Letter XX. To Mlle. de Feouville, at the Visitation, Paris. [See Preceding Letter.]

Congratulations upon Tier entering Religion; the incomparable advantages of that state: the Saint encourages her to make that sacrifice perfect.

ANNECY, gth August 1620.

IT causes an incomparable sweetness to me, my dear daughter, to see the heavenly operation which the Holy Spirit has effected within your heart, in this your strong and generous resolution to withdraw from the world. Oh how wisely you acted according to supernatural wisdom, my dear daughter! — for so was it, in the Gospel of the feast which was being kept, that Our Lady went with haste into the mountainous country of Juda.* This promptitude in doing the will of God is a grand means of drawing down great and powerful graces for the following out and accomplishment of every good work; and you see, my dear daughter, that after the violent shock which your heart felt when by main force it stripped itself of its feelings, humours, and inclinations, to follow that superior attraction, you are now here all happy and at rest in the blessed bush which you have chosen, to sing therein for ever the glory of your Saviour and Creator of your soul.

Raise, my dear daughter, often raise your thoughts to that eternal consolation which you will have in Heaven, for having done what you have done; though it is nothing (and I see well that you think it so), it is indeed nothing in comparison with your duty, or with those immortal rewards which God has prepared you. * Luke i. 39.

LET. xxi.] Further Letters Outside Visitation. 327

For what are all these things which we despise and quit for God? After all, they are but brief little moments of a liberty which is a thousand times worse slavery than slavery itself — perpetual disquiets, aspira tions vain, inconstant, incapable of being ever satisfied, which would have agitated our spirits with a thousand useless solicitudes and anxieties, and all this for miser able days, so uncertain, and short, and evil. Nevertheless it has so pleased God, that he who quits these nothings and vain occupations of the moment, gains in exchange a glory of eternal felicity, in which this sole consideration of having willed to love God with all our heart, and having gained a single little degree more of eternal love, will inundate us with joy.

In truth, my dear daughter, I would have carefully forborne from saying to you, trample under foot your feelings, your hesitations, your fears, your aversions, if I had not had confidence in the goodness of the celestial Spouse, that he would give you the strength and courage to take the side of inspiration and reason against that of nature and disliking.

But, my daughter, I must needs say to you — here you are sweetly all dead to the world and the world all dead in you: it is a part of the holocaust. But two parts still remain; the one is to flay the victim, stripping your heart of itself, running the knife under and cutting away all those little imperfections which nature and the world cause you; the other is to burn and reduce to ashes your self love, and wholly convert your dear soul into flames of heavenly love.

But, my daughter truly all dear, this is not done in one day; and he who has done you the grace of making the first stroke, will himself make with you the other two; and because his hand is entirely paternal, either he will do it insensibly, or if he let you feel it, he will give you the constancy, yea gladness, which he gave on the gridiron to the Saint whose feast we keep. Where fore you must have no fear: He who has given you the will he will give you the accomplishing: * only be faithful over a few things and he will set you over many things.t

You promise me, my dear daughter, that if you are allowed you will write me all the circumstances of your happy retreat; and I promise you that you will be allowed, and that I shall receive this account with an extreme love. May God be for ever blessed, praised and glorified, my dear daughter, and I am in him and for him, most singularly, your very humble, &c.

P.S. — The good Carthusian uncle will be greatly pleased when he knows what you are.