Letter 334. To Saint Francis de Sales

I have several things to say to you, my best of Fathers, but I cannot remember them, so overwhelmed and distracted with a thousand preoccupations is my pitiable little mind. To-day’s feast always puts me into good spirits when I picture to myself my best of Fathers receiving a thousand tokens of affection from these great and holy Apostles, whom he loves and serves with such good will.

Truly I feel light-hearted, and nothing, thank God, afflicts me, for I will whatever God wills, and in the vanishing point of my spirit there is no other desire than that of accomplishing in all things His holy and divine will. That reminds me, my dear Father, that I no longer have this feeling of complete self-surrender and sweet trust, nor am I able to make any act. Yet these virtues seem more solid and stable than ever within me. My spirit in its highest region is in a state of very simple union; yet it can make no act of union, for when it wishes to do so, and this on certain occasions it too often attempts, the effort is beyond it, and it sees clearly that it cannot unite itself afresh, but only remain united. The soul has no wish to stir from where she is, and cannot give thought to anything. Nor can she do anything save to form in the depth of her being a certain deeper depth of desire that God may do with her, with all creatures, and all things, whatsoever is His good pleasure, and even of this she is but half-conscious. It [this union] is all she cares for, all she occupies herself with during morning prayer, when hearing Mass, in preparation for holy Communion and for thanksgiving. In a word, in all things she has but one desire, to abide with God in this simple union of spirit without giving a thought elsewhere. When in this state the soul sometimes says the Pater, vocally, for all the world, for special intentions, for herself, yet without turning her mind thereto, neither considering why nor for whom she prays. And frequently, according to occasion and need, or when the desire for it comes unsought, the soul glides into this union. On this point I clearly see that this union suffices for everything else, and yet, my best of Fathers, I often have fears that give me great anxiety. At morning prayer, at holy Mass, and at thanksgiving, I compel myself to make these acts of union and of adoration. Tell me, if you please, whether this is wrong of me, or if in God’s eyes this state of union makes up and will make up for all the acts which I have just mentioned and to which we are obliged. Nay, if during times of dryness, when the soul has neither knowledge nor feeling of herself, save in the vanishing point of her spirit, will it then suffice? There is no need to give me a long answer on this subject, for, repeating my question, if you approve of it, a dozen words would tell me all and give me the assurance that this simple union takes the place of everything else, so that there is no need of giving way to fear or dwelling in thought on things of the kind. Ina word, say what you please to me, and meanwhile I will become, with God’s help, more faithful in not making acts, believing that the other way is best for me, and persuading myself that to keep to this will be enough while awaiting your answer.

Verily, my best of Fathers, I do not know how I have come to tell you all this, for I had no thought of it when I sat down to write. However, I am very glad I have told you. I must just add this: the union I speak of does not prevent all the rest of my being from feeling at times a longing to be near you again, and then I have no inclination, affection, nor feeling for anything else. Nevertheless, I do not lose my time in dwelling on it, nor have I any uneasiness, thank God, as to this union in the highest point of my spirit. But when the incomparable happiness of seeing myself once more at your feet and receiving your blessing comes to my mind, tears come at once to my eyes,

G and methinks I shall weep when God grants me this favour. But I promptly turn from the thought. It is impossible for me to have any wish in regard to it, for I leave entirely to God and to you the disposition of everything concerning myself. I have also a feeling of compassion and tender affection for our poor sisters, who are for so long a time expecting their wretched little mother, who yet loves them so much.

I cannot think, my best of Fathers, that there is any need for me to justify myself with you in regard to the affair about , as I feel you know quite well that I never conceal from you either the good or the bad that I do— being more than I can say. Your very humble, etc.