Letters 79–87

Letter 79

I HEAR that you are very suffering, and that God is trying you severely by the continuance of pain. If I were to give way to natural feeling, I should grieve; but I believe that God smites you in love, and am convinced that your sufferings will turn to real gain. He has laid a penance on you which you would never have had courage to assume for yourself, and which yet you owe in expiation for your sins. He takes forcibly what you would scarcely have been able to give, and so doing. He deprives you of any vainglory, so that you cannot pride yourself on your sacrifice; and thus He both humbles and teaches you. Moreover, He keeps you in a helpless state, which overthrows all your ambitious views: all the lofty notions on which you have so long fed have melted away; your wisdom is confounded, and so God forces you to turn to Him only. He was jealous of a journey in which worldly glory would have filled all your thoughts, and in which you would have been a prey to the most violent passions. Of a truth, sir, 1 think that in frustrating that journey He has not

TO THE MARQUIS DE SEIGNELAI l6r merely preserved your soul from great danger^ but also your body from most fatal excitement He would have you live, and live to Him only; and to lead you to this life He causes you to pass through this intense languor in which you can find no human stay. After having afflicted you, He will comfort you as a tender Father, when affliction has detached and purified your heart. I beseech Him to give you boundless patience amid your keen and prolonged sufferings. Would that I could be your nurse, and help to soothe them I

Letter 80

You ask for some thoughts to comfort you "amid your sufferings. Cannot you see that you should take courage from those very sufferings, as a lively proof of God's care for you } What a blessing tc bear a penance not of your own choosing, but laid on you by God Himself! It is not merely art expiation for the past, but an antidote for the future." It turns you forcibly from those ambitious schemes which you would never have had courage to sacrifice to God; it holds you between life and death, between the most important affairs and utter helplessness in all; .it brings you to the gate of death,' and fetches you back after letting you face the gulf which swallows up all that the world holds choicest. God overthrows you like S. Paul before Damascus;

Fen, Sp. L,-I,\ L r and whispers in your heart, 'Mt is hard for thee to kick against the pricks." After all this, can you question that He loves you? If He did not, would He not have left you to your own devices? Would He have pursued you when you fled so ungratefully from Him? Had you deserved such patience and such renewal of an oft-rejected grace? You had stifled the Spirit of Grace, you had done despite to the Spirit of Truth, you had trodden under foot the Blood of the Covenant, you were a child of wrath, and yet God was not weary. He loved you in spite of yourself. You were determined to perish, and He would not have it so. He has revived grace in you. You love Him, or at least )'ou wish to love Him; you dread not loving Him, you abhor yourself when you face your sins and His Goodness. Do you suppose that without the help of His Spirit one can wish to love Him; fear lest one does not, abhor one's own sins? No indeed, God only can make such a great change in a soul as far astray and as hardened as yours was; and when God does thus, who can doubt that He loves your soul with an infinite love? He sees the leprosy which disfigured you far plainer than you saw it; it was the very multitude of your sores which, far from revolting Him, drew His compassion to you. What does sovereign Mercy need, save utter misery through which to glorify itself? You were indeed a fitting object fey His Grace; it shines forth in you more than in most. Another man might imagine that his orderly life had won him grace. But what had you done save offend God, and that by terrible relapses? What did He owe you? Nought save

TO THE MARQUIS DE SEIGNELAI 163 hell, and that even more than most men. So that of His Own Good Pleasure He gives to you, for He owes you less than nothing. His Grace is pure grace to you, and for His Own Glory He causes this gulf of misery and corruption to overflow with mercy. So you may say with S. Paul, " For this cause I obtained mercy, that in me Jesus Christ might show forth all longsuflering, for a pattern to them that should hereafter believe on Him."* O all ye who seem to have filled up the measure of iniquity, behold me, and never despair of our Heavenly Father's Goodness! There is but one sin which makes us unworthy of that Mercy, and that is if we harden ourselves against it, and refuse to hope for it. Of course you must not reckon on your own strength, or talents, or courage. All that is your own will fail you, and you will incur the curse, ** Cursed is the man who tntsteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm," ' if you lean on yourself; but the more you feel your own powerlessness, the more you must open your heart to the All-Powerful God Who says, " Fear not; for I am with thee." 3 He will turn all ills into blessings; the body's sickness will be the soul's cure. You will bless God for having smitten you with these visible wounds to heal the deeper and more mortal wounds of pride and luxury in your heart. Gradually you will see the hidden place of mercy as it expands. Do not delay to give glory to God by yielding yourself unconditionally to Him; the more you trust in Him, the more you will constrain Him to care for you. I pray with all my heart that He may give

^^^^^^^ yoa the peace apd comfort which is to be found in Him only.

You ask how to maintain a sense of God's Presence amid trial? I hope, to begin with, that you feel how trials are in themselves calculated to keep us continually in His Presence. What more natural than wh^n suffering to seek relief? and what a relief there is to be found by a loving glance at God I When your pains came on, you summon the physicians, and those relations whom you believe most able to support you: even in like manner summon the Great Physician, Who is all the more able to understand and soothe your sufferings in that it is His Mercy which has laid them on you. Summon the only Friend, the true Comforter, th^ Loving Father, Who will carry you in His Bpspm^ and will either give you relief from pain or courage to bear its pressure patiently. Is it not good to know that we have such a resource in -God, and that it can never fail us? He is ever ready- to hearken* He knows our every pang better than w^ know it; He lays it on us because He would fain spare us the eternal pangs which we have deserved, It is He Who excites within us the very cry for help we raise. And He has said, " Before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, t will hear."** If sometimes He seems slow to deliver or comfort us, it is that He treats iis like

TO THE MARQVIS t>E SEIGNELAt 165

Lazarus, whom He loved: He waited purposely some days, and let him die in order to raise him up. God seems slow about healing you, because He is leaving you to suffer so that you may die to self and to the world's corruption. When all your lusts are extinguished, when your pride is humbled to the dust, when you begin to be insensible to false shame and pernicious indulgence for your profligate friends, when you have sacrificed everything unreservedly to God, and the old man in you has neither hope nor prospect, then I believe that God will show forth His Glory. He will recall you to a pure life worthy of Him; He will set you before the world like a risen Lazarus, not to resume a base^ idle, profane life, but to be a witness to an unbelieving world of God's marvellous power, which convinces the faithless, silences the malice of the evil one, and draws sinners to conversion.

And amid your sufferings say to God, Let me forget myself, but never forget Thee. "Memor fui Dei, et delectatus est." ' My pain is inevitable, for I cannot escape Thy Just and All- Powerful Hand; I iiiust suffer, for I have sinned, and my sentence of condemnation is gone forth. The only thing is whether to isuffer with the despair of a self-supporting mind, or with the comfort of hoping in Thee; with self-love goaded to madness by pain, or with peace through love of Thee and confidence in Thy unfailing Goodness. Impatience relieves no ill; on the contrary, it is a sharp additional pang added to all the rest But resignation soothes and lightens

' * This IS the Vulgate, Ps. Ixxvi. 4; in the English Version this sense is lost. . '

1 all we suffer by showing the gain that is behind. I intreat you then, sir, to cast yourself into God's Arms, there to find the best of comfort. Be sure that it will prove less a sacrifice of your own will than a lightening of your pain. If you use yourself by degrees to seek confidently from God all which is lacking in yourself, you will gradually acquire a blessed, peaceful habit of turning to Him whenever trial presses, as a baby nestles to its nurse's breast when anything frightens or hurts it. The reason you feel it difficult thus to turn to Him is that you do it with effort, without simple trust, rather as a sacrifice than as seeking comfort. God would have you more unconstrained with Him. Turn to Him less with a thought of giving than of receiving; you can give Him nothing save what you have received of Him. Open your heart to Him unceasingly, and you will receive patience and love. If patience fails you under pressure of pain, appeal to God for support, as you would call to a passer-by for help under an overwhelming burthen. And if you yield to impatience, do not add the further evil of discouragement. To be impatient of our impatience is to poison the wound; rather lift your eyes to the Physician, and show Him the depth of your wound, that He may pour in His healing halm. Abide calm and humble under God's Hand, remembering your pride, impatience, sensitiveness, and weakness. Nothing could be more suited to confound your pride than the reflections God has forced upon you. You have but one way of doing good, and that is to bear patiently and meekly; all other means of sacrifice are gone from ypu. You

^TO THE MARQUIS DE SEIGNELAl iGf m.

have no longer the snares of business or the seductions of society to encounter. You are shut up within a Christian household, and all you can do is to endure; and this you do so badly, that it alone might suffice to destroy all self-confidence in you. How many guileless people are suffering worse pains than yours without any of your unmerited alleviations! Try often to lie still before God and think over all these things. A word from the Psalms or Gospels, or any other passage of Holy Scripture which strikes you, will be enough to lift up your heart to God from time to time. But such upliftings should be simple, unforced, brief, familiar; they may be made in the midst of those around you without any one observing you. Besides you have an advantage not to be overlooked in the power of speaking on religious subjects with your own family. When such conversations are natural and easy, they strengthen and encourage the soul, help it under trial, comfort it under pressure of temptation, open the closed heart, and give a peace which self-contained people seldom have.' Your reading and prayers should be very short in your present state; mind and body need to be spared. Short, simple upliftings of heart to God on any touching passages of Scripture will be more useful to you than long meditations. While listening^ to conversation the heart may often recollect itself within, and feed secretly upon God. Silence is very needful both to your body and your soul. " In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength/' '

' The Marquis de Seijpielai's illneis terminated iatally at- the close of the year in which these letters were written. ' Isa. XXX. 15.

•LXXXII.

I AM not surprised that your son' shrinks from writing to. . . It costs tlie natural man dearly when he is detached, or, more truly, torn from his pleasures, I remember his late elder brother writing to me once to intreat that I would not pray for him, for fear he should have to give up a connection to which he clung. It is the result of our corrupt self'-will, which is so passionate, and cannot endure to part from what stirs its affections. You know that such self-will cannot be reformed, altered, eradicated, save by submission to God's Will; by resignation, union, and the very merging our will in His. As the opposite to all this causes the disorder of our life, so that life becomes better regulated as the will turns to God; and as it so turns we let go the empty pleasures which fetter us, because the will can only change through love. The object is not to enlighten the mind, but the heart.

• I do not know why people should fancy they must give up their friends in order to give themselves to God; or why the Vidame should suppose that. at his age he niust forsake society which is neither criminal nor dangerous, nor even overattractive. He should see his friends frequently, if briefly. I must urge that conviction alone will never bring a man thoroughly to God. Nothing

• The.Vidame d'Amiens, fifth son of the Due de Chevreuse, and later Due de Cbaulnes.

TO THE DUC DE CHEVREUSE 16$ but winning and converting the will can do that; all arguments are fruitless unless the heart be won to Gody and it is at that we must work. I should try to do as follows: daily to come before God for some few moments, not actively, but often saying, " Thy Will be done," giving my will up to God, and lying before Him in reverent silence while the heart speaks without help of intellect or words. I would have your son follow this little exercise daily, and I will answer for it that he will not do BO long without finding a result I pray God to let him find by experience that this counsel, which seems so easy and trifling in itself, may in the long run be of so much use to him that he will be surprised at it. He will then not need many external acts for the carrying out of God's Will, because his own will be altogether moulded upon that.

Letter 83

My Dear Duke,

Your letter has been an unspeakable pleasure to me, and is a proof to me how intensely I love you. I think that you enter at least by conviction into that. which God requires of you, and without which your work would be useless. ... As to meditation, I think you had better use a book which you can lay aside whenever God alone occupies your heart. Any. of those you mention, full of unction and love, will do; take whatever helps you best to realise GocTs Presence and still the activity of your own mind.

As to the time for meditation, I would spread it, if possible, over different parts of the day; some in the morning, when you need not be visible sooner than you please; and some in the evening, when, under the excuse of business, you can always secure half an hour in your study, and give to meditation what you might give to science — a double gain, sacrificing your mental tastes and livifig to God. Again, your frequent journeys are very convenient for meditation in your carriage; and the times spent at Marly are also opportunities for retirement and freedom. I do not suggest any precise length of meditation, because you had better be guided by your feelings or needs. If you are drawn to spend a long time in prayer, I would give to it as much as your health and your other duties permit. If you feel less attraction tt> it, but know by experience that it is only a certain perseverance which overcomes distractions and silences self, then I would patiently give such time to meditation as is necessary to attain the interior silence which is so necessary to you. So I cannot give you any fixed rule, but God will make it plain to vou Do in this matter as we do in taking mineral waters-begin by degrees, and gradually increase the dose. Then tell me the result of your expen-

"''a; to Communion, I quite approve of your communicatine two or three times a week, but I would TathTr S you were guided in this respect by your inward desire or need than by set days. I would

TO THE DUC D£ CHEVREVSE 17I have you vary somewhat the church where you communicate, so as not to attract notice as a public man. As to confession, you are right not to go formally, or on set days. It will suffice to go when you feel the need clearly; you will not carry that too far, I know.

The most difficult thing is to find some one to whom you can open your heart. The good • • / will not give you breadth; he is too narrow himself. I can only think of. . . who is not without faults, but you can freely mention those. . . . The counsels people give generally only wound, because they are given as though infallibly correct. One should neither judge, nor insist on being believed* One must say what one thinks, not authoritatively, and as blaming our friend if he does not submit, but merely out of the fulness and openness of one's heart, and to avoid reserve with a person one loves, while content to be unheeded, and conscious that one may be mistaken. Advice given thus rarely gives offence. If true, it glides gradually into the heart, and brings forth fruit; if mistaken, one is glad to be undeceived.

The good..." is quick, free, and brusque; but she is good, simple, straightforward, and iimi with herself as far as she knows how. She has sobered down very much during the last two years. She is not perfect; but who is? . . . She loves you, and you her; you know each other well, and meet often; you will do her good, and I think she will return it with interest. ... If she speaks too freely,

• Probably this meant the Due de Beauvilliers. - - ■ This seems meant for the Duchesse de Beauvilliers. tell her so, and she will be checked; and if you are too strict in advising her, she will tell you in like manner. I think you may mutually help one another much. ...

Letter 84

• . J PO not wish either to flatter or to discourage you about the matter in question, but you will have no real. peace till it is carried out What you say is all true; but when a man knows himself, as you do, he is greatly to blame if he does. not. take strong measures for himself.

What I ask of you is a courageous effort, vigors ously to begin what you must see cannot be too soon carried out, and not to give heed to your, own pleadings any longer. You will spare yourself great pain and danger, as well as others^ by oiie decided blow. The only way of softening a:painful operation is to perform it promptly; nor 'can.'you be sure of tarrying it out at all, .knowing by experience how much cause you have. to mistrust yourself, save by putting yourself into the desirable position of being unable to draw back. If you honestly wish to act,. why hesitate so jartfuUy to delay the deed, and make it more and mere difficult? Reserve a free quarter of an hour daily, morning and evening, in which to draw, strength from the One true Source. If you will do this faithfully, you will be am;izcd to find yourself so much stronger and

clearer than you dared to hope. Try it perseveringly, and tell me the result. One cannot satisfy one's self or others while carrying about a better knowledge which one will neither follow nor stifle: One is afraid of one's self, dare not be alone, or examine one's own heart. ... Set yourself free. Freedom lies in not being misled by weakness, iii spite of conviction, and the better knowledge- of your heart. It will be hard at first, but less so than you think; and the short pain will turn to endless satisfaction. Horace, pagan and libertine as he was, says, ^'sapere aude," and ^'dimidium fact!, qui caepit, habet." Do you expect that deliverance from what costs you so dearly should cost nothing? I await you firmly, and you shall not find me so easy a victory as Milord Marlborough.

No one could be more touched than I am by your troubles and your sincerity. I hope that the way in which you open your heart will help to heal it. I ask it daily of God. His Mercy spares nothing to break your bonds and help you to get entirely free. It is time for you to answer to so much grace. Why do you want to love that which no longer loves you, ^nd prefer it to God, Who has loved you through all your wanderings, and does not weary of waiting for you? - . ■ - ■ •>

You did not mistrust yourself enough when it was a question of breaking loose and flying.; and now you mistrust God too much when it is a question of hoping for His upholding grace. The separation which you had not courage to make is made for you; it only remains to let it be lasting, and not to renew that to which God's Goodness has put an end. . Now is the tin>e to hope in Him. Do not be afraid that you cannot persevere; God will lighten your difficulties. Give yourself innocent amusements, and such little occupations as distract you usefully and direct your tastes. Every day try a little readiiig and prayer. I forgive you for having been afraid of me, and avoided mie, and delighted not to find me. It is all the natural result of your unhappy state. But I shall seek none the less after you. God wants you. Just see all that He has done to secure you, and all that you are doing to escape Him! Do not wear out His Patience, nor do evil because He is good. Throw yourself into His Arms in spite of yourself. Why cannot I come and see you? I would lay down my life for your genuine, lasting conversion.

Letter 86

. . . There are two beings in you who will never agree. If you wish for any peace, one or other must conquer. Pleas^ God, the reasonable Chris*

TO THE VI DAME if AMIENS 1 75 tian rnaii will never be so overthrown in you as to cease making you feel an inward struggle. And you can know no real peace in letting him be defeated. Your only resource is to uphold him without relaxation, and at whatever cost, against the blind, deluded man who has nothing strong about him save his unreasoning passions. The more you conquer him, the more peace and comfort you will know. Such passions are like a decayed tooth which must be drawn:.the preparations are alarming, but the actual pain is short; you fall asleep as soon as the operation is over, and it is only by this sharp pain that you can be relieved. Besides, there is more suffering from delays and irresolution than from a speedy though painful operation. . . . Pray heartily; seek after God in the depths of your heart. In spite of your unworthiness, fly to Him with the freedom and familiarity of a child who cannot doubt his father's kindness. Tell Him all your difficulties, all the evil suggestions of self-will, all your distaste for what is right, all your fear of being too far involved in it to. draw back, and implore Him to take what you do not know how to give.

Letter 87

. . . This winter is very valuable to you. How do you know but that it is the la^t of ypur life? * It maybe that the zealous, earnest, though tender attempts of your father to confirm you in good are the last words of exhortation you will hear; the impressions of grace which you now feel, may be the last which God's Mercy will make on your heart. " To-day if ye will hear His Voice, harden not your heart."' God had so great pity on your weakness that He snatched that from you which you would never have had courage to give Him. He has overthrown everything in spite of you. He has broken your bonds, and yet you will not be at liberty? What more would you have Hint do to help forward your salvation? Perilous times are at hand: " The day of calamity is at hand,' and the things that shall come upon them make haste."' You do not fear.for. your body, but at least fear for your. soul. Despise human weapons if you will, but do not despise God's judgments. Alas! His very mercies make me tremble for you; so niuch grace trodden under foot cannot but be avenged. Nothing is so terrible as the Wrath of the Lamb.

. What holds you back from serving God.*^ Yoii believe in His Truths; you hope for His Blessings;[ you acknowledge the mad folly of impiety; you feel the vanity, the hoUowness of this life, the deception of the world, the venom of prosperity, the treachery of all that seems flattering, the speedy flight of all that is perishable. You have been set free from bondage in spite of yourself; your chains are broken, and yet you will not enjoy the liberty of the children of God. You cannot

TO THE VI DAME D' AMIENS 1 77 find anything worthy of sharing your heart. Why delay seeking peace and life at their sole Source. ^ Ohy taste and see how gracious the Lord is! ' You will indeed be guilty if you resist the many' advances God has made. How patient He has been with you, and how you have made Him wait! How often you have rejected Him for the most unworthy pleasures! O my dear Vidame, defer no longer; open your heart to Him, begin to pray, to read prayerfully, to live by rule, to fulfil your duties, to conquer your love of pleasure. On this score even the wicked world is at one with God. Forgive me for preaching thus.

You ask to be taught how to pray, and how to seek union with God, so as to be sustained against life's temptations, and I am sure you greatly desire to find the help you need in this holy practice. I think you cannot treat God with too much confidence. Tell Him all that is in your heart, as one unloads one's heart to a dear friend of all that gives it pain or pleasure. Tell Him your troubles, that He may comfort you; tell Him your joys, that He may sober them; tell Him your longings, that He may purify them; tell Him your mislikings, that He may help you to conquer them; talk to Him of your temptations, that He may shield you from

Fen. Sp,L.—I M lyS them; show Him all the wounds of your heart, that He may heal them. Lay bare to Him your indifference to good, your depraved tastes for evil, your dissipation, your instability, your leanings to a corrupt world. Tell Him how self-love disposes you to be unjust to your neighbours, how vanity tempts you to be insincere, and to dazzle those with whom you are concerned; how your pride disguises you to yourself as well as to others. If you. thus pour out to Him all your weakness, needs, and troubles, there will be no lack of what to say; you will never exhaust this subject, it is continually being renewed. People who have no secrets from each other never want subjects of conversation; they do not premeditate or weigh their words, because there is nothing to be kept back. Neither do they seek for something to say; they talk together out of the abundance of their heart — without consideration, just what they think. The heart of each speaks to the other; they pour out, so to say, one into another. Blessed are they who attain to such familiar, unreserved intercourse with God! In proportion as you talk to Him He will talk to you; and often you should be silent and let Him speak, so that you may listen in the stillness of your heart. Say, "Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth; " ' and, " I will hearken what the Lord will say concerning me."' Add with a loving, dutiful mind, " Lord, think no scorn of me.'' 3 The Spirit of Truth will teach you inwardly all that Jesus Christ teaches you outwardly in the Gospel.* This is no

TO THE VI DAME D^ AMIENS 1 79 extraordinary inspiration in which you need fear delusion; it will only inspire you with the virtues suited to your condition and the ways of dying to yourself that you may live to God. It is an inward voice^ which teaches us as we have need from time to time.

God is the True Friend Who always gives us the counsel and comfort we need. Our danger lies in resisting Him; so it is essential that we get a habit of hearkening to His Voice, of keeping silence within, and listening so as to lose nothing of what He says to us. We know well enough how to keep outward silence and to hush our spoken words; but we know little of interior silence. It lies in hushing our idle, restless, wandering imagination, in quieting the promptings of our worldly minds, and in suppressing the crowd of unprofitable thoughts which excite and disturb the soul. In prayer we should confine ourselves to simple affections and few points, on which it is better to dwell rather with love than argumentatively. Head-work tires, disgusts, exhausts us; but acquiescence of mind and union of the heart do not weary us in the same way. The spirit of faith and love never stanches so long as we do not forsake the Source.

But, you will say, I am not master over my own imagination, which wanders, gets excited, and disturbs me; my mind becomes distracted, and carries me away in spite of myself to ever so many dangerous, or at best unprofitable, subjects. I am accustomed to argue; my mental inquisitiveness predominates. I get worried directly that I try to resist it; this worry in itself is no less a distraction than the things which excite my curiosity. During:

l8o all this my meditation slips away, and I spend the whole time in being conscious that I am not making way.

I answer that it is with the heart that we pray, and that a sincere and persevering will to pray is true prayer. Really involuntary distractions do not hinder the will from reaching forth to God. There is still always a certain element of prayer which the schoolmen call virtual intention. Every time one discovers one's distraction it is put aside and we return to God, resuming the subject of meditation; so that, beyond the original element of prayer, which exists even in seasons of distraction like fire hidden beneath ashes, a half unconscious search after God, one further excites in one's self, directly on perceiving the distraction, lively and clear affections on the truths which recur to one. So the tim^ is not lost. If you will try it patiently, you will find that there are seasons of prayer which, though spent amid distractions and tediousness, are yet, owing to a good intention, fruitful to the heart, strengthening it against all temptation.

Dry prayer, provided it be perseveringly and faithfully kept up, accustoms the soul to carry its cross, hardens it against itself, humbles it, and practises it in the dark paths of faith. If we always' enjoyed a bright, fervent, sensibly attractive prayer, we should feed all our lives on milk, instead of eating hard, dry bread; we should only look for sensible enjoyment instead of abnegation and death; we should be like those of. whom Jesus Christ said reproachfully that they followed Him, not for His doctrine, but for the loaves which He

TO THE VI DAME t^ AMIENS l8l multiplied. So do not be discouraged though your prayer seems to you dry, lifeless, and hindered by distractions. Be patient, then, in prayer, for God's Sake, and go on without stopping; you will be sure to make great way. But do not struggle directly with your distractions; the very struggle itself becomes a worse distraction. The best way is to let them drop, and quietly replace yourself mentally before God. The more agitated you get, the more you will excite your imagination, which will harass you persistently. On the contrary, the quieter you are, merely turning back to the subject of your meditation^ the more you will attain to that inward occupation with heavenly things which is your aim. You might spend your whole time fighting the gnats which hum about you; let them buzz in your ears, but meanwhile accustom yourself to go on with your work as though they did not exist.

As to the subject of your meditations, take such passages of the Gospel or of the Imitation of Jesus Christ as move you most. Read slowly, and when a passage touches you, use it as you would a sweetmeat, which you hold in your mouth till it melts. Let the meaning sink slowly into your heart, and do not pass on to something else until you feel that to be exhausted. Thus you will spend a full quarter of an hour in meditation almost unconsciously; and if you manage your time so as to do this twice in the day, it will give you half an hour of meditation. You will do it easily if you do not try to do too much, or seek too much to see results. Trust God simply, like a child, in telling Him whatever comes into your mind. The thing is to open your heart

1 to God, to make it familiar with Him, to strengthen it with love. Carefully fostered love enlightens, amends, corrects, encourages. ' As to your occupations, they should be divided between duty and amusement. . I count all atten* tions paid to your generals and chief officers to whom they are due among duties; those should be performed during the hours reserved for society. Beyond these you must have some private intercourse with a small number of real friends who feel with and serve God with you, or at all events do not lead you from Him. They should be suitable to you in position and worth. Besides religious reading, you should read history, and other books calculated to cultivate your mind, whether on military or other topics in which you are interested. I should say that one of your principal occupations ought to be to see all the workings of the army, and discuss them with clever and experienced men. You should seek out such, and treat them with deference, with a view to your own improvement. As to mere idle reading, which does not strengthen the mind, I should retrench it directly that you find it excites you. A wise man gives up wine if it intoxicates him. At most, I should only indulge in such amusement, which is unduly honoured with the name of study, as one might play a game of chess after dinner. The main thing is to nurture the spark of grace in your heart. Put aside whatever can extinguish it; seek all that will fan it. Be vigorous in your efforts. " The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force."'

TO THE DUC DE CHEVRKUSE 183

Dwell upon the Mercy of God, and His Patience towards you. '' Knowest thou not that the Goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance?" * There is no day that I do not pray for you. God knows how devoted I am to you for life.