Letter 197. To the same

Alas! what will you say to me, my poor dear friend, for not having written to you for so long! Certainly it is from

PETTERS 107 37

Do not be uneasy about your path—I see it, and I know better than you do that it is a very good one. Be tranquil, I beg of you. Trust me in this, for God has given me light enough about it. And is not His infinite goodness our only end and aim? What more do we need? Remain, my dearest daughter, all swallowed up and buried in this thought. Happy shall we be in living blindly, without either knowledge or feeling. It is enough for us that He is our God, our hope, our desire. I am very glad you will have but little to tell me of your faults when we meet. Having very profoundly humbled ourselves for those God permits us to see, let us forget them and go forward. We know you well enough. Have no doubt of this, I beg of you, and advance perseveringly through the highest region of your soul, bearing, as sweetly as you possibly can, those revolts in its inferior part, the paying of tribute, as you call it, for God is pleased with this suffering. Believe me, it is not expedient to be delivered from such assaults.

The vineyard will be of use to you; I am delighted you have got the whole of it. You ought to have ground enough to be able to make a little orchard. His Lordship of Grenoble tells me there is something, I know not what, that

A little later the holy Bishop gave his dear daughters a superior according to the Heart of Jesus in the person of St. Vincent de Paul, who for nearly forty years governed the First Monastery of Paris with a wisdom to which the Church bears testimony in the liturgical office of the Saint.

you still wish to have. He is a good prelate, but he does not take kindly to this. I am very glad that your numbers are somewhat increasing. No, we will not take our Sister Marie Francoise [de Livron] away from you. We will send you a copy of the ceremony of profession. His Lordship is, thank God, very well. We see him sometimes, but cannot speak to him. Neither I nor our poor sisters have yet had this consolation. We do not know when he will go away, and still less when I shall. I think I ought to complete the year. May God do His holy willin all. Amen.

I salute very affectionately our poor sisters. I should like to write to them, but indeed I cannot, nor to the dear little sister—whom I love as my own heart. Salute all my friends, men and women, but in particular M. d’Aoste, whom my desire is to see entirely devoted to you. May God form you to His liking in every way.

’ Pray much for us, and also for his Lordship, for the plague threatens.

I had just written the above when your letter arrived (this day of St. Mary Magdalen).

We ought to show great respect to the confessors, and do all we can to satisfy them, honouring God in them—but we | must not be subject to them in such matters as procuring preachers, having holy Mass said, receiving communion from the hands of persons of repute, and other things in which one wishes sometimes to give gratification, as confessing to those to whom we think it would be suitable. In all this keep a free hand, for it is entirely your affair. The Rule and our customs approve of it, and as we should wisely and discreetly make use of the holy freedom which is given us, so should we carefully and zealously preserve it, yet always with humility; testifying all respect, while frankly explaining to them our holy liberty of action. To conclude: if you do not make much fuss about keeping him, that good man will not be so troublesome. But should he retire, and you cannot get M. d’Aoste, take my advice and get a good simple priest of good life and example; these fine gentlemen always want to govern, and that, for many good sound reasons, is not what we want.

In short, I always keep to this point, and it is according to the true perception of our Rule: the ordinary confessor ought not to meddle in governing us, but simply receive the confessions of the community, and beyond that there ought to be no great intercourse with the sisters.

We will repay you your hundred crowns in due time, please God. You wrote so briefly to me about these religious ladies! that I do not know how to answer you. Before sending them away, I told the one I intended for Annecy that I wished we could get to know well whether she would be suitable for our Institute, and that if so the relatives should allow sufficient for board and maintenance, as our house is undoubtedly poor. We must carry out this matter with courage. I have so keen a desire to see in the house here daughters who are capable of acquiring its spirit that, when such present themselves, I am every day more resolved never to send them away because they are poor.

Good morning, my dearest daughter. I am all yours in Jesus. Amen.¹²

Footnotes

1. On his return from Savoy the young Baron de Chantal took up again Court life, where, adopting the customs of the day, he wasted his time in a round of gaieties and brilliant festivities, above all in fighting duels, unhappily so common at that period. St. Jane Frances unceasingly recommended this dear son to the prayers of her religious daughters. no want of affection, but the fuss in this place is terrible. Besides, we have changed our house, professed one and clothed six novices. All this has kept us busy enough, not to speak of continual and daily affairs and distractions, which are without end here.1_ I assure you when I received your news it gave me great consolation. Oh! but you are the dear daughter of my heart! ↩

2. The Saint rented a more convenient house for her daughters than that which they first occupied. The community moved into it about the feast of the Visitation in this year 1619, and on the octave day St. Francis de Sales said Mass, preached, exposed the Blessed Sacrament, received the vows of Sister M. Anastase Pavillon, and gave the veil to six novices.—Unpublished History of the Foundation of the First Monastery of the Visttation of Paris. ↩