw me down. By the fall I
was very much bruised. At other times he beat me. But whatever he did,
however wrong, it was winked at, or the most favorable construction was
put upon it. This soured my temper. I had little disposition to do
good, saying, "I was never the better for it."
It was not then for Thee alone, O God, that I did good; since I ceased
to do it, when it met not with such a reception from others as I
wanted. Had I known how to make a right use of this thy crucifying
conduct, I should have made a good progress. Far from turning me out of
the way, it would have made me turn more wholly to Thee.
I looked with jealous eyes on my brother, seeing the difference between
him and me. Whatever he did was considered well; but if there were
blame, it fell on me. My stepsisters by the mother, gained her goodwill
by caressing him and persecuting me. True, I was bad. I relapsed into
my former faults of lying and peevishness. With all these faults I was
very 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 of
inconsistencies; but what succeeds will surprise you yet more, when you
see this manner of acting gain ground with my years. As my reason
ripened, it was so far from correcting this irrational conduct. Sin
grew more powerful in me.
O my God, thy grace seemed to be redoubled in proportion to the
increase of my ingratitude! It was with me as with a city besieged,
Thou didst surround my heart, and I only studied how to defend myself
against thy attacks. I raised fortifications about the wretched place,
adding every day to the number of my iniquities to prevent Thee taking
it. When there was an appearance of Thy becoming victorious over this
ungrateful heart, I raised a counter-battery, and threw up ramparts to
keep off thy goodness, and to hinder the course of thy grace. None
other could have conquered than Thyself.
I cannot bear to hear it said, "We are not free to resist grace." I
have had too long and fatal an experience of my liberty. I closed up
the avenues of my heart, that I might not so much as hear that secret
voice of God, which was calling me to Himself. I have indeed, from
tenderest youth, passed through a series of grievances, either by
maladies 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 it
except with rage and blows.
Everything seemed to punish me, but this instead of making me turn unto
Thee, 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 he
would not have suffered it. I loved him very much, but at the same time
I feared him, so that I told him nothing of it. My mother was often
teasing him with complaints of me, to which he made no other reply
than, "There are twelve hours in the day; she'll grow wiser." This
rigorous proceeding was not the worst for my soul, though it soured my
temper, which was otherwise mild and easy. But what caused my greatest
hurt was, that I chose to be among those who caressed me, in order to
corrupt and spoil me.
My father, seeing I was now grown tall, placed me in Lent among the
Ursulines, to receive my first communion at Easter, at which time I was
to complete my eleventh year. And here my most dear sister, under whose
inspection my father placed me, redoubled her cares, to cause me to
make the best preparation possible for this act of devotion. I thought
now of giving myself to God in good earnest. I often felt a combat
between my good inclinations and my bad habits. I even did some
penances. As I was almost always with my sister, and as the boarders in
her class, which was the first, were very reasonable and civil. I
became such also, while among them. It had been cruel to educate me
badly; for my very nature was strongly disposed to goodness. Easily won
with mildness, I did with pleasure whatever my good sister desired. At
length Easter arrived; I received the communion with much joy and
devotion. In this house I staid until Whitsuntide. But as my other
sister was mistress of the second class, she demanded that in her week
I should be with her in that class. Her manners, so opposite to the
other's, made me relax my former piety. I felt no more that new and
delightful ardor which had seized my heart at my first communion. Alas!
it held but a short time. My faults and failings were soon reiterated
and 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 than
before, she took care to deck and dress me, to make me see company, and
to take me abroad. She took an inordinate pride in that beauty with
which God had formed me, to bless and praise Him. However it was
perverted by me into a source of pride and vanity. Several suitors came
to me; but as I was not yet twelve years my father would not listen to
any proposals. I loved reading and shut myself up alone every day to
read 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 to
Cochin China. I happened at that time to be taking a walk with my
companions, which I seldom did. At my return he was gone. They gave me
an account of his sanctity, and the things he had said, I was so
touched that I was overcome with sorrow. I cried all the rest of the
day and night. Early in the morning I went in great distress to seek my
confessor. I said to him, "What! my father, am I the only person in our
family to be lost? Alas; help me in my salvation." He was greatly
surprised to see me so much afflicted, and comforted me in the best
manner he could, not thinking me so bad as I was. In my backslidings I
was docile, punctual in obedience, careful to confess often. Since I
went to him my life was more regular.
Oh, thou God of love, how often hast Thou knocked at the door of my
heart! How often terrified me with appearances of sudden death! All
these only made a transient impression. I presently returned again to
my infidelities. This time thou didst take and quite carried off my
heart. 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, when
I gave it to Thee so fully. Or, if Thou didst take it then, oh, why
didst Thou let it revolt again? Thou wast surely strong enough to hold
it, but Thou wouldst perhaps, in leaving me to myself, display thy
mercy that the depth of my iniquity might serve as a trophy to thy
goodness.
I immediately applied myself to every part of my duty. I made a general
confession with great compunction of heart. I frankly confessed all
that I knew with many tears. I became so changed that I was scarcely
known. I would not for ever so much made the least voluntary slip. They
found not any matter for absolution when I confessed. I discovered the
very smallest faults and God did me the favor to enable me to conquer
myself 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 means
thereof, given any displeasure, even to the domestics, I begged their
pardon, in order to subdue my wrath and pride; for wrath is the
daughter of pride. A person truly humbled permits not anything to put
him in a rage. As it is pride which dies the last in the soul, so it is
passion which is last destroyed in the outward conduct. A soul
thoroughly dead to itself, finds nothing of rage left.
There are persons who, being very much filled with grace and with
peace, at their entrance of the resigned path of light and love, think
they are come thus far. But they are greatly mistaken, in this view of
their state. This they will readily discover, if they are heartily
willing to examine two things. First, if their nature is lively, warm
and violent, (I speak not of stupid tempers) they will find, from time
to time, that they make slips, in which trouble and emotion have some
share. Even then they are useful to humble and annihilate them. (But
when annihilation is perfected all passion is gone--it is incompatible
with this state.) They will find that there often arises in them
certain motions of anger, but the sweetness of grace holds them back.
They would easily transgress, if in any wise they gave way to these
motions. There are persons who think themselves very mild because
nothing thwarts them. It is not of such that I am speaking. Mildness
which has never been put to the proof, is often only counterfeit. Those
persons who, when unmolested, appear to be saints are no sooner
exercised by vexing occurrences than there starts up in them a strange
number of faults. They had thought them dead which only lay dormant
because nothing awakened them.
I followed my religious exercises. I shut myself up all day to read and
pray. I gave all I had to the poor taking even linen to their houses. I
taught them the catechism and when my parents dined out I made them eat
with 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 first
learned what mental prayer was, and I besought my confessor to teach me
that kind of prayer. As he did not, I used my own endeavors to practice
it, though without success, as I then thought, because I could not
exercise the imagination, I persuaded myself, that that prayer could
not be made without forming to one's self certain ideas and reasoning
much. This difficulty gave me no small trouble, for a long time. I was
very assiduous and prayed earnestly to God to give me the gift of
prayer. All that I saw in the life of M. de Chantal charmed me. I was
so 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 that
she had put the name of Jesus on her heart, to follow the counsel, "Set
me as a seal upon thy heart." For this purpose she had taken a hot
iron, whereupon the holy name was engraven. I was very much afflicted
that I could not do the same. I decided to write that sacred and
adorable name, in large characters, on paper, then with ribbons and a
needle I fastened it to my skin in four places. In that position it
continued a long time.
After this, I turned all my thoughts to become a nun. Because the love
which I had for St. Francis de Sales did not permit me to think of any
other community than the one of which he was the founder, I frequently
went to beg the nuns there to receive me into their convent. Often I
stole out of my father's house to go and repeatedly solicit my
admission there. Though it was what they eagerly desired, even as a
temporal advantage, yet they never dared let me enter, as they very
much 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 under
great obligations. Fortune had not been very favorable to her father.
It had reduced her in some measure to depend on mine, to whom she made
known my desire. Although he would not for anything in the world have
hindered a right vocation, yet he could not hear of my design without
shedding tears. As he happened at this time to be abroad, my cousin
went to my confessor, to desire him to forbid my going to the
visitation. He dared not, however, do it plainly, for fear of drawing
on himself the resentment of that community. I still wanted to be a
nun, and importuned my mother excessively to take me to that house. She
would not do it, for fear of grieving my father, who was absent.