CHAPTER 16

My maid became every day more haughty. Seeing that her scoldings and

outcries did not now torment me, she thought, if she could hinder me

from going to the communion, she would give me the greatest of all

vexations.

She was not mistaken, O divine Spouse of pure souls, since the only

satisfaction of my life was to receive and to honor Thee. I gave

everything, of the finest I had, to furnish the churches with

ornaments, and contributed to the utmost extent of my abilities, to

make them have silver plates and chalices.

"Oh, my Love," I cried, "let me be thy victim! Spare nothing to

annihilate me." I felt an inexpressible longing to be more reduced, and

to become, as it were, nothing.

This girl then knew my affection for the holy sacrament, where, when I

could have liberty for it, I passed several hours on my knees. She took

it in her head to watch me daily. When she discovered me going, she ran

to tell my mother-in-law and my husband. There needed no more to

chagrin them. Their invectives lasted the whole day. If a word escaped

me in my own justification, it was enough to make them say that I was

guilty of sacrilege, and to raise an outcry against all devotion. If I

made them no answer at all, they still heightened their indignation,

and said the most grating things they could devise. If I fell sick,

which often happened, they took occasion to come to quarrel with me at

my bed, saying, my communion and prayers were what made me sick. They

spoke as if there had been nothing else could make me ill, but my

devotion to Thee, O my Beloved!

She told me one day that she was going to write to my director to get

him to stop me from going to the communion. When I made no answer, she

cried out as loud as she could, that I treated her ill and despised

her. When I went to prayers, (though I had taken care to arrange

everything about the house) she ran to tell my husband that I was going

and had left nothing in order. When I returned home his rage fell on me

in all its violence. They would hear none of my reasons, but said,

"they were all a pack of lies." My mother-in-law persuaded my husband

that I let everything go to wreck. If she did not take the care of

things he would be ruined. He believed it, and I bore all with

patience, endeavoring, as well as I could, to do my duty. What gave

most trouble was the not knowing what course to take; for when I

ordered anything without her, she complained that I showed her no

respect, that I did things of my own head and that they were done

always the worse for it. Then she would order them contrary. If I

consulted her to know what, or how she would have anything to be done,

she said that I compelled her to have the care and trouble of

everything.

I had scarcely any rest but what I found in the love of Thy will, O my

God, and submission to Thy orders, however rigorous they might be. They

incessantly watched my words and actions, to find occasion against me.

They chided me all the day long, continually repeating, and harping

over and over the same things, even before the servants. How often have

I made my meals on my tears, which were interpreted as the most

criminal in the world! They said, I would be damned; as if the tears

would open Hell for me, which surely they were more likely to

extinguish. If I recited anything I had heard, they would render me

accountable for the truth of it. If I kept silence, they taxed me with

contempt and perverseness; if I knew anything without telling it, that

was a crime; if I told it, then they said I had forged it. Sometimes

they tormented me for several days successively, without giving me any

relaxation. The girls said, "I ought to feign sickness, to get a little

rest." I made no reply. The love of God so closely possessed me, that

it would not allow me to seek relief by a single word, or even by a

look. Sometimes I said in myself, "Oh, that I had but any one who could

take notice of me, or to whom I might unburden myself,--what a relief

it would be to me!" But it was not granted me.

Yet, if I happened to be for some days freed from the exterior cross,

it was a most sensible distress to me, and indeed a punishment more

difficult to bear than the severest trials. I then comprehended what

St. Teresa says, "Let me suffer or die." For this absence of the cross

was so grievous to me, that I languished with desire for its return.

But no sooner was this earnest longing granted, and the blessed cross

returned again, than strange as it may seem, it appeared so weighty and

burdensome, as to be almost insupportable.

Though I loved my father extremely, and he loved me tenderly, yet I

never spoke to him of my sufferings. One of my relations, who loved me

very much, perceived the little moderation they used toward me. They

spoke very roughly to me before him. He was highly displeased, and told

my father of it, adding, that I would pass for a fool. Soon after I

went to see my father, who, contrary to his custom, sharply reprimanded

me, "for suffering them to treat me in such a manner, without saying

anything in my own defence." I answered, "If they knew what my husband

said to me, that was confusion enough for me, without my bringing any

more of it on myself by replies; that if they did not notice it, I

ought not to cause it to be observed, nor expose my husband's weakness;

that remaining silent stopped all disputes, whereas I might cause them

to be continued and increased by my replies." My father answered that I

did well, and that I should continue to act as God should inspire me.

And after that, he never spoke to me of it any more.

They were ever talking to me against my father, against my relations,

and all such as I esteemed most. I felt this more keenly than all they

could say against myself. I could not forbear defending them, and

therein I did wrong; as whatever I said served only to provoke them. If

any complained of my father or relations, they were always in the

right. If any, whom they had disliked before, spoke against them, they

were presently approved of. If any showed friendship to me, such were

not welcome. A relation whom I greatly loved for her piety, coming to

see me, they openly bid her begone. They treated her in such a manner

as obliged her to go, which gave me no small uneasiness. When any

person of distinction came, they would speak against me; even to those

who knew me not, which surprised them. But when they saw me they pitied

me.

It mattered not what they said against me, love would not allow me to

justify myself. I spoke not to my husband of what either my

mother-in-law or the girl did to me, except the first year, when I was

not sufficiently touched with the power of God to suffer. My

mother-in-law and my husband often quarrelled. Then I was in favor, and

to me they made their mutual complaints. I never told the one what the

other had said. And though it might have been of service to me, humanly

speaking, to take advantage of such opportunities, I never made use of

them to complain of either. Nay, on the contrary, I did not rest till I

had reconciled them. I spoke many obliging things of the one to the

other, which made them friends again. I knew by frequent experience

that I should pay dear for their reunion. Scarcely were they reconciled

when they joined together against me.

I was so deeply engaged within, as often to forget things without, yet

not anything which was of consequence. My husband was hasty, and

inattention frequently irritated him. I walked into the garden, without

observing anything. When my husband, who could not go thither, asked me

about it, I knew not what to say, at which he was angry. I went thither

on purpose to notice everything, in order to tell him and yet when

there did not think of looking. I went ten times one day, to see and

bring him an account and yet forgot it. But when I did remember to

look, I was much pleased. Yet it happened I was then asked nothing

about them.

All my crosses to me would have seemed little, if I might have had

liberty to pray and to be alone, to indulge the interior attraction

which I felt. But I was obliged to continue in their presence, with

such a subjection as is scarcely conceivable. My husband looked at his

watch, if at any time I had liberty allowed me for prayer, to see if I

stayed more than half an hour. If I exceeded, he grew very uneasy.

Sometimes I said, "Grant me one hour to divert and employ myself as I

have a mind." Though he would have granted it to me for other

diversions, yet for prayer he would not. I confess that inexperience

caused me much trouble. I have often thereby given occasion for what

they made me suffer. For ought I not to have looked on my captivity as

an effect of the will of my God, to content myself and to make it my

only desire and prayer? But I often fell back again into the anxiety of

wishing to get time for prayer, which was not agreeable to my husband.

Those faults were more frequent in the beginning. Afterward I prayed to

God in His own retreat, in the temple of my heart, and I went out no

more.

The Autobiography of Madame Guyon · 第 16 / 31 章