A poor girl of very great simplicity, who earned her livelihood by her

labor, and was inwardly favored of the Lord, came all sorrowful to me,

and said, "Oh my mother, what strange things have I seen!" I asked what

they were, "Alas" said she, "I have seen you like a lamb in the midst

of a vast troop of furious wolves. I have seen a frightful multitude of

people of all ranks and robes, of all ages, sexes and conditions,

priests, friars, married men, maids and wives, with pikes, halberts and

drawn swords, all eager for your instant destruction. You let them

alone without stirring, or being surprised and without offering any way

to defend yourself. I looked on all sides to see whether anyone would

come to assist and defend you; but I saw not one."

Some days after, those, who through envy were raising private batteries

against me, broke forth. Libels began to spread. Envious people wrote

against me, without knowing me. They said that I was a sorceress, that

it was by a magic power I attracted souls, that everything in me was

diabolical; that if I did charities, it was because I coined, and put

off false money, with many other gross accusations, equally false,

groundless and absurd.

As the tempest increased every day, some of my friends advised me to

withdraw, but before I mention my leaving Grenoble, I must say

something farther of my state while here.

It seemed to me that all our Lord made me do for souls, would be in

union with Jesus Christ. In this divine union my words, had wonderful

effect, even the formation of Jesus Christ in the souls of others. I

was in no wise able of myself to say the things I said. He who

conducted me made me say what He pleased, and as long as He pleased. To

some I was not permitted to speak a word; and to others there flowed

forth as it were a deluge of grace, and yet this pure love admitted not

of any superfluity, or a means of empty amusement. When questions were

asked, to which an answer were useless, it was not given me. It was the

same in regard to such as our Lord was pleased to conduct through death

to themselves, and who came to seek for human consolation. I had

nothing for them but what was purely necessary, and could proceed no

farther. I could at least only speak of indifferent things, in such

liberty as God allows, in order to suit everyone, and not to be

unsociable or disagreeable to any; but for His own word, He Himself is

the dispenser of it. Oh, if preachers were duly careful to speak only

in that spirit what fruits would they bring forth in the lives of the

hearers! With my true children I could communicate best in silence, in

the spiritual language of the divine Word. I had the consolation some

time before to hear one read in St. Augustine a conversation he had

with his mother. He complains of the necessity of returning from that

heavenly language to words. I sometimes said, "Oh, my Love, give me

hearts large enough to receive and contain the fulness bestowed on me."

After this manner, when the Holy Virgin approached Elizabeth, a

wonderful commerce was maintained between Jesus Christ and St. John the

Baptist, who after this manifested no eagerness to come to see Christ,

but was drawn to retire into the desert, to receive the like

communications with the greatest plenitude. When he came forth to

preach repentance, he said, not that he was the Word, but only a Voice

which was sent to make way, or open a passage into the hearts of the

people for Christ the Word. He baptized only with water, for that was

his function; for, as the water in running off leaves nothing, so does

the Voice when it is past. But the Word baptized with the Holy Ghost,

because He imprinted Himself on souls, and communicated with them by

that Holy Spirit. It is not observed that Jesus Christ said anything

during the whole obscure part of His life, though it is true that not

any of His words shall be lost. Oh Love, if all thou hast said and

operated in silence were to be written, I think the whole world could

not contain the books that should be written. John 21:25.

All that I experienced was shown me in the Holy Scripture. I saw with

admiration that there passed nothing within my soul which was not in

Jesus Christ and in the Holy Scriptures. I must pass over very many

things in silence, because they cannot be expressed. If they were

expressed they could not be understood or comprehended.

I often felt much for Father La Combe, who was not yet fixed in his

state of interior death, but often rose and fell into alternatives. I

was made sensible that Father La Combe was a vessel of election, whom

God had chosen to carry His name among the Gentiles, and that He would

show him how much he must suffer for that name. A carnal world judges

carnally of them, and imputes to human attachment what is from the

purest grace. If this union by any deviation be broken, the more pure

and perfect it is, the more painfully will it be felt; the separation

of the soul from God by sin being worse than that from the body of

death. For myself I may say I had a continual dependence on God, in

every state; my soul was ever willing to obey every motion of His

Spirit. I thought there could not be anything in the world which He

could require from me, to which I would not give myself up readily and

with pleasure. I had no interest at all for myself. When God requires

anything from this wretched nothing, I find no resistance left in me to

do His will, how rigorous soever it may appear. If there is a heart in

the world of which Thou art the sole and absolute master, mine seems to

be one of that sort. Thy will, however rigorous, is its life and its

pleasure.

To resume the thread of my story, the Bishop of Grenoble's Almoner

persuaded me to go for some time to Marseilles, to let the storm pass

over. He told me that I would be well received there, it being his

native soil, and that many people of merit were there. I wrote to

Father La Combe for his consent. He readily gave it. I might have gone

to Verceil; for the Bishop of Verceil had written me very obliging

letters, earnestly pressing me to come. But a human respect, and fear

of affording a handle to my enemies, gave me an extreme aversion

thereto.

Beside the above, the Marchioness of Prunai, who, since my departure

from her, had been more enlightened by her own experience, having met

with a part of the things which I thought would befall her, had

conceived for me a very strong friendship and intimate union of spirit,

in such a manner that no two sisters could be more united than we. She

was extremely desirous that I would return to her, as I had formerly

promised her. But I could not resolve upon this, lest it should be

thought that I was gone after Father La Combe. There had been no room

given to anybody to accuse me of any indirect attachment to him; for

when it depended on myself not to continue with him, I did not do it.

The Bishop of Geneva had not failed to write against me to Grenoble, as

he had done to other places. His nephew had gone from house to house to

cry me down. All this was indifferent to me; and I did not cease to do

to his diocese all the good in my power. I even wrote to him in a

respectful manner; but his heart was too much closed to yield to

anything.

Before I left Grenoble, that good girl I have spoken of came to me

weeping, and told me that I was going, and that I hid it from her,

because I would have nobody know it; but that the Devil would be before

me in all the places I should go to; that I was going to a town, where

I would scarce be arrived, before he would stir up the whole town

against me, and would do me all the harm he possibly could. What had

obliged me to conceal my departure, was my fear of being loaded with

visits, and testimonies of friendship from a number of good persons,

who had a very great affection for me.

I embarked then upon the Rhone, with my maid and a young woman of

Grenoble, whom the Lord has highly favored through my means. The Bishop

of Grenoble's Almoner also accompanied me, with another very worthy

ecclesiastic. We met with many alarming accidents and wonderful

preservations; but those instant dangers, which affrighted others, far

from alarming me, augmented my peace. The Bishop of Grenoble's Almoner

was much astonished. He was in a desperate fright, when the boat struck

against a rock, and opened at the stroke. In his emotion looking

attentively at me, he observed that I did not change my countenance, or

move my eyebrows, retaining all my tranquillity. I did not so much as

feel the first emotions of surprise, which are natural to everybody on

those occasions, as they depend not on ourselves. What caused my peace

in such dangers as terrify others, was my resignation to God, and

because death is much more agreeable to me than life, if such were His

will, to which I desire to be ever patiently submissive.

A man of quality, a servant of God, and one of my intimate friends had

given me a letter for a knight of Malta, who was very devout, and whom

I have esteemed since I have known him, as a man whom our Lord designed

to serve the order of Malta greatly, and to be its ornament and support

by his holy life. I had told him that I thought he should go thither,

and that God would assuredly make use of him to diffuse a spirit of

piety into many of the knights. He has actually gone to Malta, where

the first places were soon given him. This man of quality sent him my

little book of prayer and printed at Grenoble. He had a chaplain very

averse to the spiritual path. He took this book, and condemning it at

once, went to stir up a part of the town, and among the rest a set of

men who called themselves the seventy-two disciples of St. Cyran. I

arrived at Marseilles at ten o'clock in the morning, and that very

afternoon all was in a noise against me. Some went to speak to the

bishop, telling him that, on account of that book, it was necessary to

banish me from the city. They gave him the book which he examined with

one of his prebends. He liked it well. He sent for Monsieur Malaval and

a father Recollect, who he knew had come to see me a little after my

arrival, to inquire of them from whence that great tumult had its rise,

which indeed had no other effect on me than to make me smile, seeing so

soon accomplished what that young woman had foretold me. Monsieur

Malaval and that good father told the bishop what they thought of me;

after which he testified much uneasiness at the insult given me. I was

obliged to go to see him. He received me with extraordinary respect,

and begged my excuse for what had happened; desired me to stay at

Marseilles, and assured me that he would protect me. He even asked

where I lodged, that he might come to see me.

Next day the Bishop of Grenoble's Almoner went to see him, with that

other priest who had come with us. The Bishop of Marseilles again

testified to them his sorrow for the insults given me without any

cause; and told them, that it was usual with those persons to insult

all such as were not of their cabal, that they had even insulted

himself. They were not content with that. They wrote to me the most

offensive letters possible, though at the same time they did not know

me. I apprehended that our Lord was beginning in earnest to take from

me every place of abode; and those words were renewed in my mind, "The

foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of

man hath not where to lay his head."

In the short time of my stay at Marseilles, I was instrumental in

supporting some good souls, and among others an ecclesiastic, who till

then was unacquainted with me. After having finished his thanksgiving

in the church, seeing me go out, he followed me into the house in which

I lodged. Then he told me that the Lord had inspired him to address me,

and to open his inward state to me. He did it with as much simplicity

as humility, and the Lord gave him through me all that was necessary

for him, from whence he was filled with joy, and thankful

acknowledgments to God. Although there were many spiritual persons

there, and even of his intimate friends, he never had been moved to

open his mind to any of them. He was a servant of God, and favored by

Him with a singular gift of prayer. During the eight days I was at

Marseilles, I saw many good souls there. Through all my persecutions,

our Lord always struck some good stroke of His own right hand, and that

good ecclesiastic was delivered from an anxiety of mind, which had much

afflicted him for some years.

After I had left Grenoble, those who hated me, without knowing me,

spread libels against me. A woman for whom I had great love, and whom I

had even extricated from an engagement which she had continued in for

several years, and contributed to her discarding the person to whom she

had been attached, suffered her mind to resume its fondness for that

pernicious engagement. She became violently enraged against me for

having broken it off. Although I had freely been at some expense to

procure her freedom, still she went to the Bishop of Grenoble, to tell

him that I had counseled her to do an act of injustice. She then went

from confessor to confessor, repeating the same story, to animate them

against me. As they were too susceptible of the prejudices infused, the

fire was soon kindled in all quarters. There were none but those who

knew me, and who loved God, that took my part. They became more closely

united to me in sympathy through my persecution. It would have been

very easy for me to destroy the calumny, as well with the Bishop of

Grenoble. I needed only to tell who the person was, and show the fruits

of her disorder. I could not declare the guilty person, without making

known at the same time the other who had been her accomplice, who now,

being touched of God, was very penitent, I thought it best for me to

suffer and be silent. There was a very pious man who knew all her

history, from the beginning to the end of it, who wrote to her, that if

she did not retract her lies, he would publish the account of her

wicked life, to make known both her gross iniquity and my innocence.

She continued some time in her malice, writing that I was a sorceress,

with many other falsehoods. Some time after she had such a cruel

remorse of conscience on this account, that she wrote both to the

bishop and others to retract what she had said. She induced one to

write to me, to inform me that she was in despair for what she had

done; that God had punished her. After these recantations the outcry

abated, the bishop disabused, and since that time he has testified a

great regard for me. This creature had, among other things, said that I

caused myself to be worshiped; also other unparalleled follies.

From Marseilles I knew not how or whither I should turn next. I saw no

likelihood either of staying or of returning to Grenoble, where I had

left my daughter in a convent. Father La Combe had written to me that

he did not think I ought to go to Paris. I even felt a strong

repugnance to the idea of going, which made me think it was not yet the

time for it. One morning I felt myself inwardly pressed to go

somewhere. I took a conveyance to go to see the Marchioness of Prunai,

which was, I thought, the most honorable refuge for me in my present

condition. I thought I might pass through Nice on my way to her

habitation, as some had assured me I might. But when I arrived at Nice,

I was greatly surprised to learn that the conveyance could not pass the

mountain. I knew not what to do, nor which way to turn, alone, forsaken

of everybody, and not knowing what God required of me. My confusion and

crosses seemed to increase. I saw myself, without refuge or retreat,

wandering as a vagabond. All the tradesmen, whom I saw in their shops,

appeared to me happy, in having a dwelling of their own in which to

retire. Nothing in the world seemed harder than this wandering life to

me, who naturally loved propriety and decorum. As I was in this

uncertainty, not knowing what course to take, one came to tell me that

next day a sloop would set off, which used to go in one day to Genoa;

and that if I chose it, they would land me at Savona, from whence I

might get myself carried to the Marchioness of Prunai's house. To that

I consented, as I could not be supplied with any other way.

I had some joy at embarking on the sea. I said in myself, "If I am the

dregs of the earth, the scorn and offscouring of nature, I am now going

to embark on the element which above all others is the most

treacherous; if it be the Lord's pleasure to plunge me in the waves, it

shall be mine to perish in them." There came a tempest in a place

dangerous for a small boat; and the mariners were some of the

wickedest. The irritation of the waves gave a satisfaction to my mind.

I pleased myself in thinking that those mutinous billows might probably

supply me with a grave. Perhaps I carried the point too far in the

pleasure I took, at seeing myself beaten and bandied by the waters.

Those who were with me, took notice of my intrepidity, but knew not the

cause of it. I asked some little hole of a rock to be placed in, there

to live separate from all creatures. I figured to myself, that some

uninhabited island would have terminated all my disgraces, and put me

in a condition of infallibly doing Thy will. Thou designedst me a

prison far different from that of the rock, and quite another

banishment than that of the uninhabited island. Thou reservest me to be

battered by billows, more irritated than those of the sea. Calumnies

proved to be the unrelenting waves, to which I was to be exposed, in

order to be lashed and tossed by them without mercy. By the tempest we

were kept back, and instead of a short day's passage to Genoa, we were

eleven days making it. How peaceable was my heart in so violent an

agitation! We could not land at Savona. We were obliged to go on to

Genoa. We arrived there in the beginning of the week before Easter.

While I was there I was obliged to bear the insults of the inhabitants,

caused by the resentment they had against the French because of the

havoc of a late bombardment. The Doge was newly gone out of the city,

and had carried off with him all the coaches. I could not get one, and

was obliged to stay several days at excessive expenses. The people

there demanded of us exorbitant sums, and as much for every single

person as they would have asked for a company at the best eating place

in Paris. I had little money left, but my store in Providence could not

be exhausted. I begged with the greatest earnestness for a carriage at

any price, to pass the feast of Easter at the Marchioness of Prunai's

house. It was then within three days of Easter. I could scarce any way

get myself to be understood. By the force of entreaty, they brought me

at length a sorry coach with lame mules, and told me that they would

take me readily to Verceil, which was only two days journey, but

demanded an enormous sum. They would not engage to take me to the

Marchioness of Prunai's house, as they knew not where her estate lay.

This was to me a strong mortification; for I was very willing to go to

Verceil; nevertheless the proximity of Easter; and want of money, in a

country where they used every kind of extortion and tyranny, left me no

choice. I was under an absolute necessity of submitting to be thus

conveyed to Verceil.

Thus Providence led me whither I would not. Our muleteer was one of the

most brutal men; and for an increase of my affliction, I had sent away

to Verceil the ecclesiastic who accompanied us, to prevent their

surprise at seeing me there, after I had protested against going. That

ecclesiastic was very coarsely treated on the road, through the hatred

they bore to the French. They made him go part of the way on foot, so

that, though he set off the day before me, he arrived there only a few

hours sooner than I did. As for the fellow who conducted us, seeing he

had only women under his care, he treated us in the most insolent and

boorish manner.

We passed through a wood infested with robbers. The muleteer was

afraid, and told us, that, if we met any of them on the road, we should

be murdered. They spared nobody. Scarcely had he uttered these words,

when there appeared four men well armed. They immediately stopped us!

The man was exceedingly frightened. I made a light bow of my head, with

a smile, for I had no fear, and was so entirely resigned to Providence,

that it was all one to die this way or any other; in the sea, or by the

hands of robbers. When the dangers were most manifest, then was my

faith the strongest, as well as my intrepidity, being unable to wish

for anything else than what should fall out, whether to be dashed

against the rocks, drowned, or killed in any other way; everything in

the will of God being equal to me. The people who used to convey or

attend me said that they had never seen a courage like mine; for the

most alarming dangers, and the time when death appeared the most

certain, were those which seemed to please me the most. Was it not thy

pleasure, O my God, which guarded me in every imminent danger, and held

me back from rolling down the precipice, on the instant of sliding over

its dizzy brow? The more easy I was about life, which I bore only

because Thou wast pleased to bear it, the more care Thou tookest to

preserve it. There seemed a mutual emulation between us, on my part to

resign it, and on thine to maintain it. The robbers then advanced to

the coach; but I had no sooner saluted them, than God made them change

their design. Having pushed off one another, as it were, to hinder each

of them from doing any harm; they respectfully saluted me, and, with an

air of compassion, unusual to such sorts of persons, retired. I was

immediately struck to the heart with a full and clear conviction that

it was a stroke of Thy right hand, who had other designs over me than

to suffer me to die by the hand of robbers. It is Thy sovereign power

which takes away their all from Thy devoted lovers; and destroys their

lives with all that is of self without pity or sparing anything.

The muleteer, seeing me attended only with two young women, thought he

might treat me as he would, perhaps expecting to draw money from me.

Instead of taking me to the inn, he brought me to a mill, in which

there was a woman. There was but one single room with several beds in

it, in which the millers and muleteers lay together. In that chamber

they forced me to stay. I told the muleteer I was not a person to lie

in such a place and wanted to oblige him to take me to the inn. Nothing

of it would he do. I was constrained to go out on foot, at ten o'clock

at night, carrying a part of my clothes, and to go a good way more than

a quarter of a league in the dark, in a strange place, not knowing the

way, crossing one end of the wood infested with robbers, to endeavor to

get to the inn. That fellow, seeing us go off from the place, where he

had wanted to make me lodge, hooted after us in a very abusive manner.

I bore my humiliation cheerfully, but not without feeling it. But the

will of God and my resignation to it rendered everything easy to me. We

were well received at the inn; and the good people there did the best

in their power for our recovery from the fatigue we had undergone. They

assured us the place we had left was very dangerous. Next morning we

were obliged to return on foot to the carriage for that man would not

bring it to us. On the contrary, he gave us a shower of fresh insults.

To consummate his base behavior, he sold me to the post, whereby I was

forced to go the rest of the way in a post-chaise instead of a

carriage.

In this equipage I arrived at Alexandria, a frontier town, subject to

Spain, on the side of the Milanese. Our driver took us, according to

their custom, to the posthouse. I was exceedingly astonished when I saw

the landlady coming out not to receive him, but to oppose his entrance.

She had heard there were women in the chaise, and taking us for a

different sort of women from what we were, she protested against our

coming in. On the other hand, the driver was determined to force his

entrance in spite of her. Their dispute rose to such a height, that a

great number of the officers of the garrison, with a mob, gathered at

the noise, who were surprised at the odd humor of the woman in refusing

to lodge us. With earnestness I entreated the post to take us to some

other house, but he would not; so obstinately was he bent on carrying

his point. He assured the landlady we were persons of honor and piety

too; the marks whereof he had seen. At last, by force of pressing

entreaties, he obliged her to come to see us. As soon as she had looked

at us, she acted as the robbers had done; she relented at once and

admitted us.

No sooner had I alighted from the chaise, than she said, "Go shut

yourselves up in that chamber hard by, and do not stir, that my son may

not know you are here; as soon as he knows it he will kill you." She

said it with so much force, as did also the servant maid, that, if

death had not so many charms for me, I should have been ready to die

with fear. The two poor girls with me were under frightful

apprehensions. When any stirred, or came to open the door, they thought

they were coming to kill them. In short they continued in a dreadful

suspense, between life and death, till next day, when we learned that

the young man had sworn to kill any woman who lodged at the house. A

few days before, an event had fallen out, which had like to have ruined

him; a woman of a bad life having there privately murdered a man in

some esteem, that had cost the house a heavy fine; and he was afraid of

any more such persons coming, not without reason.

CHAPTER 18

After these adventures, and others which it would be tedious to recite,

I arrived at Verceil. I went to the inn, where I was badly received. I

sent for Father La Combe, who I thought had been already apprised of my

coming, by the ecclesiastic whom I had sent before, and who would be of

so much service to me. This ecclesiastic was only a little while

arrived. How much better on the road should I have fared, if I had him

with me! For in that country they look upon ladies, accompanied with

ecclesiastics, with veneration, as persons of honor and piety. Father

La Combe came in a strange fret at my arrival, God so permitting it. He

said that every one would think I was come after him, and that would

injure his reputation, which in that country was very high. I had no

less pain to go. It was necessity only which had obliged me to submit

to such a disagreeable task. The father received me with coolness, and

in such a manner as let me sufficiently see his sentiments, and indeed

redoubled my pain. I asked him if he required me to return, adding, if

he did, "I would go off that moment however oppressed and spent, both

with fatigues and fastings." He said that he did not know how the

Bishop of Verceil would take my arrival, after he had given over all

his expectations of it, and after I had so long, and so obstinately,

refused the obliging offers he had made me; since which he no longer

expressed any desire to see me.

It seemed to me then as if I were rejected from the face of the earth,

without being able to find any refuge, and as if all creatures were

combined to crush me. I passed that night without sleep, not knowing

what course I should be obliged to take, being persecuted by my

enemies, and a subject of disgrace to my friends.

When it was known at the inn, that I was one of Father La Combe's

acquaintance, they treated me with greatest respect and kindness. They

esteemed him as a saint. The father knew not how to tell the bishop of

my arrival, and I felt his pain more than my own. As soon as that

Prelate knew that I was arrived, he sent his niece, who took me in her

coach, and carried me to her house. These things were only done out of

ceremony; and the bishop, not having seen me yet, knew not what to

think of a journey so very unexpected, after I had thrice refused,

though he sent expresses on purpose to bring me to him. He was out of

humor with me. Nevertheless, as he was informed that my design was not

to stay at Verceil, but to go to the Marchioness of Prunai's house, he

gave orders for me to be well treated. He could not see me till Easter

Sunday was over. He officiated all the eve and all that day. After it

was over, he came in a chaise to his niece's house to see me. Though he

understood French hardly any better than I did Italian, he was very

well satisfied with the conversation he had with me. He appeared to

have as much favour for me as he had of indifference before.

He conceived as strong a friendship for me as if I had been his sister;

and his only pleasure, amid his continual occupations, was to come and

pass half an hour with me in speaking of God. He wrote to the Bishop of

Marseilles to thank him for having protected me in the persecutions

there. He wrote to the Bishop of Grenoble; and he omitted nothing to

manifest his regard for me. He now seemed to think alone of finding out

means to detain me in his diocese. He would not hear of my going to see

the Marchioness of Prunai. On the contrary, he wrote to her to come and

settle with me in his diocese. He sent Father La Combe to her, on

purpose to exhort her to come; assuring her that he would unite us all

to make a congregation. The Marchioness entered into it readily, and so

did her daughter. They would have come with Father La Combe, but the

Marchioness was sick. The bishop was active and earnest in collecting

and establishing a society of us, and found several pious persons and

some very devout young ladies, who were all ready to come to join us.

But it was not the will of God for fix me thus, but to crucify me yet

more.

The fatigue of traveling made me sick. The girl also whom I brought

from Grenoble fell sick. Her relations, who were covetous took it in

their heads that, if she should die in my service, I would get her to

make a will in my favor. They were much mistaken. Far from desiring the

property of others, I had given up my own. Her brother, full of this

apprehension, came with all speed; the first thing he spoke to her

about, although he found her recovered, was to make a will. That made a

great noise in Verceil. He wanted her to return with him, but she

refused. I advised her to do what her brother desired. He contracted a

friendship with some of the officers of the garrison, to whom he told

ridiculous stories, as that I wanted to use his sister badly. He

pretended she was a person of quality. They gave out what I was still

afraid of,--that I was come after Father La Combe. They even persecuted

him on my account. The bishop was much troubled, but could not remedy

it. The friendship he had for me increased every day; because, as he

loved God, so he did all those whom he thought desired to love God. As

he saw me so much indisposed, he came to see me with assiduity and

charity, when at leisure from his occupations. He made me little

presents of fruits and other things. His relations were jealous. They

said that I was come to ruin him, and to carry off his money into

France, which was farthest from my thoughts. The bishop patiently bore

these affronts, hoping still to keep me in his diocese, when I should

be recovered.

Father La Combe was the bishop's prebend and his confessor. He esteemed

him highly. God made use of him to convert several of the officers and

soldiers, who, from being men of scandalous lives, became patterns of

piety. In that place everything was mixed with crosses, but souls were

gained to God. There were some of his friars, who, after his example,

were advancing toward perfection. Though I neither understood their

language nor they mine, the Lord made us understand each other in what

concerned His service. The Rector of the Jesuits took his time, when

Father La Combe was gone out of town, to prove me, as he said. He had

studied theological matters, which I did not understand. He propounded

several questions. The Lord inspired me to answer him in such a manner,

that he went away both surprised and satisfied. He could not forbear

speaking of it.

The Barnabites of Paris, or rather Father de la Mothe took it in head

to try to draw Father La Combe to go and preach at Paris. He wrote to

the Father-general about it, because they had no one at Paris to

support their house, that their church was deserted; that it was a pity

to leave such a man as Father La Combe in a place where he only

corrupted his language. It was necessary to make his fine talents

appear at Paris, where he himself could not bear the burden of the

house, if they did not give him an assistant of such qualifications and

experience. Who would not have thought all this to be sincere? The

Bishop of Verceil, who was very much a friend of Father-general, having

advice thereof, opposed it, and answered that it would be doing him the

greatest injury to take from him a man who was so exceedingly useful to

him, and at a time when he had the greatest need of him.

The Father-general of the Barnabites would not agree to the request of

Father de la Mothe, for fear of offending the Bishop of Verceil. As to

me, my indisposition increased. The air, which is there extremely bad,

caused me a continual cough, with frequent returns of fever. I grew so

much worse that it was thought I could not get over it. The Bishop was

afflicted to see it, but, having consulted the physicians, they assured

him that the air of the place was mortal to me, whereupon he said to

me, "I had rather have you live, though distant from me, than see you

die here." He gave up his design of establishing his congregation, for

my friend would not settle there without me. The Genoese lady could not

easily leave her own city, where she was respected. The Genoese

besought her to set up there what the Bishop of Verceil had wanted her

to set up. It was a congregation almost like that of Madame de

Miramion. When the Bishop had first proposed this, however agreeable it

appeared, I had a presentiment that it would not succeed, and that it

was not what our Lord required of me, though I submissively yielded to

the good proposal, were it only to acknowledge the many special favours

of this prelate. I was assured that the Lord would know well how to

prevent what He should now require of me. As this good prelate saw he

must resign himself to let me go, he said to me, "You were willing to

be in the diocese of Geneva, and there they persecuted and rejected

you; I, who would gladly have you, cannot keep you." He wrote to Father

La Mothe that I should go in the spring, as soon as the weather would

permit. He was sorry to be obliged to let me go. Yet he still hoped to

have kept Father La Combe, which probably might have been, had not the

death of the Father-general given it another turn.

Here it was that I wrote upon the Apocalypse, and that there was given

me a greater certainty of all the persecutions of the most faithful

servants of God. Here also I was strongly moved to write to Madame De

Ch----. I did it with great simplicity; and what I wrote was like the

first foundation of what the Lord required of her, having been pleased

to make use of me to help to bring her into His ways, being one to whom

I am much united, and by her to others.

The Bishop of Verceil's friend, the Father-general of the Barnabites,

departed this life. As soon as he was dead, Father La Mothe wrote to

the Vicar-general who now held his place till another should be elected

renewing his request to have Father La Combe as an assistant. The

father, hearing that I was obliged on account of my indisposition to

return into France, sent an order to Father La Combe to return to

Paris, and to accompany me in my journey, as his doing that would

exempt their house at Paris, already poor, from the expenses of so long

a journey. Father La Combe, who did not penetrate the poison under this

fair outside, consented thereto; knowing it was my custom to have some

ecclesiastic with me in traveling. Father La Combe went off twelve days

before me, in order to transact some business, and to wait for me at

the passage over the mountains, as the place where I had most need of

an escort. I set off in Lent, the weather then being fine. It was a

sorrowful parting to the Bishop. I pitied him; he was so much affected

at losing both Father La Combe and me. He caused me to be attended, at

his own expense, as far as Turin, giving me a gentleman and one of his

ecclesiastics to accompany me.

As soon as the resolution was taken that Father La Combe should

accompany me, Father La Mothe reported everywhere "that he had been

obliged to do it, to make him return into France." He expatiated on the

attachment I had for Father La Combe, pretending to pity me. Upon this

everyone said that I ought to put myself under the direction of Father

La Mothe. In the meantime he deceitfully palliated the malignity of his

heart, writing letters full of esteem to Father La Combe, and some to

me of tenderness, "desiring him to bring his dear sister, and to serve

her in her infirmities, and in the hardships of so long a journey; that

he should be sensibly obliged to him for his care;" with many other

things of the like nature.

I could not resolve to depart without going to see my good friend, the

Marchioness of Prunai, notwithstanding the difficulty of the roads. I

caused myself to be carried, it being scarcely possible to go otherwise

on account of the mountains. She was extremely joyful at seeing me

arrive. Nothing could be more cordial than what passed between us. It

was then that she acknowledged that all I had told her had come to

pass. A good ecclesiastic, who lives with her, told me the same. We

made ointments and plasters together, and I gave her the secret of my

remedies, I encouraged her, and so did Father La Combe, to establish an

hospital in that place; which was done while we were there. I

contributed my mite to it which has ever been blest to all the

hospitals, which have ever been established in reliance on Providence.

I believe I had forgotten to tell, that the Lord had made use of me to

establish one near Grenoble, which subsists without any other fund than

the supplies of Providence. My enemies made use of that afterward to

slander me, saying that I had wasted my children's substance in

establishing hospitals, though, far from spending any of their

substance, I had even given them my own. All those hospitals have been

established only on the fund of divine Providence, which is

inexhaustible. But so it has been ordered for my good, that all our

Lord has made me to do His glory has ever been turned into crosses for

me.

As soon as it was determined that I should come into France, the Lord

made known to me, that it was to have greater crosses than I ever had.

Father La Combe had the like sense. He encouraged me to resign myself

to the divine will, and to become a victim offered freely to new

sacrifices. He also wrote to me, "Will it not be a thing very glorious

to God, if He should make us serve in that great city, for a spectacle

to angels and to men?" I set off then with a spirit of sacrifice, to

offer myself up to new kinds of punishments, if pleasing to my dear

Lord. All along the road something within me repeated the very words of

St. Paul, "I go bound in the Spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the

things should befall me there, save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth,

saying that bonds and afflictions abide me. But none of these things

move me; neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might

finish my course with joy." (Acts 20:22, 23, 24.) I could not forbear

to testify it to my most intimate friends, who tried hard to prevail on

me to stop, and not to proceed. They were all willing to contribute a

share of what they had, for my settlement there, and to prevent my

coming to Paris. But I found it my duty to hold on my way, and to

sacrifice myself for Him who first sacrificed Himself for me.

At Chamberry we saw Father La Mothe, who was going to the election of a

Father-general. Though he affected an appearance of friendship, it was

not difficult to discover that his thoughts were different from his

words, and that he conceived dark designs against us. I speak not of

his intentions, but to obey the command given me to omit nothing. I

shall necessarily be obliged often to speak of him. I could wish with

all my heart it were in my power to suppress what I have to say of him.

If what he has done respected only myself, I would willingly bury all;

but I think I owe it to the truth, and to the innocence of Father La

Combe, so cruelly oppressed, and grievously crushed so long, by wicked

calumnies, by an imprisonment of several years, which in all

probability will last as long as life. Though Father La Mothe may

appear heavily charged in what I say of him, I protest solemnly, and in

the presence of God, that I pass over in silence many of his bad

actions.

CHAPTER 19

Scarcely had I arrived at Paris, when I readily discovered the black

designs entertained against both Father La Combe and me. Father La

Mothe who conducted the whole tragedy, artfully dissembled, according

to his custom; flattering me to my face, while he was aiming the

keenest wounds behind my back. He and his confederates wanted, for

their own interest, to persuade me to go to Montargis (my native

place), hoping, thereby, to get the guardianship of my children, and to

dispose of both my person and effects. All the persecutions from Father

La Mothe and my family have been attended on their part with views of

interest; those against Father La Combe have sprung from rage and

revenge, because he, as my director, did not oblige me to do what they

wanted; as well as out of jealousy. I might enter into a long detail on

this, sufficient to convince all the world; but I suppress, to avoid

prolixity. I shall only say, that they threatened to deprive me of what

little I had reserved to myself. To this I only replied that I would

not go to law, that if they were resolved to take from me little I have

left (little indeed in comparison of what I had given up) I would

surrender it entirely to them; being quite free and willing not only to

be poor, but to be even in the very extremity of want in imitation of

our Lord Jesus Christ.

I arrived at Paris on Magdalene's eve, 1686, exactly five years after

my departure from that city. After Father La Combe arrived, he was soon

followed and much applauded. I perceived some jealously in Father La

Mothe hereupon, but did not think that matters would be carried so far

as they have been. The greater part of the Barnabites of Paris, and its

neighborhood, joined against Father La Combe, induced from several

causes that particularly related to their order. But all their

calumnies and evil attempts were overthrown by the unaffected piety he

manifested, and the good which multitudes reaped from his labors.

I had deposited a little sum of money in his hands (with the consent of

his superior) to serve for the entrance of a nun. I thought myself

obliged in conscience to do it. She had, through my means, quitted the

New Catholics. It was that young woman whom I mentioned before, whom

the priest of Gex wanted to win over. As she is beautiful, though very

prudent, there always continues a cause for fear, when such an one is

exposed in the world. La Mothe wanted to have that money, and signified

to La Combe that, if he did not make me give it to him for a wall,

which he had to rebuild in his convent, he would make him suffer for

it. But the latter, who is always upright, answered that he could not

in conscience advise me to do anything else, but what I had already

resolved, in favour of that young woman. Hence he and the provincial

ardently longed to satisfy their desire of revenge. They employed all

their thoughts on the means of effecting it.

A very wicked man who was employed for that purpose, wrote defamatory

libels, declaring that the propositions of Molinos, which had been

current for two year past in France, were the sentiments of Father La

Combe. These libels were spread about in the community. Father La Mothe

and the provincial, acting as persons well affected to the church,

carried them to the official, or judge of the ecclesiastical court, who

joined in the dark design. They showed them to the Archbishop, saying,

It was out of their zeal, and that they were exceedingly sorry that

one of their fraternity was an heretic, and as such execrable. They

also brought me in, but more moderately, saying Father La Combe was

almost always at my house, which was false. I could scarcely see him at

all except at the confessional, and then for a very short time. Several

other things equally false they liberally gave out concerning both of

us.

They bethought themselves of one thing further likely to favor their

scheme. They knew I had been at Marseilles, and thought they had a good

foundation for a fresh calumny. They counterfeited a letter from a

person at Marseilles (I heard it was from the Bishop) addressed to the

Archbishop of Paris, or to his official, in which they wrote the most

abominable scandal. Father La Mothe came to try to draw me into his

snare, and to make me say, in the presence of the people whom he had

brought, that I had been at Marseilles with Father La Combe. "There

are," said he, "shocking accounts against you, sent by the Bishop of

Marseilles. You have there fallen into great scandal with Father La

Combe. There are good witnesses of it." I replied with a smile, "The

calumny is well devised; but it would have been proper to know first

whether Father La Combe had been at Marseilles, for I do not believe he

was ever there in his life. While I was there, Father La Combe was

laboring at Verceil." He was confounded and went off, saying, "There

are witnesses of its being true." He went immediately to ask Father La

Combe if he had not been at Marseilles. He assured him he never had

been there. They were struck with disappointment. They then gave out

that it was not Marseilles but Seisel. Now this Seisel is a place I

have never been at, and there is no bishop there.

Every imaginable device was used to terrify me by threats, forged

letters, and by memorials drawn up against me, accusing me of teaching

erroneous doctrines, and of living a bad life and urging me to flee the

country to escape the consequences of exposure. Failing in all these,

at length La Mothe took off the mask, and said to me in the church,

before La Combe, "It is now, my sister, that you must think of fleeing,

you are charged with crimes of a deep dye." I was not moved in the

least, but replied with my usual tranquillity, "If I am guilty of such

crimes I cannot be too severely punished; wherefore I will not flee or

go out of the way. I have made an open profession of dedicating myself

to God entirely. If I have done things offensive to Him, whom I would

wish both to love, and to cause to be loved by the whole world, even at

the expense of my life, I ought by my punishment to be made an example

to the world; but if I am innocent, for me to flee is not the way for

my innocence to be believed."

Similar attempts were made to ruin Father La Combe. He was grossly

misrepresented to the king, and an order procured for his arrest and

imprisonment in the Bastile.

Although on his trial he appeared quite innocent, and they could not

find anything whereupon to ground a condemnation, yet they made the

king believe he was a dangerous man in the article of religion. He was

then shut up in a certain fortress of the Bastile for life; but as his

enemies heard that the captain in that fortress esteemed him, and

treated him kindly, they had him removed into a much worse place. God,

who beholds everything, will reward every man according to his works. I

know by an interior communication that he is very well content, and

fully resigned to God.

La Mothe now endeavored more than ever to induce me to flee, assuring

me that, if I went to Montargis, I should be out of all trouble; but

that if I did not, I should pay for it. He insisted on my taking

himself for my director, to which I could not agree. He decried me

wherever he went, and wrote to his brethren to do the same. They sent

me very abusive letters, assuring me that, if I did not put myself

under his direction, I was undone. I have the letters by me still. One

father desired me in this case to make a virtue of necessity. Nay, some

advised me to pretend to put myself under his direction, and to deceive

him. I abhorred the thought of deceit. I bore everything with the

greatest tranquillity, without taking any care to justify or defend

myself, leaving it entirely to God to order as he should please about

me. Herein he was graciously pleased to increase the peace of my soul,

while every one seemed to cry against me, and to look on me as an

infamous creature, except those few who knew me well by a near union of

spirit. At church I heard people behind me exclaim against me, and even

some priests say it was necessary to cast me out of the church. I left

myself to God without reserve, being quite ready to endure the most

rigorous pains and tortures, if such were His will.

I never made any solicitation either for Father La Combe or myself,

though charged with that among other things. Willing to owe everything

to God, I have no dependence on any creature. I would not have it said

that any but God had made Abraham rich. Gen. 14:23. To lose all for Him

is my best gain; and to gain all without Him would be my worst loss.

Although at this time so general an outcry was raised against me, God

did not fail to make use of me to gain many souls to Himself. The more

persecution raged against me the more children were given me, on whom

the Lord conferred great favors through His handmaid.

One must not judge of the servants of God by what their enemies say of

them, nor by their being oppressed under calumnies without any

resource. Jesus Christ expired under pangs. God uses the like conduct

toward His dearest servants, to render them conformable to His Son, in

whom He is always well pleased. But few place that conformity where it

ought to be. It is not in voluntary pains or austerities, but in those

which are suffered in a submission ever equal to the will of God, in a

renunciation of our whole selves, to the end that God may be our all in

all, conducting us according to His views, and not our own, which are

generally opposite to His. All perfection consists in this entire

conformity with Jesus Christ, not in shining things which men esteem.

It will only be seen in eternity who are the true friends of God.

Nothing pleases Him but Jesus Christ, and that which bears His mark or

character.

They were continually pressing me to flee, though the Archbishop had

spoken to myself, and bidden me not to leave Paris. But they wanted to

give the appearance of criminality both to me and to Father La Combe by

my flight. They knew not how to make me fall into the hands of the

official. If they accused me of crimes, it must be before other judges.

Any other judge would have seen my innocence; the false witnesses would

have run the risk of suffering for it. They continually spread stories

of horrible crimes; but the official assured me that he had heard no

mention of any. He was afraid lest I should retire out of his

jurisdiction. They then made the king believe that I was an heretic,

that I carried on a literary correspondence with Molinos (I, who never

knew there was a Molinos in the world, till the Gazette had told me of

it) that I had written a dangerous book; and that on those accounts it

would be necessary to issue an order to put me in a convent, that they

might examine me. I was a dangerous person, it would be proper for me

to be locked up, to be allowed no commerce with any one; since I

continually held assemblies, which was very false. To support this

calumny my handwriting was counterfeited, and a letter was forged as

from me, importing, that I had great designs, but feared that they

would prove abortive, through the imprisonment of Father La Combe, for

which reason I had left off holding assemblies at my house, being too

closely watched; but that I would hold them at the houses of other

persons. This forged letter they showed the king, and upon it an order

was given for my imprisonment.

This order would have been put in execution two months sooner than it

was, had I not fallen very sick. I had inconceivable pains and a fever.

Some thought that I had a gathering in my head. The pain I suffered for

five weeks made me delirious. I had also a pain in my breast and a

violent cough. Twice I received the holy sacrament, as I was thought to

be expiring. One of my friends had acquainted Father La Mothe, (not

knowing him to have had any hand in F. La Combe's imprisonment) that

she had sent me a certificate from the inquisition in Father La Combe's

favor, having heard that his own was lost. This answered a very good

purpose; for they had made the king believe that he had run away from

the inquisition; but this showed the contrary.

Father La Mothe then came to me, when I was in excessive pain,

counterfeiting all the affection and tenderness in his power, and

telling me "that the affair of Father La Combe was going on very well,

that he was just ready to come out of prison with honor, that he was

very glad of it. If he had only this certificate, he would soon be

delivered. Give me it then," said he, "and he will be immediately

released." At first I made a difficulty of doing it. "What! said he,

will you be the cause of ruining poor Father La Combe, having it in

your power to save him, and cause us that affliction, for want of what

you have in your hands." I yielded, ordering it to be brought and given

him. But he suppressed it, and gave out that it was lost. It never

could be got from him again. The Ambassador from the Court of Turin

sent a messenger to me for this certificate, designing the proper use

of it to serve Father La Combe. I referred him to Father La Mothe. The

messenger went to him and asked him for it. He denied I had given it to

him, saying, "Her brain is disordered which makes her imagine it." The

man came back to me and told me his answer. The persons in my chamber

bore witness that I had given it to him. Yet all signified nothing; it

could not be got out of his hands; but on the contrary, he insulted me,

and caused others also to do it, though I was so weak that I seemed to

be at the very gates of death.

They told me they only waited for my recovery to cast me into prison.

He made his brethren believe that I had treated him ill. They wrote to

me that it was for my crimes that I suffered and that I should put

myself under the control of Father La Mothe, otherwise I should repent

it; that I was mad and ought to be bound; and was a monster of pride,

since I would not suffer myself to be conducted by Father La Mothe.

Such was my daily feast in the extremity of my pain; deserted of my

friends, and oppressed by my enemies; the former being ashamed of me,

through the calumnies which were forged and industriously spread; the

latter let loose to persecute me; under all which I kept silence,

leaving myself to the Lord.

There was not any kind of infamy, error, sorcery, or sacrilege, of

which they did not accuse me. As soon as I was able to be carried to

the church in a chair, I was told I must speak to the prebend. (It was

a snare concerted between Father La Mothe and the Canon at whose house

I lodged). I spoke to him with much simplicity and he approved of what

I said. Yet, two days after they gave out that I had uttered many

things, and accused many persons; and from hence they procured the

banishment of sundry persons with whom they were displeased, persons

whom I had never seen or of whom I never heard. They were men of honor.

One of them was banished, because he said my little book is a good one.

It is remarkable that they say nothing to those who prefixed their

approbations, and that, far from condemning the book, it has been

reprinted since I have been in prison, and advertisements of it have

been posted up at the Archbishop's palace, and all over Paris. In

regard to others, when they find faults in their books, they condemn

the books and leave the person at liberty; but as for me, my book is

approved, sold and spread, while I am kept a prisoner for it.

The same day that those gentlemen were banished, I received a letter de

cachet, or sealed order to repair to the Convent of the Visitation of

St. Mary's, in a suburb of St. Antoine. I received it with a

tranquillity which surprised the bearer exceedingly. He could not

forbear expressing it, having seen the extreme sorrow of those who were

only banished. He was so touched with it as to shed tears. And although

his order was to carry me off directly, he was not afraid to trust me,

but left me all the day, desiring me to repair to St. Mary's in the

evening. On that day many of my friends came to see me, and found me

very cheerful, which surprised such of them as knew my case. I could

not stand, I was so weak, having the fever every night, it being only a

fortnight since I was thought to be expiring. I imagined they would

leave me my daughter and maid to serve me.

CHAPTER 20

On January 29, 1688, I went to St. Mary's. There they let me know I

must neither have my daughter nor a maid to serve me, but must be

locked up alone in a chamber. Indeed it touched me to my heart when my

daughter was taken from me. They would neither allow her to be in that

house, nor anybody to bring me any news of her. I was then obliged to

sacrifice my daughter, as if she were mine no longer. The people of the

house were prepossessed with so frightful an account of me, that they

looked at me with horror. For my jailer they singled out a nun, who,

they thought, would treat me with the greatest rigor, and they were not

mistaken therein.

They asked me who was now my confessor. I named him; but he was seized

with such a fright that he denied it; though I could have produced many

persons who had seen me at his confessional. So then they said they had

caught me in a lie; I was not to be trusted. My acquaintance then said

they knew me not, and others were at liberty to invent stories, and say

all manner of evil of me. The woman, appointed for my keeper, was

gained over by my enemies, to torment me as an heretic, an enthusiast,

one crackbrained and an hypocrite. God alone knows what she made me

suffer. As she sought to surprise me in my words, I watched them, to be

more exact in them; but I fared the worse for it. I made more slips and

gave her more advantages over me thereby, beside the trouble in my own

mind for it. I then left myself as I was, and resolved, though this

woman would bring me to the scaffold, by the false reports she was

continually carrying to the prioress, that I would simply resign myself

to my lot; so I re-entered into my former condition.

Monsieur Charon the Official, and a Doctor of Sorbonne, came four times

to examine me. Our Lord did me the favor which He promised to His

apostles, to make me answer much better than if I had studied. Luke

21:14, 15. They said to me, if I had explained myself, as I now did, in

the book entitled, Short and Easy Method of Prayer, I would not now

have been here. My last examination was about a counterfeit letter,

which they read and let me see. I told them the hand was no way like

mine. They said it was only a copy; they had the original at home. I

desired a sight of it, but could not obtain it. I told them I never

wrote it, nor did I know the person to whom it was addressed; but they

took scarcely any notice of what I said.

After this letter was read, the official turned to me and said, "You

see, madam, that after such a letter there was foundation enough for

imprisoning you." "Yes, sir," said I, "if I had written it." I showed

them its falsehoods and inconsistencies, but all in vain. I was left

two months, and treated worse and worse, before either of them came

again to see me. Till then I had always some hope that, seeing my

innocence, they would do me justice; but now I saw that they did not

want to find me innocent, but to make me appear guilty.

The official alone came the next time, and told me, "I must speak no

more of the false letter; that it was nothing." "How nothing," said I,

"to counterfeit a person's writing, and to make one appear an enemy to

the State!" He replied, "We will seek out the author of it." "The

author," said I, "is no other than the Scrivener Gautier." He then

demanded where the papers were which I wrote on the Scriptures. I told

him, "I would give them up when I should be out of prison; but was not

willing to tell with whom I had lodged them."

About three or four days before Easter he came again, with the doctor,

and a verbal process was drawn up against me for rebelling, in not

giving up papers. Copies of my writings were then put into their hands;

for I had not the originals. I know not where those who got them from

me have put them; but I am firm in the faith that they will all be

preserved, in spite of the storm. The prioress asked the official how

my affair went. He said, very well, and that I should soon be

discharged; this became the common talk; but I had a presentiment of

the contrary.

I had an inexpressible satisfaction and joy in suffering, and being a

prisoner. The confinement of my body made me better relish the freedom

of my mind. St. Joseph's day was to me a memorable day; for then my

state had more of Heaven than of earth beyond what any expression can

reach. This was followed, as it were, with a suspension of every favor

then enjoyed, a dispensation of new sufferings. I was obliged to

sacrifice myself anew, and to drink the very dregs of the bitter

draught.

I never had any resentment against my persecutors, though I well knew

them, their spirit and their actions. Jesus Christ and the saints saw

their persecutors, and at the same time saw that they could have no

power except it were given them from above. John 19:11.

Loving the strokes which God gives, one cannot hate the hand which He

makes use of to strike with.

A few days after, the official came, and told me he gave me the liberty

of the cloister, that is, to go and come in the house. They were now

very industrious in urging my daughter to consent to a marriage, which

had it taken place, would have been her ruin. To succeed herein, they

had placed her with a relation of the gentleman whom they wanted her to

marry. All my confidence was in God, that He would not permit it to be

accomplished, as the man had no tincture of Christianity, being

abandoned both in his principles and morals.

To induce me to give up my daughter they promised me an immediate

release from prison and from every charge under which I labored. But if

I refused, they threatened me with imprisonment for life and with death

on the scaffold. In spite of all their promises and threatenings, I

persistently refused.

Soon after, the official and doctor came to tell the prioress I must be

closely locked up. She represented to them that the chamber I was in,

was small, having an opening to the light or air, only on one side,

through which the sun shone all the day long, and being the month of

July, it must soon cause my death. They paid no regard. She asked why I

must be thus closely locked up. They said I had committed horrible

things in her house, even within the last month, and had scandalized

the nuns. She protested the contrary, and assured them the whole

community had received great edification from me, and could not but

admire my patience and moderation. But it was all in vain. The poor

woman could not refrain from tears, at a statement so remote from the

truth.

They then sent for me, and told me I had done base things in the last

month. I asked what things? They would not tell me. I said then that I

would suffer as long and as much as it should please God; that this

affair was begun on forgeries against me, and so continued. That God

was witness of everything. The doctor told me, that to take God for a

witness in such a thing was a crime. I replied nothing in the world

could hinder me from having recourse to God. I was then shut up more

closely than at first, until I was absolutely at the point of death,

being thrown into a violent fever, and almost stifled with the

closeness of the place, and not permitted to have any assistance.

In the time of the ancient law, there were several of the Lord's

martyrs who suffered for asserting and trusting in the one true God. In

the primitive church of Christ the martyrs shed their blood, for

maintaining the truth of Jesus Christ crucified. Now there are martyrs

of the Holy Ghost, who suffer for their dependence on Him, for

maintaining His reign in souls and for being victims of the Divine

will.

It is this Spirit which is to be poured out on all flesh, as saith the

prophet Joel. The martyrs of Jesus Christ have been glorious martyrs,

He having drunk up the confusion of that martyrdom; but the martyrs of

the Holy Spirit are martyrs of reproach and ignominy. The Devil no more

exercises his power against their faith or belief, but directly attacks

the dominion of the Holy Spirit, opposing His celestial motion in

souls, and discharging his hatred on the bodies of those whose minds he

cannot hurt. Oh, Holy Spirit, a Spirit of love, let me ever be

subjected to Thy will, and, as a leaf is moved before the wind, so let

me be moved by Thy Divine breath. As the impetuous wind breaks all that

resists it, so break thou all that opposes Thy empire.

Although I have been obliged to describe the procedure of those who

persecute me, I have not done it out of resentment, since I love them

at my heart, and pray for them, leaving to God the care of defending

me, and delivering me out of their hands, without making any movement

of my own for it. I have apprehended and believed that God would have

me write everything sincerely, that His name may be glorified; that the

things done in secret against His servants should one day be published

on the housetops; for the more they strive to conceal them from the

eyes of men, the more will God in His own time make them all manifest.

August 22, 1688, it was thought I was about coming out of prison, and

everything seemed to tend toward it. But the Lord gave me a sense that,

far from being willing to deliver me they were only laying new snares

to ruin me more effectually, and to make Father La Mothe known to the

king, and esteemed by him. On the day mentioned, which was my birthday,

being forty years of age, I awaked under an impression of Jesus Christ

in an agony, seeing the counsel of the Jews against Him. I knew that

none but God could deliver me out of prison, and I was satisfied that

He would do it one day by His own right hand, though ignorant of the

manner, and leaving it wholly to Himself.

In the order of Divine Providence my case was laid before Madame de

Maintenon, who became deeply interested in the account given her of my

sufferings, and at length procured my release. A few days afterward I

had my first interview with the Abbe Fenelon.

Coming out of St. Mary's I retired into the community of Mad. Miramion,

where I kept my bed of a fever three months, and had an imposthume in

my eye. Yet at this time I was accused of going continually out,

holding suspected assemblies, together with other groundless

falsehoods. In this house my daughter was married to Mons. L. Nicholas

Fouquet, Count de Vaux. I removed to my daughter's house, and on

account of her extreme youth, lived with her two years and an half.

Even there my enemies were ever forging one thing after another against

me, I then wanted to retire quite secretly, to the house of the

Benedictines at Montargis, (my native place) but it was discovered, and

both friends and enemies jointly prevented it.

The family in which my daughter was married being of the number of Abbe

Fenelon's friends, I had the opportunity of often seeing him at our

house. We had some conversations on the subject of a spiritual life, in

which he made several objections to my experiences therein. I answered

them with my usual simplicity, which, as I found, gained upon him. As

the affair of Molinos at that time made a great noise, the plainest

things were distrusted, and the terms used by mystic writers exploded.

But I so clearly expounded everything to him, and so fully solved all

his objections, that no one more fully imbibed my sentiments than he;

which has since laid the foundation of that persecution he has

suffered. His answers to the Bishop of Meaux evidently show this to all

who have read them.

I now took a little private house, to follow the inclination I had for

retirement; where I sometimes had the pleasure of seeing my family and

a few particular friends. Certain young ladies of St. Cyr, having

informed Mad. Maintenon, that they found in my conversation something

which attracted them to God, she encouraged me to continue my

instructions to them. By the fine change in some of them with whom

before she had not been well pleased, she found she had no reason to

repent of it. She then treated me with much respect; and for three

years after, while this lasted, I received from her every mark of

esteem and confidence. But that very thing afterward drew on me the

most severe persecution. The free entrance I had into the house, and

the confidence which some young ladies of the Court, distinguished for

their rank and piety, placed in me, gave no small uneasines to the

people who had persecuted me. The directors took umbrage at it, and

under pretext of the troubles I had some years before, they engaged the

Bishop of Chartres, Superior of St. Cyr, to present to Mad. Maintenon

that, by my particular conduct, I troubled the order of the house; that

the young women in it were so attached to me, and to what I said to

them, that they no longer hearkened to their superiors. I then went no

more to St. Cyr. I answered the young ladies who wrote to me, only by

letters unsealed, which passed through the hands of Mad. Maintenon.

Soon after I fell sick. The physicians, after trying in vain the usual

method of cure, ordered me to repair to the waters of Bourbon. My

servant had been induced to give me some poison. After taking it, I

suffered such exquisite pains that, without speedy succor, I should

have died in a few hours. The man immediately ran away, and I have

never seen him since. When I was at Bourbon, the waters which I threw

up burned like spirits of wine. I had no thought of being poisoned,

till the physicians of Bourbon assured me of it. The waters had but

little effect. I suffered from it for above seven years.

God kept me in such a disposition of sacrifice, that I was quite

resigned to suffer everything, and to receive from His hand all that

might befall me, since for me to offer in any way to vindicate myself,

would be only beating the air. When the Lord is willing to make any one

suffer, He permits even the most virtuous people to be readily blinded

toward them; and I may confess that the persecution of the wicked is

but little, when compared with that of the servants of the church,

deceived and animated with a zeal which they think right. Many of these

were now, by the artifices made use of, greatly imposed on in regard to

me. I was represented to them in an odious light, as a strange

creature. Since, therefore, I must, O my Lord, be conformable to Thee,

to please Thee; I set more value on my humiliation, and on seeing

myself condemned of everybody, than if I saw myself on the summit of

honor in the world. How often have I said, even in the bitterness of my

heart, that I should be more afraid of one reproach of my conscience,

than of the outcry and condemnation of all men!

CHAPTER 21

At this time I had my first acquaintance with the Bishop of Meaux. I

was introduced by an intimate friend, the Duke of Chevreuse. I gave him

the foregoing history of my life, and he confessed, that he had found

therein such an unction as he had rarely done in other books, and that

he had spent three days in reading it, with an impression of the

presence of God on his mind all that time.

I proposed to the bishop to examine all my writings, which he took four

or five months to do, and then advanced all his objections; to which I

gave answers. From his unacquaintance with the interior paths, I could

not clear up all the difficulties which he found in them.

He admitted that looking into the ecclesiastical histories for ages

past, we may see that God has sometimes made use of laymen, and of

women to instruct, edify, and help souls in their progress to

perfection. I think one of the reasons of God's acting thus, is that

glory may not be ascribed to any, but to Himself alone. For this

purpose, He has chosen the weak things of this world, to confound such

as are mighty. 1 Cor. 1:27.

Jealous of the attributes which men pay to other men, which are due

only to Himself, He has made a paradox of such persons, that He alone

may have the glory of His own works. I pray God, with my whole heart,

sooner to crush me utterly, with the most dreadful destruction, than to

suffer me to take the least honor to myself, of anything which He has

been pleased to do by me for the good of others. I am only a poor

nothing. God is all-powerful. He delights to operate, and exercise His

power by mere nothings.

The first time that I wrote a history of myself, it was very short. In

it I had particularized my faults and sins, and said little of the

favors of God. I was ordered to burn it, to write another, and in it to

omit nothing anyway remarkable that had befallen me. I did it. It is a

crime to publish secrets of the King; but it is a good thing to declare

the favors of the Lord our God, and to magnify His mercies.

As the outcry against me became more violent, and Madame Maintenon was

moved to declare against me, I sent to her through the Duke of

Beauvilliers, requesting the appointment of proper persons to examine

my life and doctrines, offering to retire into any prison until fully

exculpated. My proposal was rejected. In the meantime, one of my most

intimate friends and supporters, Mons. Fouquet, was called away by

death. I felt his loss very deeply, but rejoiced in his felicity. He

was a true servant of God.

Determined to retire out of the way of giving offense to any, I wrote

to some of my friends, and bade them a last farewell; not knowing

whether I were to be carried off by the indisposition which I then had,

which had been a constant fever for forty days past, or to recover from

it.

Referring to the Countess of G. and the Duchess of M., I wrote, "When

these ladies and others were in the vanities of the world, when they

patched and painted, and some of them were in the way to ruin their

families by gaming and profusion of expense in dress, nobody arose to

say anything against it; they were quietly suffered to do it. But when

they have broken off from all this, then they cry out against me, as if

I had ruined them. Had I drawn them from piety into luxury, they would

not make such an outcry. The Duchess of M. at her giving herself up to

God, thought herself obliged to quit the court, which was to her like a

dangerous rock, in order to bestow her time on the education of her

children and the care of her family, which, till then, she had

neglected. I beseech you, therefore, to gather all the memorials you

can against me; if I am found guilty of the things they accuse me of, I

ought to be punished more than any other, since God has brought me to

know Him and love Him, and I am well assured that there is no communion

between Christ and Belial."

I sent them my two little printed books, with my commentaries on the

Holy Scriptures. I also, by their order, wrote a work to facilitate

their examination, and to spare them as much time and trouble as I

could, which was to collect a great number of passages out of approved

writers, which showed the conformity of my writings with those used by

the holy penmen. I caused them to be transcribed by the quire, as I had

written them, in order to send them to the three commissioners. I also,

as occasion presented, cleared up the dubious and obscure places. I had

written them at a time when the affairs of Molinos had not broken out,

I used the less precaution in expressing my thoughts, not imagining

that they would ever be turned into an evil sense. This work was

entitled, 'THE JUSTIFICATIONS.' It was composed in fifty days, and

appeared to be very sufficient to clear up the matter. But the Bishop

of Meaux would never suffer it to be read.

After all the examinations, and making nothing out against me, who

would not have thought but they would have left me to rest in peace?

Quite otherwise, the more my innocence appeared, the more did they, who

had undertaken to render me criminal, put every spring in motion to

effect it. I offered the Bishop of Meaux to go to spend some time in

any community within his diocese, that he might be better acquainted

with me. He proposed to me that of St. Mary de Meaux, which I accepted;

but in going in the depth of winter I had like to have perished in the

snow, being stopped four hours, the coach having entered into it, and

being almost buried in it, in a deep hollow. I was taken out at the

door with one maid. We sat upon the snow, resigned to the mercy of God,

and expected nothing but death. I never had more tranquillity of mind,

though chilled and soaked with the snow, which melted on us. Occasions

like these are such as show whether we are perfectly resigned to God or

not. This poor girl and I were easy in our minds, in a state of entire

resignation, though sure of dying if we passed the night there, and

seeing no likelihood of anyone coming to our succor. At length some

waggoners came up, who with difficulty drew us through the snow.

The bishop, when he heard of it, was astonished, and had no little

self-complacency to think that I had thus risked my life to obey him so

punctually. Yet afterward he denounced it as artifice and hypocrisy.

There were times indeed when I found nature overcharged; but the love

of God and His grace rendered sweet to me the very worst of bitters.

His invisible hand supported me; else I had sunk under so many

probations. Sometimes I said to myself, "All thy waves and thy billows

are gone over me," (Psa. 42:7). "Thou hast bent thy bow and set me as a

mark for the arrow; thou has caused all the arrows of thy quiver to

enter into my reins" (Lam. 3:12, 13). It seemed to me as if everyone

thought he was in the right to treat me ill, and rendered service to

God in doing it. I then comprehended that it was the very manner in

which Jesus Christ suffered. He was numbered with the transgressors,

(Mark 15:28). He was condemned by the sovereign pontiff, chief priests,

doctors of the law, and judges deputed by the Romans, who valued

themselves on doing justice. Happy they who by suffering for the will

of God under all the like circumstances, have so near a relation to the

sufferings of Jesus Christ!

For six weeks after my arrival at Meaux, I was in a continual fever,

nor had I recovered from my indisposition, when I was waited on by the

bishop, who would fain have compelled me to give it under my hand, that

I did not believe the Word incarnate, (or Christ manifest in the

flesh). I answered him, that "through the grace of God, I know how to

suffer, even to death, but not how to sign such a falsehood." Several

of the nuns who overheard this conversation, and perceiving the

sentiments of the bishop, they joined with the Prioress, in giving a

testimonial, not only of my good conduct, but of their belief in the

soundness of my faith.

The bishop some days after, brought me a confession of faith, and a

request to submit my books to the church, that I may sign it, promising

to give me a certificate, which he had prepared. On my delivering my

submission signed, he, notwithstanding his promise, refused to give the

certificate. Some time after, he endeavored to make me sign his

pastoral letter, and acknowledge that I had fallen into those errors,

which he there lays to my charge, and made many demands of me of the

like absurd and unreasonable nature, threatening me with those

persecutions I afterward endured, in case of non-compliance. However, I

continued resolute in refusing to put my name to falsehoods. At length,

after I had remained about six months at Meaux, he gave me the

certificate. Finding Mad. Maintenon disapproved of the certificate he

had granted, he wanted to give me another in place of it. My refusal to

deliver up the first certificate enraged him, and as I understood they

intended to push matters with the utmost violence, "I thought that

although I were resigned to whatever might fall out, yet I ought to

take prudent measures to avoid the threatening storm." Many places of

retreat were offered me; but I was not free in my mind to accept of

any, nor to embarrass anybody, nor involve in trouble my friends and my

family, to whom they might attribute my escape. I took the resolution

of continuing in Paris, of living there in some private place with my

maids, who were trusty and sure, and to hide myself from the view of

the world. I continued thus for five or six months. I passed the day

alone in reading, in praying to God, and in working. But the December

27, 1695, I was arrested, though exceedingly indisposed at that time,

and conducted to Vincennes. I was three days in the custody of Mons.

des Grez, who had arrested me; because the king would not consent to my

being put into prison; saying several times over, that a convent was

sufficient. They deceived him by still stronger calumnies. They painted

me in his eyes, in colors so black, that they made him scruple his

goodness and equity. He then consented to my being taken to Vincennes.

I shall not speak of that long persecution, which has made so much

noise, for a series of ten years imprisonments, in all sorts of

prisons, and of a banishment almost as long, and not yet ended, through

crosses, calumnies, and all imaginable sorts of sufferings. There are

facts too odious on the part of divers persons, which charity induces

me to cover.

I have borne long and sore languishings, and oppressive and painful

maladies without relief. I have been also inwardly under great

desolations for several months, in such sort that I could only say

these words, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me!" All creatures

seemed to be against me. I then put myself on the side of God, against

myself.

Perhaps some will be surprised at my refusing to give the details of

the greatest and strongest crosses of my life, after I have related

those which were less. I thought it proper to tell something of the

crosses of my youth, to show the crucifying conduct which God held over

me. I thought myself obliged to relate certain facts, to manifest their

falsehood, the conduct of those by whom they had passed, and the

authors of those persecutions of which I have been only the accidental

object, as I was only persecuted, in order to involve therein persons

of great merit; whom, being out of their reach by themselves, they,

therefore, could not personally attack, but by confounding their

affairs with mine. I thought I owed this to religion, piety, my

friends, my family, and myself.

While I was prisoner at Vincennes, and Monsieur De La Reine examined

me, I passed my time in great peace, content to pass the rest of my

life there, if such were the will of God. I sang songs of joy, which

the maid who served me learned by heart, as fast as I made them. We

together sang thy praises, O, my God! The stones of my prison looked in

my eyes like rubies; I esteemed them more than all the gaudy

brilliancies of a vain world. My heart was full of that joy which Thou

givest to them who love Thee, in the midst of their greatest crosses.

When things were carried to the greatest extremities, being then in the

Bastile, I said, "O, my God, if thou art pleased to render me a new

spectacle to men and angels, Thy holy will be done!"

DECEMBER, 1709.

Here she left off her narrative, though she lived a retired life above

seven years after this date. What she had written being only done in

obedience to the commands of her director. She died June 9, 1717, at

Blois, in her seventieth year.