Letter 811. To Monseigneur Sébastien Zamet

My very honoured Lord,—You are aware of my love, perhaps too strong, for this most dear son who was doubly mine; of this I think I told you formerly. Ah, well! the hand of God has taken him to Himself. May that hand be for ever blessed! I own to you candidly, as my very dear Father, that my sorrow is great, but, thank God, it is neither unconstrained nor agitated.

My thoughts dwell more on gratitude to Our Lord for His mercy to the poor boy in having, through His grace, prepared him by the sacraments, which they tell me he received a little before his death, than on my own loss, if loss it can be called, since God, as we hope, has mercifully received him and it has come about by His holy will. And in all things and everywhere His will is the most desirable and the most adorable. It is enough for me: I embrace it and submit to it with my whole heart. But, my very dear Father, I do not correspond with God’s design over my soul, for He calls me to a perfect detachment—an effacement of self; whereas I am brimful of self. Oh, may God bestow upon me this form of death, which is worth all the existences of the world!

My Father, I greatly desire to speak with you, for, methinks, you will help me to see how God draws me— without support Iam a poor, weak thing. May His goodness grant me this favour, for I feel that it will be of assistance to me. I never forget you before God, nor ever will, as I so much wish to see all His designs accomplished in you. Begging of you to remember this poor soul of mine in your holy Sacrifices, I remain, etc.

P.S.—In three weeks we shall make a foundation on the French side, and then, please God, at Orleans.