Being now a widow, my crosses, which one would have thought should have
abated, only increased. That turbulent domestic I have often mentioned,
instead of growing milder, now that she depended on me became more
furious than ever. In our house she had amassed a good fortune, and I
settled on her, besides, an annuity for the remainder of her life, for
the services she had done my husband. She swelled with vanity and
haughtiness. Having been used to sit up so much with an invalid, she
had taken to drink wine, to keep up her spirits. This had now passed
into a habit. As she grew aged and weak, a very little of it affected
her. I tried to hide this fault, but it grew so that it could not be
concealed. I spoke of it to her confessor, in order that he might try,
softly and artfully to reclaim her from it; but instead of profiting by
her director's advice, she was outrageous against me. My mother-in-law,
who could hardly bear the fault of intemperance, and had often spoken
to me about it, now joined in reproaching me and vindicating her. This
strange creature, when any company came, would cry out with all her
might, that I had dishonored her, thrown her into despair, and would be
the cause of her damnation, as I was taking the ready course to my own.
Yet God gave me an unbounded patience. I answered only with mildness
and charity all her passionate invectives, giving her besides every
possible mark of my affection. If any other maid came to wait on me,
she would drive her back in a rage, crying out, that I hated her on
account of the affection with which she had served my husband. When she
had not a mind to come, I was obliged to serve myself; and when she did
come, it was to chide me and make a noise. When I was very unwell, as
was often the case, this girl would appear to be in despair. From hence
I thought it was from Thee, O Lord, that all this came upon me. Without
thy permission, she was scarcely capable of such unaccountable conduct.
She seemed not sensible of any faults, but always to think herself in
the right. All those whom Thou hast made use of to cause me to suffer,
thought they were rendering service to Thee in so doing.
Before my husband's death, I went to Paris on purpose to see Monsieur
Bertot, who had been of very little service to me as a director. Not
knowing my state, and I being incapable of telling him of it, he grew
weary of the charge. At length he gave it up, and wrote to me to take
another director. I made no doubt but God had revealed to him my wicked
state; and this desertion of me seemed a most certain mark of my
reprobation. This was during the life of my husband. But now my renewed
solicitations, and his sympathy with me on my husband's death,
prevailed on him to resume my direction, which to me still proved of
very little service. I went again to Paris to see him. While there, I
visited him twelve or fifteen times, without being able to tell him
anything of my condition. I told him, indeed, that I wanted some
ecclesiastic to educate my son, to rid him of his bad habits, and of
the wrong impressions he had conceived against me. He found one for me,
of whom he had received very good recommendations.
I went to make a retreat with M. Bertot and Madame de C. All that time
he spoke to me not a quarter of an hour at most. As he saw that I said
nothing to him, for indeed I knew not what to say, as I had not spoken
to him of the favors which God had conferred on me (not from a desire
to conceal them, but because the Lord did not permit me to do it, as He
had over me only the designs of death) he therefore spoke to such as he
looked upon to be more advanced in grace. He let me alone as one for
whom there was nothing to be done. So well did God hide from him the
situation of my soul, in order to make me suffer, that he wanted to
refer me, thinking that I had not the spirit of prayer, and that Mrs.
Granger was mistaken when she told him I had. I did what I could to
obey him, but it was entirely impossible. On this account I was
displeased with myself, because I believed M. Bertot rather than my
experience. Through this whole retreat my inclination, which I
discerned only by my resistance to it, was to rest in silence and
nakedness of thought. In the settling of my mind therein I feared I was
disobeying the orders of my director. This made me think that I had
fallen from grace. I kept myself in a state of nothingness, content
with my poor low degree of prayer, without envying the higher degree of
others, of which I judged myself unworthy. I would have, however,
desired much to do the will of God, and to please Him, but despaired
altogether of ever attaining that desirable end.
There was in the place where I lived, and had been for some years, one
whose doctrine was suspected. He possessed a dignity in the church,
which always obliged me to have a deference for him. As he understood
how averse I was to all who were suspected of unsoundness in the faith,
and knowing that I had some credit in the place, he used his utmost
efforts to engage me in his sentiments. I answered him with so much
clearness and energy, that he had not a word to reply. This increased
his desire to win me in order to do it, to contract a friendship for
me. He continued to importune me for two years and a half. As he was
very polite, and of an obliging temper, and had a good share of
learning, I did not mistrust him. I even conceived a hope of his
conversion, in which I found myself mistaken. I then ceased going near
him. He came to inquire why he could see me no more. At that time he
was so agreeable to my sick husband, in his assiduities about him, that
I could not avoid him though I thought the shortest and best way for me
would be break off all acquaintance with him, which I did after the
death of my husband. M. Bertot would not permit me to do it before.
When he now saw that he could not renew it, he and his party raised up
strong persecutions against me.
These gentlemen had at that time a method among them, by which they
soon knew who were of their party, and who were opposite. They sent to
one another circular letters, by means of which, in a very little time,
they cried me down on every side, after a very strange manner. Yet this
gave me little trouble. I was glad of my new liberty, intending never
again to enter into an intimacy with anyone, which would give me so
much difficulty to break.
This inability I was now in, of doing those exterior acts of charity I
had done before, served this person with a pretext to publish that it
was owing to him I had formerly done them. Willing to ascribe to
himself the merit of what God alone, by His grace, had made me do, he
went so far as to preach against me publicly, as one who had been a
bright pattern to the town, but was now become a scandal to it. Several
times he preached very offensive things. Though I was present at those
sermons, and they were enough to weigh me down with confusion, for they
offended all that heard them, I could not be troubled. I carried in
myself my own condemnation beyond utterance. I thought I merited
abundantly worse than all he could say of me, and that, if all men knew
me, they would trample me under their feet. My reputation then was
blasted by the industry of this ecclesiastic. He caused all such as
passed for persons of piety to declare against me. I thought he and
they were in the right and therefore quietly bore it all. Confused like
a criminal that dares not lift up his eyes, I looked upon the virtue of
others with respect. I saw no fault in others and no virtue in myself.
When any happened to praise me, it was like a heavy blow struck at me,
and I said in myself, "They little know my miseries, and from what
state I have fallen." When any blamed me, I agreed to it, as right and
just. Nature wanted sometimes to get out of such an abject condition,
but could not find any way. If I tried to make an outward appearance of
righteousness, by the practice of some good thing, my heart in secret
rebuked me as guilty of hypocrisy, in wanting to appear what I was not;
and God did not permit that to succeed. Oh, how excellent are the
crosses of Providence! All other crosses are of no value.
I was often very ill and in danger of death, and knew not how to
prepare myself for it. Several persons of piety, who had been
acquainted with me, wrote to me about those things which the gentleman
spread about me. I did not offer to justify myself, although I knew
myself innocent of the things whereof they accused me. One day being in
the greatest desolation and distress, I opened the New Testament on
these words, "My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made
perfect in weakness." That for a little time gave me some relief.