Letter 1518. To a great Servant of God
[Annecy, 1637.] Vive > Jésus!
My very dear Mother,—God was pleased to take to Himself some days ago our good and dear Mother Péronne Marie de Chatel, who died a truly holy death. Indeed, the Spirit of God always reigned in her. May His eternal goodness, which favoured her with so many graces and such true Christian virtue, be for ever blessed! Her death has left us in extreme privation and great sorrow, and not without reason. I had complete trust in her. She was my solace in tribulations, and my help and counsellor in other things that are continually cropping up. She imparted to me great strength and comfort. May Our Lord be praised! With all my heart I adore the holy designs of His sovereign and fatherly Providence, and submit as lovingly as I can. I beseech His goodness to have pity on me, to support me, to lead me in the narrow way of His most holy will, and never to permit that I should deviate therefrom; but to let me walk faithfully therein to the last breath of my life.
As I have told you, my dear Mother, I am always in trouble and anguish of spirit, but, though not delivered from it, God has given me some relief, for I have I do not know what which holds me well above it, and I have good intervals.
About a fortnight before the death of our good Mother my troubles of mind were continual, with no abatement. It seemed, as I said to her, as if there was more evil in me than I could express or than others thought, and I was unable to make myself clearly understood or to see myself what I felt. She answered me with decision: ‘Do not speak of them to God nor to yourself. Never consider what you should say about them to whomsoever it may be, and never make any examination on this head. Hide your troubles from yourself, and look at God as if you did not feel them. If you speak to Him let it be of Himself.’
This checked me, for if I wished to examine myself I became more perplexed than ever, so that I made no examination before confession, nor [do I now] in order to tell you any more than what I have already told you in my first letter, for I seem to continue in the same state. May God in His infinite goodness make known to you what He pleases in regard to my state, and what, with His grace, it is expedient for me to doin conformity to His holy will. This much I can say: I have not, it appears to me, the same dread of evil as at the beginning, and I am more in God’s hands than I used to be, yet without knowing how—and somehow I feel as if I were unable to do anything opposed to any holy virtue, and I am conscious of a greater keenness to rise above myself in corresponding to good inspirations, and shunning, once I perceive it, any evil, however slight; although I fail only too much through frailty and impetuosity.
This is what I have to say to you, my dearest and unique Mother, and I say it just as it occurs to me. I speak about God, and I give encouragement to others, when opportunities arise. I write as if I felt and relished what I say, yet all the while it is with repugnance and against the grain; but I cannot express this in the way I feelit. Should I continue so to do? Read, I beg of you, the 65th letter of the 4th book.1 It gives me some little relief and light that our Bienheureux understood, for it is a great pain to me that I cannot make myself really known. If you say that you are sure this great servant of God refers to my sufferings, that will give me strength. I have wondered at this letter, for I have no remembrance of ever having had the like trouble. My temptations formerly were against faith in one form or another, as his [St. Francis’} letters show, but what I now feel is quite different, and this letter is likewise different from the earlier letters. This makes me think that God permitted me to have some short experience of what I now feel to write that to our Bienheureux, and so to recall to me now that I had been in great anguish, though I cannot remember of what nature. I must needs just this once let my heart go and tell you what is perhaps useless enough; but as I know and feel your kindness of heart for me, and as I have no other creature on earth to whom I can speak with the full confidence that I can to you, I relieve myself by telling you all that comes to my mind, and also because of the great desire that I have to make myself known to you and to this worthy servant of God, so that you will help me by your prayers, and by both your and his wise counsel, as you may judge expedient. Your last letter gave me great consolation. Our sisters have again put upon me the burden of this house:+ having made my remonstrances I yielded. May God in His goodness be my succour! Our poor deceased [Mother de Chatel] was a generous soul who undertook much for the glory of God, and has consequently left me a heavy burden. I can neither see nor feel anything but the cross. My unique Mother, help me and procure help for me, so that God may have me in His holy keeping and lead me, without any resistance on my part, in what way soever He wills. I pray Him to complete in you the work for His glory. He knows how truly I am yours, etc.
Do you know, dear Mother, I dare not read this letter over, any more than the others that I have written to you, lest I open the door to reflections and considerations on what takes place in my soul, the sight of which would overwhelm me with sorrow, and almost be my undoing. So I restrain myself as much as possible, but, owing to the activity of my mind, not as much as I should like. When I write to you I do it with all the sincerity in my power, according to what I see at the time, and as I would have done to our Blessed Father; but if I wished to look it over, a thousand doubts would crop up. I continue my daily
Communions with great uneasiness of mind and sometimes temptations, and all the other exercises. Should I do this? The good Mother? said ‘ Yes.’ Yours, etc.2
Footnotes
Chapter 156 of 252