Thirty-ninth point. His conformity to the will of god

Her answer on the thirty-ninth point ivas :

I have always known that our Blessed Founder was absolutely resigned to the good pleasure of God, on which he depended unreservedly and en tirely. He used to say that nothing that could ever happen would deprive him of his fixed resolu tion to acquiesce perfectly in all that God wished to do with him, and with whatever belonged to him.

About five weeks after he had taken in hand the establishment of our Congregation of the Visitation, I fell ill of a fever, in which my life was despaired of. Hearing of my dangerous condition, he came to visit me, and said : " Per haps God intends to be satisfied with our attempt, and with the goodwill with which we set to work to prepare this little society for Him, just as He was satisfied with the readiness which Abraham showed to sacrifice his son. If, then, it is His good pleasure that, having reached the middle of our journey, we should turn back, His Will be done ! " Now, I may say with truth that this was an heroic act of resignation, on account of the great benefits which he expected that souls would derive from this manner of life.

In a dangerous illness which he had before his consecration, he resigned himself calmly to death, saying that, were it not for the mercy of God, he should be consumed, but that he hoped that same mercy would be as favourable to him now, at the present hour, as it would be twenty or thirty years hence.

It is, however, quite certain that life and death were equally indifferent to him, and that he kept himself always prepared for death, as he proved to his brother, the Bishop of Chalcedon, who, on one occasion, remarked to our Blessed Founder that he found him thoughtful and sad. " No," he answered, " I am not at all sad, but I am on the watch that I may hear when the hour for my departure strikes."

He lost by death his father, two of his brothers,

1 84 Saint 3ane jF+ tie ffifjantal's depositions both men worthy to be regretted, and whose death was a great grief to him, also a sister and a sisterin-law. In the depth of his sorrow he exclaimed : / was dumb, 0 Lord, and I opened not my mouth, because Thou hast done it (Ps. xxxviii. 10).

On the death of his mother, whom he loved as himself, he told me in writing that when he had closed her eyes, and given her the last kiss of peace at the moment when her soul left the body, his heart swelled within him, and he wept over this good mother more tears than he had shed since he had been a Priest, but yet not tears of bitterness : " For," he added, " it was a calm sorrow though a keen one. I said, like David : / was dumb, 0 Lord, and I opened not my mouth, because Thou hast done it. Doubtless, if it had not been for that thought, I should have broken out into passionate lamentations, but it seemed to me that I dared not cry out or complain under the blows of that fatherly Hand, which truly, thanks to His goodness, I have learned to love tenderly from my youth upwards."

Again he said to me : " In the midst of my heart of flesh, which was so torn with grief at this death, I can feel a certain sweet tranquillity and gentle repose of mind resting on Divine Provi dence, which sheds forth into my soul a great contentment amid all its troubles."

I have heard that, a short time before the death of our Blessed Founder, the Most Serene Prince Cardinal of Savoy sent for him to Avignon. His friends, considering the weak state of his health and the inclemency of the weather, entreated him not to take this journey, which would certainly do him harm. " How can that be helped?" replied the holy Bishop. "We are going where we are called, and shall stay there as long as we are able; if sickness or any other cause stops us, we shall remain, and come back as and when it pleases God."

He was seized with apoplexy, and died per fectly and absolutely resigned to the good pleasure of God, that is to say, quite indifferent. Before starting on this journey he came to bid our Nuns farewell. " May God bring you back to us, my lord ! " they cried. " And if it is not His good pleasure to do so," he answered, " what will you have to say to that ? "

One Lent, when he was intending to preach, he fell sick of a fever. He wrote thus to me : " If God wishes me to serve Him not by preaching but by suffering, His Will be done ! "

If my memory does not err, and I think it does not, there was a talk at one time of his imprisonment. He said : " If they were to put me in prison I should not care the least, for then I should have more leisure for praying to God and writing something which would redound to His glory." There was also some idea of taking away his bishopric. " Well," he said, " if they did, I should be more free to serve God and souls."

He was even quite ready to die by the hand of the executioner if that should be the good pleasure of God. He once said to me that it

1 86 Saint 3ane Jf^ tie (ftfjantars seemed to him that if God should permit him to be wrongfully accused of the greatest crimes and offences possible to be committed, and condemned on that account to suffer some terrible punish ment, he could undergo it, provided that the grace of God assisted him, calmly, quietly, and with entire resignation, not fretting at all, so long as he was innocent in the sight of God; but that what would trouble him would be, to be accused of heresy, on account of the scandal and prejudice which that might cause to souls.

It would be impossible to express the extreme indifference of his own individual will : it was very certain that it was absolutely subject to the Divine Will; indeed he used to say of himself that he left it to Our Lord to will what He pleased for him, surrendering all superfluous care of himself into the hands of God.

He loved especially those words of St. Paul : Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do ? (Acts ix. 6), because, he said, they were so admirable. One day, writing to some one, he said how much he delighted in these words of St. Paul, and added humbly : "I said them this morning to God, but I dare not say them now, because I have found out that I know only too well what He would have me to do : He wills that I should mortify myself in all the powers of my soul, and that I should be a chosen vessel to carry His holy name among the people. But, alas ! what I know He wills rue to do, I know not how to do it. May He, then, Who knows how to do it, do it in me and by me; but may He do it all for Himself; to Whom I have been able to give nothing but this poor little thread of goodwill, which I feel down in the very depths of my miserable heart. This goodwill lives in me, but I am dead in it, and am conscious only of a slow and feeble movement, by which I sigh forth almost imperceptibly the sacred watchword of our faithfulness : Vive Jdsus, Live Jesus ! " He was absolutely as indifferent to sickness as to health, to life as to death, to contempt as to praise, to the employment of his time and whole life, to poverty as to riches, to the loss of those who were dear to him as to their preservation; in short, in all things his heart was indifferent, loving supremely the good pleasure of God. This is why, as he has himself told me, in trouble and distress he experienced a sweetness far sur passing any that he felt at other times — the sweetness that came from a perfect submission and union of his own mind with the mind of God. I say these things firmly and unhesitatingly, because I ha^e myself been a witness of them again and again, and on no single occasion have I seen our Blessed Founder fail in them.

Here, again, are words confirming this fact. " It is," he wrote to me one day, " a great satis faction to my soul, which is truly dedicated to God, to walk along with my eyes shut, just as and where Divine Providence leads me from time to time; for His reasons and judgments are impenetrable, yet always sweet and pleasant to

1 88 Saint Sane JF* foe Cljantal's Beposittons those who trust in Him. What do we will, except what God wills ? Let us leave Him to guide our soul, which is His vessel; He will bring it safe to port. Oh ! how happy are those souls which only live in this Divine Will ! "

On another occasion, when some hindrance occurred which prevented his doing something which he had planned and very much wished to do, he wrote to me thus : " The glory of God has thus disposed it, and you know what fidelity I have always vowed to it alone; this is why I leave to it unreservedly to rule thus over my affections, on occasions when I see that it is required of me."

On the subject of a most poignant affliction he wrote thus : " We must pause speechless when the decrees of the heavenly Will are issued, for God disposes of His children according to what is for His greatest glory. In fact it is not in our power to keep any of the consolations which He gives us, excepting the one of loving Him above all things, which is indeed the blessing supremely to be desired. Oh my God ! how good it is to live in Thee alone, to work in Thee alone, and to rejoice in Thee alone ! "

I should never come to an end if I were to attempt to repeat here all the proofs of our Blessed Founder's absolute resignation and in difference to all things except the will of God. This fact is well known, and cannot be doubted by those who came in contact with him. It is true, &c.