B-V/1. To a Lady: Consolations and advice to a person who had a lawsuit.
19th September, 1610.
My dearest Daughter,—I know the multitude of your troubles, and have recommended them to our Lord. May it please him to bless them with the sacred benediction with which he has blessed his dearest servants, that they may be used for the hallowing of his holy name in your soul.
And I must confess that though, in my opinion, afflictions which regard our own persons, and the afflictions which come from sins, are more trying, still the afflictions of lawsuits cause me more pity, because more dangerous for the soul. How many people have we seen at peace in the thorns of sicknesses and loss of friends, who lose interior peace in the worry of exterior lawsuits! And this is the reason, or rather the cause without reason: we have difficulty in believing that the evil of suits is employed by God for our trial, because we see that they are men who prosecute. We do not dare to resist that all-good, all-wise Providence, but we resist the men who afflict us, and we quarrel with them, not without danger of losing charity, the only loss we ought to fear in this life.
But then, my dearest daughter, when shall we show our fidelity to our Lord if not in these occasions? When shall we restrain our heart, our judgment, and our tongue, unless in these places, which are so rough and so near to precipices? For God’s sake, my dearest daughter, let not a time so favourable to your spiritual progress pass without collecting plenty of fruits of patience, humility, sweetness, and love of abjection. Remember that our Lord said not a single word against those who condemned him. He did not judge them; he was wrongly judged and condemned, and he remained in peace, and died in peace, and revenged himself only in praying for them. And we, my dearest daughter, we judge our judges and our opponents; we arm ourselves with complaints and reproaches.
Believe me, my dearest daughter, we must be strong and constant in the love of our neighbours, and I say this with all my heart, without regard either to your opponents, or to what they are to me; and I know that nothing affects me in this matter save jealousy for your perfection. But I must stop, and I did not mean to say even so much. You will have God always, when you please. And is not this to be rich enough? I beg that his will may be your repose, and his cross your glory. I am without end, your, &c.
B-V/2. To a Lady: Advice during an illness.—We must obey the doctor.
29th September, 1608.
I understand, my dear daughter, that you have an illness, more troublesome than dangerous, and I know that such illnesses are prone to spoil the obedience we owe to the doctors; wherefore I tell you not to deprive yourself of the rest, or the medicines, or the food, or the recreations appointed you; you can exercise a kind of obedience and resignation in this which will make you extremely agreeable to our Lord. In fine, behold a quantity of crosses and mortifications which you have neither chosen nor wished. God has given you them with his holy hand; receive them, kiss them, love them. My God! they are all perfumed with the dignity of the place whence they come.
Good-by, my dear daughter, I cherish you earnestly: if I had leisure I would say more, for I am infinitely pleased that you are faithful in these little and troublesome occurrences, and that in little as in great things you say always: Vive Jésus! Your, &c.
B-V/3. To a Lady: Sickness may purify the soul as well as the body.
26th April, 1615.
Madam,—I have heard of your sickness, and I do not forget to pay the duty I owe so dear a daughter. If God hears my prayers, you will rise with a great increase of health (santé), and above all of holiness (sainteté); for often these accidents leave us with this double advantage—the fever has dispersed the evil humours of the body, and purified the humours of the heart, as being trials from the hand of Almighty God.
I do not mean to call you a saint when I speak of an increase of sanctity in you, certainly not, my dearest daughter; it is not for my heart to flatter yours: but though you are not a saint your good desires are saintly, I well know, and I wish them to become so great as to be changed at last into perfect devotion, sweetness, patience, and humility.
Fill all your heart with courage, and your courage with confidence in God; for he who has given you the first attractions of his sacred love will never abandon you. These I beg him with all my heart to give; and am, without end, your most humble servant, and your husband’s, whom, my dearest daughter, I have just seen.
B-V/4. To a Young Lady who was Sick: Consolations.
8th February, 1621.
These are great fires, my dearest child; fever, like a fire, burns your body; fire, like a fever, burns your house; but I hope that the fire of heavenly love so occupies your heart, that in all occasions you say, The Lord has given me my health and my house: the Lord has taken them away: as it has pleased the Lord, be it done, his holy name be blessed.[1]
Yes, you say, but it impoverishes and inconveniences us greatly. Quite true, my dearest daughter; but, Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.[2] You should have before your eyes the suffering and the patience of Job, and regard that great prince on the dunghill. He had patience, and God at last doubled his temporal and increased a hundredfold his eternal goods.
You are a child of Jesus Christ crucified; what wonder then if you share his cross? I was silent, said David, and have not opened my mouth, because it is you, O Lord, who did it.[3] Oh! by how many difficult ways do we go to holy eternity! Throw all your confidence and solicitude on God: he will have care of you,[4] and will hold out a favouring hand. Thus I pray him, with all my heart; and in proportion as he sends you tribulations, may he, in his holy care, strengthen you to bear them.
B-V/5. To a Lady: How to behave in great sufferings.
My dear Daughter,—Let us leave meditation for a short time—it is only to spring better that we step back; and let us practise well that holy resignation and that pure love of our Lord, which is never entirely practised save in troubles; for to love God in sugar—little children would do as much; but to love him in wormwood, that is the test of our amorous fidelity. To say: Vive Jésus, on the mountain of Thabor, St. Peter, while still carnal, has quite courage enough; but to say: Vive Jésus, on Mount Calvary—this belongs only to the Mother, and to the beloved disciple who was left to her as her son.
So then, my daughter, behold I commend you to God, to obtain for you that sacred patience; and I cannot ask him anything for you except that he would fashion your heart just at his will, in order to lodge and reign therein eternally. May he do it with the hammer, or with the chisel, or with the brush; it is for him to act at his pleasure. Is it not so, my dear daughter: must he not do this?
I know that your pains have been increased lately, and in the same measure has my sorrow for them increased; although I praise and bless our Lord with you for his good pleasure exercised in you, making you share his holy cross, and crowning you with his crown of thorns.
But, you will say, you can hardly keep your thoughts on the pains our Lord has suffered for you, while your own pangs oppress you. Well, my dear child, you are not obliged to do so, provided that you quite simply offer up your heart as frequently as you can to this Saviour, and make the following acts: 1°. Accept the pain from his hand, as if you saw him himself putting and pressing it on your head. 2°. Offer yourself to suffer more. 3°.
Beg him by the merit of his torments, to accept these little distresses in union with the pains he suffered on the cross. 4°. Protest that you wish not only to suffer, but to love and cherish them as sent from so good and so sweet a hand. 5°. Invoke the martyrs and the many servants of God, who enjoy heaven for having been afflicted in this world.
There is no danger in desiring some remedy, indeed you must carefully procure it; for God, who has given you the evil, is also author of its cure. You must then apply it, yet with such resignation that, if his Divine majesty wishes the evil to conquer, you will acquiesce; and if he wishes the remedy to succeed, you will bless him for it.
There is no harm, while performing your spiritual exercises, in being seated. None at all, my daughter; nor would there be for difficulties much less than those you suffer.
How happy are you, my daughter, if you continue to keep yourself under the hand of God, humbly, sweetly, and pliantly! Ah! I hope this headache will much profit your heart; your heart, which mine cherishes with quite a special love. Now, my daughter, it is that you may, more than ever, and by very good signs, prove to our sweet Saviour that it is with all your affection you have said and will say: Vive Jésus! Vive Jésus! my child, and may he reign amid your pains, since we can neither reign nor live save by the pain of his death. I am in him entirely yours.
B-V/6. To a Lady: In these letters and the following, the Saint exhorts this lady, who was aged and infirm, and whom he calls his mother, to lift up her desires towards heaven, to love crosses, to have patience and gentleness with the persons who waited on her
My dearest Mother,—What shall I say to you? Only a word, for want of time.
Continually practise your heart in interior and exterior sweetness, and keep it in quiet, amid the multiplicity of your affairs.
Keep yourself very earnestly from eager anxiety (empressement), the pest of true devotion, and continue to keep your soul above, only regarding this world to despise it, and time to aspire to eternity.
Often submit your will to the will of God, ready to adore it as much when it sends you tribulations as in the time of consolations.
God be ever in the midst of our hearts, my dearest mother! I am in him, without reserve, and with an affection quite filial, your, &c.
B-V/7. To the Same: Same Subject.
Though this messenger goes expressly, my dear mother, he starts at a time when I am very much engaged. That good lady has told me from you what you confided to her, and I praise God that he has given you new affections with this new health; but you must take good notice, my dearest daughter, my mother, that body and spirit often go in contrary movements; as one grows weak, the other grows strong, and when one grows strong, the other grows weak. But as it is the spirit which must reign, when we see that it has taken up its powers, we must so aid and establish it, that it may remain always the stronger. Without doubt, my dear mother, since sicknesses are crucibles, our heart should come out from them more pure, and amidst our infirmities we should become more strong.
Now, as to yourself, I fancy that in the future your age and the delicate state of your constitution will often make you languid and feeble, wherefore I advise you to exercise yourself much in the will of God, and in the abnegation of exterior satisfactions, and in sweetness amid bitterness. This will be the most excellent sacrifice you can make. Hold good, and practise, not only a solid love, but a tender, gentle, and sweet love towards those about you: on which I say, by the experience I have, that infirmity, though it does not take away charity, yet takes away sweetness towards our neighbour, if we are not greatly on our guard.
My dearest mother, I wish you the height of perfection, in the bowels of Jesus Christ.
I remain for ever your, &c.
B-V/8. To the Same: Same Subject.
Alas! my God! dearest mother, how surprised was I to learn from your letter, as it were all on a sudden, the length and the danger of your malady! For believe, I pray, that my heart cherishes you filially. God be praised that you seem to have almost got free.
Truly, I see well that for the future you must grow familiar with maladies and infirmities in this decline of age in which you are. Lord Jesus! what true happiness to a soul dedicated to God, to be well exercised by tribulation before departing this life! My dearest mother, how can one know sincere and strong love save amid thorns, crosses, languors, and above all, when the languors are accompanied with longueurs (i.e., are long).
In such way our dear Saviour has shown his unmeasured love by the measure of his labours and pains. My dearest mother, dearly make love to the Spouse of your heart on the bed of pain; for it is on this bed that he has made love to your heart, even before it came into the world, seeing it as yet only in his Divine intention.
Ah! this Saviour has counted all your pains, all your sufferings, and has bought, at the price of his blood, all the patience and all the love necessary to apply holily all your labours to his glory and your salvation. Be content quietly to will to be all that God wants you to be. Never will I fail to beseech the Divine Majesty for the perfection of your heart, which mine loves, cherishes, and tenderly honours.
Adieu, my dearest mother, and my dearest child, again; let us be God’s eternally, ourselves and our affections and our little pains and our great ones, and all that the Divine goodness wills to be ours; and I am in him, my dearest mother, absolutely your true son, &c.
B-V/9. To a Lady: It is permitted to mourn the dead with moderation and resignation. Long sicknesses are advantageous.
So, then, my dearest daughter, I am just told that your dear sister is gone, leaving us here below with the affections of grief, which generally attack those left behind in such separations. O God! I take care, my dearest child, not to say “weep not.” No, for it is very just and reasonable that you should weep a little, but a little, my dear child, in testimony of the sincere love you bore her; in imitation of our dear Master who certainly wept a little over his friend Lazarus; but we must not weep much, as those do, who, contracting all their thoughts to the moments of this miserable life, remember not that we also are going towards eternity, where, if we live well in this life, we shall rejoin our dear departed ones, never to leave them again.
We cannot hinder our poor heart from feeling the condition of this life, and the loss of those who were our delightful companions therein; but we must not, for all this, betray the solemn profession we have made to join our will inseparably to that of our God.
How happy is that dear sister, to have seen come, little by little, and from afar, this hour of her departure! For thus she prepared herself to make it holily. Let us adore this Divine Providence, and say: Yes, you are blessed, and all that pleases you is good. My God! dearest child, how sweetly should these little events be received by our hearts: our hearts, I say, which henceforth ought to have more affection in heaven than on earth! I will pray to God for this soul, and for the consolation of those who are his.
Do not put yourself in trouble about your prayer, nor about this variety of desires which you have, for the variety of affections is not bad, nor the desire of many distinct virtues.
As to your resolutions, you may particularize them thus:—I will practise more faithfully the virtues which are necessary to me; as, for example, on such an occasion which may present itself, I am prepared to practise such a virtue; and so forth.
It is not necessary to use words, even interior ones; it suffices to excite the heart, or to repose it on our Lord; it suffices to regard amorously this Divine lover of our souls, for between lovers, eyes speak better than tongue.
I write without leisure, and in presence of the bearer. Good night, then, my dearest child; pour the death of our sister into that of our Saviour. Regard this death of our sister only in that of our Redeemer. May his will be for ever glorified! Amen.
Your very humble servant, &c.
B-V/10. To a Religious of the Visitation: On want of reverence in church.
27th December, 1615.
The temptation to laugh in Church and at Office is bad, though it may seem only silly and childish; for after charity the virtue of religion is the most excellent. As charity renders to our Lord according to our power, the love which is due to him, so religion renders him due honour and reverence; and hence the faults which are committed against it are very bad. It is true that in yours I do not see great sin, as it is against the will; but yet you must not leave it without some penance. When the enemy cannot make our souls Marion, he makes our hearts Robin;[5] and it does not matter to him, provided that time is lost, the spirit dissipated, and somebody scandalized. But, look you, dear child of my heart, do not frighten these good daughters; for from one extreme they might pass to the other, which must not be.
I do not yet tell you my thoughts on the subject you write to me about, for to-day is in
Christmastide, when the angels come to seek Paradise on earth. Certainly it has descended into the little cavern of Bethlehem, in which, my dear child, I shall find you in these days with all our dear sisters, who doubtless will make their abode, like wise bees, with their little King. Those who humble themselves lowest will see him nearest; for he is lost in the very depths of humility, of courageous, confident and constant humility. May this sweet Infant be for ever, my dearest daughter, the life of your heart, which I cherish incomparably, and which is always present to mine, so long as it pleases God that my love should strengthen itself by want of exterior manifestation.
B-V/11. To a Lady: The way not to offend God in the pleasure of the chase.
Annecy, 20th June, 1610.
You see, my dearest daughter, what confidence I have in you. I have not written to you since your departure, because really I have not been able to do so; and I make you no excuse, because you are truly, and more and more, my more than most dear daughter.
God be praised for that your journey back has been made nicely and quietly, and that you have found your husband happy. Truly, that heavenly Providence of the heavenly Father treats with sweetness the children of his heart, and from time to time mingles favourable sweetnesses with the fruitful bitternesses which merit them.
M. Michel asked me what I wrote to M. Legrand about hunting; but, my dearest daughter, it was only a little thing in which I told him there were three laws to observe in order to avoid offending God in the chase.
1°. Not to do damage to our neighbour, it being not reasonable that any one should take his recreation at the expense of another, and specially in treading down the poor peasant, who is already martyred enough otherwise, and whose labour and condition we should not despise.
2°. Not to employ in hunting the time of the chief feasts, in which we ought to serve God: and above ail, to take care not to omit Mass on the days commanded.
2°. Not to spend too much on it, for all recreations become blameworthy when extravagant.
I do not remember the rest. In general, discretion must reign everywhere. So then, my dearest daughter, may God be ever in the midst of your heart, to unite all your affections to his holy love. Amen.
So has he, I assure you, put in my heart a most unchanging and entire affection for yours, which I cherish unceasingly, praying God to crown it with blessing. Amen, my very dear, and always more very dear, daughter.
B-V/12. To Madame de Chantal: Thoughts on the renewal of the year.
28th December, 1605.
I end this year, my dear child, with a desire not only great but ardent to advance for the future in that holy love, which I cease not to love though I have not yet tasted it. Thank God, my child, our heart (notice, I say our) is made for that. Ah! why are we not all full of it? You cannot imagine the sense which I have at present of this desire. O God! For what shall we live through the next year save to love this sovereign goodness better! Oh! that it may take us from this world, or that it may take this world from us; may it make us die, or else make us love his death better than our poor life!
My God! how I wish you, my child, in Bethlehem now with your holy Abbess (the blessed Virgin)! Ah! how well it becomes her to bring forth, and to nurse this little Infant! But chiefly I love her charity, which lets him be seen and held and kissed by anybody. Ask her for him, she will give him; and when you have him, steal secretly from him one of those little droplets which are in his eyes. They are not yet the rain, but only the first dew-drops of his tears. It is a marvel how good this liquor is for every sort of disease of the heart.
Do not load yourself with austerities this Lent, without your confessor’s leave, and he, by my advice, will not load you with them. May God deign to crown your year, beginning with roses, which his blood has coloured! Adieu, my dear child; I am he who has dedicated to you his entire service.
B-V/13. To the Same: Wishes of blessing for the New Year.
29th December, 1606.
Behold this year, my dearest child, about to lose itself in the gulf in which all the preceding are swallowed up. Oh! how desirable is eternity, at the price of these miserable and perishable vicissitudes! Let time flow, with which we ourselves flow away little by little, to be transformed into the glory of the children of God.
This is the last time I write to you this year, my dear child. Ah! what blessings I wish you, and with what ardour! It cannot be expressed. Alas! when I think how I have used God’s time, I am in great fear lest he should not will to give me his eternity, since he does not will to give it save to those who use his time well.
I am three months without letters from you; but I know God is with you, that is enough for me; it is he that I wish you only. I write without leisure, for my room is full of people who draw me away; but my heart is solitary all the time, and full of desire to live for ever entirely for this holy love, which is the only object of this same heart of mine.
At any rate, during these sacred days a thousand desires have seized me to give you the glorious satisfaction you so much desire from my soul, as from your very own, by advancing solicitously towards holy perfection. To this you also aspire, and by this you respire, for the good of my heart, which in return wishes you for ever all the highest union with God which can be had here below. This is the only wish of him whom God has given you.
B-V/14. To a Lady: Wishes for the New Year.
29th December, 1606.
Well, now, what matters it to your dear soul, my dearest daughter, whether I write to you in one style or in another, since it asks nothing from me except the assurance of my worthless health, about which I do not deserve that any one should have the least thought in the world? But I will tell you that it is good, thanks to our Lord, and that I hope it will serve me well these holy feasts for preaching, as it has done in the Advent, and that so we shall complete this year to begin a new one.
O God! my dear child, these years pass away, and glide off imperceptibly one after the other; and in winding off their length, they wind off our mortal life, and in ending they end our days. Oh! how infinitely more to be loved is eternity, since its duration is endless, and its days without nights, and its satisfactions unchanging.
May you, my dearest daughter, possess this admirable good of holy eternity in as high degree as I wish it you! What happiness for my soul, if God, having mercy on it, made it see this consolation! But while waiting to see our Lord glorified, let us see him with the eyes of faith all humbled in his little crib. May God be ever in the midst of your heart, my dearest daughter. Amen.
Vive Jésus!
B-V/15. To Madame de Chantal: Same Subject.
O Jesus! fill our heart with the sacred balm of your Divine name, that the sweetness of its perfume may spread into all our senses, and over all our acts. But to make this heart capable of receiving so sweet a liquor, circumcise it, and cut off from it all that can be disagreeable to your holy eyes. O glorious name, which the mouth of the heavenly Father has pronounced eternally, be for ever the superscription of our souls, that, as you are Saviour, our soul may be eternally saved! O holy Virgin, who, first of all the human race, have pronounced this name of salvation, inspire us how to pronounce it fittingly, that all may breathe in us the salvation which your womb has brought us!
My dearest child, it was fitting to write the first letter of this year to our Lord and our Lady; and here is the second, by which, O my daughter, I wish you a good year, and I dedicate our heart to the Divine goodness. O that we may so live this year that it may serve as foundation for the eternal year! At least this morning I have on waking cried out unto your ears: Vive Jésus! and have longed to spread this sacred oil over all the face of the earth.
When a balm is well closed in a flask, no one can tell what liquor it is save him who has put it there; but when it is opened, and some drops have been poured out, every one says: It is balm. My dear child, our dear little Jesus was all filled with the balm of salvation; but this was not known till with that knife, lovingly cruel, his Divine flesh was opened; and then it was known that he is all balm and oil poured out, and the balm of salvation. Wherefore first St. Joseph and our Lady, then all the neighbours begin to cry Jesus, which signifies Saviour.
May it please this Divine darling (poupon[6]) to steep our souls in his blood, and to perfume them with his holy name, that the roses of good desires which we have conceived may be all empurpled with its colour, and all odorous with its unction!
My God! how aptly fits in this circumcision, my child, with our little and our great abnegations! for these are properly a spiritual circumcision. Your very affectionate, &c.
B-V/16. To the Same: Same Subject.
You will be the first, my dearest and best mother, who will receive a letter from me this new year. Certainly reason requires that after having done homage to the heavenly Father and Mother, I should do it also to the only mother whom Their Majesties have given me for this life. Good and most holy year to my dearest mother from her son, who wishes her the abundance of the grace of the Eternal Father, of the peace of the circumcised Son, and of the consolation of the Holy Spirit, dedicating with this same heart of my dearest mother mine also to the glory of the Divine goodness, and consecrating to it all the moments of this new year, to make an entire circumcision of this same heart, and to apply it to receive purely and perfectly the sacred love, which the heavenly and divine name of Jesus announces to us written in his blood, on the holy humanity of the Saviour.
I cannot promise myself to see you before Wednesday, unless with the continued sight with which my heart regards and guards yours dearly in the bottom of my heart. Ah! my God! dear mother, how I desire Divine love for this heart, what blessings I wish it! Let us kiss a thousand times the feet of this Saviour, and say to him: My heart, O my God, calls for you; my face longs for you: Ah! Lord, my face seeks for yours;[7] that is, my dearest mother, let us keep our eyes on Jesus Christ, to regard him, our mouth to praise him; and in fine, let all our face aspire only to become like that of our dear Jesus. It is Jesus, for whom we must humble ourselves, commence work, and suffer; becoming, as St. Paul says, sheep for the slaughter, when it shall please his Divine Majesty to make us dishonoured for his honour and glory.
So, then, a good and most holy year to my dearest mother, all perfumed with the name of Jesus, all steeped in his sacred blood. May no day of this year, and no day of many years which I pray God to grant to my dearest mother, pass without being watered by the virtue of this blood, and receiving the sweetness of this name which spreads abroad the perfection of all sweetness. Amen.
So may this sacred name fill with its agreeable sound all the congregation of our sisters, and the drops of blood of the little Saviour become a river of sanctity to rejoice and fertilize the hearts of this dear flock, and above all, that of my dearest mother, which mine loves as myself. Blessed be Jesus! Blessed be his blood! Blessed be Mary! Blessed be her womb, from which Jesus took this blood.
B-V/17. To a Superior of the Visitation: The Saint tells her how to distinguish true revelations from false.
Annecy.
As I could not sooner, my dearest child, I will now answer the two chief points about which you wrote to me.
In all that I have seen of this daughter, I find nothing to prevent my thinking her a very good girl, and therefore she must be loved and cherished with very good heart; but as to her revelations and predictions, they are entirely suspicious to me, as useless, vain, and unworthy of consideration. On the one side, they are so frequent that the frequency and multitude of them alone makes them merit suspicion; on the other hand, they manifest certain things which God declares very rarely, such as the assurance of eternal salvation, confirmation in grace, the degree of sanctity of several persons, and a hundred other similar things which are useful for nothing. St. Gregory, having been asked by a lady of honour to the empress, called Gregoria, about her future state, answered her: “Your benignity, my child, asks me for a thing equally hard and useless.” And to say that in the future it will be known why these revelations are made, is a pretext which is used to avoid the reproach of the uselessness of such things.
Further: when God wishes to use the revelations he gives to creatures, he generally sends before them either true miracles, or a very special sanctity in those who receive them. So the evil spirit, when he wants notably to deceive any one, before making him give out false revelations, makes him utter false predictions, and makes him observe a method of life falsely holy.
There was in the time of the blessed Sister Mary of the Incarnation a young person of low position, who was possessed by the most extraordinary delusion that can be imagined. The enemy, under the form of our Lord, said for a long time his office with her, with a chant so melodious that it kept her in a state of perpetual ravishment. He gave her communion very often under the appearance of a silvery and resplendent cloud, within which he made a false host come into her mouth; he made her live without eating anything. When she took alms to the gate, he multiplied the bread in her apron, so that if she only carried bread for three poor, and there were thirty, she had enough to give to all very abundantly, and most delicious bread, some of which even her confessor, who was of a very reformed order, sent about among his spiritual friends from devotion.
This girl had so many revelations that at last it made her suspected by people of sense. She had one extremely dangerous, by which it was thought good to try the sanctity of this poor creature, and for this she was placed with the blessed Sister Mary of the Incarnation, then still in the married state. She was chambermaid, and being treated a little severely by Mons. Acarie, now deceased, it was found that this girl was no saint at all, and that her gentleness and exterior humility were nothing but an external gilding which the enemy used to get the pills of his illusion swallowed, and at last it was found that there was nothing in the world in her but a heap of false visions. As for her, it became well known that not only did she not maliciously deceive the world, but that she was first deceived, there being on her side no other sort of fault except the complacency she took in imagining she was a saint, and contributing a few pretences and deceitfulnesses to keep up the reputation of her vain sanctity. And all this was told me by the blessed Sister Mary of the Incarnation.
Consider, I pray you, my dearest child, the shrewdness and cunning of the enemy, and how deserving of suspicion these extraordinary things are. Still, as I have said, you must not treat this poor girl amiss, who, I think, has no other fault in this affair than that of the vain amusement she takes in her vain imaginations.
Only, my dearest sister, you must show a total neglect and a perfect contempt of all her revelations and visions, just as if she were relating the dreams or reveries of a high fever; not occupying yourself in refuting or combating them; but, on the contrary, when she wishes to speak of them, you must change the subject. You must talk to her of the solid virtues and perfections of the religious state, and particularly of the simplicity of faith, in which the saints have walked, without any visions or private revelations, content to believe firmly in the revelation of the Holy Scripture, and of the Apostolic and Church doctrine; very often impress on her the sentence of our Lord, that there will be many workers of miracles and many prophets to whom he will say at the end of the world: Depart from me, workers of iniquity; I know you not.[8] But commonly you must say to this girl: Let us talk of our lesson which our Lord has ordered us to learn, saying: Learn of me, for I am meek and humble of heart.[9] And, in fine, you must show an absolute contempt for all these revelations.
And as to the good father who seems to approve them, you must not rebuff him or dispute with him, but simply say that to test all this affair of revelations it seems good to despise them and take no account of them. This then is my opinion for the present on this point.
I had forgotten to say that the visions and revelations of this girl must not be found strange, because the facility and tenderness of the imagination of young women makes them much more susceptible of these illusions than men; on which account their sex is more given to faith in dreams, the fear about sins, and credulity in superstitions. They often fancy they see what they see not, hear what they hear not, and feel what they feel not.
You must then treat this spirit by contempt of these fancies, but a gentle and serious contempt, and not a mocking or disdainful one. It may well be that the evil spirit has some part in these deceits, but I think rather that he lets the imagination act, without co-operating with it, by simple suggestions. The similitude brought forward to explain the mystery of the Holy Trinity is very pretty, but is not beyond the capacity of a soul which takes complacency in its own imaginations.
B-V/18. To Madame de Chantal: Considerations on the Feast of the Conception of the Holy Virgin, and on a Cope which he had received.
O truly this cope is lovely in the extreme, which the dearest mother that lives sends to her dearest father: for it is all in the name of Jesus and of Mary, and represents perfectly the heaven of the blessed where Jesus is the sun, and Mary the moon, a luminary present to all the stars of this heavenly abode; for Jesus there is all to all; and there is no star in this heavenly day in which he is not reflected as in a mirror; and the double phi’s[10] signify, as capital letters, philothey[11] and philanthropy, love of God and love of our neighbour; and the ss closed, with their arrows, which ascend on one side and descend on the other, show the exercise of these Divine loves, one of which ascends to God, and makes philotheists; the other descends to our neighbour, and makes philanthropists, both being the one good of charity, which makes us true servants of the Divine Majesty. Over all flows out the Holy Spirit, and makes appear a great variety of flowers and all sorts of virtues.
Blessed be for ever the dear hand of the mother who was able so skilfully to make so beautiful a work. May her hand be fit to do strong things, and equally to manage the spindle.[12] May it be adorned with the ring of fidelity, and her arm with the bracelet of charity; may the right hand of the Saviour be for ever joined to it, and may it appear full in the day of judgment; may the heart which animates it be ever clothed with Jesus, with Mary, with philothey, philanthropy, sanctity; with stars, with flying darts of heavenly love, and with all sorts of flowering virtues; may the Holy Spirit shine on it always. Good-night, my very dear daughter, my mother.
But I must say this further. It is written of the strong woman that all her people have double garments:[13] one, I think, for the feasts, the other for working days; and here I am clothed with an admirable cope for feasts; a lovely cope, and of Easter colour, and also with a robe for every day, of the colour of the robe which our Saviour wore on the Mount of the Passion. May God our Lord clothe you with his passion and with his glory!
I will do for your daughter of St. Catherine all I can; and believe me I will do it with all the more sweetness because you wish it. For I have an extreme sweetness in doing your will. Alas! what a heart should we have to do that of the most loved Creator, since we have so much for the creature loved and united to us in him!
Yes, my dearest mother, put your soul quite into the hands of our dear Mistress, who will be conceived this night in the commemoration we make of her, and I will ask it from her; for, my dear mother, I am quite resolved to have no heart but what she gives me, this sweet Mother of hearts, this Mother of holy love, this Mother of the heart of hearts. Ah! God, what a great desire have I to keep my eyes on this beautiful star of our voyage! Good-by, my dearest mother, be all joyous on the occasion of this coming feast. May Jesus be our heart. Amen.
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[1] Job 1:21.
[2] Matt. 5:3.
[3] Ps. 38:10.
[4] Ps. 54:23.
[5] Adapting a proverbial expression (Robin a trouvé Marion)—a rogue hath found his like.
[6] A pretty rosy little babe.
[7] Ps. 26:8.
[8] Mat. 7:22. , 23.
[9] Mat. 11:29.
[10] Letters of the Greek alphabet which some ornament on the cope resembled.
[11] To coin a word.
[12] Prov.31.
[13] Prov. 31.
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