YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

OF

MADAME GUYON

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

OF

MADAME GUYON

TRANSLATED IN FULL

THOMAS TAYLOR ALLEN
BENGAL CIVIL SERVICE (RETIRED)

IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II.

LONDON
KEGAN PAUL, TEENOH, TEUBNER & CO., Lt°
PATEBNOSTEB HOUSE, OHABING CB08S BOAD
1898

Mmg74

i't*

(The riglils of tramlation and of reproduction are reierved.)

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

PART IL— Continued.

CHAPTER XI.
Withdrawal of Father La Oombe from the way of illuminatioa into
that of blind faith — Instances of God's providence in her affairs —
Furtlier persecution — Retreat, where she learna the nature of
spiritual maternity— During this retreat strongly moved to write
—Manner of writing— Has to suffer for La Combe's purification,
whenever he resists God's operation — Thereby more powerful
possession of her soul taken by God— Obliged to tell Father La
Combe all her thoughts — Can pardon no defects in him

CHAPTER XII.
Enters upon a state of ohUdhood to express Jesus Christ the Child —
Dependence upon Father La Combe— State of the maid brought by
her sister— To command and to obey through the Word — This
maid attacked by demons — Miracles by the Word Himself — Tempta
tion of a nun, and scornful treatment she met from a sister nun
— Extreme illness covering the mystery of the Childhood . . 10

CHAPTER XIII.
Troubles from her sister and others unable to understand her state —
Foresees persecution — The Child Jesus unites her to Father La
Combe — Childlike interiorly and exteriorly — Illness of La Combe,
and miraculous recovery for the Lent sermon — Communication in
silence — The language of angels — Communication of the Trinity —
Hierarchical order in heaven, and on earth — Spiritual fecundity
— Communication of Jesus Christ to the disciples .... 20

vi CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIV. rAOK
Foreshown her state of rejection and isolation, similar to that of Jesus
Christ— The woman of the Apocalypse — When recovering from this
protracted illness, one morning struck by Satan — Effects— Death,
just victorious, driven back at Father La Combe's command —
Foundation of hospital — ^Bishop of Verceil appoints Father La
Combe to be his theologian — ^Visits Lausanne . . .30
CHAPTER XV.
Leaves the convent, and takes up her abode iu a small cottage —
Marquise de Prunai procures lettre de cachet ordering La Combe
to bring her to Turin— Remains there with Marquise— Her de
pendence on Father La Combe— Bishop of Verceil invites her to
his diocese- Father La Combe distrustful of her grace- The widow
penitent accepted by him as a saint — Madame Guyou's letter he
interprets ill, and compels her to confess to pride — Terrible effect
on her— He is enlightened  38
CHAPTER XVI.
Purification of her maid effected, with much suffering for Madame
Guyon — Nature of this shown in mysterious dream beforehand —
The maid becomes strangely awkward and incapable — Bishop
of Geneva's double-dealing — A mysterious dream, foreshowing
how she is called to help her neighbour — Interior state firm,
immovable, admits of no description — Utterly lost in God . . 49
CHAPTER XVII.
Conversion of a hostile monk — His subsequent history — Another monk,
bitterly opposed to Father La Oombe, and extremely violent, given
to her — The beautiful birds of the mysterious dream — Suddenly
told by Father La Combe to return to Paris — In obedience to his
Provincial he accompanies her over the mountains to Grenoble, —
where she finds herself invested with the Apostolic state — Dis
cernment of spirits — Foreshown persecution — The necessary
attendant on this state  66

CHAPTER XVIII.
gome souls were given merely as plants for her to cultivate, others as
spiritual children — Her suffering for these — The maternity of
Jesus Christ — A certain order of monks most hostile to the way
of prayer — Porseoutions by these — A begging friar of this order
visits Madame Guyon in her illness, and becomes a true spiritual

CONTENTS. vii
I'AQK
child — Her relations to such children — Nourished through her
from the plenitude with which Jesus Christ fills her to overflowing . 65

CHAPTER XIX.
Account of a girl particularly so given to her, and Satan's temptation —
Unfaithfulness of this girl — Rejection of the sinner by God, its
nature ; continues only so long as the will of the sinner is in
rebellion — Two things in us need purification : the cause of
sin, and the effects — The cause of that girl's rejection from Madame
Guyon's spirit — Before her arrival at Grenoble her friend shown in
dream how she should have many children from our Lord . 711

CHAPTER XX.
The begging friar advances in grace — And with many others receives
from her plenitude in silence — Brings to her his Superior and
others — Among them the Senior Novice — -Many others of all
classes are given her as children — Is sent for by the Superior of
a neighbouring convent, and helps a nun in great distress . . 82

CHAPTER XXI.
Her mode of writing on Holy Scripture — God's training — Victims of
God's Justice, and souls of Mercy — Commencements of antagonism
to her — Extraordinary rapidity with which she wrote — A soul
Jrom Purgatory cures her arm, which was swollen and inflamed
from writing— The " Short Method of Prayer " is printed by a coun
sellor of the parliament — Fifteen hundred copies taken by the
monks of the order previously hostile — The bogging friar suffers
from inflamed feet, but is cured instantly at Madame Guyon's
word — Devil threatens persecution ... .90

CHAPTER XXII.
girl sees in vision the coming persecution — Friends advise depar
ture to Marseilles — ^Her state of plenitude while at Grenoble
— Her relation to David — Communication of the Word through her
by speech, and in silence — Communication of Jesus Christ to St.
John at the Last Supper — Suffering caused by Father La Combe's
variations ; which oxir Lord made her see would cease when he
was established in a permanent state of union with God — ^Perfect
union imperceptible when consummated in unity — Her complete
self-annihilation.  . . 98

viii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXIII. I'AtlK
Journey from Grenoble to Marseilles— Dangers on the river Rhone —
Opposition immediately on arrival at Marseilles — But the Bishop
receives her kindly— Case of Ecclesiastic who followed her home
from the Mass — At Grenoble libels circulated against her — Unable
to remain at Marseilles, sets out by Nice to join Marquise de
Prunai— Sails from Nice for Savona; but is delayed by bad
weather and landed at Genoa— Thence by land— 111 used by her
muleteer— Meets robbers in a wood — Strange reception at
Alexandria, by the innkeeper . . .... 107
CHAPTER XXIV.
Arrives at Verceil unexpected, and much to Father La Combe's disgust
— The Bishop receives her with respect, and great kindness —
Desires to retain her in his diocese — Father La Mothe's intrigue
to bring La Combe to Paris : but Bishop will not part with him —
Continued illness of Madame Guyon while at Verceil — Is com
pelled to leave, the doctors declaring the climate fatal to her . . 120
CHAPTER XXV.
Departure from Verceil, honourably escorted to Turin — Visits Marquise
de Prunai — Hospital previously founded at Grenoble — Great
crosses foreshown to be awaiting her at Paris — At Chamb^ry
Father La Motho meets them, and behaves with dissimulation —
She readies Grenoble, where lier health is restored, and the simple
girl, illtreated by the Devil, foretells crosses. .... 129

PART III.
CHAPTER I.
Arrival at Paris — Father I^a Mothe stirs up persecution through
motives of self-interest — Union in unity with Jesua Clirist and
Father La Combe — State of childhood passes into state of bearing
Christ crucified — Discernment of truth — False saint and her
husband, a skilful forger employed by Father La Mothe — Details
of their forgeries and calumnies — True character of this woman 135

CONTENTS. ix

CHAPTER II.

AGE

Father La Combe enlightened— Calumny against Madame Guyon—
Reported complaints against Father La Oombe made to the
Archbishop, with a view to cause him to leave Paris- On failing
in which La Mothe tries intimidation of Madame Guyon— His
perfidious conduct, defeated by the loyalty of her children's
guardian, who visits the Archbishop and unmasks the falsity of
Father La Mothe . . .... . 147

CHAPTER III.
Treachery by which Father La Oombe is made to appear disobedient
to the King's order, and consequently arrested— His certificate of
approbation from the Sacred Congregation at Rome suppressed —
Endeavours of Father La Mothe to make Madame Guyon fly
— Calumnies originated by Father La Mothe— Previous history of
his tool, the false saint — Failing in these machinations, the con
spirators persuade tlio King she is heretic and published a
dangerous book — On which a lettre de cachet for her confinement in
a convent was obtained . ... .155

CHAPTER IV.
The execution delayed by her illness — Trick by which Father La
Mothe carries off her copy of Father La Combe's Roman vindica
tion — Accusations set going against her — Service of the lettre
lie caiihet , . . . , . . . 166

CHAPTER V.
Confinement in the Convent of the Visitation — Disowned by her con
fessor and ill used by her jailer — Unfaithfulness in trying to watch
herself and be on her guard — Interrogations by the Official and a
Doctor of the Sorbonne — A forged letter brought forward against her
— Sees that the intention is simply to make her appear guilty-
All her writings on Scripture demanded from her . . . 171

CHAPTER VI.
Her contentment and joy — On St. Joseph's day elevated to the state of
heaven — From which she knew increased suffering was at hand —
Jesus Christ's state between his transfiguration and death— Her
heavenly state lasts until the Annunciation, when she is made to
drink to the dregs the indignation of God — But at Easter her
tranquil state returns with a more perfect self-annihilation — Her

CONTENTS.

PAGE

attitude towards her persecutors — A marriage of her daughter
proposed as a condition for her release — Father La Mothe's fresh
machinations . . ... . 182
CHAPTER VII.
All the intrigues of her persecutors mysteriously shown to her — Father
La Mothe invents new calumnies — She is more closely imprisoned
despite the testimony of the Prioress — Increased severity towards
Father La Combe, whose jailers were impressed by his piety —
Madame de Maintenon induced to speak for her — Severe illness
—Martyrs of the Holy Spirit— Tlie reign of Christ through hia
Spirit . . . . ... 191
CHAPTER VIII.
Endeavours to force a retractation from her — Further perfidy of Father
La Mothe and the Archbishop — Communication in God with
Father La Combe, although in such distant prisons — Her firm
conviction as to God's design regardingher writings— Discernment
of spirits — Detailed account of the means used by God for her
release through Madame de Maintenon . . . 200
CHAPTER IX.
To screen themselves her persecutors insist on her signing certain
ambiguously worded papers, which she refuses — Pressure put upon
the nuns of that convent, who manifested esteem and affection for
her- By Madame de Maintenon 's advice she signs certain papers
— Her release exactly when her persecutors had arranged for her
transfer to a distant prison — Her indifference to freedom — Visits
Madame de Maintenon, and takes up her residence with Madame
de Miramion — First meeting with Abbe' de P  [Fe'nelon] . 209
CHAPTER X.
Inability to write further as to her interior state — The happiness of the
Blessed in heaven, which for some years she had enjoyed after the
annihilation of the self-centre, she consented to give up on being
called to the Apostolic state, wherein it is necessary to suffer for
others and support their weakness — Her call to the propagation of
the Holy Spirit— Nature of her sufferings in that state; which
were twofold, viz. (1) caused by unfaithfulness in the souls united to
her; (2) a means of their purification and advancement — Apostolic
souls are a paradox to others— Satan's dread of such souls —
The Lord's saints, sanctified by a perfect suppleness to His will ;
moved only by divine charily . 220

CONTENTS. XI
CHAPTER XI. TAOK
Her residence with Madame de Miramion opposed by her persecutors-
And false accusations made by Father La Mothe — Her protracted
illness — Marriage of her daughter, with whom she takes up
residence for two and a half years —Then arranges for an absolute
retirement in a Benedictine convent — Which is frustrated through
the indiscretion of the Prioress and her Bishop — She recognizes
therein God's design to call her to fresh trials — Relations with
Fenflon — Visits to St. Cyr — Visits to M. Nicole at request of a
common acquaintance ; by whom she is induced to meet M. Boileau
for discussion on the " Short Method of Prayer " — Illness and visit
to the waters of Bourbon . .  232

CHAPTER XII.
Retires into the strictest seclusion — Which, however, does not secure her
against intrigue and calumny — M. Fouquet's valet and the girl
who gave herself to the Devil to win his love — M. Fouquet brings
this girl to Madame Guyon ; subsequent history — M. Boileau,
influenced by a pretended saint, becomes hostile to Madame Guyon
— A general outcry against her is raised by his partisans and other
ecclesiastics — Bishop of Chartres influences Madame de Maintenon
to abandon her  ... 242

CHAPTER XIII.
Her acquaintance with the Bishop of Meaux [Bossuet] — He expressed
approval of some of her writings as well as of the history of her
life, which had been placed in his bands — The dying nun at the
Abbey of Olairets — All her writings placed in the Bishop's hands
for examination — Conference in 1694, when he showed a marked
change — His violence of manner — His objections and her answer . 252

CHAPTER XIV.
Madame Guyon's habit of speaking without reflection in simplicity
— The Bishop calls upon her to justify her writings, which she
has no desire to do — The woman of the Apocalypse — Outflow of
grace from her — Bishop of Meaux's difficulties arose from his
unacquaintance with mystical writers — The Apostolic state— Cir
cumstances under which she wrote her life — Her authority over
souls — Distinct acts and speciflc requests — Spiritual incapacities
as well as bodily . .  262

xii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XV. PAGE
Bishop of Meaux offers to give her a certificate of orthodoxy, which
she declines — Letter to Madame de Maintenon asking for an
inquiry into her morals — Madame de Maintenon refuses, declaring
herself satisfied on this head, but suggests that her doctrines must
be examined — Particulars of M. Fouquet's death^Resigning her
self to God's will, she bids a final fareweU to her friends, secluding
herself henceforth from all society .... . . 272
CHAPTER XVI.
Perceives that others are aimed at in the attack made on her — Hud
previously warned the Abbe de P  Madame de Maintenon
determines on causing an examination of Madame Guyon's writings
— But the Archbishop of Paris anticipates this examination, and
censures her books — Bishops of Meaux and Chalons and M. Tron-
son appointed to make the examination — She writes a letter to
them, and prepares her Justifications, being extracts from approved
mystical writers : which the Bishop of Meaux neither reads him
self nor allows the others to see . . . . 281

CHAPTER XVII.
Hostile attitude of the Bishop of Meaux — His objections : the sacrifice
of eternity, trials, etc. — He confirms himself in his attitude — An
insurmountable obstacle to the light of truth — Explanation on sub
ject of specific requests — Bishop of Meaux excludes the Duke of
C  , her friend, from the Conference, and behaves in an over
bearing manner — The two others in private express their approval
of her ... . 292

CHAPTER XVIII.
Retires to a convent at Meaux — Her journey made with great danger
through heavy snow ; which at first met with approval from the
Bishop, but subsequently was treated as artifice and hypocrisy 
Calumnies and forged letters produced and circulated against her
— Father de Richebrac's letter to her — Cardinal Camus's letter 
Other devices employed to discredit her — The Incarnate Word 
Testimony of the nuns and their Superior— Also of the Bishop of
Meaux ...

306

CHAPTER XIX.
Procedure of the Bishop iu forcing her to sign cortiiiu papers drawn up
by liim- After six months in that cdiivtiil the Bishop gives her a

CONTENTS.

PAGE

certificate — Departure from the conveut— Subsequently, owing to
the dissatisfaction of Madame de Maintenon, Bishop desires to
withdraw that certificate, and to substitute one differing in purport 316
CHAPTER XX.
Her reasons for preserving silence as to the sufferings and persecutions
experienced during ten years' imprisonment— Her interior state
during that period .... .... 325
CHAPTEK XXI.
After release from prison overwhelmed by illness and bodily infirmity
— Her interior state — Farewell address to her children in grace —
The ALL of God, the NOTHING of the creature . . 331

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OP
MADAME GUYON.

PART lI.—Co7itinued.

CHAPTER XI.
After Father La Combe had returned from Eome much
praised for his doctrine, he performed the duties of preach
ing and confessing as usual, and as I had for myself a
permission from the Bishop of Geneva to confess to him,
I made use of him. He at once told me I should return,
as I have said. I asked him the reason. It is, he said,
because I believe God will do nothing by you here, and my
lights are deceptive. What made him speak thus was
that while at Loretto, at devotion in the chapel of the Holy
Virgin, he was suddenly withdrawn from the way of
illumination and put into the way of simple faith. Now,
as this state causes a failure of all distinct light, the soul
which finds herself plunged in it finds herself in a trouble
so much the greater as her state had been more full of
lights. It is this which makes her think all the lights on
which she previously supported herself to be nothing but
deceptions. This is true in one sense, and not in another,
since the lights are always good and true lights when
they come from God ; but it is that in resting on them we
VOL. 11. B

2 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
understand them or interpret them ill : and it is in this
lies the deception, for they have a signification known to
God, but we give them a different sense ; then the self-love,
disgusted that things do not happen according to its lights,
accuses them of falsity. They are, nevertheless, very true
in their sense. For example, a nun had told Father La
Combe that God had caused her to know that the Father
would one day be confessor of his Sovereign. In one sense
this might be taken to mean that he would be confessor or
director of the Princess, and it was in this sense it was
understood ; but I was given to know that it meant the
persecution, where he has had occasion to confess his faith,
and to suffer for the will of God, which is his Sovereign.
And thus with a thousand other things. Have I not also
been daughter of the Cross of Geneva — which had been
predicted to me — since the journey to Geneva has drawn
upon me so many crosses ? and mother of a great people,
as will be seen in the sequel, by the souls which God has
given me, and which he still gives me every day in the
midst of my captivity ?
I gave an account to Father La Combe of wlaat I had
done and suffered in his absence, and I told him the care
that you, 0 my God, took of my affairs. I saw your
providence even in the smallest matters, unceasingly
spread itself over me. After having been many months
without any news of my papers, and when people even
pressed me to write, blaming me for my indifference, an
invisible hand held me back, and my peace and confidence
were so great that I could not interfere in anything.
Some time after I received a letter from our domestic
ecclesiastic, telling me he was ordered to come and see
me, and bring my papers. I had sent to me from Paris a
considerable package for my daughter. It was lost on the
lake, and I could get no news of it, but I gave myself no
trouble. I believed still it would be found. The man who
had put it on board had for a month made search in all

Chap. XL] 'AUTOBIOaRAPHY. 3
the neighbourhood, without being able to learn any news
of it. At the end of three months a person had it brought
to us. It was found in the house of a poor man. He had
not opened it, and did not know who had brought it there.
Once when I had sent for all the money which had to
supply my wants for an entire year, the person who had been
to cash the letter of exchange, having placed the money
in two bags on a horse, forgot that it was there, and gave
his horse to a boy to lead. He let the money fall from the
horse in the middle of the market-place of Geneva. I
arrived at that moment, coming from the other side, and
having got out of my litter, the first thing I found was my
money, over which I walked; and what is surprising is
that, though there was a great crowd on that spot, no one
had seen it. Many similar things have happened to me,
which I do not mention, to avoid tediousness, contenting
myself with these examples to show the protection of God.
The Bishop of Geneva continued to persecute me, and
when he wrote to me it was always with expressions of
politeness and thanks for the charities I bestowed at Gex ;
on the other hand, he said I gave nothing to that House.
He even wrote against me to the Ursulines, where I was
staying, commanding them to prevent my having conference
with Father La Combe, " for fear of disastrous results."
The Superior of the House, a man of merit, and the
Prioress, as well as the Community, were so indignant that
they could not avoid declaring it to himself. He excused
himself by an outward professed respect, and a " I did not
intend it in that sense." They wrote him that I saw the
Father only at the confessional, not in conference, that
they were so edified by me that they were very happy to
have me, and that they considered it a great favour from
God. What they said out of pure love was displeasing to
the Bishop, who, seeing I was loved in this House, said
that I gained over every one, and he wished I was out of
the diocese. Although I knew all this, and that these good

4 MADAME GUYON. [Pabt H.
Sisters were much pained at it, I could feel none, owing to
the fixedness of my soul, your will, my God, rendering
everything alike to me. I find you as well in one thing as
in another, and since your will is yourself, everything in
this will is to me you, 0 my Love ; so that all the pains
which creatures can cause, however unreasonable and
even passionate they may appear, are not regarded in
themselves, but in God— not that the soul has this actual
view, but it is so : and the habitual faith makes everything
be seen in God without distinction. So when I see poor
souls give themselves so much trouble for idle talk, being
always on the watch beforehand, or clearing up matters,
I pity them for their lack of enlightenment ; and the more
of grace souls have, the more strange that appears to me.
Nevertheless, one has reasons which self-love makes appear
very sound.
To relieve me a little from the fatigue which continual
conversations caused me (I say fatigue, for the body was
quite languishing from the, strength of God's operation),
I asked Father La Combe on his arrival to allow me a
retreat, and to say that he wished me to make one. He
told them so, but they could hardly leave me in repose.
It was then that I allowed myself the whole day to be
devoured by love, which had no other operation but to
consume me little by little. It was then also that I felt
the quality of " spiritual Mother," for God gave me a some
thing for the perfection of souls, which I could not conceal
from Father La Combe. It seemed to me that I saw into
the depth of his soul, and the minutest recesses of his
heart. Our Lord made me see that he was his servant,
chosen among a thousand to honour him in a special
degree, and that there was not a man upon the earth at
that time on whom he looked with such complaisance as
on him ; but that he wished to conduct him by total death
and entire annihilation, that he wished me to help in it,
and he would make use of me to cause him to travel the

Chap. XI.] AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 5
road, by which he had first made me pass, only that I
might be able to conduct others by it, and to tell them
the routes by which I had passed ; that at present my soul
was far more advanced than his, that God wished to render
us one and conformable, but that one day he would pass
her by a bold and impetuous flight. God knows what joy
I had at it, and with what pleasure I would see my children
surpass their mother in glory, and that I would willingly
give myself over in any way that it might be so.
In this retreat there came to me such a strong move
ment to write that I could not resist it. The violence I
exercised over myself not to do it made me ill, and took
away my speech. I was very much surprised to find myself
thus, for this had never happened to me. It was not that
I had anything particular to write. I had absolutely
nothing, not even an idea of any kind. It was a simple
instinct with a fulness I could not support. I was like
one of those mothers who have too much milk, and suffer
greatly. After much resistance I told Father La Oombe
the disposition in which I found myself; he answered that
on his side he had had a strong movement to command
me to write, but owing to my weak state he had not ven
tured to prescribe it for me. I told him the weakness was
only due to my resistance, and I thought it would pass
away as soon as I wrote. He asked me, " But what do you
wish to write?" "I know nothing about it," I replied.
" I wish nothing, I have no idea, and I think I should com
mit a great infidelity in giving myself one, or thinking for
a moment on what I might be able to write." He ordered
me to do it. On taking up the pen I did not know the
first word of what I was about to write. I set myself to
write without knowing how, and I found it came to me
with a strange impetuosity. What surprised me most was
that it flowed from my central depth, and did not pass
through my head. I was not yet accustomed to this
manner of writing, yet wrote an entire treatise on the

C MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
whole interior way under a comparison with streams and
rivers. Although it was tolerably long, and the comparison
was kept up to the end, I have never formed a thought,
nor even taken any care where I left off, and, in spite of
continual interruptions, I have never read over anything,
except at the end, where I read over a line or two owing to a
word having been left out ; even then I thought I had com
mitted an infidelity. Before writing I did not know what I
was going to write. When it was written I thought no more
of it. I should have committed an infidelity in retaining
any thought to put it down, and our Lord gave me grace
that this did not happen. As I wrote I found myself
relieved, and I became better.
As the way by which God was leading Father La Combe
was very different from that by which he had hitherto
walked, which had been all light, ardour, knowledge, certir
tude, assurance, feelings, and that now he made him go
by the narrow path of faith and of nakedness, he had very
great trouble in adapting himself to it ; which caused me
no small suffering, for God made me feel and pay with
extreme rigour all his resistance. Who could express what
he has cost my heart before he was formed according to
yours and according to your will ? Only you, 0 my God,
who have done it, know. The more precious that soul is in
your eyes, the more dearly have you made me pay. I can
indeed say that it is upon me the robe of the new life you
have given him has been remade. I was subjected to a
double pain ; the one was that the possession which God
had of my soul became every day more strong, so that
sometimes I passed the day without it being possible for
me to pronounce a word : for God then wished to bury me
more deeply into himself, and to annihilate me more in
him, in order to make me pass into him by a complete
transformation. Although my state was without sensi
bility, it was so profound, and God became more and
niore so powerfully the master, that he did not leave me a

Chap. XI.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 7
movement of my own. This state did not prevent me from
condescending to my sister and the other nuns ; however,
the useless things in which they were occupied could hardly
suit my taste, and this was the reason which led me to ask
for keeping a retreat, that I might let myself be possessed
to the good pleasure of him who held me closely clasped
in an inexpressible manner. At this time he purified a
remnant of nature, very subtle and delicate, so that my
soul found herself in extreme purity. It was then the
partitions of which I have spoken were consumed. I have
seen nothing of the kind since, for the intimate union of
lover and loved took place, so that both were made one
and identical.
It was then it was given me to write in a purely
divine manner. All I had written formerly was tested,
was condemned to the fire by Love, the examiner, who
found defects in all that appeared the most perfect. I
resisted, as I have said, but God became so powerfully the
master that he harassed me to death when I resisted in
the least thing. 0 God, how I then experienced those
words, " Who can resist God and live in peace ? " I was
not yet experienced in the way he makes himself obeyed by
a soul which he perfectly possesses. Owing to this I did
not surrender at first, but finally I followed the movement
of the Spirit in what he caused me to do, and although I
did not take thought to arrange the matter, nor even as
to what I was writing, it was found as connected and as
correct as if I had taken all imaginable care to put it in
order. You desired, 0 my God, in order to accustom me to the
suppleness of your Spirit, to exact of me for a time things
wliich cost me much and caused me serious crosses. Our
Lord bound me more closely with Father La Combe, but
by a union as pure as it was spiritual. He willed that I
should tell him the minutest of my thoughts, or write them
to him; for as he was often absent either on missions.

8 MADAME GUYON. [Pabt II.
which he was continually engaged in, or for the business
of the House, he was not often at Tonon. This cost me
much, for it was a thing I had never done when formerly
I might have conveniently done it, while I was still in
myself, and when I could speak to directors ; but now it
appeared to me mere loss of time. I imagined even for
lack of experience that it could not be done without
reflection, and as reflection was entirely opposed to my
state, it would be very injurious to me. I said with the
Bride, " I have washed my feet ; how shall I soil them ?
I have put off my robe; how shall I put it on again?"
My mind, which is naked, shall it again be filled ? After
having been subjected to God alone, must I be so to
the creature ? For I did not then understand the design of
God therein. If I had been mistress of myself, I would
have gladly escaped, but I could not ; for besides that our
Lord chastised me very rigorously when I resisted him in
the least, my mind remained always occupied by the
thought until I had obeyed, and, far from having its former
clearness, it defiled itself by these particulars ; and although
they were good things, or at least indifferent, that pure and
clear void was thereby spoiled. If you stir up water with
a rod of gold or of wood, it is none the less disturbed ; but
as soon as I had mentioned the thought my mind resumed
its former peace, its clearness and its emptiness. I was
surprised to see that the need of writing to him increased
each day in the design and order of God : but what
reassured me was, that I was so disengaged from any
feeling or attachment in respect of him, that I was
astonished. The more powerful the union became, the
more we were united to God, and removed from human
sentiments. I was still more led to pardon nothing in him,
and to desire his self-annihilation, that God alone might
reign. With much fidelity I told him all that God gave
me to know he desired of him, and this I would gladly have
evaded. The obligation God imposed on me to tell him

Chap. XL] AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 9
the radical defects of the Sister who had charge of my
daughter (as he was prejudiced in her favour, owing to the
illumination she had told him she had) irritated him
against me several days. When I told him anything, this
produced in him disgust for me and alienation. Our Lord
made me painfully feel it, although he said nothing to me.
I experienced that our Lord obliged me to keep hold on
him, and made me pay by suffering for his infidelity. On
the other hand, if I wished to say nothing to him, and to
keep back views which only served to offend him, our Lord
harassed me to death, and gave me no rest until I had
declared to him both my pain and my thought ; so that I
suffered thereby a martyrdom exceeding anything that can
be told, and which has been very protracted.

10 MADAME GUYON. IPakv U.

CHAPTER XII.
Our Lord, willing that I should bear him in all his states,
from the first to the last, as I shall tell, and willing to
make me perfectly simple, gave me in regard to Father
La Combe such a miraculous obedience that, in what
ever extremity of illness I might be, I grew well when,
either by word of mouth or by letter, he ordered it. I
believe our Lord did it to make me express Jesus Christ
the Child, and also to be a sign and evidence to this good
Father, who, having been conducted by evidences, could
not leave that way ; and in whatever was told him, or
which God made him experience, he still kept seeking
evidences. It is where he had the greatest trouble to die,
and that by which he has made me suffer so much. Our
Lord, to make him enter more easily into that which he
desired of him and of me, gave him the greatest of all
evidences in this miraculous obedience : and to show that it
did not depend on me, and that God gave it for him, when
he was sufficiently strong to do without any evidence, and
God wished to make him enter upon self-annihilation,
this obedience was taken away from me, so that, without
paying any attention to it, I was unable longer to obey :
and this was done to annihilate him the more, and to take
from him the support of this evidence ; for then all my
efforts were useless : I had inwardly to follow him who was
my master, and who gave me this repugnance to obeying.

Chap. XII.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 11
which lasted only so long as was necessary to destroy the
support he would have found— and perhaps I also — in
obedience. I had then so strong an instinct for his
perfection and to see him die to himself, that I would
have wished him all the ills imaginable, far from pitying
him. When he was not faithful, or took things so as to
nourish the self-life, I felt myself devoured ; and this
surprised me not a little after the indifference I had
hitherto maintained. I complained of it to our Lord,
who with extreme kindness reassured me, and also as to
the extreme dependence he gave me, which became such
that I was like a child.
My sister had brought me a maid, whom God wished
to give me to fashion in his manner, not without crucifying
me — a thing that I expect will never be ; for when our
Lord gives me persons, he always gives them at the same
time the means of making me suffer, whether to direct
those persons themselves to the interior way, or in order
that I should never be without a cross. She was a girl
to whom our Lord had given singular grace, and who was
so highly reputed in her country that she passed for a
saint. Our Lord brought her to me to make her see the
difference of sanctity conceived and comprised in gifts —
with which she was then endowed — and sanctity which is
acquired by our entire destruction, by the loss of those
very gifts, and of that which we are. This girl fell
seriously ill. Our Lord gave her the same dependence
on me as I had on Father La Combe — with some distinc
tion, however. I helped her to the best of my ability, but
I found that I had hardly anything to say to her, except
to command her ailment and her disposition ; and whatever
I said was done. Then I learned what it is to command
by the Word, and to obey by the same Word. I found in
me Jesus Christ commanding and likewise obeying. Our
Lord gave power to the Devil to torment this poor girl, as
in Job's case. The Devil, as if he was not strong enough

12 MADAME GUYON. [Pabt II.
alone, brought with him five, who reduced her to such a
state with her disease, that she was at death's door.
These wretches fled when I approached her bed, and I
had hardly gone out when they returned with greater
fury, and they said to her : " It is to have compensation
for the ill she has done us " — speaking of me.
As I saw she was too much crushed, and her weak
body could no longer endure the torment they caused her,
I forbade their approaching her for a time : they left at
once. But the next day at waking I had a strong impulse
to allow them to visit her; they returned with so much
fury that they reduced her to extremity. After having
thus given some relaxation at different intervals, and
allowed them to return, I had a strong movement to
forbid them to attack her any more. I forbade them :
they returned no more. Nevertheless she still continues
ill, until one day she had received our Lord in such weak
ness that she could scarcely swallow the sacred Host.
After dinner I had a strong impulse to say to her, " Get
up, and be no longer ill." The nuns were very much
astonished, and as they knew nothing of what was going on,
and they saw her on foot after having been in the morning
at extremity, they attributed her illness to the vapours.
As soon as the devils were withdrawn from this girl, I
felt as if by an impression the rage they were in against
me. I was in my bed, and I said to them, " Come and
torment me if your Master allows it ; " but, so far from
doing this, they fled from me. I understood at once that
the devils fear worse than hell a soul that has been
annihilated, and that it is not the souls who are conducted
by faith they attack, for the reason I have already given.
I felt in myself such an authority over the devils that,
far from fearing them, it seemed to me I would make them
fly from hell if I was there. It should be known that the
soul of whom I speak, in whom Jesus Christ lives and acts,
does not perform miracles as those who perform them by

Chap. XII.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 13
a power in them of performing miracles. They are per
formed by the annihilation of the soul, for as she is no
longer anything, nothing of all this can be attributed to
her ; therefore when the movement urges, she does not
say, "Be healed in the name of Jesus Christ," for this
"Be healed in the name of Jesus Christ" is a power
in the person of performing miracles in the name of Jesus
Christ. Here it is not the same ; it is Jesus Christ who
performs the miracle, and who says through that person,
"Be healed," and the man is healed; "Let the devils
depart," and they depart. When one says this, one knows
not why one says it, nor what causes one to say it ; but it
is the Word who speaks and operates what he says. " He
spoke, and they were made." One does not utter prayers
beforehand, for these miracles are performed without any
previous design, and without the soul looking upon it as
a miracle. One says quite naturally what is given one
to say. Jesus Christ willed to pray at the resurrection of
Lazarus, but he said that he did it only for the sake of
those who were present, for he says to his Father, " I know
that you hear me always, but I say it that these may
believe you have sent me." Other servants of God,
honoured with the gift of miracles, pray, and thereby
obtain what they desire; but here it is the Word who
uses his authority, and who acts by the speech of the
person in whom he lives and reigns.
Hereupon I must remark two things : one, that the
souls of whom I speak do not ordinarily perform miracles
by giving anything, or by simply touching ; but it is by
the word, although they sometimes accompany it with
touching. It is the all-powerful Word. The other thing
is that these miracles require the consent, or at least that
there should be no opposition, in the person on whom they
are performed. Our Lord Jesus Christ asked the good
people he healed, " Do you wish to be healed ? " Was
there a doubt in the matter, that people who came to him

14 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
for it, or who desired nothing else, wished it ? Here is
the secret of the operation of the Word, and of the liberty
of man. On the dead, or on inanimate substances, it is
not the same. He said, and his saying is doing ; but here
the consent of the soul is required. I have many times
experienced it, and I felt in myself how God not only
respects the liberty of man, but even how he wishes a free
consent ; for when I said " Be healed," or for interior pains
"Be delivered from your pains," if they acquiesced with
out any answer, they were healed, and the word was
efficacious ; if they resisted under good pretexts, as saying,
"I shall be healed when it will please God," "I do not
wish to be healed but when he wills," or in despair, " I
shall never escape from my pain," then the word had no
effect, and I felt it in myself. I felt that the virtue
retired into me, and I experienced what our Lord said,
when the diseased woman touched him, and he asked,
" Who touched me ? " The apostles answered, " The
crowd surrounds you, and you ask who has touched you."
" It is," answered our Lord, " that a divine virtue has
gone out from me." In the same way Jesus Christ in me,
or rather through me, made this divine virtue to flow out
by means of his word ; but when this virtue was not
received in the subject, owing to want of correspondence, I
felt it suspended in its source, and this caused me a kind
of pain. I would be in a way vexed with those persons ;
but when there was no resistance, and a full acquiescence,
the divine virtue had its full effect. One cannot conceive
the delicacy of this divine virtue ; although it is so power
ful on inanimate objects, on man the least thing either
arrests it altogether or restrains it.
There was a worthy nun afflicted with a violent
temptation. She went and told a Sister, whom she
believed very spiritual and in a state to help her : but, far
from finding help, she was violently repulsed. The other
despised her, and even harshly treating her because she

Chap. XIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 15
had temptations, said to her, "Do not come near me, I
pray, since you are of that kind." This poor girl came to
see me in terrible distress, believing herself lost, owing to
what the Sister had said to her. I consoled her, and our
Lord relieved her at once ; but I could not refrain from
saying that assuredly the other would be punished, and
that she would fall into a worse state. The one who had
so used her came to see me, very well satisfied with
herself ; and she told me what she had answered, adding
that she had a horror of ]persons who are tempted, that for
herself she was safe from all this, and that she never had
had a bad thought. I said to her, " My Sister, for the
friendship I have for you, I wish you the trouble of her
who has spoken to you, and even a more violent one." She
answered me proudly enough, " If you ask it of God for me
and I ask the contrary, I think I shall be as soon heard as
you." I answered her firmly, " If it is my own interest I
regard, I shall not be heard ; but if it is the interest of God
only and yours, he will do it sooner than you fancy." I
said this without reflection. The same night — it was
evening when we were speaking — she entered into such a
violent and furious temptation, the like of which was
hardly ever seen ; it continued with the same strength for
a fortnight. It was then she had full opportunity to
recognize her weakness, and what we should be without
grace. At first she conceived an excessive hatred for me,
saying I was the cause of her trouble; but as it served,
like the mud which enlightened the man born blind, she
saw very well what had brought on her such a terrible
state. I fell exceeding ill. This illness was a means to cover
the great mysteries which God desired to operate in me.
Never was there a malady more extraordinary or more
continued in its intensity. It lasted from Holy Cross Day
of September to that of May. I was reduced to the state
of a little child, but a state which was apparent only

16 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
to those who could understand; for as to the others, I
appeared in an ordinary condition. I was reduced to the
dependence of Jesus Christ, the Child, who wished to
communicate himself to me in his state of childhood, and
that I should bear him as such. This state was com
municated to me almost immediately on my falling ill,
and a dependence corresponding to the state. The further
I advanced, the more was I set free from this dependence,
as children gradually emerge from dependence in propor
tion to their growth. My illness at first was a continuous
fever of forty days. From the Holy Cross of September
up to Advent it was a less violent fever, but after Advent it
seized me in a more violent manner. In spite of my illness
the Master willed I should receive him at Christmas
midnight. Christmas Day my childhood became greater,
and my illness increased. The fever intensified so that I
was delirious ; besides, there was an abscess at the corner
of the eye, which caused great pain. It opened entirely at
this time, and they dressed it, for a long time passing in
an iron up to the bottom of the cheek. I had such
burning fever and so much weakness that they were
obliged to allow it to close again without healing, for my
exhausted body could not endure the operations without
danger of instantly expiring. I suffered with extreme
patience ; but it was like a child, who knows not what is
done to him. I experienced at the same time both the
strength of a God and the weakness of a little child, with a
corresponding dependence. This mode of action was so
foreign to my natural character that nothing less than the
power of a God was needed to make me enter into it. I
gave myself up to it, however, for my interior was such and
was so powerfully urged by God, that I could not resist
him. I was, not to press the comparison, like those who
are possessed by the Evil Spirit, who makes them do what
he wishes ; thus the Spirit of God was so completely the
master, that I had to do everything that pleased him.

Chap. XII.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 17
His will was not concealed from me ; he led me from within
like a child, while he rendered my whole exterior childlike.
They often brought me the Eucharist ; the Superior of the
House having ordered that this consolation should be
allowed me, seeing the extremity I was in. As Father La
Combe often brought it to me, when the confessor of the
House was not there, he remarked, and the nuns who were
familiar with me also remarked it, that I had the face
of a little child. In his astonishment he several times
said to me, " It is not you ; it is a little child that I see."
For myself, I saw nothing within but the candour and
innocence of a little child. I had its weaknesses ; I some
times wept from pain, but this was not known. I played
and laughed in a way that charmed the girl who attended
me; and those good nuns, who knew nothing about it,
said that I had something which surprised and charmed
them at the same time.
Our Lord, however, with the weaknesses of his child
hood gave me the power of a God over souls, so that with
a word I cast them into trouble or peace, according as
was necessary for the good of those souls. I saw that God
made himself obeyed in me and through me, as an absolute
Sovereign, and I no longer resisted him. I took no part
in anything ; you might have performed, 0 my God, in me
and through me the greatest miracles, and I should not
have been able to reflect upon it. I felt within a candour
of soul, without taint, which I cannot express. Moreover,
I had to continue telling my thoughts to Father La Combe,
or else writing them to him and aiding him, according to
the light that was given to me. I often was so weak that
I could not raise my head to take food, and when God
desired I should write to him, either to aid and encourage
him, or to explain what our Lord gave me to know, I had
the strength to write. As soon as my letters were finished,
I found myself in the same weakness. I was very much
surprised to understand by experience that what you had
VOL. II. c

18 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
wished of me, 0 my God, in obliging me thus to tell all my
thoughts, had been to perfect me in simplicity, and to
make Father La Combe enter into it, rendering me supple
to all your wishes ; for whatever cross it was to me to tell
my thoughts, and although Father La Combe often was
offended to the point of disgust at serving me, and he let
me know it (while yet through charity he got the better of
his repugnance), I never for that ceased from telling them
to him. Our Lord had made us understand that he united us
by faith and by the cross, so that it has indeed been a
union of the cross in every way ; as well from what I have
made him suffer himself, and he in turn has made me
suffer (which was very much more than anything I can
tell), as from the crosses which this has drawn upon us
from outside. The sufferings I had in respect of him were
such that I was reduced to extremity, and they endured
many years ; for although I have been longer at a distance
from him than near him, this has not relieved my ill,
which has continued until he has been perfectly annihilated
and reduced to the point God wished for him. This
operation has made him suffer pains the more severe in
proportion as the designs God had for him were the greater,
and he has caused me cruel pains. When I was a hundred
leagues away from him, I felt his disposition. If he was
faithful in allowing himself to be destroyed, I was in peace
and free ; if he was unfaithful, in reflection or hesitation, I
suffered strange torments until it was over. There was no
necessity for him to tell me his state, that I should know it.
I was often laid upon the ground the whole day, without
being able to move, in agony, and after having for a fort
night in this way endured sufferings which surpassed all I
ever suffered in my life, I received letters from him, by
which I learned his state to be such as I had felt it. Then
suddenly I felt that he had re-entered on the state in which
God wished him ; and then I experienced that gradually

Chap. XII.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 19
my soul found a peace and a great freedom, which was
more or less, according as he gave himself up more or less
to our Lord. This was not a voluntary thing in me, but
compulsory ; for if nature could have shaken off this yoke,
more hard and painful than death, it would have done so.
I said, 0 union necessary, and not voluntary, thou art
not voluntary only because I am not any more mistress of
myself, and I must yield to him who has taken so powerful
a possession of me after I have given myself to him freely
and without any reserve. My heart had in itself an echo
and counter-stroke, which told it all the dispositions this
Father was in ; but while he resisted God I suffered such
horrible torments that I sometimes thought it would tear
out my life. I was obliged from time to time to throw
myself on the bed, and in that way bear the suffering which
seemed to me unbearable; for, in short, to bear a soul,
however distant the person may be from us, and to suffer
all the rigours that Love makes her suffer, and all her
resistance : this is strange.

20 -MADAME GUYON. [Part II.

CHAPTER XIIL
My sister was in no way capable of understanding my
state, so that often she was offended at it. She got vexed
when one concealed one's self in the least from her, and
she could not appreciate a state that many persons more
spiritual than she would have been unable to understand ;
so that I suffered much from every quarter in this malady.
The distress from the great pain was the least ; that from
the creature was very different. My only consolation was
to receive our Lord, and sometimes to see Father La
Combe ; moreover, I had to suffer much from him, as I
have said, bearing all his different dispositions. I was
strangely exercised by my sister, by that nun, and by
the maid who wanted to return to France. Whatever
extremity I might be in, I had to listen to their differences,
which they told me, the one after the other ; then they
quarrelled with me for not taking their side. They did
not let me sleep — for as the fever was more intense at night,
I could only sleep for an hour, and I would gladly have
slept by day : but they would not have it, saying it was
only to avoid speaking to them — so that I required very
great patience to bear with them. It lasted more than six
months. I think this partly was the cause of a revery
I had for two days together ; for I did not sleep, and I
continued to hear a noise, with a terrible headache. I
complained of nothing, and I suffered gaily, like a child.

Chap. XIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 21
Father La Combe commanded them to give me some rest :
for some days they did so, but it did not last ; they recom
menced immediately.
I cannot express the mercies which God showed me in
this illness, and the profound lights he gave me on the
future. I saw the Devil let loose against prayer and
against me, and that he was about to stir up a strange
persecution against people of prayer. I wrote all this to
Father La Combe, and unless he has burned the letters,
they ought to be still in existence. The Devil did not dare
attack me myself ; he feared me too much. Sometimes I
defied him, but he did not venture to appear, and I was for
him like a thunderbolt. I understood then what power a
self-annihilated soul has. Our Lord made me see all
that has since happened, as the letters of that time prove.
One day that I was thinking to myself of the nature of a
dependence so great, and a union so pure and intimate,
twice in a dream I saw Jesus Christ, the Child, of surpassing
beauty, and, it seems to me, he united us very closely as
he said, " It is I who unite you, and who wish you to be
one." Another time he made me see the Father, as he was
wandering away from me through want of fidelity, and he
brought him back with extreme kindness, and willed him
to aid me in my state of childhood, as I aided him in his
state of death ; but I did not cause suffering to him. It
was only I who had to suffer. He had an extreme charity
for me, treating me as a real child, and he often said to
me, " When I am near you I am as if I was near a little
child." I was repeatedly reduced to extremity every ninth
day, and ready to die, without, however, dying. I had, as
it were, the last agony. I was many hours without breath
ing, except at long intervals ; then I came back on a sudden.
Death flattered me, for I had for it a great tenderness, but
it only appeared as flying away. The Father forbade me
to rejoice at dying, and I at once knew that it was im
perfect, and did it no more. I remained in supreme

22 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
indifference. During this illness so many extraordinary
things happened that it would be impossible for me to
relate them. God continually performed miracles by
Father La Combe, as well to relieve me and give me new
strength when I was at extremity, as to show to him the
care he ought to have of me, and the dependence I should
have on him. I was like a little child, without thinking
of myself or my illness. I would have gone without food
every day, for want of thinking of it, and whatever was
given I took, though it might be fatal to me. In my illness
I was wrongly treated ; the remedies increased it, but I
could not trouble myself in the matter. I always had a
smiling face in my greatest sufferings, so that every one
was astonished. The nuns had extreme compassion for
me ; it was I alone who had no feeling for myself. Many
times in dreams I saw Father La Mothe stirring up perse
cutions against me. Our Lord made me know that he
would greatly torment me, and that Father La Combe
would leave me during the time of persecution. I wrote to
him, and this hurt him much, because he felt his heart too
united to the will of God, and too desirous of serving me
in this same will, to act so. He thought that it was
through distrust, but it turned out perfectly true ; he left
mo in the persecution, not of his will, but through necessity,
having been himself the first persecuted.
The day of the Purification, when I had relapsed into
a very severe fever, the Father ordered me to go to the
Mass. For twenty-two days I had had continued fever,
more violent than ordinary. I did not give a single
thought to my state, but I got up and attended at the
Mass, and returned to my bed much worse than before.
It was a day of grace for me, or, rather, for the Father.
God showed him very great grace in regard to me. Near
Lent the Father, without giving attention to the fact that
he had to preach at Lent, when he saw me so ill, said to
our Lord to relieve me, and that he would bear a part of

CHAP.2tin.] Atl'fdiiioclKll'MY; 23
my disease. He told our maids to ask the same thing,
namely, that he might relieve me in the way he meant.
It is true I was a little better, and he fell ill, which
caused great alarm in the place, seeing he had to preach.
He was so much run after that people used to come from
five leagues' distance and pass several days there to hear
him. When I learned he was so ill on Shrove Tuesday
that they thought he would die, I offered myself to our
Lord to become more ill, and that he would restore health
to him, and enable him to preach to his people, who were
hungering to hear him. Our Lord heard me, so that he
mounted the pulpit on Ash Wednesday.
It was in this illness, my Lord, that by degrees you
taught me that there is another way than by speech for
conversing with the creatures, who are entirely yours.
You made me conceive, 0 Divine Word, that as you are
always speaking and working in a soul, although you there
appear in a profound silence, there was also a means of
communication in your creatures, and by your creatures
in an ineffable silence. I learned then a language unknown
to me before. I perceived gradually that when Father La
Combe was brought in either to confess me or give me the
Communion, I could no longer speak to him, and that
there took place in my central depth towards him the
same silence which took place towards God. I understood
that God wished me to learn that even in this life men
might learn the language of the angels. Little by little I
was reduced to speaking to him only in silence; it was
then that we understood each other in God, in a manner
ineffable and quite divine. Our hearts spoke and com
municated to each other a grace which cannot be told. It
was an altogether new country for him and me, but divine
beyond expression. At the commencement this took place
in a more perceptible manner, that is to say, that God so
powerfully penetrated us with himself, and his divine Word
made us so entirely one in him, but in a manner so pure

24 MADAME GUYON. [Pakt II.
and so sweet, that we passed hours in this profound
silence, still communicating, without being able to say a
single word. It was there we learned by our experience the
communications and operations of the Word, in order to
reduce souls into his unity, and to what purity one may
attain therein. It was given me to communicate in this
way with other good souls, but with this difference, that for
the others I alone communicated the grace with which,
in this sacred silence, they were filled from me, com
municating to them an extraordinary strength and grace ;
but I received nothing from them. In the case of the
Father, I experienced that there was a flux and reflux of
communication of graces, which he received from me and
I from him ; that he gave to me and I to him the same
grace in an extreme purity.
It was then I understood the ineffable intercourse of the
Holy Trinity communicated to all the Blessed, how there
is an outflow from God into all the souls of all the Blessed,
and that this same God who communicates himself to
them causes in them a flux and reflux of his divine
communications ; that the Blessed spirits and the saints of
a like degree or hierarchy reciprocally give by a flux and
reflux of communication these divine outflowings, which
then they distribute upon the inferior hierarchies, and
that everything is reduced to its first principle, whence all
these communications proceed. I saw that we were
created to participate during this life in the ineffable
happiness of intercourse with the Trinity, and in the flux
and reflux of the divine Persons, which end in Unity of
principle, and become again Unity without ever for a
moment arresting the fruitfulness and communication
between them ; principle without principle, which inces
santly communicates, and receives all it communicates ;
that it was necessary to be very pure to receive God in
simplicity, and to allow him to flow back in himself in
that purity ; and that it was necessary also to be very pure

Chap. XIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 25
to receive and communicate the Divine Word, and then to
distribute him by a flux and reflux of communication upon
the other souls which God gives us. It is this which
makes us one in God himself, and perfects us in the divine
Unity, where we are made one same thing in him from
whom all originates.
I learned by experience then this hierarchic order, and
these reciprocal communications between the saints of a
similar rank and the angels of a similar order, and this
outflow on the inferior saints and spirits, and that with
such fulness that they were all filled according to their
degree. This communication is God himself, who com
municates himself to all the Blessed in a personal flux
and reflux; such as he communicates himself from
within, such he communicates himself from without, to
his saints, and they are all rendered participators of
the ineffable commerce of the Holy Trinity. It is to
render the soul capable of this communication, that it is
necessary for her to be purified so powerfully and so
radically ; otherwise she would still be self-moved ; she
would still retain something in her, and by such retention
would not be suitable for the ineffable commerce of the
Holy Trinity. Further, it is necessary to enlarge her
capacity of reception, which, being extremely restricted and
limited by sin, can only by fire and hammer-blows be put in
a state suitable to the eternal designs of God in her creation.
It was shown me how this hierarchic order existed even
in this life, and that there were souls who without know
ing it communicated with an infinity of others, and to
whom grace for the perfection of the others was attached ;
and that this hierarchy would last through all eternity,
where the souls of the Blessed would receive from the
same persons through whom grace had been communicated
to them; and that those who mutually communicated
would be in the same degree. It was then I learned the
secret of spiritual fruitfulness and maternity ; and how the

26 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
Holy Spirit renders souls fruitful in himself, giving them
to communicate to others the Word which he communicates
to them — what St. Paul calls "the formation of Jesus
Christ, and begetting in Jesus Christ" — and that it was
in this way that children without number would be given
to me, as well known as unknown. All those who are my
true children have from the first a tendency to remain in
silence near me, and I have an instinct to communicate
to them in silence what God has given me for them. In
this silence I discover their wants and their deficiencies,
and I communicate to them in God himself all that is
needed for them. They very well feel what they receive
and what is communicated to them in abundance. When
once they have tasted this manner of communion, all
others become troublesome. For myself, when I use
speech and pen with souls, it is only owing to their weak
ness I do it, and because either they are not suiBciently
pure for the interior communication, or it is still needful
to use condescension, or to settle external matters.
Our Lord made me experience with the saints of
heaven the same communication as with the saints on
earth ; and this is the way of being truly united to the
saints in God. I experienced these communications very
strong and very intimate, especially with those with whom
one has a greater relation of grace, and to whom one will
be more closely united in heaven. At the commencement
it was more sensible, because our Lord had the kindness
to instruct me by experience. It is the way he has always
acted with me ; he has not enlightened me by illumination
and knowledge, but while making me experience the
things, he has given me the understanding of what I
experienced. I understood also the maternity of the Holy Virgin,
and in what manner we participate in her maternity, and
how the saying of Jesus Christ is real, when he says,
that he who does the will of his Father, becoming one

Chap. XIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 27
will with his, is made his mother, his brother, and his
sister. They are truly made his mothers, producing him
in souls. It was in this ineffable silence I understood the manner
in which Jesus Christ communicated himself to his
intimates, and the communication of St. John on the
breast of our Lord at the Last Supper. It was not the
first time that he had so placed himself, and it was
because he was very fit to receive those divine com
munications that he was the chosen and loved disciple. It
was at this great banquet that Jesus Christ, as Word,
flowed into John, and discovered to him the most profound
secrets, before communicating himself to him in the
mastication of his body. And it is then there was com
municated to him that wonderful secret of the eternal
generation of the Word, because he was rendered a
participator in the ineffable intercourse of the Holy
Trinity. He knew that therein is the characteristic of the
true children of God, and how the silent speech operated ;
for this speech in silence is the most noble, the most
exalted, the most sublime of all operations. It was then he
learned the difference of being " born of the flesh, of the will
of man, or of the will of God." The operations of the flesh
are those of carnal men, those of the will of man are those
which are virtuous, being done by the goodwill of the
man ; but those of which I speak are those of the will of
God, where man has no other part but the consent which
he gives to them, as Mary did : " Let it be unto me
according to thy word." She not only gave her consent
for herself alone that the Word should become incarnate
in her, but she gave it for all men who are her children —
that is, for all those who are regenerated in Jesus Christ ;
she gave, I say, a consent for them that the Word should
communicate himself to them and that, as the consent
which Eve had given to the Devil for sin, had caused
death to enter into all her children, so the consent

28 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
which Mary would give should communicate the life of
the Word to all her children.
It is for this that Jesus Christ is " the way, the truth,
and the life," and that he comes "to enlighten every
man who comes into the world." " He has come unto
his own, and his own have not received him." He is
not known in his most intimate communications except
to those to whom he has given " to be made children of
God," and to become children. It was this wonderful
mystery which was effected at the foot of the cross, when
Jesus Christ said to St. John, "Behold your mother,"
and to the Holy Virgin, " Behold your son." He taught
St. John that he wished him to receive from the Holy
Virgin what he used to receive immediately from himself
before his death ; and he made known to the Holy Virgin
that he had given to her to communicate herself to St.
John as to her son, and through him to all the Church.
It was at that moment that those divine communications
were given to men through Mary and St. John, and it was
for this that he wished that his heart should be opened, to
show that he sent his Spirit through his heart, and that it
was the spirit of his heart that he communicated. Mary
received then the gift of producing the Word in all hearts :
and as Jesus Christ gave himself by the mastication of his
body to all men, he wished also to communicate himself
as the Word to all spirits of which he is the life. It was
not only to St. John that this communication was made,
but it was for us a sensible example of this kind of
communication. Therefore our Lord said of St. John, " If
I will that he tarry until I come, what is it to thee ? " He
did not say that he should not die, but if I will that he
continue thus, in this ineffable communication, what is
it to thee ? I propose to communicate myself also to the
men prepared to receive me in that way.
0 wonderful communications, those which passed
between Mary and St. John! 0 filiation quite divine.

Chap. XIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 29
who art willing to extend thyself even to me, all unworthy
as I am! 0 divine Mother, who art willing to com
municate your fruitfulness and your altogether divine
maternity to this poor nothing ! I mean this fecundity of
hearts and spirits. In order to instruct me thoroughly
in this mystery, for the sake of others, our Lord willed
that a maid — she is the one I have spoken of — should
have need of this help. I have experienced it in aU ways,
and when I did not wish her to remain near me in silence,
I used to see her interior gradually sink, and even her
bodily powers diminish, until she was on the point of
falling in a faint. When I had made sufficient experi
ments of this to understand these ways of communication,
her extreme needs passed away, and I commenced to
discover, especially with Father La Combe when he was
absent, that the interior communication took place at a
distance as well as near. Sometimes our Lord made me
stop short in the midst of my occupations, and I experienced
that there went out an outflow of grace, like that I had
experienced when with him — a thing I have also experienced
with many others, not altogether in a similar degree, but
more or less, feeling their infidelities and infallibly know
ing their faults by inconceivable impressions; as I shall
tell in the sequel.

30 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL

CHAPTER XIV.
In this long sickness, your love alone, 0 my God, con
stituted my occupation without occupation. I was
consumed night and day. I could not see myself in any
way, so was I lost in you, 0 my Sovereign Good, and it
seems indeed to my heart that it has never gone out from
this Divine Ocean, although you have dragged it through
the mud of the most severe humiliations. Who could
ever comprehend, 0 my Love, that you made your
creatures to be so one with you, that they so lose sight of
themselves as no longer to see anything but you ? 0 loss,
which is the blessing of blessings, although all is effected
in crosses, deaths, and bitterness !
Jesus the Child was then all living in me, or rather, he
was existing alone ; I was no longer. You taught me, 0
my Love, that your state of childhood would not be the
only one I must bear ; you impressed upon me these words
as of a real state, into which you wished me to enter :
" The birds of the heaven have nests, and the foxes have
holes, but the Son of Man has not where to rest his head."
You have indeed made me experience this state in all its
extent since that time, having never left me even an
assured dwelling, where I could rest for more than a few
months, and every day in uncertainty as to being there on
the morrow; besides this, in a total deprivation of all
creatures, finding refuge neither with my friends, who

Chap. XIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 31
were ashamed of me, and who openly renounced me when
they saw me decried, nor among my relatives, the greater
part of whom have declared themselves my adversaries and
my greatest persecutors. The rest have never regarded
me but with contempt and indignation. My own children
ridiculed me in society. It is indeed, 0 my Love, this
second time much more strongly than the first, although
in a manner less sensible, that the state of Job should be
attributed to me ; " I was," as David says, " a reproach to
my neighbours, the object of public ridicule." But before
going on I must continue what took place in my illness.
One night that I was quite awake you showed me to
myself under the figure — who says figure does not say
reality ; the brazen serpent which was the figure of Jesus
Christ was not Jesus Christ — you showed me, I say, under
the figure of that woman in the Apocalypse, who has the
moon under her feet, encircled with the sun, twelve stars
upon the head, who, being with child, cried in the pains of
childbirth. You explained to me its mystery. You made
me understand that the moon, which was under her feet,
signified that my soul was above the vicissitude and
inconstancy of events; that I was surrounded and pene
trated by yourself; that the twelve stars were the fruits
of this state, and the gifts with which it was honoured;
that I was pregnant of a fruit, which was that spirit you
wished me to communicate to all my children, whether in
the manner I have mentioned, or by my writings ; that
the Devil was that terrible dragon who would use his
efforts to devour the fruit, and cause horrible ravages
through all the earth, but that you would preserve this
fruit of which I was full in yourself, that it should not be
lost — therefore have I confidence that, in spite of the
tempest and the storm, all you have made me say or write
will be preserved — that in the rage in which the Devil
would be at not succeeding in the design he has conceived
against this fruit, he would attack me, and would send a

32 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
flood against me to swallow me up ; that this flood would
be that of calumny, which would be ready to sweep me
away, but the earth would open — that is to say, the
calumny would little by little subside.
You made me see, 0 my God, all the world incensed
against me, without any one whatever for me, and you
assured me in the ineffable silence of your eternal speech
that you would give me millions of children that I should
bring forth for you by the Cross. I was no longer in a
state to interest myself in this in the way either of humility
or joy. I let you do with me, 0 my 'Divine Love, what you
pleased, as with a thing that was yours, in which I no
longer took any personal interest ; my sole interest was
yours. You made me know how the Devil was about to
stir up against Prayer a strange persecution, which would
be the source of this very Prayer, or rather, the means you
would make use of to establish it. You made me further
know how you would lead me into the desert, where you
would support me a time, times, and half a time ; the
wings which were to carry me were the utter abandonment
of myself to your holy will and the love of that same
will. I believe that I am now in the desert, separated from
all the world by my captivity, and I see, 0 my God,
already one part of what you made me know in course of
accomplishment. I wrote all this to Father La Combe, to
whom you united me still more strongly, impressing upon
me in relation to him the same words that you had your
self impressed upon me : "I unite you in faith and in cross."
0 God, you promise nothing in the matter of crosses
that you do not abundantly give. Could I tell, 0 God, the
mercies you showed me ? No, they will remain in yourself,
being of a nature that cannot be described, owing to their
purity and their depth, free from all distinction.
During my illness I was often at the point of death, as
I have said. One day, when they thought me almost well,
at four o'clock in the morning I perceived the Dragon, not

Chap. XIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 33
under any form. I did not see him, but I was certain it
was he. I had no fear, for, as I have said, I could not fear
him, because my Lord protects me, and keeps me safe under
the shadow of his wings. He emerged as if from the place
between the side of my bed and the wall, and gave me a
furious blow on the left foot. I was immediately seized
with a great shivering, which lasted continuously four
hours ; it was followed by a very sharp fever. Convulsions
seized me, and the side on which he had struck was half
dead. The attacks came every morning at the same hour
as the blow, and the convulsions increased in a marked
way every day. On the seventh day, after having been all
the night sometimes without pulse and without speech,
and sometimes a little better, in the morning I felt the
convulsions were coming on. I felt at the same time that
life left the lower parts in proportion as the convulsions
came higher : they fixed themselves in my entrails. I felt
then very great pains, and a movement in my entrails, as
if I had thousands of children, who all moved at the same
time. In my life I have never felt anything approaching
that. This lasted a very long time with extreme violence.
I felt little by little my life was contracting itself round the
heart. Father La Combe gave me the Extreme Unction,
the Prioress of the Ursulines having prayed him to do so,
as they had not their ordinary priest. I was very glad to
die, and he was not troubled at it. It would be difficult
to understand without experience how a union, so close that
there is nothing like it, can bear, without feeling any pain,
a division such as that of seeing a person die to whom one
is so firmly attached; he himself was astonished at it.
But, nevertheless, it is not difficult to conceive that, being
united only in God himself, in a manner so pure and so
intimate, death could not divide us ; on the contrary, it
would have united us still more closely.
It is a thing I have many times experienced, that
the least resistance he made to God caused me to suffer
VOL. II. D

34 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
inexplicable torments ; and to see him die, a prisoner, at a
distance for ever, did not cause me the shadow of pain.
He showed then great contentment at seeing me die, and
we laughed together at the moment which constituted all
my pleasure ; for our union was different from any that
can be imagined. However, death still drew near my
heart, and I felt the convulsions which seized my entrails
mount up there. I can say I have felt death without
dying. The Father, who was on his knees near my bed,
remarked the change in my face, the clouding of my eyes ;
he saw I was on the point of expiring. He asked me.
Where was death and the convulsions ? I made a sign that
they were reaching the heart, and I was about to die. 0
God, you did not want me yet ; you reserved me for far other
pains than those of death, if one can call j)ains what one
suffers in the state in which you have placed me by your
goodness alone. You inspired Father La Combe to place
his hand over the coverlet in the region of my heart, and
with a strong voice, heard by those in the room (which was
almost full), he said to death to pass no furtlier. It obeyed
his voice, and my heart, recovering a little life, came back.
I felt those same convulsions descend again into my
entrails, in the same way as they had mounted up, and
they continued all the day in the entrails with the samo
violence as before, then descended gradually to the placo
where the Dragon had struck, and this foot was the last
revivified. For two months on that side a very great
weakness remained, and even after I was better, and in a
condition to walk, I could not support myself on that foot,
which could hardly bear me. I continued still ill, and in
languor, and you gave me, my God, yet new evidence of
your love. How many times did you make use of your
servant to restore life to me, when I was on the point of
expiring !
As they saw that my ailments did not cease, it was
thought the air of the lake, on which the convent was

Chap. XIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 35
built, was entirely unsuited to me, and was the cause of so
many mishaps. It was settled that I must leave it. While
I was thus ill, our Lord gave Father La Combe the idea of
establishing a hospital in this place, where there was none,
to receive the sick poor, and also of instituting a Congrega
tion of Dames of Charity, to furnish those who could not
quit their family to go to the hospital with the means of
living during their sickness — such as we have in France ;
no institution of the kind being in this country. I readUy
entered into it, and without any capital but providence
and some useless rooms that the authorities of the town
gave, we commenced it. It was dedicated to the Holy
Child Jesus, and he willed to give the first beds there from
the money of my annuity which belonged to him. He gave
such a blessing that many other persons joined. In a little
time there were about twelve beds, and for the service of
this hospital he gave three persons of great piety, who,
without any payment, consecrated themselves to the service
of the sick. I gave them ointments and remedies which
they distributed to rich people, who paid, to the profit of
the sick poor, and to the poor of the town they gave them
without charge. These good Dames are so well disposed
that through their charity, and the care of these nuns, this
hospital is very well maintained. These Dames formed a
union also to provide for the sick who could not go to the
hospital ; and I gave them some little rules I had observed
when in France. They have kept this up with love and
charity. We had also the devotion to cause every twenty-
fifth of the month a service of blessing to be celebrated in
the chapel of the Congregation, which is dedicated to the
Holy Child Jesus ; and for this we gave a complete outfit
to the chapel.
All these trifling things, which cost little, and which
succeeded only in the blessing that you gave them, 0 my
God, drew upon us new persecutions. The Bishop of
Geneva was more offended than ever, and because he saw

36 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
that these little things made me to be loved, he said I
gained over every one. He openly declared that he could
not endure me in his diocese, where, however, I had done
nothing but good, or, rather, you through me. He com
menced even to extend his persecutions to the worthy nuns
who had kindness for me. The Prioress had severe crosses
through me, but they did not last long; for as I was obliged,
owing to the air, to withdraw, after having been there
about two years and a half, they had greater quiet. On
the other hand, my sister was very tired of that House, and
as the time for the mineral waters approached, the occasion
was seized to send her back, together with the maid I
had brought, and who tormented me so much during all
my illness. I kept with me only her whom Providence had
sent me by means of my sister; and I have always believed
that God had permitted her journey merely that she might
bring her to me, God having chosen her for me, as suitable
for the state he wished me to bear.
While I was still ill at the Ursulines, the Bishop of
Verceil, who was a very great friend of the Father General
of the Bernabites, urgently asked him to select among his
monks a man of merit, piety, and doctrine, in whom he
could have confidence, and who might serve him as
theologian and adviser ; that his diocese was in great want
of this help. The General at once cast his eyes on Father
La Combe. This was the more feasible, as his six years
of priorship were coming to an end. The Father General,
before engaging him with the Bishop of Verceil, wrote to
him to know if he would have any objection, assuring him
he would do only what was pleasing to him. Father La
Combe answered that his only wish was to obey him, and
he might give whatever order he pleased. He told me of
this, and that we were about to be entirely separated. I
had no chagrin thereat. I was very well content that our
Lord should make use of him under a Bishop who knew
him, and did him justice. There was still some delay in

Chap. XIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 37
sending him off, as well because the Bishop was still at
Rome, as that the period of the Father's priorship was not
yet completed.
Before leaving the Ursulines, the good hermit, of whom
I have spoken, wrote me that he urgently prayed me to go
to Lausanne, which was only six leagues from Tonon on
the lake, because he still hoped to withdraw his sister, who
lived there, and convert her. One cannot go there and
speak of religion without risk. As soon as I was in a state
to walk, although still very weak, I resolved to go at the
request of the worthy hermit. We took a boat, and I
asked Father La Combe to accompany us. We got there
easily enough ; but as the lake was still a quarter of a
league distant from the town, in spite of my weakness, I
had to summon strength to make the journey on foot. We
could find no carriage. The boatmen supported me as well
as they could, but this was not enough for the state in
which I was. When I reached the town, I did not know if
I had a body ; if it was upon my legs I walked, or on those
of somebody else. I spoke to that woman with Father La
Combe : she had been just married, and we could do nothing
but incur risk ourselves ; for this woman assured us that,
except for her regard for her brother, whose letters we
brought, she would have denounced us as having come to
corrupt the Protestants. We were afterwards near perish
ing on the lake in a dangerous place, where a tempest came
on that would have swallowed us up, had not God protected
us in his usual way. A few days later, in that very spot,
a boat with thirty -three persons perished.

38 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL

CHAPTER XV.
I LEFT then the Ursulines, and a house at a distance from
the lake was sought for me. The only empty one avail
able had every appearance of the utmost poverty. There
was no chimney except in the kitchen, through which we
had to pass to reach the room. I took my daughter with
me, and gave the largest room to her and the maid who
attended her. I was placed in a little hole with some
straw, which we went up to by a wooden ladder. As I had
no furniture but our bedsteads, which were white, I bought
some rush-seated chairs, with plates and dishes of earthen
ware and wood. Never have I tasted such contentment as
I found in this little spot ; it seemed to me so in harmony
with Jesus Christ. I relished everything better on wood
than on silver. I made all my little provisions, thinking
to live there for a long time. But the Devil did not allow
me to enjoy so sweet a peace. It would be difficult to tell
the persecutions I was subjected to. Stones were thrown
through my windows, falling at my feet. I had got the
little garden put in order ; at night people came, tore up
everything, broke the trellis-work, and overturned every
thing, as if soldiers had been through it. All night long
they came to the door and abused me, making a show of
breaking in the door. These persons have since told who
had set them on. Although from time to time I gave in
charity at Gex, I was none the less persecuted. A lettre de

Chap. XV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 39
cachet was offered to a person to compel Father La Combe
to remain at Tonon, in the belief that it would be a support
to me during the persecution ; but we prevented it. I did
not then know God's designs, and that he would soon with
draw me from the place. I can say I have never tasted
an equal pleasure to that in this poor and solitary little
place where I lived ; I was happier than kings. But, 0
my God, it was still a nest for me, and a place of repose,
and you willed I should be like you. The Devil, as I have
said, embittered my persecutors. I was requested to leave
the diocese, and the good which you caused me to do there,
0 my Lord, was more condemned than the greatest crimes :
the latter were tolerated ; they could not endure me.
During all this time I never felt grief or regret at what I
had done in giving up all, nor even a trouble as to not having
done your will ; not that I was assured of having done it —
that assurance would have been too much for me — but I
was so lost that I could neither see nor regard anything,
taking all equally as from the hand of God, who served out
to me these crosses either through justice or mercy. The
Marquise de Prunai, sister of the chief State Secretary and
Minister of His Royal Highness, had sent an express from
Turin during my illness, to invite me to go to her ; that,
being persecuted as I was in this diocese, I should find an
asylum with her ; that meantime things would soften down ;
and when people should be well disposed, she would return
with me, and join me and my friend from Paris, who also
wished to come to work there according to the will of God.
I was not then able to carry out what she desired, and I
made my account to remain at the Ursulines until things
changed. She spoke no more of it. This lady is of the
most extraordinary piety, having quitted the Court for
retirement and to give herself to God. At twenty-two
years of age, with good natural advantages, she remained
a widow, and has refused all offers in order to consecrate
herself to our Lord, whose she is without any reserve.

40 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
When she knew I was obliged to quit the Ursulines, without
knowing the manner in which I was treated, she obtained
a lettre de cachet to oblige Father La Combe to go to Turin,
and spend some weeks for his own business, and to bring
me with him, where I should find a refuge. She did all
this without our knowledge, and, as she has since said, a
superior power made her do it without knowing the cause.
If she had thought on the matter, being so prudent as she
is, she perhaps would not have done it, for the persecutions
the Bishop of Geneva brought on us in that place caused
her many humiliations. Our Lord has permitted him to
pursue me in a surprising manner in all the places where
I have been, without allowing me truce or respite, although
I have never done him any ill ; on the contrary, I would
have given my blood for the good of his diocese.
As this was done without our participation, unhesi
tatingly we believed it was the will of God, and perhaps a
means that he wished to use to withdraw us from disgrace
and persecution, seeing that I was hunted away on the
one side and sought for on the other ; so that it was settled
I should go to Turin, and that Father La Combe should
escort me, and go thence to Verceil. I took in addition,
in order to do things with perfect propriety, and deprive
our enemies of all subject for talk, a monk, a man of
merit, who for fourteen years was teaching theology.
I further took with me a boy I had brought from France,
who had learned the trade of tailor. They hired horses,
and I had a litter for my daughter, my maid, and
myself. But all these precautions are useless when it is
God's pleasure to crucify. Our adversaries wrote at once
to Paris, and they invented a hundred ridiculous stories —
pure fictions, and utterly false — about this journey. It was
Father La Mothe who set all that going — perhaps he
believed it true ; even had it been so, out of charity he,
should have concealed it, but, being as false as it was, he
was still more bound to do this. They said that I had gone

Chap. XV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 41
alone with Father La Combe, running from province to
province, and a thousand malicious fables. We suffered
all in patience without justifying ourselves or complaining.
If things were looked at without passion, could I have done
better under the circumstances ? and was it not honourable,
and even advantageous, according to all rules of propriety,
to be in the house with a lady of that rank and merit ?
Was it not enough to cut short slander ? and when one is
irregular, does one select houses of that character ? But
passion has no eyes, and calumny is a torrent which
carries away everything. Hardly had we arrived at Turin
when the Bishop of Geneva wrote against us. He perse
cuted us by his letters, being unable to do it any other
way. Father La Combe went to Verceil, and I remained at
Turin, in the house of the Marquise de Prunai. What
crosses had I not to endure from my family, the Bishop of
Geneva, the Bernabites, and numberless persons? My
elder son came to see me on the subject of my mother-
in-law's death, which was a very serious addition to
my crosses ; but after we had heard all his reasons — ¦
seeing without me they had sold all the movables, elected
guardians, and settled everything independently of me — I
was quite useless. It was not thought well for me to return,
owing to the severity of the season. You alone, 0 my God,
know what I suffered ; for you did not make me know your
will, and Father La Combe said he had no light to guide
me. You know, my Lord, what this dependence has made
me suffer ; for he, who to every one else was gentle, often
had for me an extreme hardness. You were the author of
aU this, 0 my God; and you willed that he should so
behave in order that I might remain without consolation ;
for those who applied to him he advised very correctly;
but when it was a question of deciding me on any matter,
he could not, telling me he had no light to guide me, that
I must do what I could. The more he said these things to

42 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
me the more I felt myself dependent on him, and unable to
decide. We have been a real cross, the one to the other ;
we have truly experienced that our union was in faith and
in cross, for the more we were crucified, the more were
we united. It is fancied that our union was natural and
human : you know, 0 my God, that we both found in it
only cross, death, and destruction. How often did we say
that if the union had been natural, we should not have
preserved it a moment amidst so many crosses. I avow
that the crosses which have come to me from this quarter
have been the greatest of in.y life. You know the purity,
the innocence, and tbe integrity of that union, and how it
was all founded on you yourself; as you had the goodness
to assure me. My dependence became greater every day ;
for I was like a little child who neither can nor knows how
to do anything. When Father La Combe was where I was
(which was seldom, since my departure from the Ursulines),
I could not exist long without seeing him, as well owing to
the strange ills which overwhelmed me suddenly, and
reduced me to the point of death, as owing to my state of
childhood. When he was absent, I was not troubled at it,
and I had no need. I did not even think of him, and I
had not the slightest desire to see him, for my need was
not in my will, nor in my choice, nor even in any leaning
to him or inclination ; but you were the author of it, and
as you were not contrary to yourself, you gave me no need
of him when you took him away from me.
At the commencement of my stay at Turin, Father La
Combe remained there some time waiting for a letter from
the Bishop of Verceil ; and he availed of the opportunity
to pay a visit to his intimate friend the Bishop of Aosta,
who was acquainted with my family. As he knew the
bitter persecution which the Bishop of Geneva set on foot
against us through the Court at Turin, he made me an
offer to go into his diocese, and he sent me the kindest
letters possible by Father La Combe. He wrote that

Chap. XV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 43
previous to his acquaintance with St. Paulina, St. Jerome
was a saint ; but how was he spoken of afterwards ? He
wished me thereby to understand how Father La Combe
had always passed for a saint before that persecution that
I had innocently brought on him. At the same time he
showed me that he preserved a very great esteem for him.
He even desired, as he was very old, to give up the
Bishopric in his favour. The Marquise de Prunai, who
had so much wished for me, seeing the great crosses and
the abjectness of my state, became disgusted with me : my
childlike simplicity, which was the state God then kept me
in, seemed to her mind stupidity, although in that state
our Lord made me utter oracles ; for when it was a
question of helping any one, or of anything our Lord
wished of me, with the weakness of a child, which appeared
only in the candour, he gave me a divine strength. Her
heart remained closed for me all the time I was there.
Our Lord, however, made me tell what would happen to
them, and which, in fact, has happened, not only to her,
but also to her daughter and the virtuous ecclesiastic who
lived with her. She, nevertheless, towards the end, took
to me with more friendship, and she saw that our Lord
was in me. But it was the self-love and the fear of abject
ness (seeing me so decried), which had shut her heart.
Besides, she believed her state more advanced than it was,
owing to the time she was without trials ; yet she soon
saw by experience that I had told her the truth. She was
obliged for family reasons to quit Turin, and go to her
estate. She strongly urged me to go with her, but the
education of my daughter did not permit me. It was out
of the question to remain at Turin without the Marquise
de Prunai, and the rather, as having lived very retired in
that place, I had made no acquaintances. I knew not
what to do. Father La Combe, as I said, lived at Verceil.
The Bishop of Verceil had written to me most kindly,
strongly urging me to go to Verceil and live near him,,

44 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
promising me his protection and assuring me of his esteem,
adding that he would look upon me as his own sister, that
from the account he had received of me he extremely
desired to have me.
It was his sister, a nun of the Visitation at Turin, a
great friend of mine, who had written to him about me ;
also a French gentleman he knew. But a certain point of
honour prevented me. I did not wish that any one could
say that I had been running after Father La Combe, and
that it was with a view to going there I had come to Turin.
His reputation was also at stake, which would not allow
him to consent to my going there, however strongly the
Bishop of Verceil urged it. If, however, he and I had
believed it was the will of God, we would have got over
all other considerations. God kept us both in such a de
pendence on his orders that he did not let us know them ;
but the divine moment determined everything. This served
much to annihilate Father La Combe, who had very long
walked by certainties. God in his goodness deprived him
of them all, for he willed him to die without reserve.
During all the time I was at Turin our Lord showed
me very great favours, and I found myself every day more
transformed into him, and I had still greater knowledge of
the state of souls, without being mistaken, or deceiving
myself therein, however they might try to persuade me of
the contrary, and though I might myself have used all my
efforts to entertain other thoughts ; which has cost me not
a little. For when I told Father La Combe, or wrote to him
the state of some souls, which appeared to him more perfect
and more advanced than what I was given to know of them,
he attributed it to pride, got very indignant against me,
and even conceived a repugnance to my state. My grief
was not because he esteemed me less — by no means ; for
I was not even in a state to reflect whether he esteemed
me or not — but it was that our Lord did not allow me
to change my thoughts, and he obliged me to tell them

Chap. XV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 45
to him. He could not reconcile — God so permitting it in
order to destroy him more thoroughly, and take from him
every support — he could not, I say, reconcile a miraculous
obedience in a thousand things and a firmness which
seemed to him then extraordinary, and even criminal in
certain things. This made him even distrustful of my
grace : for he was not yet established in his way, and did
not enough understand that it in no way depended on me,
the being of one manner or the other ; and that if I had
had any power, I would have reconciled myself to what he
said, in order to spare myself the crosses which it caused
me ; or at least would have cleverly dissimulated. But I
could do neither the one nor the other ; and though every
thing should perish, I had to tell him matters as our Lord
made me tell them. God has given me in this an
inviolable fidelity to the end, without the crosses and
griefs having made me for one moment fail in this fidelity.
These things, then, which seemed obstinacy to him for
want of light, and which God so permitted to deprive
him of the support he would have found in the grace
that was in me, set him in division from me ; and
although he told me nothing of it, and, on the contrary,
tried with all his power to conceal it, however distant from
me he might be, I could not be ignorant ; for our
Lord made me feel it in a strange way, as if I had
been divided from myself. This I felt with more or less
pain, according as the division was more or less strong ; ¦
but as soon as it diminished or ended, my pain ceased,
and I was set at large, and this at however great a
distance I might be from him. On his side he experienced
that when he was divided from me he was also from God,
and many times he has said and written to me : " When I
am well with God, I am well with you, and as soon as I am
ill with God, I am ill with you." These were his own
words. He experienced that when God received him into
his bosom, it was in uniting him with me, as if he did not '

46 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
want him except in this union. And our Lord made me
very heavily pay for all his infidelities.
While he was at Turin a widow came to him to con
fession. She is a good servant of God, but all in illumina
tion and sensibility. As she was in a state of sensibility she
told him wonders. The Father was delighted, for he felt
the sensible of her grace. I was at the other side of the
confessional. After I had waited a long time, he said one
or two words to me ; then he sent me away, saying he had
just found a soul which was devoted to God ; that it was
truly she who was so ; that he was quite refreshed by her ;
that it would be a long time before he would find this in
me ; that I no longer produced anything in his soul but
death. At first I was glad that he had found such a holy
soul, for I am always, my Lord, greatly rejoiced to see you
glorified. I returned home without giving it any more
attention, but while returning our Lord made me see
clearly the state of that soul, which was in truth very good,
but which was only at the commencement, in a mixture of
affection and a little silence, quite full of the sensible;
that it was owing to this the Father felt sympathetically
her state ; that as for me, in whom our Lord had destroyed
everything, I was very far from being able to communicate
to him the sensible. Moreover, our Lord made me under
stand that, being in him, as I was, without anything of my
own, he communicated to Father La Combe through me
only what he communicated to him directly himself, which
was, death, nakedness, a stripping of everything ; and that
anything else would make him live his self-life and hinder
his death ; that if he stopped at sentiment, it would be
hurtful to his interior. I had to write all this to him. On
receiving my letter, he remarked in it at first a character
of truth, but reflection having succeeded, he judged all I
told him to be only pride, and this caused him some
estrangement from me ; for he had still in his mind the
ordinary rules of humility, conceived and understood in our

Chap. XV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 47
/
manner, and did not see that there could be no other rule
for me but to do the will of my God. I thought no longer
of humility nor of pride, but I let myself be led as a child
who says and does without distinction all he is made to
say or do. I easily understand that all persons who are
not entered into self-annihilation will accuse me of pride in
this, but in my state I cannot give it a thought. I allow
myself to be led where I am led, high or low ; all is for me
equally good.
He wrote to me that at first he had found in my letter
something which seemed to him true, and that he entered
into it, but after having re-read it with attention he had
found it full of pride, obstinacy, and a preference of my
lights to others. I could not give a thought to all this, to
find it in myself, nor, as formerly, to convince myself,
believing it though I did not see it. That was no longer
for me ; I could not reflect on it. If he had thought, he
might have seen that a person who has neither will nor
inclination for anything, is far removed from obstinacy,
and he would have therein recognized God. But our
Lord did not then permit him. I wrote again to him
to prove the truth of what I had advanced ; but this only
served to confirm him in the unfavourable sentiments
he had conceived of me. Pie entered into division. I
knew the moment he had opened my letter, and had
entered into it, and I was thrown into my ordinary suffer
ing. When the maid who went to him with that letter
(and who was the same I have spoken of, whom our Lord
had brought to me) had returned, I told her, and she said
it was precisely at that hour he had read my letter.
Our Lord did not give me any thought of writing to him
again on this subject ; but the following Sunday, when I
went to confess, and was on my knees, he at once asked me
if I still persisted in my sentiments of pride, and if I still
believed the same thing. Up to this I had not made any
reflection either upon what I had thought or what I had

48 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
written to him; but at this moment having done so, it
appeared to me pride, as he told me. I answered, "It is
true, my Father, that I am proud, and that person is more
devoted to God than I." As soon as I had pronounced
these words, I was cast out as if from Paradise to the
depth of Hell. I have never suffered such torment ; I was
beside myself. My face changed suddenly, and I was like
a person about to expire, whose reason is gone. I sank
back. The Father at once perceived it, and was at the
moment enlightened as to the little power I had in these
things, and how I was obliged to say and do without
discernment what the Master made me do. He said to me
at once, "Believe what you before believed. I order you."
As soon as he said this to me I commenced gradually to
breathe and to come to life ; in proportion as he entered
into what I had said to him my soul recovered her freedom,
and I said as I turned away, " Let no one speak to me
again of humility. The ideas people have of the virtues are
not for me ; there is but one single thing for me, which is
to obey my God." A little time after, from her manner of
acting, he recognized that that person^ was very far from
what he had thought. I relate a single example, but I
could give many similar.

Chap. XVL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 49

CHAPTER XVI.
Onk night our Lord made me see in a dream that he wished
also to purify the maid he had given me, and to make her
truly enter upon the death of Self, but that it was necessary
this also should be done through me, and by means of
suffering. I, therefore, had to make up my mind to suffer
for her what I suffered for Father La Combe, although in
a different manner. She has made me suffer inconceivable
torments. As she resisted God much more than he, and
the selfhood was far stronger in her, she had more to
purify; so that I had to suffer martyrdoms that I could not
make conceivable should I tell them : but it is impossible
for me. What augmented my trouble was that Father La
Combe never understood this as long as it lasted, always
attributing it to defect and imperfection on my part. I
bore this torment for that girl three entire years. When
the resistances were strongest, and the Father approved
her, without my knowing it, I entered into torments I can
not tell. I fell sick from it, so I was almost continually
ill. Sometimes I passed whole days upon the ground,
supported against the bedstead, without being able to stir,
and suffering torments so excessive that had I been upon
the rack I think I should not have felt it, so terrible was
the internal pain. When that girl resisted God more
strongly, and came near me, she burned me ; and when
she touched me I felt so strange a pain that material fire
vo L. n. E

50 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
would have been only its shadow. Ordinarily I allowed
myself to burn with inconceivable violence ; at other times
I asked her to withdraw, because I could not any longer
support the pain. She sometimes took this for aversion,
and told Father La Combe, who was angry at it, and
reproved me. However, when herself, she could not judge
altogether in that manner, for our Lord made me con
stantly perform miracles for her. I had absolute power
over her soul and her body. However ill she was, as soon
as I told her to be cured, she was so ; and as to the interior,
as soon as I said to her, "Be at peace," she was so; and
when I had a movement to deliver her to pain, and I
delivered her to it, she entered into an inconceivable pain ;
but almost all her pain it was I bore, with inexpressible
violence. 0 my God, it seems to me you have made me under
stand by my own experience something of what you have
suffered for men ; and it seemed to me, by what I suffered,
that a part of what you have suffered for men would have
consumed ten thousand worlds. It needed no less than the
strength of a God to bear that torment without being
annihilated. Once, when I was ill, and this girl was in her
resistances and her selfhood, she approached me. I felt
so violent a fire that I could not, it seemed to me, bear it
without dying. This fire, it appears to me, is the same as
that of purgatory. I told her to withdraw, owing to what
I suffered. As she thought it was only opposition to her,
she persisted, out of friendliness, in remaining. She took
me by the arms. The violence of the pain was so excessive,
that without paying any attention to what I did, being
altogether beside myself from the excess of pain, I bit my
arm with such force that I almost took out the piece. She
saw the blood and the wound I had caused myself before
perceiving the manner. This made her understand that
there was something extraordinary in it. She informed the
Father, as he was then at Turin, and for some time he had

Chap. XVL] AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 51
not come to see me, because he was in division and in
trouble. He was much surprised at the hurt I had caused
myself : he could not understand what caused me to suffer ;
and I had difficulty to explain myself to him, and make
him know it. In the evening she wished to approach me.
I commanded the pain which I suffered for her to seize
upon her. At once she entered into so strange a pain that
she believed she was about to die, and I was delivered from
it for the moment ; but as she could not bear it, I took it
back away from her, leaving her in peace.
Our Lord made me see in a dream the resistances she
would make to me under the figure of numerous animals
which issued from her body, and he made me feel the pain
of that purification, as if when the animals were drawn
out I was burned M'ith a red-hot iron on the right shoulder.
Those animals appeared to me transparent, so that the
outside looked pure and clear as a glass, and the inside full
of unclean animals ; and I was given to know that she had
passed through the first purification, which is that of the
exterior, and for this reason she had been held a saint in
the world ; but she had not yet been purified radically, and
so far from it, the exterior purification had, as it were,
fortified her self-love, and rendered the selfhood more
dominant in the central depth of her being. I saw
that in j)roportion as I suffered, those animals destroyed
one another; so that at last only one remained,
who devoured all the others. He appeared to have in
himself all the malice of the others, and he struggled
against me in a surprising manner.
It should be known that as soon as this was shown me,
and it was given me to suffer for her, she exteriorly entered
into a state which might have passed for madness. She
was no longer fit to render me any service ; in continual
anger, everything offended her without rhyme or reason —
jealousy of everybody, and a thousand other defects.
Although she exercised me enough for the exterior, all this

52 MADAME GUYON. [Pabt II.
gave me no trouble ; it was only that extreme pain which
made me suffer. She became frightfully awkward, break
ing and destroying everything, not being able to endure
any one. All who saw me served in this way, pitied me,
for she had the disgrace that, whatever eagerness she had
to do well, she did everything ill ; our Lord so permitting
it. If I was ill in a sweat or a shivering fit, she, without
thinking, threw pots of water over me ; if any one, or she
herself, had prepared anything, hoping to give me an
appetite, she threw it in the cinders; if I had anything
useful, she broke or lost it ; and I never said anything to
her, although things went so far that there was reason to
think my income would not suffice for the half year. She
was gi'eatly distressed because I never said anything to her
about what concerned me; for her affection for me was
such that she was more grieved at this than at other faults
which did not affect me, while for me it was the contrary.
I had not the shadow of trouble from this. What I could
not suffer in her was the self-love and the selfhood. I
strongly reproved her for it, and I said to her, "All which
concerns me gives me no trouble, but I feel such a terrible
opposition for your self-love and selfhood, I could not have
greater for the Devil." I saw clearly that the Devil could
not hurt us, but for our self-love and selfhood ; and I had
more aversion and more horror for that self-love and that
selfhood than for all the devils. At the beginning I was
pained at the opposition I had for this girl, whom I other
wise so loved, that it seemed to me I would rather have
sent away my own children than get rid of her. Father
La Combe, not understanding this, reproved me, and made
me suffer much. However, it was not in me from myself,
but from God; and when the Father supported her, it
made me suffer doubly, for I suffered from the infidelity of
the one and the selfhood of the other. Our Lord made me
understand that this was not a defect in me, as I persuaded
myself; that it was because he gave me the discernment

Chap. XVI.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 63
of spirits, and my central depth would reject, or accept,
that which was of him, or was not.
Since that time, although I have not borne the purifica
tion of other souls, as in her case, I nevertheless recognize
them not by any light, nor by what they tell me, but by
the central depth. It is well to say here that one must not
mistake ; and souls which are still in themselves, whatever
degree of light and ardour they may have arrived at, should
not apply this to themselves. They often think they have
this discernment, and it is nothing but the antipathy of
nature. It has been seen that our Lord (as I have told) had
previously destroyed in me all sorts of natural antipathy.
It is necessary that the central depth be annihilated—
that it depend on God alone, and that the soul no longer
possess herself, for these things to be from God. This
lasted three years.
In proportion as this soul was purified the pain
diminished, until our Lord made me know that her state
was about to change, and that he would have the good
ness to harmonize her to me. So it suddenly changed.
Although I suffered such strange torments for the persons
our Lord desired to purify, I did not feel all the perse
cutions from without ; and yet they were very violent.
The Bishop of Geneva wrote to different kinds of persons :
to those who he thought would show his letters to me
he spoke well of me, and in the letters which he thought I
should not see he wrote much evil. Our Lord permitted
that those persons, having mutually shown each other the
letters, were indignant at a procedure so contrary to good
faith. They sent them to me, that I might be on my
guard. I kept them for more than two years; then I
burned them, in order not to do harm to that prelate.
The strongest battery was that he opened through one of
the Ministers, co- Secretary of State, with the brother of
the Marquise de Prunai. Moreover, he took all the trouble
imaginable to render me an object of suspicion, and to decry

54 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
me. For this he used certain Abbes ; and although I did
not go out, and did not show myself, I was well-known from
the unflattering portrait the Bishop made of me. It did not
make as much impression as it would have done had he stood
better with the Court ; but certain letters, which Madame
Royale found after the death of the Prince, which he had
written him against her, made her for her part attach no
weight to what the Bishop of Geneva wrote ; on the con
trary, she sent me friendly messages, and invited me to go
and see her. I went to pay my respects ; she assured me
of her protection, and that she was very glad I was in her
State. Our Lord made me know in a dream that he called me
to aid my neighbour. Of all the mysterious dreams I have
had, there is none made more impression than this, or the
unction of which has lasted longer. It seemed to me that,
being with one of my friends, we were ascending a great
mountain, at the bottom of which was a stormy sea, full
of rocks, which had to be crossed before coming to the
mountain. This mountain was quite covered with cypresses.
When we had ascended it, we found at its top another
mountain, surrounded with hedges, that had a locked door.
We knocked at it ; but my companion went down again, or
remained at the door, for she did not enter with me. The
Master came to open the door, which was immediately
again shut. The Master was no other than the Bridegroom,
who, having taken me by the hand, led me into the wood
of cedars. This mountain was called Mount Lebanon. In
the wood was a room where the Bridegroom led me, and in
the room two beds. I asked him for whom were those two
beds. He answered me, There is one for my mother, and
the other for you, my Bride. In this room there were
animals fierce by nature, and hostile, who lived together
in a wonderful manner — the cat played with the bird, and
there were pheasants that came to caress me ; the wolf and
the lamb lived together. I remembered that prophecy of

Chap. XVL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 55
Isaiah, and the room that is spoken of in Canticles.
Innocence and candour breathed from the whole place. I
perceived in this room a boy of about twelve years of age.
The Bridegroom said to him to go and see if there were any
persons coming home from the shipwreck. His only duty
was to go to the bottom of the mountain to discover if he
could see any one. The Bridegroom, turning to me, said,
" I have chosen you, my Bride, to bring here to you all
who shall have courage enough to pass this terrible sea,
and to be there shipwrecked." The boy came to say he did
not see any one yet returned from the shipwreck. On that
I woke up so penetrated by this dream that its unction
remained with me many days.
My interior state was continually more firm and
immovable, and my mind so clear, that neither distraction
nor thought entered it, save those it pleased our Lord to
put there. My prayer, still the same — not a prayer which
is in me, but in God — very simple, very pure, and very
unalloyed. It is a state, not a prayer, of which I can
tell nothing, owing to its great purity. I do not think
there is anything in the world more simple and more
single. It is a state of which nothing can be said, because
it passes all expression — a state where the creature is so
lost and submerged, that though it be free as to the
exterior, for the interior it has absolutely nothing. There
fore its happiness is unalterable. All is God, and the soul
no longer perceives anything but God. She has no longer
any pretence to perfection, any tendency, any partition,
any union; all is perfected in unity, but in a manner so
free, so easy, so natural, that the soul lives in God and
from God, as easily as the body lives from the air it breathes.
This state is known of God alone, for the exterior of these
souls is very common, and these same souls, which are the
delight of God, and the object of his kindness, are often
the mark for the scorn of creatures.

-n

56 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL

CHAPTER XVII.
While I was still in Savoy God made use of me to draw
to his love a monk of merit, but one who did not even
dream of taking the road to perfection. He sometimes
accompanied Father La Oombe when he used to come to
assist me in my illness, and the thought occurred to me
to ask him from our Lord. The evening that I received the
Extreme Unction he came near my bed. I said to him that
if our Lord had pity on me after my death, he would feel
the effects of it. He felt himself internally so touched as to
weep; he was one of those who were most opposed to Father
La Combe, and he who, without knowing me, had made out
the most stories against me. Quite changed, he returned
home, and could not help wishing to speak to me again,
being extremely moved because he believed I was about to
die. He wept so much that the other monks rallied him
on it. They said to him, " Can anything be more
absurd ? A lady of whom only two days ago you said
a thousand bad things, now that she is about to die, you
weep for her as if she was your mother ! " Nothing could
prevent his weeping, nor take away the desire of again
speaking to me. Our Lord heard his wishes, and I grew
better. I had time to speak to him. He gave himself to
God in an admirable manner, although he was advanced in
age. He changed even as to his natural character, which
was cunning and insincere, and became simple as a child.

Chap. XVII.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 57
He could not call me anything but his mother. He also
acquired confidence in Father La Combe, even making his
general confession to him.
People no longer knew him, and he did not know him
self. For many years he was thus disposed to me. One
day he exhibited more confidence and friendship than
ordinary ; having come a considerable distance expressly
to see me and to open his soul to me, he had had a
fall from his horse, from which he suffered pain, and had
a dangerous swelling, that might be attended by serious
consequences owing to the locality of the hurt. He told
me he felt great pain, and that he was anxious about
the consequences of such a dangerous hurt. I said to
him, "You will never be inconvenienced by it." He
believed, and was entirely cured, without ever since having
felt it. As owing to that he showed me more confidence,
he said to me, like St. Peter — I mean no comparison — •
" Though all the world should renounce you, I will never
renounce you." As soon as he said this, I had a strong
movement that he would renounce me and lose hold
through want of fidelity, and at the same time it seemed
to me that if he sacrificed himself to it and lost the
esteem of himself, and of the strength he believed himself
to have, this would not happen. I said to him, "My
Father, you will renounce me, assuredly you will do it, and
you will lose hold." He was vexed with me for this, con
tinuing to protest the contrary ; that he was not a child,
that no one was more firm and constant than he. The
more he protested, the more I had an inward certainty of
the contrary. I said to him, " My Father, in the name of
God I pray you to sacrifice yourself to him, to renounce
me, and to turn against me for some time, if he permits,"
assuring him that if he did not enter into this disposition
of sacrifice, he would infallibly do it. He never would
submit to this, and became very grieved because, as he
said, I distrusted him. Six months from that he came to

58 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
see me, more affectionate than ever, and said, "You see
how false a prophetess you are, and that I am very far
from renouncing you."
A year after, while I was with Father La Combe, I said
to him, Father N  is certainly changed, for our Lord
has made me feel it. When he gives me any one specially
I must always suffer something. 0 my God, how indeed
true is it that I have brought forth children only with pain !
But also, when they became unfaithful I felt that they
were taken away, and that they were no longer anything
to me ; but for those whom our Lord did not remove from
me, who were only wavering or unfaithful for a time, for
them he made me suffer. I clearly felt that they were
unfaithful, but they were not removed from me, and I
knew that in spite of their infidelities, they would one day
return. When, then, I said to Father La Combe that he
was changed — and I had told him more than a year before
that he would change — he said to me that it was my
imagination. A few days after he received from him a
letter full of friendship, and ho said to mo, " See how ho is
changed." While reading the letter I had again a very
strong certitude that he was changed, and that a remnant
of respect and shame made him continue to write thus,
and that he would yet do so for some time. It happened
exactly ; he continued still for some time forced letters ;
then he ceased to write; and Father La Combe learned
that the fear of losing certain friends had changed him.
There are some for whom our Lord makes me pray, or
makes me take some steps to aid them, and others for
whom it is not even given me to write a letter to strengthen
them. There was one, who was the most violent man in the
world, who kept no measure, and was much more of a
soldier than a monk. As Father La Combe was his
Superior, and tried to gain him both by his words and his
example, he could not endure him ; he even broke out in

Chap. XVIL] AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 59
great passions against him. When he was saying the Mass
in the place where I was, I felt, without knowing him, that
he was not in a good state. One day that I saw him pass
with the chalice, which he held in his hand to go and say
Mass, a great tenderness for him seized upon me, and an
assurance that he was changed. I even knew that he was
a chosen vessel, whom God had chosen in a special manner.
I had to write it to Father La Combe, who sent me word
that this was the falsest idea he had yet seen in me, and
that he knew no man more ill-disposed than that person ;
and he regarded what I had said as the most ridiculous
dream that ever was. He was very much surprised when,
about fom* or five o'clock in the evening, this Father went
to see him in his room, and from the proudest of men,
appeared the most gentle. He asked pardon for all the
annoyance he had caused him, and said to him with tears, "I
am changed, my Father, and I have suffered an utter over
throw which I do not understand." He related to him how
he had seen the Holy Virgin, who had showed him that he
was in a state of damnation, but that she had prayed for
him. Father La Combe at once wrote me that what I
had told him of a certain Father was indeed true, that he
was changed, but changed in a good way, and that he was
full of joy at it. I remained all night on the bare ground
without sleeping a moment, penetrated with the unction of
God's designs for that soul. Some days after, our Lord
again made me know the same thing, with much unction,
and I was again a night without sleeping, quite full of that
sight. I wrote to him the designs which our Lord had for
him, and I gave the letter open to Father La Combe to
give him. He hesitated some time whether he should give
it, not daring so soon to trust him ; but that Father pass
ing by at the moment, he could not prevent himself
giving it to him. Far from ridiculing it, he was much
touched, and resolved to give himself to God utterly. He
has a difficulty in breaking away from all his ties, and

60 MADAME GUYON. [Pabt II.
seems still divided between God and connections which
seem to him innocent, although God gives him many blows
to thoroughly subdue him ; but his resistances do not make
me lose hope of what he will one day do. Before his
change I saw in a dream a number of very beautiful birds
that every one was eagerly hunting and desirous of catch
ing, and I looked at them all without taking any part in it,
and without wishing to catch them. I was very much
astonished to see them all come and give themselves up to
me, without my making any effort to have them. Among
all those who gave themselves up to me, and which were
numerous enough, was one of extraordinary beauty, which
far surpassed all the others. Everybody was eager to
catch that one; after having flown away from all, and
from me also as well as the others, he gave in, and gave
himself up to me, when I did not expect it. There was
one of the others, which, after having come, flew about for
a long time, sometimes giving himself, sometimes with
drawing ; then he gave himself altogether. This last
appeared to me to be the monk of whom I have spoken.
Others withdrew altogether. For two nights I had the
same dream ; but the beautiful bird which had no fellow
is not unknown to me, although he has not yet come.
Whether it be before or after my death that he gives
himself entirely to God, I am assured that it will take
place. While I was with the Marquise de Prunai, undecided
whether I should place my daughter at the Visitation of
Turin, to go with her, or whether I should take some other
step, I was much surprised, when I least expected it, to
see Father La Combe arrive from Verceil, and tell me that
I must return to Paris without a moment's delay. It was
evening. He told me to set out the next morning. I
confess this unexpected news surprised me, without, how
ever, disturbing me in the very least. It was for me a
double sacrifice, to return to a place where I knew I had

Chap. XVIL] AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 61
been so grievously decried, to a family which had nothing
but scorn for me, and had represented my journey (that
necessity alone had forced me to make) as a voluntary
tour caused by the human attachment I had for Father
La Combe; although it was strictly true that provi
dential necessity alone had led me to it. You alone, 0
my God, knew how far we were from such sentiments, and
that we were equally ready never to see each other, should
it be your will, or to see each other continually should that
be your will. 0 God, how little do men comprehend these
things, which you yourself do for your glory, and to be the
source of an infinity of crosses, that were increasing instead
of diminishing. Here, then, was I, without answering a
word, ready to set out together with my daughter and a
maid-servant, without any person to escort me ; for Father
La Combe was resolved not to accompany me, even across
the mountains ; because the Bishop of Geneva had written
everywhere that I had gone to Turin, running after him.
But the Father Provincial, who was a man of quality
of Turin, and who knew the virtue of Father La Oombe,
told him that I must not be allowed to go among those
mountains, especially as I had my daughter with me,
without some one I knew, and that he ordered him to
accompany me. The Father admitted to me that he had
some repugnance, but his duty of obedience and the danger
to which I should have been exposed in going alone, made
him get over his objections. He was to accompany me as
far as Grenoble, and thence return to Turin. I set out
then with the intention of going to Paris to suffer all the
crosses and submit to all the confusion it might please God
to make me suffer.
What made me pass by Grenoble was the wish I had to
spend two or three days with a great servant of God, a
friend of mine. When I was there, Father La Combe and
this lady told me to go no further, and that God wished
to glorify himself in me and through me in that place.

63 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
Father La Combe returned to Verceil, and I let myself be
led by providence, like a child. This worthy Mother at
first took me to a widow, not having found room at the inn,
and I expected to spend only three days there ; but as they
told me to remain at Grenoble, I remained in her house.
I placed my daughter in a convent, and resolved to employ
all this time in giving myself up in solitude to him who is
absolutely master of me. I made no visit in that place, no
more than in any of the other places where I had dwelt ;
but I was very much surprised when, a few days after my
arrival, many persons came to see me, who made profession
of being in an especial manner devoted to God. I at once
became aware of a gift of God, which had been communi
cated to me without my understanding it — namely, the
discernment of spirits, and the giving to each what was
suitable to him. I felt myself suddenly clothed with an
Apostolic state, and I discerned the state of the souls of
the persons who spoke to me, and that with such facility
that they were astonished, and said one to the other that
I gave to each that of which he had need. It was you, 0
my God, who did all these things. They sent each other
to me. It reached such a point that ordinarily from six in
the morning until eight in the evening I was occupied in
speaking of God. People came from all sides, from far and
near — monks, priests, men of the world, girls, women, and
widows — all came, the one after the other, and God gave
me wherewith to satisfy all in an admirable manner, with
out my taking any thought, or paying any attention to it.
Nothing in their interior state, nor what passed in them,
was concealed from me. You made, 0 my God, an infinity
of conquests that you alone know. There was given them
a surprising facility for prayer, and God gave them great
graces and worked marvellous changes. I had a miraculous
authority over the bodies and souls of these persons whom
our Lord sent to me ; their health and their interior state
seemed to be in my hand. The more advanced of those

Chap. XVIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 63
souls found near me that, without speech, there was
communicated to them a grace which they could not
comprehend, nor cease to wonder at. The others found
an unction in my words, and that they operated in them
what I said to them. They had not, said they, ever seen,
or rather, ever experienced anything similar. I saw monks
of different orders, and priests of merit, to whom our Lord
gave very great graces ; and God gave grace to all, with
out exception — at least, to all who came in good faith.
What is surprising is, that I had not a word to say to
those who came to surprise and to spy on me ; and when I
wished to force myself to speak to tbem, besides being
unable, I felt that God did not desire it. Some went away,
saying, " People are mad to go and see that lady : she
cannot speak ; " others treated me as stupid, and I did not
know those persons had come to spy on me. But when
they had gone out, some one came and said to me, " I was
not able to come soon enough to tell you not to speak to
those persons ; they came from So-and-so to spy on you,
and to catch you." I said to them, " Our Lord has been
beforehand with your charity, for I have been unable to
say a word to them."
I felt that what I said came from the fountain-head,
and that I was merely the instrument of him who made
me speak. In the midst of this general applause our Lord
made mo understand what was the Apostolic state with
which he had honoured me, and that to be willing to give
one's self up to aid souls in the purity of his Spirit, was to
expose one's self to cruel persecutions. These very words
were impressed upon me : "To sacrifice yourself to aid your
neighbour is to sacrifice yourself to the gibbet. Those
who now say of thee, ' Blessed be he who cometh in the
name of the Lord,' will soon say, ' Take away ; crucify.' "
One of my friends speaking of the general esteem in which
I was held, I said to her, " Notice what I say to you this
day, that you will hear curses proceed from the same

64 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
mouths which are giving blessings ; " and our Lord made
me understand that it was necessary for me to be con
formable to him in all states, and that if he had always
remained with the Holy Virgin and St. Joseph in an
obscure life, he would never have been crucified ; and when
he wished to crucify any of his servants in an extraordinary
manner, he employed him in the service of his neighbour.
It is certain that all the souls who are thus employed by
God by an Apostolic destination, and who are truly placed
in the Apostolic state, have to suffer extremely. I do not
speak of those who intrude themselves into it, and who,
not being called there by God in a special manner, and
having nothing of the grace of the Apostolate, have also
nothing of the crosses of the Apostolate ; but for those who
give themselves up to God without any reserve, and who
are willing with all their heart to be the plaything of pro
vidence without restriction or reserve — ah, as for those,
they are assuredly a spectacle for God, for angels and for
men: for God, of glory, by the conformity with Jesus
Christ ; for angels, of joy ; and for men, of cruelty and
disgrace.

Chap. XVIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 65

CHAPTER XVIII.
Bbfoee I came to Grenoble, on the road, I went into a
convent of the nuns of the Visitation. Suddenly I was
struck by a picture of Jesus Christ in the garden, with
these words : " Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass ;
however, your will be done." At once I understood that
this was addressed to me, and I sacrificed myself to the
will of God. There I experienced a very extraordinary
thing ; it is, that among so great a number of souls all
good and with grace, and for whom our Lord, through me,
did much, some were given me as simple plants to culti
vate, in whom I did not feel our Lord desired me to take
any interest. I knew their state ; but I did not feel in
myself that absolute authority, and they did not in especial
manner belong to me. Here I understood better the true
maternity. The others were given to me as children, and
for these I always had something to pay, and I had
authority over their souls and their bodies. Of these
children some were faithful, and I knew they would be so,
and they were united with me in charity. Others were
unfaithful, and I knew that of these last some would
never recover from their faithlessness, and they were taken
away from me ; as for others, that it would be merely a
temporary straying. For both the one and the other I
suffered heart-pains that are inconceivable, as if they were
VOL. IL p

66 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
boing drawn out of my heart. These are not those heart-
pains which are called failure or faintness of the heart. It
was a violent pain in the region of the heart, which was
yet spiritual, but so violent that it made me cry out with
all my strength, and reduced me to my bed. In this state
I could not take food, but I had to allow myself to be
devoured by a strange pain. When these same children
left me, and by cowardice, lack of courage to die to them
selves, they gave up everything, they were torn from my
heart with much pain.
It was then I understood that all the predestinated
came forth from the heart of Jesus Christ, and that he
gave birth to them on Calvary in pangs that are incon
ceivable, and it was for this reason he wished his heart to
be opened externally, to show that there was the fountain
whence came forth all the predestinated. 0 heart which has
brought me forth, it will be in thee we shall be received for
ever ! Our Lord, amongst so many who followed him, had
so few true children. It is for that reason he said to his
Father, " I have lost none of those whom thou hast given
me, except the son of perdition," making us thereby see
that he did not lose, not only any of the Apostles, although
they made so many false steps, but even of those whom he
was about to bring forth on Calvary by the opening of his
heart. 0 my Love, I can say that you have made me a
participator in all your mysteries, making me experience
them in an ineffable manner. I was then associated in
this divine maternity in Jesus Christ, and it has been that
which caused me most suffering; for two hours of this
suffering changed me more than several days' continued
fever. I have sometimes so borne these pains as for two or
three days to cry out with all my strength, " The heart ! "
The maid who attended me saw that the ailment was not
natural, but she did not know what caused it. If we could
understand the least of the pangs we have cost Jesus Christ,
we should be in amazement.

Chap. XVIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 67
Amongst the various monks who came to see me, there
was one order which felt more than any other the effects
of grace ; and it was some members of this very order who
had been to a small town where Father La Combe had held
a mission, and by a false zeal troubled all the worthy souls
who had given themselves sincerely to God, tormenting
them inconceivably, burning all their books which spoke of
prayer, refusing absolution to those who used it, throwing
into consternation, and even despair, those who had with
drawn from a criminal life and preserved themselves in
grace by means of prayer, and lived in a perfect manner.
Those monks proceeded to such excess in their indiscreet
zeal that they caused a sedition in the town, and in the
open street they had a respectable and meritorious Father
of the Oratory beaten with sticks, because he used prayer
at evening, and on Sundays made a short and fervent
prayer, which insensibly accustomed those good souls to
use prayer.
I have never in my life had so much consolation
as in seeing in that little town so many good souls who
vied with each other in giving themselves to God with their
whole heart. There were young girls of twelve and thirteen
years of age, who worked all day in silence in order to
converse with God, and who had acquired a great habit of
it. As they were poor girls, they joined in couples ; and
those who knew how to read, read out something to those
who could not read. It was a revival of the innocence of
the early Christians. There was a poor washerwoman,
who had five children and a husband paralysed in the right
arm, but more halt in his spirit than in his body : he had
no strength except to beat her. Nevertheless, this poor
woman, with the sweetness of an angel, endured it all, and
gained subsistence for that man and her five children.
This woman had a wonderful gift of prayer, preserving the
presence of God and equanimity in the greatest miseries
and the most extreme poverty. There was also the wife

68 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
of a shopkeeper greatly influenced by God, and the wife
of a locksmith. They were three friends. Both of them
sometimes read for that washerwoman, and they were
surprised how she was instructed by our Lord in all they
read for her, and how she spoke of it divinely. These
monks sent for this woman, and threatened her if she would
not give up prayer, saying it was only for monks, and that
she was very audacious to use prayer. She answered them —
or, rather, he who taught her, for she was in herself very
ignorant — that our Lord had told all to pray ; and that he
had said, " I say unto you all," not specifying either priests
or monks ; that without prayer she could never support the
crosses, nor the poverty she was in ; that she had formerly
been without prayer, and she was a demon ; and that since
she used it, she had loved God with all her heart ; and
therefore to give up prayer was to renounce her salvation,
which she never could do. She added, let them take
twenty persons who have never used prayer, and twenty of
of those who use it; then, said she, make yourselves
acquainted with their lives, and you will see if you have
reason in condemning prayer. Such words as those from
a woman of that condition ought to have convinced them ;
they only served to embitter them. They assured her she
should not have absolution unless sho promised to givo up
prayer. She said it did not depend on her, and that our
Lord was the Master to communicate himself to his
creature, and to do what pleased him. They refused her
absolution; and after having gone so far as to abuse a
worthy tailor, who served God with all his heart, they had
brought to them all the books which treated of prayer,
without any exception, and themselves burned them in the
public place. They were greatly puffed up with their
expedition; but the town rose up because of the blows
given to the Father of the Oratory ; and the principal men
went to the Bishop of Geneva, to tell him the scandal
created by these new missionaries, so different from the

Chap. XVIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 69
others, alluding to Father La Combe, who had on another
occasion been there on a mission ; and it was said that the
only object of sending these last was to destroy the work
he had done. The Bishop of Geneva was obliged himself
to come to that town, and to get into the pulpit, protesting
that he had no part in it — that the Fathers had pushed
their zeal too far. The monks, on the other hand, said
that they had done everything under orders. There were
also at Tonon girls who had withdrawn together into
retirement ; they were poor village girls, who, in order the
better to gain their subsistence and serve God, had several
in number joined together. There was one who read from
time to time, while the others worked; and they never
went out without asking leave to go out from the senior.
They made ribbons ; they spun and gained a livelihood,
each in her own trade : the strong supported the weak.
These poor girls were separated, and others also, and dis
persed among several villages ; they drove them away from
the Church. It was, then, monks of this same order of
whom our Lord made use to establish prayer in I know
not how many places, and they carried a hundred times
more books on prayer into the places where they went
than their brothers had burnt. God appears to me won
derful in these things. I had then opportunity of knowing
these monks in the way which I am about to tell.
One day that I was ill a friar, who is well versed in
the treatment of sick persons, came begging, and having
learnt I was ill, came in. Our Lord made use of him to
give me the proper remedies for my illness, and permitted
that we entered into a conversation, which woke up in him
the love which he had for God, and which was, according
to him, stifled by his important occupations. I made him
understand that there is no occupation which could hinder
him from loving God, or thinking of him. He had no
trouble in believing me, having already much piety and
disposition for spiritual religion. Our Lord showed him

70 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
great grace, and gave him to me as one of my true children.
What is admirable is, that all those whom our Lord has
given me in this way, I felt that he accepted them in me to
be my children ; for it is he who accepts them, and who
gives them. I only bring them forth upon the cross, as he
has brought forth all the predestinated on the cross ; and
it is further in this sense that he makes me " fill up what
remains wanting of his passion," which is the application
of the divine filiation. 0 goodness of a God, to associate
poor petty creatures in such great mysteries !
When our Lord gives me some children of this kind, he
gives them, without my having ever exhibited anything of
this, very great inclination for me ; and without themselves
knowing why or how, they cannot help calling me their
mother — a thing which has happened to many persons
of merit, priests, monks, pious girls, and even to an
ecclesiastical dignitary, who all, without my having ever
spoken to them, regard me as their mother — and our Lord
has had the goodness to accept them in me, and to give
them the same graces as if I was in the habit of seeing
them. One day a person who was in a very trying state,
and in manifest danger, without thinking what she did,
cried aloud, "My mother, my mother ! " thinking of me.
She was at once delivered, with a fresh certainty that I was
her mother, and that our Lord would have the goodness to
succour her in all her needs through me. Many whom I
knew only by letters, have seen me in dreams answer all
their difficulties, and those who are more spiritual took
part in the conversation, or intimate union of unity; but
these last are few in number, who at a distance have no
need for letters nor for discourses to understand; the
others are interiorly nourished from the grace which our
Lord abundantly communicates to them through me,
feeling themselves filled from that outflow of grace.
For when our Lord honours a soul with spiritual
fecundity, and associates her in his maternity, he gives her

Chap. XVIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 71
what is necessary to nourish and sustain her children
according to their degree. It is in this way that, willing
to bring forth all the predestinated, he gives them his flesh
to eat. It is for this reason those who eat his flesh and
drink his blood dwell in him and he in them, and they
are thereby made his children ; but those who do not eat
the flesh cannot be his children, because they are not
associated in the divine filiation, the new bond of which is
effected in his blood, at least, unless by their conversion at
death the efficacy of that blood be applied to them. It is
true that to the holy Anchorites the Word communicated
himself from the centre, and gave them through the
central depth the food of angels, which is no other than
himself as Word, although they may have been unable to
eat his flesh with the bodily mouth.
I say, then, that when Jesus Christ associates any one
in spiritual maternity he provides a means of com
municating himself ; and it is this communication of pure
spirit which forms the nourishment and essential support
of souls, but a sustenance which they taste, and which they
find by experience to be all they need. I know that I shall
not be understood, for only experience can make this in
telligible. I was sometimes so full of these pm-e and
divine communications, which flow out from "that fountain
of living water which shall spring up to eternal life,"
mentioned by St. John the Evangelist, that I used to say,
" 0 Lord, give me hearts on whom I may discharge from
my abundance, otherwise I must die," for these outflowings
from the Divinity into the centre of my soul were some
times so powerful that they reacted even on the body, so
that I was ill from it. When some of those whom our
Lord had given me as children approached, or he gave me
new ones in whom grace was already strong, I felt myself
gradually relieved, and they experienced in themselves an
inconceivable plenitude of grace and a greater gift of
prayer, which was communicated to them according to

72 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
their degrees ; and it surprised them much at the commence
ment, but afterwards by their experience they understood
this mystery, and they felt a great need of me ; and when
necessity separated me from them, or — as I have said — I
was unacquainted with them, from not having seen them,
things were communicated to them from a distance.

Chap. XIX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 73

CHAPTER XIX.
There were some worthy girls here who were specially
given to me, in particular one, and over her I had great
power, both over her soul and her body, to establish her
health. At the commencement, when this girl came to
me, she felt a great attraction to come, and our Lord gave
her through me all she had need of ; but as soon as she
was at a distance, the Devil excited in her mind a frightful
aversion to me, so that when it was necessary for her to
come and see me, it was with repugnance and terrible
efforts that she did it, and sometimes when half way she
turned back through faithlessness, not having the courage
to continue ; but as soon as she was faithful to persist
she was delivered from her trouble. When she came near
me it all vanished, and with me she experienced that
abundance of grace which has been brought to us by Jesus
Christ. It was a soul greatly influenced by God from her
childhood, to whom our Lord had given much grace, and
whom he had led with great gentleness. One day she was
with me I had a movement to tell her she was about to
enter on a serious trial. She entered on it the next day
in a very violent manner. The Devil put into her mind
a terrible aversion to me. She loved me by grace, and
hated me through the impression, which in a strange
manner the Devil made on her ; but as soon as she came
near me he fled, and left her in quiet. He put into her

74 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
mind that I was a sorceress, and that it was by this
means I drove off the devils, and that I told her what was
about to happen, in consequence of which things hap
pened as I had told them to her. She had a continual
vomiting, and when I told her not to vomit, and to retain the
food, she retained it. One day before entering on the trial
which I shall tell, she came to see me in the morning
(because it was vaj fete), intending to come to Mass with
me, and to communicate. She could hardly speak to me,
such was her then aversion for me, and the Devil did
not wish her to tell it, lest I should drive him off. He
closed her mouth, and put into her mind that all I said
or did was by sorcery. As she did not say a word, I knew
her trouble, and I told it to her. She acknowledged it.
When I was in the church I said to her : If it is through
the Devil I act upon you, I give him the power to torment
you; but if it is another spirit who possesses me, I will
that during the Mass you participate in that spirit. The
little time we were there before they commenced the Mass,
the Devil made use of his interval, and more forcibly im
pressed on her that I was a sorceress, and it was this which
made me act, and that she saw how she was worse since
I had said that to her. While she was in the crisis of her
pain, and an aversion to me that amounted to rage, the
Mass commenced. As soon as the priest made the sign
of the cross, she entered into a heavenly peace, and so
great a union with God, that she knew not whether she
was on earth, or in heaven. We communicated in the
same manner, and she was saying to herself during this
time, " Oh, how certain I am it is God who moves and leads
her ! " After the Mass was over, she said to me, " 0 my
mother, how have I felt what God is in you ! I have been
in Paradise." These are her words. But as I had only
said " until after Mass," the Devil came to attack her with
more rage than before.
The greatest mischief he did was hindering her froin

Chap. XIX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 75
telling me her state, for although our Lord made me well
enough acquainted with it, he yet wished her to tell it to
me. She was very ill ; she thought she had an abscess,
and the faints she fell into, joined to a pain of the head,
made the doctor think so. She believed that when I
touched the place on her side the abscess broke ; but
our Lord gave me no knowledge that it was so. I said
nothing to her about it, and I have not attached faith to it,
although she tried to persuade me ; but what is certain is
that our Lord made use of me many times to cure her.
The Devil attacked her violently, and not being content
alone, he took as allies a fine gang, and caused her much
trouble. I drove him away when I had the movement for it,
or I handed her over as I had done before, according as
our Lord inspired me ; but always as soon as she approached
me and kept herself in silence to receive grace, he left
her in repose. In my absence he thought he would be
revenged to his full ; as many as sixteen of them came to
torment her. She wrote it to me. I told her when they
came to torment her more violently, to threaten them
that she would write to me. They left her for moments.
Then I forbade them for a time to approach her, and
when they presented themselves at a distance she _ said
to them, " My mother has told me that you should leave
me in quiet until she permits it." They did not approach
her. At last I forbade them once for all, and they left
her in quiet. She was faithless to God, and practised on
me evasions and deceptions, which only came from self-
love. I at once felt it, and that my central depth rejected
her, not that she ceased for that to be among the number
of my children ; but it is that our Lord could not endure
her deception or her duplicity. The more she concealed
things, the more our Lord made me know them, and the
more he rejected her from my central depth.
I saw, or rather, I experienced therein, how God rejects
the sinner from his bosom, and especially those who act with

76 MADAME GUYON. [Pabt IL
concealment and deceit; that it is not God who rejects
them, by a volition of rejecting them, or by hatred, but by
necessity, owing to their sin ; that in God the unchange-
ableness of love is entire for the sinner, so that as all the
cause of that rejection is in the sinner, God cannot receive
him into himself or into his grace until the cause of this
rejection cease. Now, this cause does not subsist in the
effect of the sin, but in the will and inclination of the
sinner; so that as soon as this will and inclination
ceases on the side of the sinner, however foul and horrible
he may be, God purifies him by his charity and his love,
and receives him into his grace ; but as long as there
remains in the man the will of sin, although from power-
lessness or lack of opportunity he does not commit the sin
he wills, it is certain he would be rejected from God, owing
to this perverse will. It must be understood that the rejec
tion does not come from a will in God to reject this sinner,
"for his will is that all should be saved," and that they
should be received into him, who is their Origin and their
End; but the indisposition which the sinner contracts,
which is entirely opposed to God, and which he cannot,
God though he be, receive into himself without destroying
himself, causes a necessary rejection on the part of God of
that sinner, who returns into his proper place (which is
no other than God) as soon as the cause of this rejection
ceases. It is for this reason the Scripture says, "Turn
unto me, I will return unto you ; " cease to will that sin
which obliges me, in spite of my love, to reject you, and I
will return to you, to take you, and draw you to me, far
from rejecting you.
When this sinner is rejected by God, as I have said,
because the matter of his rejection subsists, he can never
be admitted into grace until the cause ceases, which is in
the will to sin. However disorderly and however abomin
able the sinner may have been, he ceases to be a sinner as
soon as he ceases to will to be so : for all rebellion is in

Chap. XIX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 77
the will. This rebellious will causes all the incongruity, and
hinders God from acting on this sinner ; but as soon as
the sinner ceases to be rebellious, in ceasing to will sin,
God by an infinite goodness incessantly works to purify
him from the filth and the consequences of the sin, in
order to make him fit to be received into himself. If all
the life of this sinner pass in falling and getting up again,
all the operation of God on this same sinner during all his
life will be to purify him from the fresh stains which he
contracts, and nothing will be done for his perfection.
But if this sinner dies during the time that his will is
rebellious, and turned towards sin, as death fixes for ever
the disposition of the soul, and the cause of his impurity
is still subsisting, this soul can never be purified by the
charity of God, and can consequently never be received
into him ; so that his rejection is eternal. And this re
jection is the pain of damnation, for this soul necessarily
tends to her Centre, owing to her nature, and is continually
rejected from it, owing to her impurity subsisting in the
cause, and not merely in the effect. For if it subsisted
only in the effect, as I shall immediately tell, it would be
purified ; but her sin being still subsisting in the cause,
which is the rebellious will, it is utterly impossible for
God to purify the sinner after his death ; because he can
only purify the effect and not the cause, as long as it
subsists. Now, as it is rendered subsisting and immortal
by the death of the sinner, it is of necessity that the sinner
should be eternally rejected, owing to the absolute oppo
sition there is between essential purity and essential
impurity. No ; God, all God though he be, cannot admit
a sinner into his grace as long as his sin subsists in the
cause, which is rebellion to God, because he cannot ever be
purified as long as the cause subsists. It is the same
in this life. But as soon as the cause is removed, and
no longer subsists, the sin is no longer subsisting, but in
its effect, and thus this sinner can be purified, and God

78 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
works at this from the moment the cause no longer sub
sists, for that cause absolutely hinders God from working,
the sinner being then in actual revolt.
But if this sinner dies penitent — that is to say, that the
cause, which is the will to sin, is removed, and only the
effect remains, which is the impurity caused by sin —
however horrible and filthy the sinner may be, he ceases
to be a sinner, although he does not cease to be filthy. He
is then in a state to be purified. God, by an infinite charity,
has provided a bath of love and justice, but a painful bath,
to purify this soul, and that bath is Purgatory, which is
not in itself painful, yet is so in the cause of the pain,
which is impurity. Were this cause removed, which is
nothing else than sin in its effect, the soul, being quite
purified, would suffer nothing in that place of love. Now,
God rejects from his grace the cause of the sin, that is
the rebellious will, and he rejects from himself the damned
owing to his impurity, which causes that not only can he
not be received into God, but he cannot be received into
his grace, owing to the rebellion of the will, entirely
opposed to grace. It is not the same with the soul in
Purgatory, who, having no longer the cause of sin, that
is, the rebellion, is admitted into the grace of God, but she
cannot for that be received into God until all impurity,
the effect of sin, is removed ; so that the pain of damnation
and of the senses both proceed from her impurity and incon
gruity; as soon, however, as all impurity is removed, accord
ing as it pleases God to give a degree of glory to this soul,
then she ceases to be rejected from God, and to suffer.
There are, however, souls who die so pure that they do not
suffer the pain of the senses, only some retardation. I
have explained it elsewhere, therefore will not say any
thing of it here.
Now, I say that in this life it is quite the same ; souls
are received into grace as soon as the cause of sin ceases,
but they are not received into God until all effect of sin is

Chap. XIX.] AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 79
purified. If one continually defiles himself, or also, if being
defiled, one has not the courage to allow himself to be
purified by God as much as he wishes, one never enters
into God in this life. Those souls who have not the
courage to allow God to act are not thoroughly purified
in this life, because these purifications are effected only by
Ipain and overthrow, and this it is which makes many holy
knd wonderful souls still need Purgatory ; for it must be
known there are in us two things which need purifying :
the effect of sin, and the cause of sin. I have said that
those who die have subsisting in them only that which is
there at their death. If they die in grace, their will not
being rebellious, they no longer have the cause of sin, and
cannot have it, since their will remains fixed in good. It
is not the same on earth with a man who is not confirmed
in charity; for, not being in the immovable, he can
always change, and his will may rebel until it dies and
passes into that which renders it immovable. It is,
therefore, necessary on the earth for God to purify not
only the impurity and the remains of sin, but also the
cause in its source, which is that root of sin, that
leaven, that ferment, which may always give birth to it,
and render our will rebellious, and consequentlj' make us
fall from grace, that is, the SELFHOOD. And herein is
that radical purification of our nature, ever disposed to
revolt, which God desires to purify in this life, and which
he effectively purifies in the souls, that he wills not only
to receive into his grace, but into himself. He purifies
them not merely from the effect of sin, but from the
radical cause, from that leaven, from that ferment, which
always may make the will revolt ; and this is effected only
by the death of the soul through her annihilation, which
is attended by extreme pains, and by the loss of all. It is
for this reason that an extraordinary courage is needed to
pass into God in this life, and to be annihilated to the
necessary point, losing all that is "oivn." Therefore the

80 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
souls truly "transformed into him," as St. Paul says,
who are transformed, not merely in grace, but into him
self, are more rare than I can tell.
To return to my subject. I say, this girl was rejected
from my central depth ; the cause was subsisting in her,
not in my will. I experienced that she was still held to
me by a certain bond, as the sinner to hia God, which
renders it possible for him always to be received into him
in this life, as soon as the cause of the rejection ends.
God incessantly solicits that will to cease to be rebellious,
and he spares nothing on his side, but it is free ; yet grace
never fails, for as soon as the will ceases to rebel, it
finds grace at its door, quite ready to give itself. Oh, if
people conceived the goodness of God, and the wickedness
of the sinner, they would be surprised, and it should make
us die of love. I felt then how this girl, and many other
souls, were bound to me by a link of filiation, but I could
no longer communicate myself to this girl as I did before,
owing to the want of simplicity, which was not in fleeting
matters, but in her will to dissemble, and that it was
impossible for that flow of grace to take place until
this subsisting voluntary dissimulation was destroyed. I
said to her what I could, but she dissimulated afresh to
conceal her dissimulation, so that this caused God to
reject her still more in me, and she became more opposed
to me ; not that I ceased to love her, for I knew well that
I loved her, but it was she who caused her rejection, which
could be ended only by her. 0 God, how admirable are you,
to be willing to give petty creatures the knowledge by
experience of your most profound secrets ! What I ex
perienced with this girl I have experienced with many
souls : I have given this as an example. Father La
Combe was not yet in a state to discern these things, and
I could not explain them to him, except by saying that
this person was artful and dissembling ; but he took it in
the sense of virtues, with which I had no longer anything

Chap. XIX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 81
to do, and he told me I formed rash judgments. I did
not even understand what was a rash judgment — all that
was far removed from my mind ; and I remember that once,
when I was in Piedmont, he wanted to make me confess it.
I did so because he told me, and thereby suffered in
conceivable torments; for our Lord was angry because
they regarded that in me as a defect, in place of regarding
it in him, the Supreme Truth, who judges things not as
man judges, but who sees them as they are. Father La
Combe made me suffer much in regard to this person ; he
was, however, himself enlightened, our Lord making him
see falsities and manifest duplicity. Before my arrival at
Grenoble, the lady, my friend, saw in a dream that our
Lord gave me an infinity of children : they were all children
and small, clothed in the same way, bearing on their dresses
the marks of their candour and innocence. She thought
I was coming there to take charge of the children of the
Hospital, for the meaning was not given to her; but as
soon as she related it to me, I understood it was not this ;
that our Lord by spiritual fecundity meant to give me
a great number of children, that they would be my true
children only by simplicity and candour, and that he
would draw them through me into innocence. Therefore
there is nothing I have so much opposition to as trickery
and duplicity. I have wandered far from what I com
menced ; but I am not my own mistress.

VOL. II.

82 MADAME GUYON. [Part FP

CHAPTER XX.
This worthy friar of whom I have spoken, and who had
already previously received from God sufficient grace to
dispose him to spiritual views, though for want of help
and, perhaps, of faithfulness, he had not advanced — this
good friar, I say, felt himself led to open his heart to me
like a child. Our Lord gave me all that was necessary for
him, so that, not being able to doubt the impression of his
grace, he said to me, without knowing what he was saying,
" You are my true mother." From that time our Lord
had the goodness to show him much mercy through this
petty nothing, and I felt indeed that he was my son, and
one of the most united and faithful. Whenever he came
to see me, our Lord showed him fresh mercies, and he
used to go away full, strengthened, encouraged to die
really to himself, and certified of the power of God in me,
which he experienced with his dependence. Our Lord
gradually taught him to speak in silence, and to receive
grace without the intervention of words ; but this took
effect in him only in proportion as he died to himself.
Our Lord had promised that where several should be
assembled in his name, he would be in the midst of them.
It is in this way the promise takes effect very really. As
he was already far advanced in prayer, and was only
arrested and retarded, he was soon re-established.
In proportion as his soul advanced so as to be able to

Chap. XX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 83
remain in silence before God, and the Word operated in
him in this silence — which is fruitful and full, not a mere
indolence, as those who have not experienced it imagine —
he increased in grace and prayer. 0 immediate speech,
ineffable speech, who say everything without articulating
anything, who are the expression of what you say ! He
who has not experienced you knows nothing, however wise
he may think himself. It is in you is the source of all
knowledge, and when you are in plenitude in a soul, what
is she ignorant of? In proportion, then, as the Word
communicated himself to him in silence ineffable, it was
given him in silence to communicate with me, and to re
ceive through me in silence the operations of the Divine
Word — operations which he could not be ignorant of, for
the plenitude became in him more abundant ; like a sluice
opened up which profusely discharges itself, and that with
such force and such grace in well-disposed souls, that a
river does not run with greater impetuosity. But, alas,
how few souls there are pure enough for it to pass thus in
them ! This plenitude which he continually received,
emptied him more of himself, and put him into a state of
greater silence before God and profounder death and
separation from all things. The more he died to every
thing, the more he was inclined towards God and towards
me. 0 my God, I understood so well that it is in this
manner you communicate yourself profusely to those souls,
who are entirely yours ; it is in these souls that your
grace flows as a river, and it is in them that you become
a " spring of water springing up unto life eternal," and
that with such abundance that there is enough to fill an
infinity of hearts, each according to his degree, without
ceasing to be full. It was that plenitude, great and
unrivalled, with which the angel saluted the Holy Virgin.
She was in such perfect plenitude that she flowed out and
will flow out eternally into all the saints as their Hierarchic
Queen, and it is in this sense that all the graces which

84 MADAME GUYON. [Pabt H.
God gives men pass all through Mary. What abundance
do not you experience, you who communicate to all, and
who are the first receptacle, who, overflowing from your
plenitude, furnish to other souls all that is needed for
them! 0 wonderful Hierarchy, which commences in this life
to continue through all eternity ! Yes, there is a Hierarchy
among the Saints as among the angels, and those who
shall have served as a channel in their plenitude to water
other souls will so serve through all eternity in Hierarchic
manner. And it is in this sense that the divine Eve is mother
of all living, since there will be an outflow from her
plenitude into the souls of all those who will live by grace,
greater or less, according as the hearts are more disposed,
more extended and dilated to receive from that plenitude
and superabundance. It needs a great largeness and
extent of soul to receive much and enough to give to others.
Those who are dead through sin receive nothing from this
plenitude of life, and that is the reason they are dead;
because all the passages by which life might flow into them
are stopped ; but for souls living in charity, they all receive
of that plenitude, more or less according as they are more
or less disposed by purity and largeness of soul. The good
friar then received in this way, as well as many others of my
spiritual children ; for what I say of him, I say of many
others, but I give him as an example. He was also given
the means of aiding other souls, not in silence, but by
words; for as to the communication in silence, those who are
in a state to receive are not thereby in a state to com
municate : there is a long road to travel before. Father
La Combe communicated and received, as I have said ; but
as for the others, they received without communicating.
This same worthy friar had occasion to bring to me some
of his companions, and God took them all for himself.
Not that they were my children, as he was ; they were only

Chap. XX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 85
conquests. And it was at the very time God was giving
me these worthy monks, that the other monks of the same
order were committing the ravages of which I have
spoken, and endeavouring to destroy spiritual religion. I
marvelled how our Lord compensated himself on these
worthy monks — in pouring out his Spirit upon them with
fulness — for what the others tried to make him lose,
but without much effect ; for those other good souls which
were persecuted were strengthened by the persecution,
instead of being shaken. The Superior and the master of
the novices of the House where this worthy friar was
declared against me without knowing me, and were vexed
that a woman, they said, should be so sought after. As
they regarded things in themselves and not in God, who
does what he pleases, they had only scorn for the gift
which was contained in so miserable a vessel, in place of
esteeming only God and his grace, without regard to the
baseness of the subject in which he pours it out. This
worthy friar contrived that his Superior came to thank me
for the charities, he said, that I gave them. Our Lord
permitted that he found in my conversation something
which pleased him. At last he was completely gained
over, and it was he who, being made Visitor some time
afterwards, distributed so great a quantity of those books,
which they, out of extreme charity, purchased at their
expense, and which the others had tried to destroy by
causing them even to be burnt. How admirable are you,
0 my God, in your conduct, all wise and all loving, and
how well you know how to triumph over the false wisdom
of men and over all their precautions !
In the Noviciate there were several novices. He who
was the senior of them was so disgusted with his vocation
that he did not know what to do. The temptation was
Buch that he could neither read, nor study, nor pray, nor
perform almost any of his duties. The begging friar, one
day that he acted as his companion, had a movement to

86 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
bring him to me. We talked a little together, and our
Lord made me discover the cause of his trouble and the
remedy. I told it to him, and he set himself to pray,
but a prayer of affection. He suddenly changed, and
our Lord gave him great grace. In proportion as I spoke
to him, an effect of grace was produced in his heart, and
his soul opened herself like a parched land to the dew.
He felt he was changed and freed from his trouble before
leaving the room. He performed at once with joy, and
even to perfection, all his exercises, which previously he
performed with disgust, or did not perform at all. He
studied and prayed with ease, and discharged all his
duties, so that he no longer knew himself, nor did the
others. But what astonished him more was a germ of
life which had remained with him, and a gift of prayer.
He saw that there was given to him without trouble what
previously he could not have, whatever trouble he took ;
and that vivifying germ was the principle which made him
act, and gave him grace for his occupations and a root of
God's presence, which brought with it all good. He
gradually brought to me all the novices, who all felt the
effects of grace, but differently and according to their
degree; so that never did Noviciate appear more flourishing.
The Father, who was master, and the Superior, could
not help wondering at so great a change in their novices,
although they did not penetrate the cause ; and one day
as they spoke of it to the begging friar, and said to him —
for they had him in- great esteem, being men of merit and
virtue — that they were surprised by the change in the
novices, and the blessing that the Lord had given to their
Noviciate, he said to them, "My Fathers, if you permit
me, I will tell you the cause. It is that lady, against
whom you cried out so strongly without knowing her,
of whom God has made use for this." They were very
much surprised, and that Father, although very aged,
had the humility, as well as his Guardian, to use prayer

Chap. XX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 87
in the way taught in a little book which our Lord had
made me compose, and of which I shall speak immediately.
They so much profited by it that the Guardian said, " I am
a new man. I could not pray because my reasoning was
dulled and exhausted, and now I do it without trouble as
much as I wish, with much fruit and a quite different
presence of God." The other Father said to him, " For forty
years I am a monk, and I can say that I have never known
how to pray, nor known and tasted God until this time."
As my true children I had only the first of the novices
of whom I have spoken, the begging friar, and another
Father, nephew of the begging friar. There were many
others won for God in a special manner. I saw clearly
that they were gained, but I did not feel in their case
that maternity and that inward flowing out of which I
have spoken, although they were, however, our Lord's
through my means. I do not know if I can make myself
understood. Our Lord gave me a very great number of children,
and three famous monks, from an order by which I have
been, and am still, much persecuted. These are very
closely bound to me, especially one. He made me help
a great number of nuns and virtuous girls, and even men
of the world, among others a young man of rank, who has
given himself to God, and is his in a very special manner.
He is a man very spiritually minded, and who, while
married, is very holy. Our Lord sent me also an Abbe
of rank, who had left the Order of Malta, to take up that
of the priesthood. He was relative of a Bishop of that
neighbourhood, who had plans for him. Our Lord gave
him great grace, and he is very faithful to prayer. I could
not write the great number of souls then given to me
— maids and wives, monks and priests ; but there were
three cures, and one canon, who were more especially
given to me, and a grand vicar. There was also a priest
who was given to me very intimately, for whom I suffered

88 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
much ; but as he was not willing to die to himself, and too
much loved himself, he was entirely torn away from me,
and I suffered terribly. I suffered before he was torn from
me, and I knew by my suffering that he was about to
be torn from me, and to fall. As for the others, some
remained unshaken, and others were a little shaken by
the tempest, but they are not torn away : although these
stray, they still return ; but those who are torn away never
return. Among the great number of persons whom our Lord
caused me to aid, and who all entered on the way of
spirituality, and gave themselves particularly to God, there
were some who were given to me as true daughters,
and all recognized me as their mother, and of these last
some were in a state to remain in silence : but that was
rare. There was one whom our Lord made use of to gain
many others to him. She was in a strange state of death
when I saw her. Our Lord gave her peace and life. She
afterwards fell sick to death, and although the doctors
said she would die, I had a certainty to the contrary, and
that God would make use of her, as he did, to gain souls.
There was in a convent a girl whom people without light
had caused to be confined because she was in trouble. I
saw her ; I understood her distress, and that she was not
what she was thought to be. As soon as I had spoken to
her she was restored ; but the Prioress was displeased at
my telling her my thoughts, because the person who for
want of light had reduced her to that state was her own
friend. So that they tormented her more than before, and
threw her back into her trouble.
A Sister of another convent was for eight years in an
inconceivable trouble without finding any one to relieve
her ; for her director increased it by giving her remedies
quite unsuited to her disease. I had never been in that
convent, as I used not to go to convents unless I was
Bent for. Our Lord gave me no inclination nor movement

Chap. XX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 89
to thrust myself in of myself ; but I used to allow myself
to be led by providence, and to go where I was sent for.
I was very much surprised, when, at eight in the evening,
I was sent for by the Prioress. It was in summer, and the
days long. As I was very near I went at once. I found a
Sister who told me her trouble, and that she had been
driven to such a point that she had taken a knife to kill
herself, seeing no other remedy ; but that the knife had
fallen from her hand, and a person who had been to see
her, without her disclosing the nature of the trouble, had
advised her speak to me. Our Lord made me recognize
at once what the matter was, and that he wished her to
abandon herself to him, instead of resisting him, as they
had made her do for eight years. I made her give herself
up to our Lord, and she entered at once into a heavenly
peace ; all her pains were taken away in a moment, and
since that time have never returned. She is the most
capable girl in that House. She was at once so changed
that she was the admiration of the community. Our Lord
gave her a very great gift of prayer, his constant presence
and ability for everything. She was given to me as a
daughter ; and a Sister, who was servant, a very holy
woman, troubled for twenty-two years, was also delivered
from her pain. This caused a friendship to be formed
between the Prioress and me (and in her manner
she was a very holy person), because the change and the
peace of that Sister surprised her, having seen her in such
terrible pains. I formed yet other connections in that
convent, where there are souls to whom our Lord has
shown great mercies through the means he had chosen.

90 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.

CHAPTER XXI.
You were not content, my God, with making me speak,
you further gave me an impulse to read the Holy Scripture.
There was a time that I did not read, for I found in myself
no want to fill up ; on the contrary, rather too great a
plenitude. As soon as I commenced reading the Holy
Scripture, it was given me to write out the passage I read,
and immediately the explanation of it was given to me.
In writing out the passage I had not the least thought
on the explanation, and as soon as it was written out it
was given to me to explain it, writing with inconceivable
quickness. Before writing I did not know what I was
going to write ; while writing I saw that I was writing
things I had never known, and during the time of the
manifestation light was given me that I had in me
treasures of knowledge and understanding that I did not
know myself to possess. As soon as I had written I
remembered nothing whatever of what I had written, and
there remained to me neither species nor images. I could
not have made use of what I had written to aid souls ;
but our Lord gave me while I spoke to them (without my
paying any attention to it) all that was necessary for
them. In this way our Lord made me explain all the
Holy Scripture. I had no book except the Bible, and
that alone I used without searching for anything. When,
in writing on the Old Testament, I took passages from
the New to support what I was saying, it was not that

Chap. XXL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 91
I sought them out, but they were given to me at the
same time as the explanation ; and exactly the same
with the New Testament. I there made use of passages
from the Old, and they were given to me without my
searching for anything. I had no time to write except
at night, for I had to speak all day, without reflection any
more for speaking than for writing, and as little careful
of my health, or of my life, as of myself. I used to sleep
only one or two hours every night, and with that almost
every day I had fever, ordinarily a quartan, and yet I
continued to write without inconvenience, without troubling
myself whether I should die or live. He whose I was
without any reserve did with me as he pleased, without
my meddling in his work. You yourself, 0 my God, used
to wake me up, and I owed such an entire dependence and
obedience to your will that you were not willing to suffer
the least natural movement. When the least thing
mingled therewith you punished it, and it ceased at once.
You made me write with such a purity that I had to
stop and begin again as you wished. You tried me in
every way ; suddenly you made me write, then stop
immediately, and again begin. When I wrote by day I was
suddenly interrupted, and often left words half written, and
you gave me afterwards what you pleased. What I wrote
was not in my head; my head was so free that it was a
perfect vacuum. I was so detached from what I wrote
that it seemed strange to me. A reflection occurred to me :
I was punished for it ; my writing at once dried up, and I
remained like a fool until I was enlightened thereon. The
least joy in the graces you gave me was very rigorously
punished. All the faults which are in my writings come
from this, that, not being accustomed to the operation of
God, I was often unfaithful : thinking I was doing well in
continuing to write when I had the time without having
the movement for it, because I had been ordered to finish
the work; so that it is easy to see passages which are

92 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
beautiful and sustained, and others which have neither
taste nor unction. I have left them as they are in order
that people may see the difference between the Spirit of
God and the natural human spirit ; being, however, ready
to correct them according to the present light which is
given me, in case I am ordered to do so.
Previous to this time what test did you not make of my
abandonment ? Did you not give me a hundred different
aspects to see if I was yours without reserve, under every
test, and if I had yet some little interest for myself ? You
still found this soul supple and pliable to all your wishes.
What have you not made me suffer ? Into what humiliation
did you not cast me to counterbalance your graces ? To
what, my God, did you not deliver me, and by what
painful straits did you not make me pass ? That which
before I could not touch with the tip of my finger became
my ordinary food. But I was not troubled at all that you
did to me. I saw with pleasure and complaisance — taking
no more interest in myself than in a dead dog — I saw, I
say, with complaisance your divine play. You lifted me
up to heaven, then immediately you cast me down into
the mud, then with the same hand you replaced me in the
place from which you had cast me down. I saw
that I was the sport of your love and of your will, the
victim of your divine justice, and all was alike to me. It
seems to me, 0 my God, that you treat your dearest friends
as the sea does its waves. It drives them at times with
impetuosity against the rocks, where they are broken;
at other times against the sand or the mud, and then
immediately it receives back into its bosom and buries
there that wave with so much the more force as it had with
greater impetuosity cast it forth. This is the play which
you make of your friends who, nevertheless, are one in
you, changed and transformed into yourself, although you
make a continual play of casting them off and receiving
them back into your bosom ; like as the waves are a part

Chap. XXL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 93
of the sea, and after a wave has been thrown forward with
greater impetuosity, the gulf which swallows it up is deeper
in proportion. 0 my God, what things I should have to
tell I but I am not able to say anything of the operations
of your just and beneficent love, because they are too subtle.
This love delights in making those whom it has made
one in you the continual victims of its justice. It seems
that these souls are made holocausts to be burnt up by love
on the altar of the divine Justice. Oh, how few the souls of
this kind ! They are almost all the souls of Mercy, and it
is much ; but to belong to the divine Justice, Oh, how rare
that is ! but how great it is ! These are the souls of God
alone, who have no longer any interest in themselves, or
for themselves ; all is for God, without reference or relation
to themselves as to salvation, perfection, eternity, life, or
death. All that is not for them : their business is to let
the divine Justice satiate itself in them, as says Deborah,
with blood of the dead ; that is to say, with this soul
already dead through love ; and take on her vengeance for
the sins of the others. This is too little ; it satiates itself
with a glory which is peculiar to that attribute — glory
which does not permit the smallest reference to the
creature, and which desires everything for itself. Mercy is
altogether distributive in favour of the creature ; but Justice
devours and carries off everything, and cannot desire
anything save for itself, without having any regard for the
victim which it sacrifices ; it is for this reason that it does
not spare. Yet it desires voluntary victims, who have no
other object than itself in what they suffer, no more than
it has any other object than itself in what it makes them
suffer. It is not that the soul thus devoured pays attention
to this loving cruelty, which treats her pitilessly ; no, she
has neither thought nor reflection. She thinks on it only
when it is given her to write or to speak on the subject.
This Justice, thus devouring, nourishes itself only from
sufferings, opprobrium and ignominy, and with the same

94 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
hand with which it has struck the Author of justice, it
strikes with so much the more force those who are pre
destinated, the more conformed they are to be to him.
But it will be said. How, then, is such a soul sustained
in the cruelty of the divine Justice ? She is sustained
without sustenance by the same cruelty ; the more she
is deserted, as it seems, by God, the more is she sustained
in God above all sustenance : for it must not be thought
that such a soul has anything for herself which can satisfy
her, either within or without — absolutely nothing. All is
rigour without any rigour ; all that is given her is only
given for the neighbour, and to make him know and love
and possess his God.
My friend commenced to conceive some jealousy at the
applause which was given me, God so permitting in order
to further purify that holy soul through this weakness
and the pain which it caused her. Her friendship changed
into coolness and something more. It was you, 0 my God,
who permitted it, as I have said. Certain confessors also
commenced to stir themselves, saying that it was not for
me to meddle with helping souls, that there were some of
their penitents who had for me an entire openness. It was
here one might easily remark the difference between those
confessors who sought only God in the conduct of souls,
and those who sought themselves ; for the former used to
come to see me, and were delighted with the graces which
God bestowed on their penitents, without paying attention
to the channel of which he made use. The others, on the
contrary, secretly moved to stir up the town against me.
I saw that they would have been right in opposing me if I
had intruded of myself; but besides that I could only do
what our Lord made me do, it was a fact that I did not
seek any one. Each one came to me from every direction
and I received all indifferently. Sometimes they came to
oppose me. There were two monks of the same order as
the begging friar of whom I have spoken ; the one was

Chap. XXL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 95
Provincial, very learned, and a great preacher, the other
was Lent preacher at the cathedral. They came separately,
after having studied a quantity of difficult subjects to
propose to me. They= did this, and although they were
matters beyond my scope, our Lord made me answer with
as much correctness as if I had studied them all my life;
after which I said to them myself what our Lord gave me.
They went away not only convinced and satisfied, but
smitten with yom- love, 0 my God.
I still continued to write, and with incredible quickness,
for the hand could hardly follow the spirit which dictated,
and during this long work I did not change my conduct,
nor make use of any book. The copyist could not, however
diligent, copy in five days what I wrote in a single night.
What is good in it comes from you alone, 0 my God ; and
what is bad comes from me. I mean to say, from my
unfaithfulness and the mixture which, without knowing it,
I have made of my impurity with your pure and chaste
doctrine. At the commencement I committed many faults,
not being yet broken in to the operation of the Spirit of
God, who made me write. For he made me stop writing
when I had time to write and I could conveniently do it,
and when I seemed to have a very great need of sleeping,
it was then he made me write. When I wrote by day
there were continual interruptions, and I had not time to
eat, owing to the number who used to come. I had to
give up everything as soon as I was asked for, and in
addition I had the maid who served me in the state of
which I have spoken, and she without cause used to come
and suddenly interrupt me, according as her whim took
her. I often left the meaning half finished, without
troubling myself whether what I was writing was connected
or not. The places which may be defective are so only
because sometimes I wished to write as I had the time, and
then it was not grace at its fountain head. If these
passages were numerous it would be pitiable. At last I

96 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
accustomed myself to follow God in his way, not in mine.
I wrote the Song of Songs in a day and a half, and in
addition received visits. The quickness with which I
wrote was so great that my arm swelled up and became
quite stiff. At night it caused me great pain, and I did
not believe I could write for a long time. There appeared
to me as I slept a soul from purgatory, who urged me to
ask her deliverance from my divine Spouse. I did so, and
it seemed to me that she was at once delivered. I said to
her. If it is true that you are delivered, cure my arm ; and
it was instantly cured, and in a condition for writing. I
will add to what I have said about my writings, that a
very considerable part of the Book of Judges was lost. I
was asked to make it complete. I rewrote the lost parts.
A long time afterwards, having broken up house, it was
found where one never would have looked for it. The
earlier and the later were found to be exactly alike — a
thing which astonished many persons of learning and
merit, who verified the fact.
There came to see me a counsellor of the Parliament,
who is a model of holiness. This worthy servant of God
found on my table a "Method of Prayer," which I had
written a long time before. He took it from me, and
having found it much to his taste, he gave it to some of
his friends, to whom he thought it would be useful. All
wished to have copies of it. He resolved with that worthy
friar to have it printed. The printing commenced and the
approbation given, they asked me to put a preface to it. I
did so, and it is in this way that the little book, which has
been made the pretext for my imprisonment, was printed.
This counsellor is one of my closest friends, and a great
servant of God.
This poor little book, notwithstanding the persecution,
has nevertheless been printed five or six times, and our
Lord gives a very great blessing to it. These worthy
monks took fifteen hundred copies. The begging friar

Chap. XXL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 97
wrote perfectly, and our Lord inspired him to copy my
writings, at least a part. He also gave the same idea to
a monk of a different order, so that each of them took
some to copy. Being one night engaged in writing some
thing which he thought urgent (for he had misunderstood
what had been said to him), as it was extremely cold, and
his legs were naked, they so swelled that he could not
move. He came to see me, quite sad, and as if disgusted
with writing. He told me his ailment, and that he could
not go on his begging rounds. I told him to be cured;
he was so on the instant, and went away very well pleased
and very desirous of transcribing that work, through which
he declares our Lord has bestowed on him great graces.
There was also a worthy girl, but very fickle; she had
a great pain in the head. I touched it for her, and she
was immediately cured.
The Devil became so enraged against me, owing to the
conquests that you made, 0 my God, that he beat some of
the people who came to see me. There was a worthy girl
of great simplicity, who gained her livelihood by her work ;
she is a girl who has received very great grace from our
Lord. The Devil broke two teeth in her mouth ; her jaw
swelled to a prodigious size, and he told her that if she
came to see me any more he would give her worse treat
ment. She came to see me in this state, and said to me
in her innocence, " The villain I he has done this to mo
because I come to you; he utters great abuse against
you." I told her to forbid him from me, touching her.
Seeing that he was caught, and dared not touch her, for
he could not do what God through me forbade him to do,
he uttered much abuse, and made horrible gestures before
her, and assured her he would stir up against me the
most strange persecution I ever had. I laughed at all
this, for I have no apprehension of him. Although he stir
up persecutions against me, I know that in spite of him
self he will serve for the glory of my God.
VOL. IX. H

88 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.

CHAPTER XXII.
This poor girl came to see me one day quite distressed.
She said to me, " 0 my mother, what strange things I have
seen!" I asked her what it was. "Alas! " she cried, "I saw
you like a lamb in the midst of a pack of furious wolves.
1 have seen a terrible gang of people of all kinds, of every
age, sex, and condition — priests, monks, married people,
maids, wives — with pikes, halberts, naked swords, who were
trying to stab you. You let them do so without stirring, or
showing astonishment, or defending yourself. I looked on
all sides if any one would come to assist or defend you,
but I have not seen any one." Some days after those who
through envy were preparing a secret battery against me
suddenly broke out like a thunderbolt. Libels commenced
to circulate everywhere, and letters were shown me of the
most dreadful character, which, without knowing me,
envious persons had written. They said that I was a
sorceress; that it was by magic I attracted souls; that
whatever was in me was diabolic; that if I bestowed
charities, it was with false money I did so ; and a thousand
other crimes they accused me of, which were as false and
as ill founded the one as the other. As the tempest each
day increased, and they in truth said " Crucify ! " exactly as
our Lord had at the first let me know, some of my friends
advised me to withdraw for a time. The Almoner of the
Bishop of Grenoble told me to go to St. Baume and to

Chap. XXIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 99
Marseilles, to spend some time ; that they wished for me
there, where were some very spiritually minded persons ;
that he would accompany me, together with a worthy maid
and another ecclesiastic, and meantime the tempest would
pass off. But before speaking of my departure from
Grenoble, I must say something more of the state which I
bore in that country.
I was in such a great plenitude of God that I was often
either lying down or entirely confined to bed, without being
able to speak ; and when I had no means of pouring out
this plenitude, our Lord did not permit it to be so violent,
for in that violence I could no longer live. My soul only
wished to pour out into other hearts her superabundance.
I had the same union and the same communication with
Father La Combe (although so far away) as if he was
near. Jesus Christ was communicated to me in all his
states. It was then his Apostolic state, which was most
marked. All the operations of God in me were shown me
in Jesus Christ, and explained by the Holy Scripture ; so
that I bore in myself the experience of what was there
written. When I could not write or communicate myself
in another manner, I was then quite languishing, and
I experienced what our Lord said to his disciples : " I
desired with ardour to eat this Passover with you." That
was the communication of himself through the Last
Supper, and through his Passion, when he said, " All is
consummated, and bowing the head, gave up the ghost"
(because he communicated his spirit to all men capable of
receiving him), " and returned it into the hands of his
Father " and his God, as well as his kingdom ; as if he had
said to his Father, " My Father, my kingdom is to reign
through you, and you through me, over men. This can
only be by the pouring out of my Spirit upon them. Let,
then, my Spirit be communicated to them through my
death." And herein is the consummation of all things.
Often a too great plenitude took from me the capacity to

100 MADAME GUYON. [Part H.
write, and I could do nothing except lie down without
speech. I used, notwithstanding, to have nothing for
myself; everything was for the others, like those nurses
who are full of milk, and who for this reason are not the
more supported — not that anything was wanting to me, for
since my new life I have not had one moment of emptiness.
Before writing on the Book of Kings of all that refers to
David, I was put into such a close union with this holy
patriarch that I communicated with him as if he had been
present, not in images, species, or figures — my soul was
far removed from these things — but in a divine manner,
in an ineffable silence, and in perfect reality. I under
stood what this holy patriarch was ; the greatness of his
grace, the conduct of God with him, and all the circum
stances of the states through which he had passed ; that
he was a living figure of Jesus Christ, and a shepherd
chosen for Israel. It seemed to me that all our Lord
made me, or would make me, do for souls, would be in
union with this holy patriarch, and with those to whom I
was at the same time united in a manner similar to what
I had been with David, my dear King. 0 Love, did you
not make me know that the wonderful and real union
between this holy patriarch and me would never be under
stood by any one ? for none was in a state to understand
it. It was then you taught me, O my Love, that by this
admirable union it was given me to carry Jesus Christ,
Word-God, into souls. Jesus Christ is born of David
according to the flesh. Oh, how many conquests did you
cause me to make in this quite ineffable union ! My words
were efficacious, and produced effects in hearts. It was the
formation of Jesus Christ in souls. I was in no way the
mistress of speaking or saying things ; he who led me made
me speak them as he wished, and for as long as was pleasing
to him. There were souls to whom he did not let me say
a word, and others for whom there were deluges of grace.
But that pm-e love did not suffer any superfluity nor

Chap. XXIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 101
trifling. Sometimes there were souls who asked several
times the same things, and when they were answered
according to their need, and it was only a desire of
speaking, without my paying any attention to it, I could
not answer them. They then said to me, "You said this
last ; must we hold to this ? " I used to say to them,
"Yes," and then I was enlightened that because the
answer would have been useless, it was not given to me.
It was exactly the same with those whom our Lord was
leading through the death of themselves, and who came to
seek for human consolation. I had for them merely the
strictly necessary, after which I was unable to speak. I
would rather have spoken of a hundred indifferent matters
(because that is what comes of myself, which God allows,
that I may be all things to all, and not vex my neighbour),
but as for his Word, he himself is the dispenser of it. Oh,
if preachers spoke in this spirit, what fruit would they not
have ! There were others, as I have said, to whom I
could communicate myself only in silence, but a silence as
ineffable as efficacious. These last are the most rare, and
it is the special characteristic of my true children. It is
(as perhaps I have already said) the communication of the
Blessed Spirits.
It was then that I learned the true manner of treating
with the Saints of heaven in God himself, ahd also with
Saints on earth. 0 communication so pure, who will be
able to comprehend thee, save he who experiences thee ?
If men were spirit, we would speak in spirit, but because of
weakness we must have recourse to words. I had the con
solation some time ago to hear this read from St. Augus
tine in a spiritual conversation he had with his mother.
He complains that he must have recourse to words, owing
to our feebleness. I used sometimes to say, " 0 Love, give
me hearts large enough to contain such a great plenitude."
It seemed to me that a thousand hearts would be too
small. I had intelligence of the communication between

102 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
Jesus Christ and St. John during the Last Supper. My
intelligences were not lights, but intelligences of expe
rience. How did I truly experience, 0 well-beloved disciple,
the communication of my divine Master to your heart, and
the manner in which you learned ineffable secrets, and
how you continued a like commerce with the Holy Virgin !
Oh, how one may well call that communication a wonderful
intercourse ! It was given me to understand that herein
was the language of the cradle, and how the Holy Child
communicated himself to the kings and shepherds, and
gave them the knowledge of his Divinity.
It was also (as I have said somewhere) in this way that
when the Holy Virgin came to Elizabeth, a wonderful
intercourse took place between Jesus Christ and St. John —
intercourse which communicated to him the spirit of the
Word, and the holiness which was so efficacious that it
always continued. It is for this reason St. John Baptist
showed no eagerness to come and see Jesus Christ after
this communication, for they used to communicate at a
distance as well as if near ; and in order to receive these
communications with more plenitude, he retired into the
desert. So when he preacheci penitence, what did he say
of himself ? Hg did not say he was the Wo.-d, for he knew
quite well that was Jesus Christ, Eternal Word, but he only
said he was a voice. The voice serves as passage to the
word, and emits it ; so that after being filled with the com
munication of the divine Word, he was made the expression
of that same Word, propelling by his voice that divine
Word into souls. He knew it from the first : he had no
need any one should tell him who he was ; and if he sent
his disciples to him, it was not for himself, but for them,
to make them disciples of Jesus Christ. He baptized only
with water, to let it be seen what was his function, for as
the water in flowing away leaves nothing, so the voice
leaves nothing. It is only the Word who impresses him
self. He was made, then, to carry the Word, but he was

Chap. XXIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 103
not the Word ; and he who was the Word baptized with the
Holy Spirit, because he had the gift to impress himself on
souls, and to communicate himself to them by the Holy
Spirit. I understood that Joseph and Mary mutually com
municated through Jesus. Jesus was the principle and
the end of their communications. 0 adorable intercourse !
It is not observable that Jesus Christ said anything during
his obscure life, although it is true that none of his words
will be lost. 0 Love, if all you have said and operated in
silence were written, I do not believe that all the world
could contain all the books which should be written. All
that I experienced was shown me in the Holy Scripture,
and I saw with wonder that nothing passed in the soul
which is not in Jesus Christ and in the Holy Scripture.
When I communicated with narrow hearts I experienced a
very great torment. It was like an impetuous stream of
water, which, not finding an issue, returns upon itself, and
I was sometimes ready to die. 0 God, could I describe or
make to be understood all I suffered in that place, and the
mercies you showed me there ? I must pass over many
things in silence, as well because they cannot be expressed
as that they would not be understood. What caused me
the most suffering was Father La Combe ; as he was not
yet established firmly in his state, and that God exercised
him in crosses and overthrows, his doubts and his hesita
tions gave me strange blows. However far distant from
me he was, I felt his pains and his dispositions. He was
bearing a state of interior death and alternations the most
cruel and terrible that ever were. According to the know
ledge which God has given me of it, he is therefore of all
his servants now on earth the most agreeable to him. It
was impressed upon me that he is a vessel of election,
whom God had chosen to carry his Name among the
Gentiles ; but that he would show him how much he must
suffer for that very Name.
When in those trials he found himself, as it were,

104 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
rejected by God, he found himself at the same time
separated from me. He doubted of my state, and had
great griefs against me ; and as soon as God received him
into himself, he found himself more powerfully united to
me than ever, and he found himself enlightened on my
state in a wonderful manner, God giving him an esteem
which went as far as veneration : so that he could not
conceal his sentiments, and he often repeated to me, " I
cannot be united to you out of God, for as soon as I am
rejected by God, I am the same by you, and I feel myself
divided from you, in continual doubt and hesitation as to
what concerns you ; and as soon as I am well with God, I
am well with you. I know the grace he bestows on me in
uniting me to you, and how dear you are to him, and the
central depth he has put into you."
0 God, who will ever comprehend the pure and holy
unions which you form among your creatures ! The
carnal world only judges of them carnally, attributing to a
natural attachment that which is the highest grace. You
alone, 0 God, know what I have suffered on this head. All
the other crosses, although very hard, appeared to me
shadows beside that. Our Lord made me one time under
stand that when Father La Combe should be 'established
in him in a permanent state, and he should have no
more interior vicissitudes, he would have none also in
regard to me, and that he would remain for ever united
to me in God. That is so at present. I saw that he felt
the union and the division only owing to his weakness, and
that his state was not yet permanent. I felt it only
because he divided himself, and that I had to bear all this ;
but ever since the union has been without contrariety,
without hindrance and in its perfection, he has no longer
felt it, no more than I ; except by an awakening in interior
conversation in the manner of the Blessed.
The union of the soul with God is felt only because it
is not entirely perfect ; but as soon as it is consummated in

Chap. XXIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 105
unity, it is no more felt : it becomes, as it were, natural.
One does not feel the union of the soul and the body. The
body lives and operates in this union without one think
ing, or paying attention to the union. It exists — we know
it ; and all the functions of life which the body performs
do not allow us to be ignorant of it — yet one acts with
out attention to that. It is the same for the union with
God and with certain creatures in him, for what shows the
purity and eminence of this union is that it follows that
with God ; and it is so much the more perfect as that of
the soul to God and in him is more perfected. Yet were it
necessary to break this pure and holy union, one would
feel it the more, in proportion as it is more pure, perfect,
and insensible ; as one very well feels when the soul is
about to separate from the body by death, although one
does not feel the union.
As I was in the state of childhood of which I have
spoken, and Father La Combe got offended, and
separated himself from me, I used to weep like a child,
and my body became quite languishing ; and what is
surprising is that I found myself at the same time weaker
than a little child and strong as God. I found myself
quite divine, enlightened on everything, and firm for the
severest crosses ; and yet the weakness of the smallest
child. 0 God, I can say that I am perhaps the creature
in all the world from whom you have desired the greatest
dependence. You placed me in all kinds of states and in
different positions, and my soul neither wished to, nor had
the power to resist. I was so utterly yours that there was
nothing in the world that you could have exacted of me,
to which I would not have submitted with pleasure. I
had no interest for myself, and if I could have perceived
that " myself," I would have torn it into a thousand
pieces ; but I no longer perceived it.
Ordinarily I do not know or recognize my state, but
when God wishes anything from this miserable nothing,

106 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
I feel that he is absolute master, and that nothing, not to
say, resists him, but even objects to his wishes, however
rigorous they may seem. 0 Love, if there is a heart in
the world over which you are fully victorious, I can say
that it is this poor nothing. You know it, 0 Love, and
that your most rigorous volitions are its life and its
pleasure; for it subsists no more but in you. I have
wandered ; that is a common thing with me, as well
owing to interruptions and that I have had two severe
illnesses since I commenced to write, as that I give
myself up to what carries me away.

Chap. XXIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 107

CHAPTER XXIII.
To resume, the Almoner of the Bishop of Genoble per
suaded me to go and pass some time at Marseilles, to let
the tempest blow over, and said that I should there be
very well received, that it was his country, and that
many good persons were there. I wrote to Father La
Combe, that I might have his approval. He permitted it.
I might have gone to Verceil, for the Bishop of Verceil
had sent me by express the strongest, most pressing, and
most attractive letters possible, to induce me to go into
his diocese ; but deference to man's opinion and the fear of
giving opportunity to my enemies (when I use the term
enemy it is not that I consider any person such, nor
that I can look upon those whom God makes use of
otherwise than as the instruments of his justice, but it
is to explain myself) — these two reasons, I say, made me
extremely unwilling. Besides, the Marquise de Prunai, who
since my departure had been more enlightened by her own
experience, having found true some of the things which
I had believed were about to happen to her, had conceived
for me a very strong friendship, and a very intimate union,
so that the most united sisters could not be more so
than were we. She wished extremely I should return to
her as I had before promised; but I could not resolve
upon it, lest it should be thought I was going where Father
La Combe was. But, 0 my God, how this remnant of

108 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
self-love was overthrown by the action of your adorable pro
vidence ! I had still this interior support of being able to
say that I had never been running after Father La Combe,
and that this could not be said of me, nor could I be
accused on this head of any attachment to him, since
when it depended only upon me to live near him, I did
not do so. The Bishop of Geneva had not failed to write
against me to Grenoble, as he had done elsewhere. His
nephew had been from house to house decrying me. All
this was indifferent to me, and I nevertheless procured for
his diocese all the good I could. I even wrote politely to
him; but his heart was too wounded in the matter of
worldly interest, he said, to give in. These were his own
words. Before setting out from Grenoble, that worthy child of
whom I have spoken, whom the Devil had severely
ill-treated, came to see me, and said to me, weeping,
" The Devil has told me that you are going away." It
should be observed that I had not told a single person.
The Devil, then, told her that I was going away, and that I
had concealed it from her, because I did not wish any one
should know ; but that he would soon catch me, and that
he would be before me in all the places where I should go ;
that hardly should I arrive in any town, but he would stir
up the whole town against me. And he made her under
stand that he was enraged against me, and would do me
all the ill he could. What had obhged me to keep my
departure secret was that I feared being overwhelmed with
visits and testimony of friendship from numbers of good
people, who had much affection for me.
I embarked, then, on the Rhone, with my maid and a
worthy girl of Grenoble, to whom our Lord had through
my means given much grace. She was to me a genuine
source of crosses. The Almoner of the Bishop of
Grenoble accompanied me, together with another eccle
siastic, a very excellent man. We had many adventures,

Chap. XXIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 109
and were near perishing ; for in a very dangerous place
the cable broke, and the boat went right against a rock.
The master pilot fell overboard at the shock, and would
have been drowned but for the gentlemen who saved him.
Another accident also happened to me. Having with
the gentlemen gone down the Rhone in a small boat
managed by a child, in expectation of finding a large
boat, without success, we had to return to Valence, after
having gone down more than a league. Every one got
out of the boat because it was too heavy to reascend the
river, and as I could not walk I remained in it at the
mercy of the waves, which bore us where they pleased
without resistance ; for the child who managed the boat, and
did not know his business, took to tears, saying we were
about to be drowned. I encouraged him, so that, having
contended for more than four hours with the waves, while
those who were on the bank believed us at one time utterly
lost, then again saved, at last we arrived.
These manifest dangers, which frightened the others,
far from alarming me, increased my peace — a thing which
astonished the Bishop's Almoner, who was in a horrible
fright when the boat ran against the rock and split ; for,
attentively looking at me in his emotion, he noticed that
I did not frown, and that my tranquillity was not in the
least altered. It is true that I did not feel even the first
movements of surprise, which are natural to every one
on these occasions, and which do not depend on us.
What caused my peace in these perils that suddenly
surprise, was my inmost centre being in an abandonment
always fixed and firm in God, and because death is to me
far more agreeable than life; I should need much more
abandonment to God for living than for dying, if I
could have any wish. I am indifferent to everything, and
that is why nothing alters my central depth.
On leaving Grenoble a man of rank, a great servant of
God and an intimate friend of mine, had given me a letter

110 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
for a very devout Knight of Malta, whom I have always
regarded since I knew him as a man our Lord destines to
be very useful to the Order of Malta; to be its example
and support through his holy life. I told him even that I
believed he would go to Malta and that God would assuredly
make use of him to inspire with piety many of the Knights.
He has, in fact, gone to Malta, where at once the highest
offices were given to him. That man of rank sent him the
little book on prayer entitled, " A Short Method," printed
at Grenoble. This knight had an almoner very much
opposed to spirituality. He took the book and at once
condemned it, and set about stirring up a party in the town,
among others seventy-two persons who openly called them
selves the seventy-two disciples of M. de St. Cyran. I
had only arrived at ten o'clock in the morning, and a few
hours after noon everything was in commotion against
me. They went to see the Bishop of Marseilles, telling
him that, owing to that little book, he must drive me away
from Marseilles. They gave him the book, which he
examined with his theologian, and which he found very
good. He sent to fetch M. Malaval and a worthy Eecolot
Father who he knew had been to see me a little after my
arrival, to ascertain from them whence arose this great
tumult (which made me laugh a little, when I saw so soon
accomplished what the Devil had told that worthy gii'l).
M. Malaval and the monk told the Bishop what they
thought of me, so that he expressed great displeasure
at the insult which had been put on me. I was obliged
to go and see him. He received me with extreme kindness,
and asked my pardon. He prayed me to remain at
Marseilles, that he would protect me ; he even inquired
where I lodged, that he might come and see me. The
next day the Almoner of the Bishop of Grenoble, with that
other priest who came with us, went to see him. The
Bishop again expressed to them the vexation he felt at
the insults which had been cast upon me without cause,

Chap. XXIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Ill
and he said that it was the usual practice of those persons
to insult all who were not of their faction ; that they had
insulted himself. They were not content with that ; they
wrote me the most offensive letters possible, although
these persons did not know me.
I understood that our Lord was commencing in earnest
to deprive me of any dwelling-place, and these words came
afresh to me : " The birds of heaven have nests, and the
foxes have holes, and the Son of Man has not where to lay
his head." I willingly entered upon that state.
Our Lord nevertheless made use of me during the short
time I remained at Marseilles to aid in supporting some
good souls, among others an ecclesiastic who did not
know me. He used to say Mass in a church where I went
to hear it. After he had said the Thanksgiving, seeing me
go out, he followed me, and having come to the house
where I lodged, he told me that our Lord had inspired
him to address me, and had made him know that I was
the person to whom he should open himself for his
spiritual state. He did it with as much simplicity as
humility. Our Lord gave me all that was necessary for
him, from which he was filled with happiness and gratitude
to our Lord ; for although many spiritual persons, even
near friends of his own, were there, he never had the
movement to open himself to them. He was a great
servant of God, and had been favoured with a wonderful
gift of prayer from even eight years of age. He had
employed all his life in missions, and had a very great gift
of discernment of spirits. In the eight days that I was at
Marseilles I saw there many good souls ; for I used to have
this consolation, that, in spite of the persecution, our Lord
used always to perform some stroke of his hand ; and this
good ecclesiastic was delivered from a strange trouble in
which he had been several years.
As soon as I had left Grenoble those who, without
knowing me, hated me, set in circulation libels against

112 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
me. One person for whom I had had a very great charity,
and whom I had even withdrawn from an engagement
in which she was for many years, having contributed to re
move to a distance the person to whom she was attached,
became so furious thereat that she went herself to see
the Bishop of Grenoble, to speak to him against me, going
so far as to say that I had advised her to do an evil which
I had broken off even at my expense ; for it cost me money
to get away the person. They had lived together for eight
years, and I knew her only for one month. She went from
confessor to confessor saying the same thing, in order to
excite them against me. The fire was kindled in all
directions : only those who knew me and who loved God
supported my side, and they found themselves more bound
to me by the persecution. It would have been very easy
for me to destroy the calumny, as well with the Bishop
as the town. It was only needed to say who the person
was and to exhibit the fruits of her disorder, for I knew
everything; but as I could not declare the guilty one
without making known her accomplice, who was very
repentant and touched by God, I thought it better to
suffer everything and remain silent. There was a very
holy man who thoroughly knew the whole story; he
wrote to her that if she did not retract her lies he
would publish her evil life, so as to make known her
wickedness and my innocence. That poor girl persevered
still for some time in her malice, writing that I was a
sorceress, and that she knew it by revelation and many
other things. However, some time after she had, according
to her account, such cruel remorse of conscience that she
wrote to the Bishop and others to retract. She got a letter
written to myself, that she was in despair at what she had
done, that God had punished her in such a manner that
never had she been treated in a similar way. After her
retractation the rumour subsided, the Bishop was dis
abused, and from that time he has shown me great

Chap, XXIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 113
kindness. This creature had said, among other things,
that I caused myself to be worshipped, and such strange
absurdities that the like were never seen. As she had been
formerly mad, I believe there was more weakness than
malice in what she did.
Being then at Marseilles, I knew not what to do, for I
saw no possibility either of remaining there or returning to
Grenoble, where I had left my daughter in a convent.
On the other hand, Father La Combe had written me that
he did not think I ought to return to Paris. I felt even
great repugnance to it, without knowing the reason, which
made me think that it was not yet the time. One morning
I felt myself interiorly urged to depart. I took a litter to
go and visit the Marquise de Prunai, who was, it seemed to
me, the most respectable refuge for me in the state things
were. I thought to be able to go by Nice, as I had been
assured by people ; but I was very much astonished, when
at Nice, to learn that the litter could not pass the
mountain to go where I wanted. I knew not what to do,
nor what side to turn to, being alone, abandoned by all
the world, without knowing, 0 my God, what you wished
of me. My confusion and my crosses increased each day.
I saw myself without refuge or retreat, wandering and
vagabond. All the workmen that I saw in their shops
appeared to me happy in having a dwelling-place and a
refuge, and I found nothing in the world so hard for a
person like me, who naturally loved honour, as this
wandering life. While I knew not what course to take, I
was told that next day a small sloop was about to start,
which would go to Genoa in a single day, and that if I
wished they would land me at Savona, whence I could be
carried to my friend the Marquise de Prunai. I consented
to this, having no possibility of other conveyance. I had
some joy in embarking on the sea, and I said to you, 0 my
God, " If I am the excrement of the earth, the refuse and
scorn of nature, I am about to embark on tbe element the
VOL. n. I

114 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
most faithless of all ; you can sink me in its waters, and I
shall be pleased to die in that way." A storm came on in
a place dangerous enough for a small boat, and the sailors
were very bad. The turbulence of the waves constituted
my pleasure, and I was delighted to think that these
mutinous waters would serve perhaps for my grave. 0
God, perhaps I committed some infideHty in the pleasure
I took at seeing myself beaten and tossed by these raging
waves. I thought I saw myself in the hands of your
providence : it seemed to me I was its plaything ; and I
said to you, 0 my God, in my language, "Let there be,
then, in the world victims of your providence, and let me
be one. Do not spare me." Those who were with me saw
my intrepidity, but they were ignorant of its cause. I
asked of you, 0 my Love, a little hole in a rock, to place
myself there and to live separated from all creatures. I
pictured to myself that a desert island would have ended
all my disgraces, and would have placed me in a state to
perform infallibly your will ; but, 0 my Love, you destined
me to another prison than a rock, another exile than that
of the desert isle. You reserved me to be beaten by waves
more irritated than those of the sea. Calumny was the
mutinous and pitiless sea to which you desired I should be
exposed, to be thereby beaten without mercy : blessed for
ever, 0 my God, be you for this !
We were stopped by the storm, and in place of a short
day's journey, the proper time to reach Genoa, we were
eleven days on the way. How peaceable was my heart
during this great agitation ! The tempest of the sea and
the fury of the waves were only the symbol of that which
all creatures had against me. I said to you, " 0 my Love,
arm them all to avenge yourself on my infidelities and
those of all creatures." I saw with pleasure your arm
raised against me, and I loved more than a thousand lives
the strokes it gave me. We could not disembark at
Savona ; it was necessary to go on to Genoa. We arrived

Chap. XXIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 115
there in the Holy Week. I had to endure the insults of
the inhabitants, owing to their irritation against the
French for the injuries caused by the bombardment. The
Doge had just left, and he had taken with him all the litters ;
for this reason I could not get one. I had to remain several
days at an excessive expense, for these people demanded
exorbitant sums, and as much for each person as would be
charged in Paris at the best inn for the whole party. I
was almost without money ; but the fund of providence
could not fail me. I begged most earnestly, at whatever
cost, that I might be supplied with a litter, so as to be able
to go and spend Easter with the Marquise de Prunai ; yet
there were only three days remaining to Easter, and
I could not make myself understood. Owing to my
entreaties, a bad litter was brought me, the mules
belonging to which were lame, and I was told that for an
exorbitant sum they would take me to Verceil, which was
two days' distance, but not to the Marquise de Prunai ;
because they did not even know where her estate was. I
was strangely mortified, for I did not wish to go to
Verceil, and yet the nearness of .Easter, and the want of
money in a country where they practised a sort of tyranny,
left me no choice, but under an absolute necessity of
allowing myself to be taken to Verceil.
You led me, 0 my God, by your providence, where I
did not wish to go. Although the sum I had to give for
such a bad conveyance for two days' journey was ten
louis d'or, each sixteen livres of that country, nevertheless
I accepted the unreasonable bargain from extreme necessity,
and that in a country where conveyances are very cheap.
The voiturier was the most cruel man possible, and for
crown to our trouble, I had sent on the ecclesiastic, who
accompanied us, to Verceil, in order to break the surprise
of their seeing me after I had protested that I would
not go there. This ecclesiastic was very badly treated
on the road, from hatred against the French, and part

116 MADAME GDYON. [Part II.
of the journey he had to do on foot, so that, although
he had set out in advance, he reached only a few hours
before me. The man, then, who led us, seeing that he
had only women to deal with, insulted us in every way
possible. We passed through a wood full of robbers. The mule
teer was afraid, and told us that if any one met us on the
road we were lost, and that they spared no one. Hardly
had he told us this, when four well-armed men appeared.
They at once stopped the litter. The muleteer was very
much terrified. They came to us and looked at us. I
made them a bow with a smile, for I had no fear, and I was
so abandoned to providence, that it was equal to me to die
in that way or another, in the sea, or by the hand of
robbers. But, 0 my God, what was your protection over
me, and what was my surrender into your hands ! How
many dangers have I run on the mountains, and on the
edge of precipices ! How many times have you stopped
the foot of the mule, already sliding over the precipice !
How many times have I expected to be precipitated from
those frightful mountains into terrible torrents, which were
hid from view by the depth, but which made themselves
heard by their fearful noise ! Where the dangers were
more apparent, it was there my faith was stronger, as well
as my intrepidity, which sprung from an inability to desire
anything else but what would happen, whether it should
be to be smashed on the rocks, to be drowned, or to be
killed — all being alike in your will, 0 my God. The
people who led me said they never saw a similar courage,
for the most terrifying dangers, and where death seemed
most certain, were those which pleased me more. Was
it not you, 0 my God, who held me back in the danger,
and prevented me from rolling into the precipice, to which
we were already slipping down ? The more reckless I was
of a life, which I endured only because you yourself endured
it, the more did you take care to preserve it. It was, 0

Chap. XXIIl.] AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 117
my God, like a challenge between us two : I to abandon
myself to you, and you to preserve me. The robbers then
came to the litter, but I had no sooner saluted them than
you made them change their purpose, one pushing the
other to hinder him from hurting me. They saluted me
very politely, and with an air of compassion, unusual in
such persons, they withdrew. I was at once impressed, 0
my Love, that it was a stroke of your right hand, which
had other designs for me than to make me die by the
hands of robbers. You are, 0 my divine Love, that famous
robber, who yourself take away everything from your lovers,
and after having spoiled them of all, you become their
pitiless murderer. Oh, how different is the martyrdom you
make them endure, from that which all men taken to
gether could invent ! The muleteer, seeing me alone with
two maids, thought he could illtreat me as much as he
pleased, perhaps imagining to extort money. Instead of
taking me to the inn, he took me to a mill, where there
was no woman ; there was only a single room, with several
beds, where the millers and the muleteers slept together.
It was in this room he wanted to compel me to remain. I
said I was not a person to lie down where he had brought
me, and I tried to oblige him to take me to the inn. He
would do no such thing. I had to set out on foot at ten
o'clock at night, carrying a part of my clothes, and travel
more than a quarter league of that country (where the
leagues are very long) in the midst of darkness, without know
ing the road, crossing even one end of the robbers' wood,
to go and find the inn. That man, seeing me leave the
place where he had wanted to make us sleep, not without
wicked intentions, cried out after us, abusing and ridicul
ing us. I bore my humiliation with pleasure, not without
seeing and feeling it; but your will, my God, and my
abandonment made everything easy to me. We were very
well received at the inn, and those worthy people did their
best to refresh us from our fatigue, assuring us that the

118 MADAME GO YON. [Part II.
place where we had been taken was very dangerous. The
next day we had again to return on foot to find the litter,
that man refusing to bring it to us. On the contrary-
he poured out insults, and for crown of disgrace, he sold
me to the post, and forced me thereby to go in a post-
chaise, instead of in the litter.
I reached Alexandria in that conveyance. It is a
frontier town dependent on Spain, on the side of the
Milanais. Our postilion wished to take us, as usual, to the
post. I was much astonished to see the mistress of the
house come to meet him, not to receive, but to hinder him
entering. She had been told that there were women, so,
thinking us other than we were, she did not wish for us.
The postilion wished to persist. Their dispute grew so warm
that a number of officers of the garrison, with a great
crowd, assembled at the noise, astonished at the strangeness
of the woman not wishing to lodge us. They thought she
knew us for persons of bad livelihood, so that we had to
submit to insults. However I urged the postilion to take
us elsewhere ; he would not do it, and persisted obstinately
in trying to enter, assuring the mistress that we were
honourable and even pious persons, the signs of which he
had seen. By his persistence he compelled the woman
to come and see us. As soon as she had looked at us she
did like the robbers, allowed herself to yield, and made us
come in. I had no sooner got out of the chaise than she
said to me, "Go and shut yourself in that room, and do not
stir, that my son may not know you are there, for if he
knows it, he will kill you." She said this to us with so
much emphasis, and her servant also, that if death had
not for me the many charms it has, I should have died of
fear. The two poor girls were in terrible alarm ; when
any one stirred, or came to open the door, they thought
that our throats were about to be cut. In short, we remained
between death and life until the next day, when we learned
that the young man had taken an oath to kill all women

Chap. XXIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 119
who should lodge at his house, because a few days before
he had had a very serious business which threatened his
ruin ; a woman of evil life having assassinated a respect
able man at their house. This had cost them much, and
with reason he feared similar persons.

120 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.

CHAPTER XXIV.
Aptee such adventures and others which it would be
tedious to relate, I arrived at Verceil the evening of Good
Friday. Going to the inn, I was very badly received, and
I had the opportunity of passing a genuine Good Friday,
which lasted very long. I sent to find Father La Combe,
believing him already informed by the ecclesiastic I had
sent in advance, but the latter had only just arrived.
I had many genuine mortifications to swallow for the time
I was without this ecclesiastic, which I should have escaped
had I had him ; for in this country, when ladies are accom
panied by an ecclesiastic they are regarded with veneration,
as persons of respectability and piety. Father La Combe
was strangely displeased at my arrival, God so permitting ;
he even could not hide it from me. Thus I saw myself
at the moment of arrival on the point of setting out again ;
and I would have done this, notwithstanding my extreme
fatigue, but for the Easter festival. Father La Combe
could not prevent himself showing his mortification. He
said that every one would think I had come to see him,
and this would injure his reputation. He was in very
high esteem in that country. I had no less pain in going
there, and it was necessity alone which had made me do
it, in spite of my objections; so that I was placed in a
state of sufferings, and our Lord adding his hand, made
them very severe. The Father received me coldly, and in a
manner which showed me his sentiments, and this redoubled

Chap. XXIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 121
my pain. I asked him if he wished me to return, that I
would set out on the moment, although I was overwhelmed
with the fatigues of such a long and dangerous journey ;
besides that I was much weakened by the Lent fast, which
I kept as strictly as if I had not been travelling. He
told me he did not know how the Bishop of Verceil would
take my arrival, when he had ceased to expect it, after I
had so long obstinately refused the obliging offers he had
made me ; that he no longer showed any desire to see me
since that refusal. It was then, it seemed to me, that I
was cast out from the surface of the earth, without the
means of finding any refuge, and that all creatures were
combined together to crush me. I spent the rest of the
night in this inn, without being able to sleep, and without
knowing what course I should be compelled to take, being
persecuted to the degree I was by my enemies, and a
subject of shame to my friends.
As soon as they knew at the inn that I was an acquaint
ance of Father La Combe they treated me very well, for
he was there esteemed as a saint. The Father did not
know how to tell the Bishop of Verceil that I was come,
and I felt his trouble more keenly than my own. As soon
as the Prelate knew I had arrived, as he thoroughly under
stood the proprieties, he sent his niece, who took me in her
carriage and brought me to her house ; but things were
only done for appearance, and the Bishop, not having yet
seen me, did not know how to take such an inopportune
journey, after my having three times refused to go there,
although he had sent expresses to ask me to do so.
He was disgusted with me. However, as he was in
formed that my design was not to remain at Verceil, but
to go to the Marquise de Prunai, and that it was necessity
owing to the festival which detained me, he let nothing
appear ; on the contrary, he took care that I was very well
treated. He could not see me until after Easter, as he
officiated all the Vigil and on the day. In the evening, after

122 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
all the duty of Easter Day was over, he had himself carried
in a chair to his niece's house to see me, and although he
understood French no better than I did Italian, he was
none the less very well satisfied with the conversation that
he had with me. He seemed to have as much kindness
for me as he previously had indifference. The second visit
finished in gaining him entirely.
One could not be under greater obligations than I was
to this good Prelate. He conceived as much friendship
for me as if I had been his sister, and in the midst of his
continual occupation, his sole diversion was to spend a
half-hour with me, speaking about God. He began a
letter to the Bishop of Marseilles to thank him for having
protected me in the persecution. He wrote also to the
Bishop of Grenoble, and there was nothing he left undone
to mark his affection. He no longer thought of anything
but devising means to keep me in his diocese. He was
not wilhng to let me visit the Marquise de Prunai ; on the
contrary, he wrote to her, inviting her to come herself with
me into his diocese. He even sent Father La Combe
expressly to urge her to come, assuring her that he wished
to unite us all and form a small Community. The Marquise
de Prunai entered into it readily enough, and her daughter
also, and they would have come with Father La Combe
but for the Marquise having fallen ill. She thought of
sending her daughter to me, and the matter was deferred
until she should be in better health. The Bishop com
menced by hiring a large house, which he even treated
for the purchase of, in order to locate us in it. It was
very suitable for a Community. He wrote also to a lady
at Genoa, an acquaintance of his, sister to a cardinal,
who expressed much desire to unite with us, and the
matter was considered already settled. There were also
some devout girls, who were quite ready to set out to come
to us. But, 0 my God, your will was not to establish me,
but rather to destroy me.

Chap. XXIV.J AUTUBlOGUAPnY. 123
The fatigue of the journey made me fall ill ; the girl
I had brought from Grenoble also fell ill. Her relatives,
persons very full of self-interest, got into their heads that
if she died in my hands I might cause her to make a will
in my favour. They were much mistaken ; for, far from
wishing for the property of others, I had even given away
my own. Her brother, full of this apprehension, came as
quickly as possible, and the first thing he spoke to her of,
although he found her recovered, was to make a will. This
caused a great fracas at Verceil ; for he wanted to take
her away, and she was not willing to go. However, as I
noticed little solidity of character in this girl, I thought it
was an opportunity which divine providence offered me of
getting rid of her, as she was not suited to me. I advised
her to do what her brother wished. He formed friendship
with some officers of the garrison, to whom he told ridicu
lous stories, that I wanted to ill-use his sister, whom he
represented as a person of quality, although she was of
quite humble birth. This brought me many crosses and
humiliations. They commenced to say, what I had
always dreaded, that I had come for the sake of Father
La Combe. They even persecuted him on account of me.
The Bishop of Verceil was extremely vexed, but he
could not apply any remedy ; for he could not make up his
mind to let me go, besides that I was in no state to do so,
being ill. The friendship he had for me increased each
day, because, as he loved God, he had a friendship for all
those he believed wishing to love him. As he saw me
so ill, he came to see me constantly, when he was free
from his duties and occupations. This caused him and
me also no slight crosses. He used to make me little
presents of fruit, and other things of that nature. His
relatives became jealous, saying I had come to ruin him,
and carry away into France the money of the Bishop. It
was what was furthest from my thoughts. This worthy
Bishop swallowed all the crosses, through the friendship

124 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
he had for me, and still confidently calculated on keeping
me in his diocese as soon as I was recovered.
Father La Combe was his theologian and his confessor :
he esteemed him greatly ; and the Father did a great deal
of good in that garrison, God making use of him to convert
many of the officers and soldiers. Some of very scandalous
life became models of virtue. He induced the subaltern
officers to make retreats ; he preached and instructed the
soldiers, who profited greatly, and as a consequence made
general confessions. In this place there was a constant
mixture of crosses and of souls gained for our Lord.
There were some of his brother monks, who, after his
example, were working for their perfection, and, although
I hardly understood their language and they did not at
all understand mine, our Lord brought it about that we
understood each other in what regarded his service. The
Father Rector of the Jesuits, having heard me spoken of,
took the opportunity of Father La Combe's absence from
Verceil to come and, as he said, try me. He had studied
theological subjects that I did not understand, and put
numbers of questions to me. Our Lord gave me the
means of answering, and he went away so satisfied that he
could not help speaking of it. Father La Combe stood
well then with the Bishop of Verceil, who looked on him
with veneration.
But the Bernabites of Paris, or rather Father La
Mothe, bethought himself of bringing him away from
there, to make him go and preach at Paris. He wrote of
it to their General, saying that they had none at Paris
qualified to uphold the House ; that their church was
deserted ; that it was a mistake to leave a man like Father
La Combe in a place where he was merely corrupting his
language; that his great talents should be exhibited at
Paris ; that for the rest, he could not bear the burden of
the House at Paris, if he was not given a man of that
stamp. Who would not have believed that all this was

Chap. XXIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 125
sincere ? The Bishop, who was a great friend of the
General, hearing of it, offered opposition, and wrote to
him that it was to do him the very greatest injury to
take away a man who was so useful to him, and at a time
when he had the greatest need of him. He was right,
for he had a Grand Vicar whom he had brought from
Rome, who, after having been Nuncio of the Pope in France,
had by his evil life been reduced to live off his Masses, even
in Rome itself, where he was in such great need as to
attract the compassion of the Bishop of Verceil, who took
him, and gave him very good allowances for acting as his
Grand Vicar. This Abbe, far from gratitude to his bene
factor, following the whim of his humour, was constantly
in opposition to the Bishop, and if any ecclesiastic was dis
orderly or discontented, it was with him the Abb6 took part
against his Bishop. All those that complained against
the Prelate or insulted him, were at once friends of the
Grand Vicar, who, not content with this, laboured with
all his might to embroil him with the Court of Eome ;
saying he was entirely devoted to France, to the prejudice
of his Holiness's interests, and as a proof, that he had
several Frenchmen with him. He also by his secret
intrigues embroiled him with the Court of Savoy ; so that
this worthy Bishop had very severe crosses from this man.
Not being able to bear it, the Bishop requested him to
retire, and with great generosity gave him all that was
necessary for his return journey. He was extremely
offended at having to leave the Bishop, and turned all
his anger against Father La Combe, against a French
gentleman, and against me.
The General of the Bernabites was not willing to grant
Father La Mothe's request, for fear of hurting his great
friend the Bishop, and to take away from him a man who
in that conjuncture of affairs was very necessary to him.
As for me, my ills increased day by day. The air, which
there is extremely bad, caused me a constant cough,

126 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
together with the fever which I often had, accompanied
with inflammation of the chest, so that I had to be severely
bled. I became swollen. In the evening I would be swollen
to a great size, in the morning nothing was apparent ; the
fever which I had every night consumed the humours. It
was all the right side which first swelled ; at first only the
right arm, afterwards it extended and became so con
siderable that it was thought I should die. The Bishop
was very much distressed, for he could not make up his
mind to let me go, nor yet to see me thus die in his
diocese. But after having consulted the doctors, who told
him that the air of the place was fatal to me, he said to
me with many tears, " I prefer you should live away from
me rather than to see you die here."
He gave up his design for the establishment of a
Community ; for my friend was not willing to settle there
without me, and the Genoese lady could not leave her town,
where she was highly thought of. The Genoese prayed
her to do there what the Bishop wished to do at his place.
It was a Community something like that of Madame de
Miramion; for in that country there are only cloistered
nuns. From the beginning, when the Bishop proposed
the matter to me, I had a presentiment that it would not
succeed, and that it was not what our Lord desired of me.
Nevertheless, I gave in to all that was wished of me in
recognition of the Prelate's kindness, sure as I was that
our Lord would be able to prevent anything he did not
desire of me. When this good Prelate saw that he must
resolve to let me go, he said to me, " You would like to be
in the diocese of Geneva, and the Bishop persecutes and
rejects you ; and I, who would so gladly have you, am not
able to keep you." The Bishop wrote to Father La Mothe
that I would go away in the spring, as soon as the season
would allow ; that he was very distressed at being obliged
to let me go ; and he said of me things that might throw
me into confusion, if I could take to myself anything. He

Chap. XXIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 127
wrote that he regarded me in his diocese as an angel, and
a thousand other things which his goodness suggested.
From this out I made my account for returning ; but the
Bishop expected to keep Father La Combe, and that he
would not go to Paris. That would have been the case,
indeed, but for the death of the General, as I shall tell
hereafter. Almost all the time I was in this country our Lord made
me there suffer many crosses, and at the same time he
multiplied upon me graces and humiliations ; for with me
one has never been without the other. I was almost
always ill and in a state of childhood. I had with me
only that girl of whom I have spoken, who, in the state
which she was in, could not give me any relief, and who
seemed to be with me merely to try me and make me
suffer strangely. It was there I wrote upon the Apocalypse,
and I was given a greater certainty of all I had known of
the persecution which should come upon the most faithful
servants of God, in accordance with what I wrote touching
the future. I was, as I have said, in the state of child
hood; when I had to write or speak there was nothing
greater than I — it seemed to me I was quite full of God —
and yet nothing smaller or feebler than I, for I was like a
little child. Our Lord wished that not only should I bear
his state of childhood in a way that charmed those who
were prepared for it, but he desired further that by an
external cult I should commence to honour his Divine
Childhood. He inspired that worthy begging friar to send
me a Child Jesus of wax, of ravishing beauty, and I
perceived that the more I looked at it, the deeper were the
dispositions of childhood impressed on me. One cannot
believe the trouble I had to allow myself to pass to this
state of childhood, for my reason was lost in it, and it
seemed to me that it was I who gave myself this state.
When I reflected, it was taken away, and I experienced
an intolerable pain ; but as soon as I allowed myself to go

128 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
into it, I found myself with the candour, the innocence
and simplicity of a child, something divine within. I
have committed many infidelities to this state, not being
able to bring myself down to a state so low and so small.
0 Love, you desired to place me in all sorts of positions
in order that I should resist no longer, and should be
subject to all your wishes without reflection or reserve.
While I still was at Verceil I had a movement to write to
Madame de C  . It was some years since she had ceased
writing to me. Our Lord made me to know her disposi
tion, and that he would make use of me to help her. I
asked Father La Combe if he would approve of my writing
to her, telling him of the movement I had; but he did
not wish it. I remained submissive, and at the same time
assured that our Lord would unite us, and would provide
me one way or another with the means of serving her.
Some time after I received a letter from her, which not a
little surprised Father La Combe, and he then left me free
to write to her whatever I wished. I did it with great
simphcity, and what I wrote was like the first foundation
of what our Lord desired of her, having willed to use me
afterwards to help her, and to cause her to enter into
his ways ; for she is a soul to whom I am closely tied, and
through her to others.

Chap. XXV.] AUT013I0GUAPIIY. 129

CHAPTER XXV.
The Father-General of the Bernabites, the friend of the
Bishop of Verceil, died. As soon as he was dead Father
La Mothe wrote to the person who was Vicar-General, and
who held his place until a new election. He told him the
same things he had told the other, and the necessity there
was to have at Paris men like Father La Combe ; that
he had no one to preach the annual sermon in their church.
This worthy Father, who believed Father La Mothe was
acting in good faith, having learned that I was obliged to
return to France owing to my indisposition, sent an order
to Father La Combe to go to Paris, and to accompany me
the whole journey. Father La Mothe having asked him to
do so, on the ground that as he would accompany me,
their House at Paris, which was already poor, would be
saved the expenses of such a long journey. Father La
Combe, who did not penetrate the venom concealed under
this fair appearance, consented to accompany me, knowing
that it was my custom to take with me ecclesiastics or
monks. Father La Combe set out twelve days before me,
in order to attend to some matters of business, and to
accompany me only at the crossing of the mountains,
which appeared to him the place where I had most need
of escort. I set out in Lent, the weather being very fine,
to the grief of the Prelate, who excited my compassion by
the trouble he was in at losing Father La Combe, and
VOL. II. K

130 MADAME GUYON. [Part IL
seeing me go away. He had me taken at his expense to
Turin, giving me a gentleman and one of his ecclesiastics
to accompany me.
As soon as the resolution was taken that Father La
Combe should accompany me, Father La Mothe at once
set going everywhere the story that he had been obliged to
do it, in order to make me return to France ; although he
knew very well that I was intending to return before we
knew that Father La Combe would return. He exaggerated
the attachment I had for him, making himself out a
subject of pity ; and on this every one said that I ought
to put myself under the direction of Father La Mothe.
However, he dissimulated towards us, writing to Father La
Combe letters full of esteem and of tenderness to me,
praying him to bring his dear sister, and to serve her in
her infirmity on such a long journey, and that he would be
deeply obliged for his care, and a hundred similar things.
I could not bring my mind to leave without going to
see my friend the Marquise de Prunai, notwithstanding the
difficulty of the journey. I had myself carried, for it is
impossible to go there otherwise, except on horseback,
owing to the mountains, and I could not go in that way. I
spent twelve days with her. I arrived exactly the Eve of
the Annunciation, and as all her tenderness is for the
mystery of the childhood of Jesus Christ, and she knew the
part our Lord gave me in it, she received extreme joy at
seeing me arrive to spend that festival with her. Nothing
could be more cordial than what passed between us with
much openness. It was then she told me that all I had
said to her had happened, and a worthy ecclesiastic who
lived with her, a very holy man, told me the same. We
together made ointments, and I gave her the secret of my
remedies. I encouraged her, and so did Father La Combe,
to establish a hospital in that place, which she did while
we were there. I gave the little contribution of the Holy
Child Jesus, who has always made successful all the

Chap. XXV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 131
hospitals which have been established in reliance on
providence. I think I forgot to say that our Lord also
made use of me to establish a hospital near Grenoble,
which subsists without other capital than providence. My
enemies have made use of this subsequently to calumniate
me, saying that I had spent my children's property in
establishing hospitals ; although the truth is, that, far
from having expended their money, I had even given them
my own, and that these hospitals have been established
merely on the capital of divine providence, which is
inexhaustible. But our Lord has had this goodness for me,
that all he has ever made me do for his glory is always
turned into a cross. I have forgotten to speak in detail of
many crosses and illnesses, but there are so many some
must be kept back. In the illnesses I had at Verceil I had
still the same dependence on Father La Combe, owing to
my state of childhood, with the impression of these words :
" And he was subject to them." It was that state of Jesus
Christ which was then impressed on me.
As soon as it was determined that I should come into
France, our Lord made me Imow that it was in order to
have there the greatest crosses I had ever yet had, and
Father La Combe also had knowledge of it ; but he said to
me, that I must immolate myself to all the divine wishes
and anew be a victim immolated to new sacrifices. He
wrote to me : " Would it not be a fine thing, and very
glorious to God, if he desired to make us in that great city
serve as a spectacle to men and angels ! " I set out, then,
on my return with a spirit of sacrifice, to immolate myself
to new kinds of sufferings. All along the road something
within said to me the same words as St. Paul : " I go up
to Jerusalem, and the Spirit tells me everywhere that
crosses and chains await me." I could not prevent myself
from expressing it to my most intimate friends, who used
their efforts to stay me on the road. They even wished all
to contribute of what they had to stop me and prevent my

132 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
going to Paris, in the belief that the presentiment I had
was very true. But I had to go on and come there to
immolate myself for him who first immolated himself.
At Chambery we saw Father La Mothe, who was going to
the election of a General. Although he affected friendship,
it was not difficult to see that his thoughts were other than
his words, and that he had formed in his mind the design
of destroying us. I speak of the behaviour of this Father
only in obedience to the command which has been laid
upon me to omit nothing. I shall be obliged, in spite of
myself, to speak often of him. With all my heart I would
gladly suppress what I have to say. If what he has
done regarded only myself, I would willingly suppress it ;
but I think it a duty I owe to truth and the innocence of
Father La Combe, who has so long been grievously
oppressed and overwhelmed by calumny and by an im
prisonment of many years, which according to all appear
ance will continue as long as his life. I feel myself, I say,
obliged to expose all the artifices made use of to blacken
him and render him odious, and the motives which have
led Father La Mothe to adopt such a course. Although
Father La Mothe appears heavily charged in what I say of
him, I protest before God that I yet omit many facts.
I saw, then, very clearly his design. Father La Combe
also remarked it, but he was resolved to sacrifice himself
and to immolate me to all which he believed the will of
God. Some even of my friends informed me that Father
La Mothe had evil designs, but yet they did not imagine
them so extreme as they were in reality. They thought
he would send away Father La Combe after having made
him preach, and that for this purpose he would get him
into trouble. At Chambery it was interiorly said to Father
La Combe, in the same way as it had been told him that
we should be together, that " we should be separated."
We separated at Chambery. Father La Mothe went to the
Chapter after begging Father La Combe with affected

Chap. XXV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 133
urgency every day not to leave me, but to accompany me
as far as Paris. Father La Combe asked his permission
to leave me alone at Grenoble, because he was very desirous
of going to Tonon to see his family, and he expected to
rejoin me at Grenoble after three weeks. It was with
difficulty this was granted, such was the affectation of
sincerity. I set out for Grenoble and Father La Combe for Tonon.
As soon as I arrived I fell ill of a continued fever, which
lasted fifteen days, when that worthy begging friar had an
opportunity of practising his charity. He gave me
remedies, and these, joined to the fever and the change of
climate, gradually consumed my disease. All those whom
God had given me on my first visit to Grenoble came to
see me during my illness, and exhibited extreme joy at
seeing me again. They showed me the letters and re
tractations of that poor impassioned girl, and I did not see
a person who continued influenced by her stories. The
Bishop of Grenoble expressed more kindness than ever,
assured me he had never believed any of them, and even
offered me to remain in his diocese. They again pressed
me to remain at the General Hospital, but it was not
where you wished me, 0 my God; it was upon Calvary.
Father La Combe and I were so penetrated by the cross
that everything announced to us Cross. That good girl of
whom I have spoken, who had seen so much persecution,
and whom the Devil, so threatened, had many presenti
ments of the crosses that were about to pour upon us,
and she said, "What do you want to go there for, to be
crucified ? " All along the road souls that were spiritual
and influenced by grace spoke to us only of crosses, and
this impression that " chains and persecutions await me "
never quitted me for a moment. I came then, 0 my Love,
to sacrifice myself to your hidden will. You know what
crosses I have had to bear from my relatives. Oh, in
what ill fame am I ! In spite of all that, you nevertheless

134 MADAME GUYON. [Part II.
win souls in every place and at every time; and one
deems such troubles amply paid should they procure the
salvation and perfection of a single soul. It is in this
place that you desired, 0 God, to make a theatre of your
designs through the cross and the good that you will to do
to souls.

PART IIT.

CHAPTER I.
Habdly had I arrived at Paris when it was easy for me
to discover, by the conduct of the persons, the evil designs
they had against Father La Combe and against me.
Father La Mothe, who directed all the tragedy, dissimu
lated as much as he could, and in his usual manner, giving
secret blows and making semblance of flattering whilst he
was dealing the most dangerous strokes. Through self-
interest they desired to make me go to Montargis, hoping
thereby to seize upon the wardship of my children, and to
dispose of my person and my property. All the persecu
tions which have befallen me from the side of Father La
Mothe and of my family have been solely due to selfish
motives. Those which have been directed against Father
La Combe have been only due to the fact that he did not
oblige me to do what they wished of me, and also to
jealousy. I might give many particulars on this head
which would convince everybody, but to avoid tediousness
I suppress them. I will only say that they threatened to
deprive me of the fief that I had reserved for myself by my
deed of settlement. As I never betrayed the sentiments of my
heart, I replied that I would not litigate, but if they wished
to take away the little I had reserved for myself, though
so trifling in comparison with what I had given up, that

136 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
I would yield it cheerfully ; being delighted to be not only
poor, but in the extremity of want, in imitation of our Lord
Jesus Christ.
After our Lord had made Father La Combe suffer much
in our union, in order to purify it thoroughly, it became
so perfect as to be henceforth an entire unity ; and this in
such a way that I can no longer distinguish him from God.
I cannot in detail describe the graces God has given me,
for everything passes in me in a manner so pure that one
can tell nothing of it. As nothing falls under the senses,
nor can be expressed, it must all remain in him, who
himself communicates himself in himself; as well as an
infinity of circumstances, which I must leave in God with
the rest of the crosses.
What formerly caused my sufferings with Father La
Combe is that he had not then a knowledge of the total
nakedness of the soul lost in God, and that having always
conducted souls in gifts, extraordinary graces of visions,
revelations, interior speech, and not yet knowing the
difference that there is between these mediate communica
tions and the immediate communication of the Word in
the soul, which, having no distinction, has also no ex
pression, he could not understand a state of which I was
unable to tell him almost anything. The second thing
that had been the cause of his troubles was the communi
cation in silence, to which he had difficulty in adapting
himself, desiring to see it by the eyes of reason. But
when all obstacles had been removed, 0 God, you have
made of him one same thing with you and one same thing
with me in a consummation of perfect unity. All that
which is known, understood, distinguished, and explained
are mediate communications, but for the immediate
communication — communication of eternity rather than of
time, communication of the Word— it has nothing that can
be expressed, and one can only say of it what St. John has
said of it : " In the beginning was the Word, and the

Chap. I.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 137
Word was in God, and God was in the Word." The Word
is in that soul, and that soul is in God by the Word and in
the Word. It is very important early to accustom one's self
to get beyond everything that is distinct and perceived,
and mediate speech, to allow room for the speaking of the
Word, which is none other than a silence ineffable and yet
eloquent. I had arrived at Paris the Eve of St. Magdalen, 1686,
exactly five years after my departure thence. Shortly
after his arrival Father La Combe was very much run
after and applauded for his sermons. I perceived, indeed,
some little jealousy on the part of Father La Mothe, but I
did not think that things would go to such a length.
Doubtless it will be a matter of surprise that the greater
part of the Bernabites of Paris and the neighbouring
Houses should join against Father La Combe. There were
two causes for it. First, the selfish motives and the jealousy
of Father La Mothe, which made him invent all sorts of
artifices. He told them all that in ruining Father La
Combe they would have a pretext for shaking off the yoke
of the Savoyards ; for it should be known that every six
years the Bernabites had a Savoyard as Provincial. This,
he said, was an insult to the French nation. They all
fell in with it, and for this purpose betrayed their brother,
without, however, obtaining what they desired, except for
a few years ; for, as a fact, they have at present a Savoyard
as Provincial. The second reason was the special jealousy
of their Provincial, who, owing to a Lent service taken
away from one of his friends and given to Father La
Combe, became his enemy, though previously his friend.
That united the interests of the Provincial and of Father
La Mothe.This latter pushed artifice so far as to say that Father
La Combe had accompanied me from Turin to Paris
without entering their Houses, and that he remained in
the inn with me to the great scandal of their Order. He

138 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
did not tell them that there was no convent of their Order
on the route ; but, on the contrary, he made it to be under
stood that there were, and that it was to the shame of these
Houses that he had not been there. Who would not have
believed a calumny told with such art? This began to
stir up every one against me ; but the excellent sermons
of Father La Combe and his success in the conduct of
souls, counterbalanced these calumnies.
I had deposited a small sum with Father La Combe (his
superiors permitting), which I destined for the dowry of a
girl professing as a nun. I thought I was bound in con
science, for owing to me she had left the New Catholics.
She is the young woman of whom I have spoken, that the
priest of Gex tried to gain over. As she is beautiful,
although extremely discreet, there is always ground for
fear when one is exposed without any fixed settlement.
I had then assigned this moderate sum for that worthy girl.
Father La Mothe desired to have it, and made Father La
Combe understand that if he did not cause me to give it for
a wall that he wished to rebuild in his convent, they would
get him into trouble. But Father La Combe, always
upright, said that he could not conscientiously advise me
to do anything else than what he knew I had resolved to
do in favour of the girl. All this, joined to jealousy at the
success of Father La Combe's sermons, made him de
termine to unite with the Provincial, and to betray Father
La Combe to satisfy the grudge of each.
They no longer thought except of the means to arrive at
their end, and to do it successfully they sent to confession
to Father La Combe a man and a woman who were united
in practising all sorts of villainy with impunity, and
persecuting God's servants. I believe there never were
such artifices as theirs. The man writes all kinds of
hands, and is ready to execute anything one desires. They
pretended devotion, and amongst so great a number of
worthy souls who came from all parts to Father La Combe

Chap. I.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 139
for confession, he never discerned those devilish spirits,
God so permitting it, because he had given power to the
Devil to treat him like Job.
Previous to this, when I was alone in my room on my
knees before an image of the Child Jesus, where I usually
prayed, suddenly I was, as it were, cast back from this
image, and sent to the Crucifix : all that I had of the state
of childhood was taken away from me, and I found myself
bound anew with Jesus Christ Crucified. To tell what this
bond is would be very difficult for me, for it is not a
devotion, as is commonly supposed. It is no longer a state
of suffering by conformity with Jesus Christ ; but it is the
same Jesus Christ borne very purely and nakedly in his
states. What passed in this new union of love to that
Divine Object he alone knows ; but I understood it was no
longer a question for me of bearing him, the Child, or in
his states of nakedness : that I must bear him Crucified ;
and it was the last of all his states. For in the commence
ment I had indeed borne crosses, as may be seen in the
narrative of my life, which is quite full of them ; but they
were my own crosses, borne through conformity with Jesus
Christ. Then, my state becoming more profound, it was
given me to bear the states of Jesus Christ, which I have
borne in the middle of my life in nakedness and crosses.
And whilst one bears in this manner the states of Jesus
Christ one does not think on Jesus Christ — he is then re
moved ; and even from the commencement of the path of
faith one has him no longer thus objectively. But the state
I am now speaking of is quite different ; it is of a vastness
almost infinite, and few souls bear him in this way. It is
to bear Jesus Christ himself in his states. Only experience
can make intelligible what I wish to say. At this time these
words were impressed upon me : " He has been numbered
among the malefactors ; " and it was put into my mind that
I must bear Jesus Christ in this state in all its extent. 0
God, if there has not been enough of insult and ignominy

140 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
complete, finish me by the last punishment ! All that
comes from you will be sweet to me. Your arm is raised.
I await the blows from moment to moment. " Let him who
has commenced, finish ; and let me have this consolation,
that in torturing me cruelly he does not spare me." I am
fit only to suffer, and to suffer insults ; it is the contract of
our sacred marriage — it is my dowry, 0 my Love ! You
have been liberal of it in the case of your servant.
At this period I received a letter from Father La
Combe, who vsrrote me in these terms : " The weather is
very lowering " (speaking of Father La Mothe's humour
towards him). "I do not know when the thunderbolts
will fall, but all will be welcome from the hand of God."
Meantime the husband of this wicked creature who
counterfeited the saint ceased coming to confession to
Father La Combe, in order the better to play his game.
He sent his wife, who said she was very sorry for her
husband having left this Father ; that her husband was a
fickle man ; that she did not resemble him. She counter
feited the saint, saying that God revealed to her future
events, and that he was about to have great persecutions.
It was not difficult for her to know this, since she plotted
them with Father La Mothe, the Provincial, and her
husband. During this time I went to the country to the Duchess
of C  . Many extraordinary things happened to me,
and God gave me great graces for my neighbour : it
seemed as if he desired to dispose me thereby for the cross.
Many persons of those whom our Lord caused me to
spiritually help, and who were my spiritual children, were
there. I was given a strong instinct of communicating
myself to them in silence, and as they were not prepared
for this and it was a thing unknown to them, I knew not
how to tell them. In this I was wanting in fidelity to God
through natural timidity. A passage of Scripture was
read, and explained in a manner quite different from the

Chap. I.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 141
understanding of it that was given to me, and this caused
in me such a contrariety (because, owing to the presence of
certain persons, whose constraint I felt, I dared not speak)
that they had to unlace me. In the afternoon I had an
opportunity of speaking to Father G  and two other
persons, and this was a relief to me. I have, besides, at
different times had other plenitudes, which made me suffer
much, and oftentimes I discharged them upon my best
disposed children, though they were absent, and I felt that
there was an outflow from me into their souls ; and after
wards, when they wrote to me, they mentioned that at such
a time much grace had been communicated to them. Our
Lord had also given me a certain spirit of truth, which I
called the spirit of the Word, which " causes one to reject
the evil and to choose the good." When, in a sermon or
discourse, any things about devotion, or pious thoughts, or
probable opinions on any matter, or sentiments as to the
Holy Virgin or the Saints, were advanced, I felt in me a
something which rejected at once what was merely human
opinion, and accepted the pure truth : this was without
attention or reflection.
Father La Combe wrote to me while I was in the
country that he had found an admirable soul (meaning
that woman who counterfeited the saint), and mentioned
certain circumstances which made me apprehensive for
him. However, as our Lord gave me nothing special on
the subject — and, besides, I feared that if I told him my
thoughts it would be ill taken, as at other times ; and as
our Lord did not urge me to say anything (for if he had
required it of me, at any cost I would have done it), I wrote
to him that I abandoned him to God for that as for the
rest. While this woman was counterfeiting the saint, and
exhibiting great affection and esteem for Father La Combe,
her husband, who imitated all kinds of writing, was induced
(evidently by the enemies of Father La Combe, as the

142 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
sequel has shown) to write defamatory libels, to which they
attached the propositions of Mohnos, which for two years
were circulating in France, and said these were the senti
ments of Father La Combe. They had them carried
everywhere amongst the Communities, and Father La
Mothe and the Provincial, who was more tricky, caused
these libels to be sent back to themselves ; then assuming
the role of persons much attached to the Church, they
themselves carried these libels to the Official, who was in
their plot, and brought them to the notice of the Arch
bishop. They said that zeal urged them, and that they
were in despair that one of their monks should be heretic
and execrable. They also slightly mixed me up in the
matter, saying that Father La Combe was always at my
house. This was utterly false, for I could hardly see him,
except at the confessional, and then only for a moment.
They renewed their old calumnies about the journeys, and
went from house to house among honourable families,
saying that I had been on horseback behind Father La
Combe — I, who was never so in my life ! — that he had not
been to their Houses along the road, but that he remained
at the inn.
Previous to this I had had many mysterious dreams,
which told me all this. They bethought them of one
matter which favoured their enterprise. They knew that I
had been to Marseilles ; they thought they had discovered
a good foundation for a calumny. They forged a letter
from a person of Marseilles (I even believe I heard it said,
from the Bishop of Marseilles), addressed to the Archbishop
of Paris, or to his Official, in which they stated that at
Marseilles I had slept in the same room with Father La
Combe ; that there he had eaten meat in Lent and behaved
very scandalously. This letter was carried, this calumny
was retailed everywhere, and after having circulated it.
Father La Mothe and the Provincial, who had concocted it
together, resolved to tell it to me. Father La Mothe came

CuAP. 1.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 143
to see me, apparently to make me fall into the trap and to
make me say in the presence of people he had brought with
him, that I had been to Marseilles with Father La Combe.
He said to me, " There are horrible stories against you sent
by the Bishop of Marseilles, that you have there committed
frightful scandals with Father La Combe ; there are good
witnesses of it." I began to smile, and said to him, " The
calumny is well imagined, but it ought to have been first
ascertained if Father La Combe had been to Marseilles, for
I do not believe that he has ever been there in his life ;
and when I passed through it was Lent. I was with such
and such persons and Father La Combe was preaching the
Lent sermons at Verceil." He was dumbfounded, and with
drew, saying, " There are, however, witnesses that it is
true ; " and he went immediately to ask Father La Combe if
he had not been at Marseilles. He assured him he had
never been in Provence, nor further than Lyons and the
road from Savoy to France ; so that they were somewhat
taken aback. But they devised another expedient. Those
who could not know that Father La Combe had never
been to Marseilles, they left in the belief that it was
Marseilles, and to the others they said that it was Seissel
in the letter. This Seissel is a place where I have never
been, and where there is no bishop.
Father La Mothe and the Provincial carried from house
to house the libels and those propositions of Molinos,
saymg they were the errors of Father La Combe. All this
did not prevent Father La Combe from making a wonder
ful harvest by his sermons and at the confessional. From
all sides people came to him. It was gall to them.
The Provincial had just held his Visitation, and had
passed quite close to Savoy without going there ; because
he did not wish, he said, to hold the Visitation that year.
They plotted together, Father La Mothe and he, to go
there in order to collect some reports against Father La
Combe and against me, and to gratify the Bishop of

144 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
Geneva, whom they knew to be very bitter against me and
against Father La Combe, for the reasons I have
mentioned. The Provincial set out, then, immediately on
his return from the Visitation of Provence, to go into
Savoy, and gave orders to Father La Mothe to do every
thing he could to ruin Father La Combe.
They plotted with the Official, a man skilful and clever
in this sort of affair ; but as it would have been very
difficult to mix me up in the business, they instigated that
woman to ask to see me. She told Father La Combe that
God made known to her admirable things of me, that she
had an inconceivable love for me, and wished very much to
see me. As besides she said she was very much in want,
Father La Combe sent her to me to give her something in
charity. I gave her a half louis-d'or. At first she did not
strike me in her true character ; but after half an hour's
conversation with her, I had a horror of her. I hid it
from myself, for the reasons I have mentioned. Some days
from that — three days after, I think — she came to ask me for
the means of getting herself bled. I told her that I had a
maid very skilful at bleeding, and if she wished I would
have her bled. She indignantly refused, and said she was
not a person to allow herself to be bled by any one but a
surgeon. I gave her fifteen sous. She took them with a
scorn which made me see she was not what Father La
Combe believed her. She immediately went and threw
the fifteen-sous piece before Father La Combe, asking if
she were a person to be given fifteen sous. The Father
was surprised ; but as in the evening she had learned from
her husband that it was not time for breaking out, but for
feigning, she went to see Father La Combe, asked his
pardon, and said it was a strong temptation that had made
her act so, and that she asked back the fifteen sous-piece.
He told me nothing of all this, but several nights I suffered
strangely owing to this woman. In sleep sometimes I saw
the Devil, then suddenly I saw this woman ; sometimes it

Chap. 1.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 145
was the one, sometimes it was the other. This made me
wake with a start. For three nights I was thus, with a
certainty that she was a wicked woman who counterfeited
devotion to deceive and to injure. I told it to Father La
Combe, and he reprimanded me very severely, saying it was
my imagination, that I was wanting in charity, that this
woman was a saint. I therefore kept quiet. I was very
much astonished when a virtuous girl, whom I did not
know, came to see me, and told me that she felt bound to
warn me, knowing that I was interested in Father La
Combe, that he confessed a woman who was deceiving him ;
that she knew her thoroughly, and she was, perhaps, the
most wicked and the most dangerous woman in Paris.
She related to me strange things this woman had done and
thefts committed at Paris. I told her to declare it to
Father La Combe. She said that she had told him some
thing of it ; but that he made her acknowledge it as a fault
in confession, on the ground that she was uncharitable, so
that she no longer knew what to do. That woman was over
heard in a shop speaking evil of Father La Combe. It was
told to him, but he would not believe it. She sometimes came
to my house. I, who am without natural antipathy, had such
a violent one, and even such horror for this creature, that
the force I put upon myself to see her, in obedience to
Father La Combe, made me turn so extraordinarily pale,
that my servants perceived it. Among others, a very
worthy girl — she who made me suffer so much for her
purification — felt for her the same horror that I felt.
Father La Combe was again warned that there was one of
his penitents who went about decrying him to all the
confessors, and saying execrable things of him. He wrote
them to me, and told me at the same time that I should
not imagine it was this woman ; that it was not she. I
was perfectly certain it was the same. Another time she
came to my house ; the Father was there. She told him
something of the intimations she had that he was about to
VOL. 11. L

146 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
have great crosses. I had an immediate conviction that it
was she who was causing them. I told it to Father La
Combe; but he would not believe me, our Lord so
permitting it, to render him like to himself. One thing
which seemed extraordinary, is that Father La Combe, so
soft and so credulous to any other who did not tell him the
truth, was not at all so for me. He himself was astonished
at it, yet I am not astonished, because in God's con
ducting of me my nearest are those who crucify me the
most.

Chap. II.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 147

CHAPTER II.
One day a monk, at one time my confessor, to whom this
woman went to retail her calumnies, sent to ask me to
come and see him. He related to me all that she had told
him, and the lies in which he had detected her. As for me,
I continually detected her in falsehood. I at once told
Father La Combe. He was suddenly enlightened, and,
as if scales had fallen from his eyes, he no longer doubted
the villainy of this woman. The more he recalled what
he had seen in her, and what she had said to him, the
more convinced he was of her villainy, and avowed to me
there must be something diabolic in the woman to enable
her to pass as a saint. As soon as I returned home she
came to see me. I gave orders not to let her in. She
wanted me to give her alms, to pay for the hire of her
house. I was very ill that day, and in consequence of an
excessive thirst my body was swollen. One of my maids
told her plainly that I was ill, that they were alarmed
because I had been dropsical, and that for two days I had
been swollen. She wanted to enter in spite of the maid,
when the one who knew something of her villainies came
to prevent her, and told her that nobody could speak with
me. She wrangled with them, but they patiently bore it.
She straightway went to see the Superior of the Premontres
and retailed to him frightful calumnies. She said that I
was pregnant. This man, who hardly knew me, believed

148 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
her, and sent for my daughter's maid whom he had given
me. He told her this frightful calumny. She, who per
fectly knew the thing was impossible, said to him, " My
Father, by whom ? she never sees a man, and she is very
virtuous." This astonished him. She told me of it.
That wretched creature went everywhere retailing the
same story, thinking that I should be a long time swollen,
and it would be easy for her to make it believed ; but as
the swelling passed away in a couple of days, owing to a
trifling remedy, this calumny had no consequence. Besides,
they knew that if they had recourse to calumny they must
reckon with secular judges, and they would find it a bad
bargain. They determined therefore to attack me also in
the matter of faith, in order to throw me into the hands of
the Official, and that by means of a little book, entitled
" Short Method, etc.," to which my name did not appear,
and which had been approved by doctors of the Sorbonne
appointed for that purpose at Lyons and also at Grenoble.
But before turning to myself, I must tell how they went to
work. Father La Mothe came to see me, and said that at the
.Archbishop's office there were frightful reports against
Father La Combe, that he was a heretic and a friend of
Molinos. I, who well knew he had no acquaintance with
Molinos, assured him of this (for at the commencement
I could not believe Father La Mothe was acting in bad
faith, and that he was in concert with that woman). I
further said to him, that I knew he had great power with
the Archbishop, and I begged him to take Father La
Combe there, that, as soon as the Archbishop had spoken
to him, he would be undeceived. He promised he would
next day, but he took very good care not to do so. I told
him of the villainy of this woman, and what she had done
to me. He coldly answered that she was a saint. It was
then I commenced ito discover that they were acting in
concert, and I saw myself reduced to say with David,

Chap. II.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 149
" If my enemy had done this to me, I should not be sur
prised, but my nearest ! " It was that which rendered
these calumnies more hard and the whole matter more
incomprehensible. I went to see Father La Combe at the confessional, and
told him what Father La Mothe had said to me, and that
he should ask to be taken to the Archbishop by him. He
went to Father La Mothe, who said that he would take
him to the Archbishop, but there was no hurry ; that the
reports were not against him, but against me : and for
nearly a month he played see-saw with us, saying to Father
La Combe that the reports were not against him but against
me, and to me that they were against him, and that I was
not mentioned in them. Father La Combe and I were
confounded when we spoke of all these things and this
deceit. Nevertheless Father La Combe preached and heard
confession with more applause than ever, and this aug
mented the vexation and jealousy of those people. Father
La Mothe went for two days into the country, and Father
La Combe, being senior, remained as Superior in his absence.
I told him to go to the Archbishop, and to take the opportu
nity when Father La Mothe was not there. He answered me
that Father La Mothe had told him not to leave the House
during his absence ; that he saw clearly that it would be
very necessary for him to see the Archbishop, and that
perhaps he would never have this opportunity again ; but
that he wished to die observing his obedience, and, since
his Superior had told him to remain in his absence, he would
do so. It was merely to prevent his going to the Arch
bishop, and making him acquainted with the truth, that
this had been said to him.
There was a doctor of the Sorbonne, Monsieur Bureau,
who came to see me two or three times, on the occasion of
a visit from the Abbe de Gaumont, a man of wonderful
purity, nearly eighty years of age, who has passed all
bis life in retreat, without directing, preaching, or hearing

150 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
confession : he had known me formerly, and brought
Monsieur Bureau to see me. Against this latter Father
La Mothe was indignant, because one of his penitents,
who had left him, had been to see Monsieur Bureau, who
is a very honourable man. With reference to him. Father
La Mothe said to me, "You see Monsieur Bureau; I do
not wish it." I asked him the reason, telling him that
I had not been to seek him, but that he had come to
see me, and that rarely ; that I did not think it proper
to turn him out of my house, that he was a man in high
repute. He told me that he had done him a wrong. I
wished to know what this wrong was. I learned it was
because that penitent, who had given much to Father La
Mothe and had left him only because he was grasping, had
been to Monsieur Bureau. I did not deem this reason
sufficient to alienate a man who had done me service, and
to whom I was under obligation, and who was, besides, a
true servant of God. Father La Mothe himself went to
the Official's office to depose that I held assemblies with
Monsieur de Gaumont and Monsieur Bureau ; that he had
even broken up one of them — an utter falsehood. He said
it also to others, who repeated it to me ; so that I learned
it from the Official and from others. He further accused
me of many other things. Without any regular process they
attacked Monsieur Bureau, the Official being delighted to
have this opportunity of illtreating a man whom he had
hated for a long time. They set to work the scribe, husband
of that wicked woman, against Monsieur Bureau, and in a
short time there were counterfeit letters from Superiors of
religious Houses where Monsieur Bureau directed and heard
confession, who wrote to the Official, that Monsieur Bureau
preached and taught errors, and introduced trouble into the
religious Houses. It was not difficult for Monsieur Bureau
to prove the falseness of these letters, for the Superiors
disavowed them. Madame de Miramion, friend of Monsieur
Bureau, herself proved their falsity ; yet, far from doing

Chap. II.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 151
justice to Monsieur Bureau, they made His Majesty believe
he was guilty, and exiled him, as I shall tell hereafter,
abusing the King's zeal for religion by making his au
thority subservient to the passion of these people.
One day Father La Mothe came to me, and said it was
absolutely true that there were horrible reports against
Father La Combe, and insinuated that I should get him
to withdraw, hoping thereby to make him appear guilty ;
for it was hard to find the means of ruining him, because,
whether they judged him themselves, or sent him to their
General, the latter would have knowledge of everything,
and the innocence of Father La Combe, as well as the
wickedness of the others, would have been known. They
were very much embarrassed to discover something. I
said to Father La Mothe, that if Father La Combe was
guilty he should be punished (I spoke very boldly, knowing
thoroughly his innocence), and therefore there was nothing
for him to do but to wait in patience what God would
bring about ; that, for the rest, he ought to have taken him
to the Archbishop to let his innocence be seen. I even
asked him to do this with all the urgency I could. Father
La Combe on his side besought him to let him go, if he
was unwilling to take him. He always said he would take
him to-morrow or some other day ; then he had business
to prevent him ; and yet he many times went there by
himself. Seeing that Father La Combe patiently waited his evil
fortune, and not having yet discovered the last expedient,
by which they have succeeded in ruining him, Father La
Mothe raised the mask. He sent to warn me at church,
where I was, to come and speak to him, and, having
brought with him Father La Combe, he said to me, in his
presence, " My sister, it is you who now must think of
flying : there are against you execrable reports ; you are
accused of crimes that make one shudder." I was no more
moved, nor confused by it, than if he had told me an idle tale

152 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
that in no way touched me. With my ordinary calmness
I said to him, " If I have committed the crimes of which
you speak I could not be too severely punished, and
therefore I am far from desiring to fly ; for if, after having
all my life professed to be in an especial manner devoted to
God, I made use of piety to offend him — him that I would
give my life to love and to make loved by others — it is
right that I should serve as an example, and that I should
be punished with the utmost rigour : but if I am innocent,
flying is not the means to make it believed." Their
design was to incriminate Father La Combe by my flight,
and to make me go to Montargis as they had planned.
When he saw that, far from entering into his proposal, I
remained unmoved, and firm in the determination to suffer
everything rather than fly, he said to me, quite in anger,
" Since you will not do what I tell you, I will go and
inform the family " (meaning that of my children's guardian)
"in order that it may compel you to do it." I said to him
that I had told nothing of all this to my children's
guardian, nor to his family, and that it would surprise
them ; that I begged him to allow me to go the first to
speak to them, or at least to consent that we should go
together. He agreed that we should go together next
day. As soon as I had left him, our Lord, desiring me to
see the whole conduct of this affair, in order that I might
not remain ignorant of it (for our Lord has not permitted
anything to escape me, not that I should cherish a grudge
against any one, since I have never felt the least bitterness
against my persecutors — but, in fine, that nothing should
be hid from me, and that in suffering everything for his
love, I should make a faithful relation of it) — our Lord, I
say, at once inspired me, suggesting that Father La Mothe
was hurrying off to prejudice the family against me, and
tell them whatever he pleased. I sent my footman to run
and see if my suspicion was true, and to get a carriage for
me to go there myself. Father La Mothe was already

Chap. IL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 153
there before me. When he knew I had discovered he was
there, he became so furious he could not prevent its
appearing, and, as soon as he had returned to the convent,
he discharged his vexation on poor Father La Combe. He
had not found the guardian of my children ; but he had
spoken to his sister, the wife of a Maitre des Comptes, a
person of merit. When he told her that I was accused of
frightful crimes, that they must induce me to fly, she
replied, " If Madame," meaning me, " has committed the
crimes you say, I believe I have committed them myself.
What — a person who has lived as she has lived ! I would
answer for her with my own life. To make her fly 1 Her
flight is not a matter of indifference, for if she is innocent
it is to declare her guilty." He added, "It is absolutely
necessary to make her fly, and it is the sentiment of the
Archbishop." She asked him where I should fly to. He
answered, "To Montargis." That aroused her suspicion.
She told him her brother must be consulted, and that he
would see the Archbishop. At this ho was quite con
founded, and begged they would not go to see the Arch
bishop ; said he was more interested than any other ; that
he would himself go there." I arrived just as he had
left. She told me all this, and I related to her from
beginning to end all he had said to me. As she is very
clever, she understood that there was something in it. He
came back, and contradicted himself many times before us
both. The next day, the guardian of my children, having
ascertained the Archbishop's hour, went there. He found
Father La Mothe before him, but he had not been able to
get admitted. When he saw the guardian of my children,
a Counsellor of Parliament, he was much disturbed; he
grew pale, then he grew red, and, at last accosting him, he
begged that he would not speak to the Archbishop — that it
was his place to do so, and that he would do it. The
Counsellor remained firm that he would speak to him.

154 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
The Father, seeing he could not prevent it, said, " You
forget, then, what my sister has done this winter," referring
to a misunderstanding that he himself had caused. The
Counsellor very honourably answered him: "I forget all
that, in order to remember that I am obliged to serve her
in a matter of this nature." Seeing that he could gain
nothing, he besought him that at least he might be the
first to speak to the Archbishop. This made the Counsellor
believe he was not acting straightforwardly. He said to
him, " My Father, if the Archbishop calls you the first,
you will go in the first, otherwise I will go in." " But,
sir," added he, " I will tell him that you are there." "And
I," said the Counsellor, " will tell him that you are there."
Upon that the Archbishop, knowing nothing of this tangle,
called the Counsellor, who said to him that he was informed
there were strange reports against me ; that he knew me
for a long time as a woman of virtue, and that he answered
for me with his own person ; that if there was anything
against me it was to him they should address themselves,
and he would answer for everything. The Archbishop said
he knew nothing at all about it ; that he had not heard
mention of me, but of a Father. Upon this the Counsellor
told him that Father La Mothe had said that his Grace
had even advised me to fly. The Archbishop said this was
not true, he had never heard a word about it. Upon which
the Counsellor asked him if he would consent to cause
Father La Mothe to be called to say this to him. He was
brought in, and the Archbishop asked him where he had
picked up that ; as for himself, he had never heard a word
about it. Father La Mothe defended himself very badly,
and said he had it from the Father Provincial. On leaving
the Archbishop's he was quite furious, and came to look
for Father La Combe to discharge his anger, telling him
they should repent of the affront put upon him, and that
he would find means to make them repent.

Chap. III.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 155

CHAPTER III.
Some days after, having consulted, with Monsieur Charon,
the Official, they discovered the means of ruining Father
La Combe. Since I had been unwilling to fly, it was what
seemed the most hopeful. They caused His Majesty to be
informed that Father La Combe was a friend of Molinos,
and of the same opinions, pretending even, on the evidence
of the scribe and his wife, that he had committed crimes
which he had never done; whereupon His Majesty,
believing the thing true, with as much justness as kind
ness, ordered that Father La Combe should not leave his
convent, and that the Official should go and inform himself
as to his opimons and his doctrines. There was never an
order more equitable than this, but it did not suit the
enemies of Father La Combe, who well knew it would be
very easy for him to defend himself against matters so
false. They concerted a means of withdrawing the affair
from the cognizance of the General, and interesting His
Majesty in it. The only one they found was to make him
appear disobedient to the commands of the King, and, in
order to succeed (for they well knew the obedience of
Father La Combe was such that if he knew the order of
the King he would not contravene it, and their designs
would come to nothing), they resolved to conceal the order
from Father La Combe ; so that, going out for some exer
cise of charity or obedience, he should appear rebellious.'

156 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
Father La Combe preached and heard confession as usual,
and even gave two sermons, one at the Grand Cordeliers at
St. Bonaventura, and another at St. Thomas de Villeneuve
at the Grand Augustinians — sermons which carried away
everybody. They carefully concealed from him, I say, the
orders of the King, and plotted with the Official in all that
they did ; for they could avail nothing in this matter
unless they were in concert.
Some days previously Father La Mothe told me that
the Official was his intimate friend, and in this business
would not do anything but what was pleasing to him.
He pretended to make a spiritual retreat in order not to
absent himself from the House, and the better to accom
plish his business, and also to have a pretext for declining
to serve Father La Combe, and take him to the Archbishop.
One afternoon news was brought to Father La Oombe
that a horse had passed over the body of one of his
penitents, and that he must go and take her confession.
Without delay the Father asked permission from Father
La Mothe to go and take the woman's confession : it was
willingly given. Hardly had he set out, when the Official
arrived. He drew up his proc'es verbal that he had not
found Father La Combe ; that he was disobedient to the
orders of the King (which were never told to him). Quite
openly they told the Official he was at my house, although
they well knew the contrary, and that it was more than six
weeks since he had been there. They informed the Arch
bishop that he was constantly at my house ; but, as a single
exit by the order of his Superior was not sufficient to
make Father La Combe appear as black to His Majesty
as they desired to make him appear, it was necessary to
have other instances. However, Father La Combe, having
learned that during his absence the Official had come to
speak to him, resolved on no account to go out. This
slightly embarrassed them : so they made the Official come
one morning, and, as soon as he entered, they told Father

Chap. III.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 157
La Combe, who knew not that he was there, to go and say
Mass. He was surprised, because it was not his turn. No
sooner had he finished the Mass, than he saw the Official
leaving. He went to his Superior, and said to him, " My
Father, is it that they wish to entrap me ? I have just
seen Monsieur Charon, the Official, leaving." The Superior
said to him, " He wished to speak to me. I asked him if
he wished to speak to you ; he said ' No.' " Yet that very
morning there had been drawn up a second proces verbal
that Father La Combe was not present, that he was again
disobedient to the orders of the King. The Official came a
third time. Father La Combe saw him from the window,
and asked to speak to him. He was not allowed to appear,
on the ground that the business was with the Superior, and
that he had not come for Father La Combe. The latter
came to see me at his confessional, where I was waiting,
and told me that he much feared a snare ; that the
Official was there, and they would not let him speak to
him. A third proces verbal was drawn up, that Father La
Combe was for a third time disobedient to the orders of
His Majesty.
I asked for Father La Mothe, and I said to him that I
begged him not to behave thus ; that he had told me he
was very much the friend of the Official, and that assuredly
they were trying to use stratagem. He said to me coldly,
"He did not wish to see Father La Combe; he had not
come for that." I advised Father La Combe to write to
the Official, and to beg him not to refuse him the favour
which is not refused to the most guilty — that of hearing
them ; to do him the kindness to come and ask for him.
I myself sent the letter by an unknown person. The
Official said he would go in the afternoon without fail.
Father La Combe was somewhat troubled at having
written this letter without the permission of his Superior,
for he could not believe things were at the point they were :
he went and told him. As soon as he knew it, he sent two

158 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
monks to the Official, to request him not to come, as the
event proved. As I passed by, on my way to a house I had
hired, I met these two monks. I had a suspicion of the
fact (for our Lord willed I should be witness of all) : I had
them followed. They went to the house of the Official. I
felt certain Father La Combe had confided to Father La
Mothe the letter he had written. I went to see Father La
Combe, and asked him. He admitted it to me. I told him
I had met these two monks on the road, and had had them
followed. We were still speaking when Father La Mothe
came to say the Official would not come, that things were
changed. Father La Combe from this saw clearly that the
affair would be one of simple trickery.
However, Father La Mothe pretended to be anxious to
serve him. He said to him, " My Father, I know you
have attestations of your doctrine from the Inquisition and
the Sacred Congregation of Rites and the approbation of
Cardinals for your security. These documents are beyond
reply, and, since you are approved at Rome, a mere Official
has nothing to say to you on the subject of doctrine." I
was still at the Bernabites when Father La Combe went to
look for those documents, and to draw up a memorial.
Believing that Father La Mothe was acting in as good faith,
as he protested, and seeing that he assured me that the
Official would only do what he pleased, that he was his
friend, and that he wished to serve Father La Combe, that
Father in his simplicity believed him, and brought him his
papers, which were unanswerable on the point of doctrine —
as to morals, that was not within the province of the Official.
After Father La Combe had given these necessary papers,
they were suppressed, and in vain did the poor Father ask
them back again. Father La Mothe said he had sent
them to the Official. The Official said he had not received
them. They were no more heard of.
On St. Michael's Day, five days before the imprison
ment of Father La Combe, I was at his confessional. He

Chap. III.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 159
could only say these words to me : " I have so great a
hunger for disgrace and ignominy I am quite languishing
from it. I am going to say the Mass : listen to it, and
sacrifice me to God, as I myself am going to immolate
myself to Him." I said to him, " My Father, you will be
satiated with them." And, in fact, on October 3, 1687, the
Eve of St. Francis his patron, when at dinner, they came
to carry him off, to place him with the Fathers of Christian
Doctrine. During this time his enemies piled falsehood
upon falsehood, and the Provincial sent for the Abbe
who had been Grand- Vicar to the Bishop of Verceil and
dismissed by him. He came express to Paris to make
false depositions against Father La Combe ; but this was
cut short, and served merely as a pretext for putting him
into the Bastille. The Provincial had brought some un
signed reports from Savoy, and boasted everywhere that
he had the means of putting Father La Combe in the
Bastille. In fact, two days afterwards, he was put in the
Bastille, and although he was found perfectly innocent, and
they have been unable to support any judgment, they have
been able to persuade His Majesty that he is a dangerous
spirit ; therefore, without judging him, he has been shut up
in a fortress for his life. And when his enemies learned
that in the first fortress the officers esteemed him and
treated him kindly, not content with having shut up such
a servant of God, they have had him removed to a place
where they beUeved he would have more to suffer. God,
who sees all, will render to each according to his works.
I know by the spirit communication that he is very content
and abandoned to God.
After Father La Combe was arrested, Father La Mothe
was more eager than ever to make me fly. He urged it
upon all my friends ; he urged it upon me myself, assuring
me that,af I went to Montargis, I should not be involved in
this business : if I did not "go, I should be involved in it.
He then conceived the notion that, to dispose of me and

160 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
the little that remained to me, and to exculpate himself
in the eyes of men for thus having handed over Father
La Combe, it was necessary that he should be my director.
He skilfully proposed it to me, at the same time holding
out threats. He added, " You have no confidence in me,
all Paris knows." I admit this stirred my pity. Some of
his intimate friends came to see me, and said that, if I con
sented to put myself under his direction, I should keep out
of the trouble. Not content with this, he wrote in all
directions and to his brothers to lower me in their esteem.
He so well succeeded that they wrote me the most out
rageous letters imaginable, and especially that I should be
ruined if I did not place myself under Father La Mothe.
I still have the letters. There is a Father who prayed me
to make a virtue of necessity ; that if I did not put myself
under his direction I should expect nothing but utter
discomfiture. There were even some of my friends weak
enough to advise me to pretend to accept his direction, and
to deceive him. 0 God, you know how far I am from
evasions and disguises, and trickery, especially in this
matter. I replied that I was incapable of treating direction
as a farce, that my central depth rejected this with a fear
ful force. I bore all this with extreme tranquillity, without
care or anxiety to justify or defend myself, leaving to my
God to appoint for me what he should please. He
augmented my peace in proportion as Father La Mothe
exerted himself to decry me, and this to such a degree I
dared not show myself; every one cried out against me, and
regarded me as an infamous character. I bore it all with
joy, and I said to you, 0 my God, " It is for love of you
I suffer these reproaches, and that my visage is covered with
confusion " (Ps. xliii. 16). Every one without exception
cried out against me, save those who were personally
acquainted with me, who knew how far removed I was
from these things ; but the others accused me of heresy,
sacrilege, infamies of every kind, the nature of which I am

Chap. III.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 161
even ignorant of, of hypocrisy, knavery. When I was at
church I heard people behind me ridiculing me, and once
I heard priests say that I ought to be thrown out of the
church. I cannot express how content I was inwardly,
leaving myself entirely without reserve to God, quite ready
to suffer the last penalty if such was his will.
I did not take a step, leaving myself to my God, yet
Father La Mothe wrote everywhere that I was ruining
myself through my solicitations for Father La Combe. I
have never, either for him or for myself, made any
solicitation. 0 my Love, you know that I wish to owe
everything to you, and that I expect nothing from any
creature. It was what I wrote at the commencement to
one of my friends, who was in a position to serve me
effectually, that I begged him not to meddle with the
matter ; that I did not wish it should be said that any
other but God had "enriched Abraham" — that is to say,
I wished to owe everything to him. 0 my Love, I desire
no other safety but what you yourself effect ; to lose all for
you is my gain ; to gain all without you would be loss for
me. Although I was in such universal disrepute, God
did not cease to make use of me to win for him many
souls, and the more the persecution increased, the more
children were given to me, on whom our Lord bestowed
the greatest graces through his insignificant servant.
There was not a day passed without a new attack on
me, and sometimes many in the day. Reports were
brought of what Father La Mothe was saying of me : and
a Canon of Notre Dame told me that what made the ill he
said of me so very credible was that he pretended to love
and esteem me ; he exalted me to the clouds, then he cast
me down to the abyss. Five or six days after he had said
that horrible reports against me had been brought to the
Archbishop, a pious girl went to the scribe Gautier, and,
not finding him, his little boy of five years of age said to
her, " There is great news. My papa is gone with papers
VOL. II. M

162 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
to the Archbishop." In consequence of this, I learned
that in fact the reports of which Father La Mothe had
spoken had been carried to the Archbishop after the arrest
of Father La Combe.
Father La Mothe, to excuse himself, said to me, "You
were indeed right in saying that woman was wicked ; it is
she who has done all this." But our Lord, who wished to
leave him without excuse, and who did not wish that I
should be ignorant that these things came from him, so
permitted that two merchants of Dijon came to Paris. They
spoke to me of a wicked woman, who had fled from a
refuge at Dijon, and had come and got married at Paris.
She had committed thefts at Lyons of the silver of a
famous confraternity, and was near having her nose cut
off in some disreputable place. I had heard this woman
say that she had dwelt at Dijon. I suspected that she
was the person, and the more so because a worthy girl,
who had seen her at service in a house, assured me that
she there had committed theft, and changed her name and
residence. I had a presentiment that this was the person.
I asked those merchants — who were very honourable men,
and brought me a letter from the Procurer-General's wife,
a friend of mine, who is a saint — if they could recognize
her. They said "Yes." As she gains her livelihood by
sewing gloves, that devout girl who knew her brought about
an interview with those merchants. They recognized her
at once, and told me that they were ready to depose she
was the person. I could not take up the cause, for I had
not been attacked, but Father La Combe. I sent to
Father La Mothe to tell him that I had discovered a
means of proving both the knavery of this woman, and
the innocence of Father La Combe : that there were
merchants who knew her, and were ready to go and
depose against her before the authorities, after which, a
thousand witnesses would be found at Dijon. Father La
Mothe answered me, that he did not wish to mix himself

Chap. III.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 163
up in it. He did indeed wish to mix himself up in betray
ing his monk, but not in defending him. I saw thereby
accomplished all that our Lord had made known to me
five years before, regarding Father La Combe and me, and
how he should be sold by his brethren. I even made
verses on it at the time; for truly it was given me to
know that he should be a second Joseph, sold by his
brothers, and the persecution of Father La Mothe was
shown to me with the same clearness that I have since
seen it carried out : therefore I could have no doubt of it ;
for in all that happened, I had an inner certainty that he
was the mover, and God showed me in a dream how this
Father was managing matters before I learned it elsewhere.
Servants of God must not he judged by what their adver
saries say of them, nor by the fact that one sees them
succumb to calumny without any deliverance. Under the
ancient law, God tried his most cherished servants by the
greatest afflictions, as, for instance, the holy patriarchs,
Job and Tobias ; but he lifted them up from their disgrace,
and seemed to pile upon them wealth and prosperity in pro
portion to the pains that they had suffered. But it is not
the same under the new law, where Jesus Christ our
legislator and divine model has been willing to expire in
agonies. God, at the present day, treats his most cherished
servants in exactly the same manner ; he does not relieve
them during their life, finding pleasure in seeing them
expire in crosses, discredit, and confusion ; and he acts in
this way to render them conformable to his well-beloved
Son, in whom he has especial pleasure ; so that the con
version of an entire people could not be more agreeable
to the eyes of the Eternal Father than this conformity to
his Son : and as the greatest glory that God can draw
from outside himself, is to see his Son expressed in men,
whom he has created to be his images, the more extent
this expression has in aU its circumstances, and the
more perfect, that resemblance is, the more love and

1C4 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
complaisance does God also have for those souls. But
no one places that conformity where it ought to be. It
is not in the troubles one procures for one's self, but in
those, whencesoever coming, which are suffered in this
submission to the wills of God, uniform, in whatever man
ner or on whatever subject they may show themselves :
in that abandonment or renunciation of all that we are in
order that God may be all things in us ; that he may lead
us according to his views, and not according to ours,
which, in general, are entirely opposed : in short, all per
fection consists in this entire conformity with Jesus Christ,
not in striking things of which men make account. Only
in eternity will it be seen who are the true friends of God.
Jesus Christ alone is pleasing to him, and nothing is
pleasing to him but that which bears the character of
Jesus Christ.
They still kept pressing me to fly, although the Arch
bishop had told me myself not to quit Paris, and they
vrished to incriminate me and Father La Combe also by
my flight. They did not know how to work to get me into
the hands of the Official, for if they accused me of crimes
I must have other judges, and any other judge that might
have been assigned me would have seen my innocence,
and the false witnesses would have incurred risk. Yet
they wished to make me pass for guilty to be master of
me and shut me up, in order that the truth of this
business might never be known; and for this purpose it
was necessary to put me out of the way of ever being able
to make it heard. They still circulated the same rumour
of horrible crimes, although the Official assured me there
was no mention of them, for he feared I should withdraw
myself from his jurisdiction. They then made known to
His Majesty that I was a heretic, that I had constant
correspondence with Molinos — I, who did not know there
was such a person as Molinos in the world until I learned it
from the Gazette ; that I had written a dangerous book ;

Chap. III.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 165
and that therefore His Majesty should give a lettre de
cachet, to place me in a convent, in order that they might
interrogate me ; that, as I was a dangerous spirit, it was
necessary I should be shut up under key, out off from all
intercourse either without or within; that I had held
assemblies. This they strongly maintained, and therein
was my greatest crime; although this was utterly false,
and I had never held one, nor seen three people at
the same time. In order to better support the calumny
about the assemblies, they counterfeited my writing, and
concocted a letter in which I wrote that I had great
designs, but that I much feared they would come to
nothing, owing to the detention of Father La Combe ;
that I no longer held my assemblies at my own house ;
that I was too closely watched; but that I would hold
them in such and such houses, and in such streets, at
the houses of persons whom I did not know and never
heard named. It was on this fictitious letter, which was
shown to His Majesty, that the order to imprison me was
given.

166 MADAME GUYON. [Part 111.

CHAPTER IV.
They would have executed it two months sooner, but I
became very ill with excessive pains and fever. It was
thought I had an abscess in the head, for the pain there
during five weeks was enough to make me lose my senses ;
besides this, I had a pain in my chest, and a violent
cough. Twice I received the Holy Sacrament as for one
dying. As soon as Father La Mothe knew I was ill, he
came to see me. I received him in my usual way. He
asked if I had not some papers ; that I ought to entrust
them to him, rather than to any one else. I told him that
I had none. He had learned from one of my friends, who,
knowing who he was, but not that he was the author of
this business, told him that he was sending me the attes
tation of the Inquisition for Father La Combe, having
learned that his own had been lost. This attestation was
a very important document, for they had informed His
Majesty that Father La Combe had avoided the Inquisi
tion. Father La Mothe was very much alarmed to know I
had this document, and, making use of his ordinary artifice
and of the opportunity of my extremity, which did not allow
me the full freedom of my intelligence, owing to excessive
pain and confusion of my head, he came to see me. He
assumed the role of the affectionate and joyous person,
telling me that Father La Combe's matters were getting

Chap. IV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 1G7
on very well (though he had just caused him to be put
into the Bastille) ; that he was on the point of coming out
victorious, at which he was extremely glad ; that only one
thing was wanting — that it had been said he had fled from
the Inquisition, and they needed an attestation of the
Inquisition : if he had that, he would be set free at once.
He added, " I know you have one. If you give it to me,
this will be done." At first I made a difficulty about
giving it to him, having such good cause for distrust ;
but he said to me, " What ! you wish to cause the ruin
of that poor Father La Combe, when you might save him,
and you will cause us this affliction for want of a document
that you have under your hand." I gave way, and sent
for this document and placed it in his hands. He immedi
ately suppressed it, and said that it was gone astray ; and
however I urged him to restore it to me, he has never
done so. As soon as I had given the attestation to Father
La Mothe, he went out, and the Ambassador of Turin sent
a page to ask me for this attestation, which he would have
an opportunity of using to the advantage of Father La
Combe. I asked him if he had not seen two monks go out
as he came in. He said, "Yes." I told him I had just
given it into the hands of the elder. He ran after, and
asked it from him. Father La Mothe denied that I had
given it to him, asserting that I had an affection of the
brain, which made me imagine it. The page came to tell
me his answer. The persons who were in my room bore
witness that I had given it to him. It could not be
recovered from his hands.
When Father La Mothe saw that he had nothing more
to fear from this quarter, he no longer observed any
measure in insulting me, dying as I was. There was
hardly an hour passed that they did not put upon me new
insults. They told me that they were only waiting for my
recovery, to imprison me. He wrote still more strongly
against me to his brothers, informing them that I

168 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.
persecuted him. I wondered at the injustice of creatures.
I was alone, deprived of everything, seeing nobody ; for
since the imprisonment of Father La Combe, my friends
were ashamed of me ; my enemies triumphed ; I was
abandoned and generally oppressed by all the world. On
the other hand, Father La Mothe, in credit, applauded by
all, doing what he pleased, and oppressing me in the most
extraordinary manner ; and he complains I illtreat him at
the very time I am at the gates of death ! He is believed,
and I, who do not utter a word and preserve silence, am
illtreated. His brothers wrote to me all in concert — one,
that it was for my crimes I suffered ; that I should place
myself under the direction of Father La Mothe, or I should
repent of it : and with that he said to me the most insulting
things of Father La Oombe. The other told me that I
was mad, and must be tied ; lethargic, and must be roused
up. The first wrote to me again that I was a monster of
pride and such like, since I was unwilling to be cleansed,
directed, and corrected by Father La Mothe : and the other
let me know that I wished to be thought innocent while
I did everything that resembled sin. This was my daily
fare in the extremity of my ills ; and with this, Father La
Mothe cried with all his force against me, that I illtreated
him. To all these insults I opposed only kindness, even
making him presents. As the royal prophet says : " I
sought some one to take part in my pain, but I found
none." My soul continued abandoned to her God, who
seemed to be joined with creatures to torment her. For
besides that in all this affair I have never had perceptible
support nor interior consolation, I might say, with Jesus
Christ, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
and, in addition, inconceivable bodily pains. I had not a
friend, nor any corporal relief. I was accused of every
crime, of infamy, error, sorcery, and sacrilege. It seemed
to me that I had only one business henceforth, which was
to be for the rest of my life the plaything of providence ;

Chap. IV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 169
continuaUy tossed about, and after that an eternal victim
of divine justice. In all this my soul is unresisting, having
no longer an " own " interest, and unable to desire to be
anything but what God shaU cause her to be, for time and
for eternity. Let those who read this reflect a little on
the meaning of a state of this kind, when God appears
to range himself on the side of creatures ; and, with that,
a perfect steadfastness which never belies itself. It is
indeed your work, my God, where the creature avails
nothing. As soon as I was in a condition to have myself carried
to the Mass in a chair, I was informed that I must speak
to M. the Theologian. It was a trap arranged between
Father La Mothe and the Canon, at i whose house I
lodged, in order to furnish a pretext for arresting me.
I spoke with much simplicity to that man, who is quite of
the party of the Jansenists, and whom M. N  had
gained over to torment me. We only spoke of things
within his grasp, and of which he approved. Nevertheless,
two days afterwards, it was reported I had declared many
things and accused many persons ; and they used this to
exile all the people who displeased them. A great number
were exiled, who they said had formed assemblies with me.
They were all persons whom I never saw, whose names
are unknown to me, and who never knew me. This is
what has been most painful to me, that they should
have made use of this invention to exile so many men of
honour, although they well knew I had no acquaintance
with them. One person was exiled because he said that
my little book was good. It is to be remarked that
nothing has been said to those who have formally approved
it. Far from condemning the book, it has been reprinted
since I am a prisoner, and advertised at the Archbishopric
and throughout all Paris. Yet this book is the pretext
which has been seized upon to bring me under the juris
diction of the Archbishop. The book is sold, is distributed,

170 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
is reprinted, and I am stiU kept a prisoner. In other
cases when anything bad is discovered in books, they are
content to condemn the books and leave the persons at
liberty. In my case, it is the exact opposite ; my book is
approved anew, and they detain me a prisoner. The
same day that all those gentlemen were exiled, a lettre de
cachet was brought commanding me to go to the convent
of the Visitation in the Faubourg St. Antoine. I received
the lettre de cachet with a tranquUUty which extremely
surprised the person who brought it. He could not help
showing his astonishment, as he had seen the grief of
those who were only exiled. He was touched even to
tears, and though he had an order to carry me with him,
he left me the whole day on my promise, and only prayed
me in the evening to betake myself to St. Mary. That day
many of my friends came to see me. I spoke of it only to
some of them. All that day I had an extraordinary gaiety,
which astonished those who saw me, and who knew the
business. I was left free all the day, and they would have
been very well pleased had I fled ; but our Lord gave me
quite other sentiments. I could not support myself on
my legs, for I still had fever every night, and it was not
yet fifteen days since I had received the Holy Viaticum.
I could not, I say, stand when I had to sustain so rude a
shock. I thought that my daughter would be left to me,
and a maid to attend me. My heart clung the closer to
my daughter for the trouble she had cost me to rear, and
that I had endeavoured, with the help of grace, to uproot
her faults, and to bring her to the disposition of having no
wUl, which is the best disposition for a girl of her age : she
was not twelve years.

Chap. V.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 171

CHAPTER V.
On the 29th of January, 1688, the Eve of St. Francis de
Sales, I had to go to the convent of the Visitation. As
soon as I was there it was signified to me that I could not
have my daughter, nor any one to attend upon me ; that
I should be a prisoner, confined by myself in a room. This
was the entertainment I had to restore me in my extreme
feebleness ; but I keenly felt the separation when they tore
from me my daughter. I asked that she might be left in
the same house, and that I would not see her. Not only
was this refused ; but they had, further, the harshness to
forbid any news of her being given to me. My trouble
was that I feared her exposure in the world, and lest she
should in a moment lose what I had with so much care
endeavoured to secure to her. From this moment I had
to sacrifice my daughter as if she no longer belonged to
me. They selected the House of the Visitation in the street
of St. Antoine, as being the one where I had no acquaint
ance, and in which they had most confidence. They thought
I should there be kept with more rigour than in any other ;
and they were not mistaken, for they knew the zeal of the
Mother Superior in executing the King's orders. Besides,
such a frightful portrait of me had been given to them,
that the nuns regarded me with horror. It is a House
where faith is very pure, and God is very well served, and

172 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
for this reason, believing me a heretic, they could not
regard me with favour. In the whole House they chose
for my gaoler the person who they knew would treat me
rigorously. To make my cross complete this girl was
needed. As soon as I had entered they asked me who was my
confessor since the imprisonment of Father La Combe.
I named him. He is a very good man, who even esteems
me, yet terror had so seized upon all my friends, owing to
my imprisonment, that this worthy monk, without realiz
ing the consequences, renounced me ; saying he had never
heard my confession, and he never would. That had a
bad effect, and having detected me, according to their story,
in falsehood, there was no further doubt of all the rest.
This made me pity that Father, and wonder at human
weakness. My esteem for him was not lessened, yet there
were many persons who had seen me at his confessional,
and who might have served as witnesses. I was content
to say, " Such a one has renounced me. God be praised ! "
It was who would disavow me. Each one brought him
self to say he did not know me, and all the rest accused me
of strange wickedness ; it was who would invent the most
stories. The girl I had by me was gained over by my enemies to
torment me. She wrote all my words, and spied every
thing. The smallest thing could not reach me but she
ripped it entirely. She used her whole endeavours to catch
me in my words. She treated me as a heretic, deceived,
empty-headed. She reproached me for my prayers, and a
hundred other things. If I was at church she gave great
sighs, as if I was a hypocrite. When I communicated she was
still worse, and she told me she prayed God that he would
not enter into me. In short, she regarded me with only
horror and indignation. This girl was the intimate of the
Superior of the House, so that he saw her almost every day ,
and this Superior was in the party of Father La Mothe

Chap. V.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 173
and the Official ; so that, although this girl was ready
enough to obey him from the inclination she had for him,
he made it a matter of conscience for her to illtreat me.
God alone knows what she made me suffer. Moreover, the
Official said I should be judged on the testimony of the
Prioress ; yet she never saw me, and only knew me through
this girl, who perpetually told her ill of me ; and being
prejudiced against me, the most innocent words appeared
to her crimes, and actions of piety, hypocrisy. I cannot
express to what point her aversion for me went. As she
was the only person of that Community I saw, being
always locked into a small room, I had matter for the
exercise of patience. Our Lord has not permitted me to
lose it.
Yet I committed an infidelity, which caused me strange
suffering : it is that when I saw her eagerness to make me
speak in order that she might catch me in my words, I tried
to watch myself. 0 God, what torment for a soul become
simple as a child ! I tried to guard my words that they
might be more exact ; but the only result of this was to
make me commit more faults, our Lord permitting it
so, to punish the care I had wished to take of myself —
I, who am his without reserve, and who ought to regard
myself only as a thing that belongs to him, with no more
thought of myself than if I had no existence. Therefore,
so far from my precaution serving me, I was surprised into
faults in my words, which but for that I would not have
committed ; and, owing to the care I had wished to take of
myself, I was for some days thrown back upon myself with
a torment that I cannot better compare than to that of
hell. There is this difference between a soul in purgatory
and the Rebel Angel — that the soul in purgatory suffers
an inexplicable torment because she has a very powerful
tendency to unite herself immediately to her Sovereign
Good, but yet her pain is not equal to that of a spirit
who has in heaven enjoyed her Sovereign Good and

174 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.
who is rejected from it. This was the state in which
my soul was. She was, as it were, in rage and despair,
and I believe if it had lasted I should have died of it ;
but I quickly recognized whence came my fault. I aban
doned myself freely, and I resolved, though this girl, by
her false reports, should bring me to the scaffold, I would
take no care of myself, and would have no more concern
for myself than if I had ceased to exist. This gradually
passed away, and I returned into my former state.
Shortly after I entered the convent I had a dream. I
suddenly saw the heaven opened, and like a rain of golden
fire which appeared to me to be, as it were, the fury of God,
which sought to satisfy itself and do justice to itself.
There were with me a great number of persons who all
took to flight to avoid it. As for me, I did quite the
contrary. I prostrated myself on the earth, and I said to
our Lord, without speaking to him otherwise than in the
manner he knows and understands: "It is I, my God,
am the victim of your divine justice ; it is for me to
endure all your thunder-bolts." Immediately all that
rain, which was of flaming gold, fell upon me with
such violence that it seemed to deprive me of life. I
woke with a start, fully certain that our Lord did not
desire to spare me, and that he would make me pay well
for the title of " victim of his justice."
Immediately after I came into this House, Monsieur
Charon, the Official, and a Doctor of the Sorbonne came to
interrogate me. They commenced by asking me if it was
true that I had foUowed Father La Combe, and that he
had taken me from France with him. I answered that he
was ten years out of France when I left it, and therefore
I was very far from having followed him. They asked
me if he had not taught me to practise prayer. I declared
I had practised it from my youth; that he had never
taught it to me; that I had no acquaintance with him
except from a letter of Father La Mothe, which he had

Chap. V.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 175
brought me on his way to Savoy, and that, ten years
before my departure from France. The Doctor of the Sor
bonne, who was acting in good faith, who has never known
anything of the knaveries (for I was not allowed to speak
in private to him), said aloud that there was no ground
there for a serious inquiry. They asked me if it was not
he who had composed the little book, " Short and Easy
Method." I said, " No ;" that I had written it in his absence,
without any design it should be printed ; that a Counsellor
of Grenoble, a friend of mine, having taken the manu
script from my table, found it useful, and desired it might
be printed ; that he asked me to make a preface for it and
to divide it into chapters, which I did in a single morning.
When they saw all I said tended to acquit Father La
Combe, they no longer questioned me about him. They
commenced by interrogating me on my book. They have
never interrogated me on my faith, nor on my prayer, nor
on my morals.
I at once made a formal protest, written and signed
with my own hand, that I had never wandered from the
sentiments of the Holy Church, for which I would be ready
to give my blood and my life ; that I had never joined with
any party ; that I had all my life professed the most
orthodox sentiments ; that I had even laboured, all my
life, to submit my intellect and destroy my own will;
that if anything were found in my books that might be ill
interpreted, I had already submitted all, and I again sub
mitted it, to the opinion of the Holy Church, and even to
that of persons of doctrine and of experience ; that if I
answered to the interrogatories upon the little book it was
merely through obedience, and not to support it, as my
only design had been to help souls, not to hurt them.
That was the first interrogation. I was interrogated four
times. On my coming into the House they told the Prioress
that I would be there only ten days, to the end of my
interrogation. I was not at first surprised that I was

176 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
prohibited from all communication outside the house or
within, because I thought the motive was that I might not
have any advice in the interrogation.
The second interrogation was on the little book;
whether I had desired to do away with vocal prayer
from the church, and particularly the Chaplet, referring
to the place where I had taught the saying of Pater Noster
with application, and had explained the Pater, and that
a Pater so repeated was worth more than many said
without attention. It was not difficult to answer this,
for to teach a prayer with attention and application
is not to destroy prayer; on the contrary, it is to
establish it, and to render it perfect. They then put to
me other questions on the same book, which I then had
not ; and I have so little memory, that I did not even
know if what they asked me was in the book. Our Lord
gave me the grace that he promised to the Apostles,
which was to give me a much better answer than I could
have found for myself. They said to me, " If you had
explained yourself like this throughout the book, you would
not be here."
Suddenly I remembered I had put at the foot of the
chapter the same reason that they approved, and I stated
it. They would not write it down. After this, I saw they
had simply taken the passages of the book that were not
explained, and they had omitted their explanation; and
it was merely to serve as a pretext for persecution, as
the sequel has shown. After I had declared to them the
explanations were in the book, and if there was anything
wrong in it, they should not hold responsible me, a woman
without learning, but the doctors who had approved it even
without my asking them, since I was not acquainted with
them ; from that time they no more interrogated me on
this book, nor on that on " The Song of Songs," being
satisfied with the submission I had made.
The last interrogation was on a forged letter, where

Chap, v.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 177
I was made to write, that I had held assemblies in houses
that I was not acquainted with, and all the rest I have
already mentioned. They read the letter to me, and as
the writing was not at all like mine, I was told it was a copy,
and that they possessed the original, which was similar
to my writing. I asked to see it, but it has never appeared.
I said I had never written it, and that I had no acquaint
ance with the Minim, to whom it was addressed. To
understand the malignity of this letter, it should be known
that a worthy Minim Father came to see me on behalf
of certain nuns of my acquaintance. One of the hostUe
persecutors said to me, " You see then Minims also."
Father La Mothe and the woman saw him, and one of the
two asked me his name. I did not know it, for I was not
acquainted with him, so I was unable to tell it. They
concocted then a letter to a Minim to whom they gave
the name Father Francis, although I have since learned his
name to be quite different. They made me, then, write to
this Father, on the 30th of October, a letter in which I wrote
to him as if he were residing at Paris, the Place Eoyale,
" My Father, do not come to see me at the Cloister Notre
Dame." The reason why they had put this was, that
they had watched that he had not come to the Cloister
Notre Dame, and were ignorant of the cause. It continued,
that I no longer held assemblies because I was being spied
on. This letter convicted me also of designs against the
State, cabals, and assemblies ; and they added, "I do not
sign because of the evil times." As they were reading
this letter to me, I maintained I had never written it.
The very style would have shown this to all who have seen
or received my letters. As to the assemblies, I always said
I had no acquaintance with those persons ; that I knew
no other Minim but one, who had come to me on behalf
of certain nuns ; that he did not belong to Paris, that he
was Corrector of Amiens. At the time, I did not recollect
other reasons to mention, and the Official would not even
VOL, 11. N

178 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
let these reasons be written. He made them merely put
that I said it was not mine. After having read this letter,
he turned to me, and said, " You see, Madame, that after a
letter like this there was good reason to put you in prison."
I answered him, "Yes, Sir, if I had written it." He
maintained still, in the presence of the Doctor, it was my
writing. But our Lord, who never fails at need, made me
remember, as soon as they were outside, that the worthy
Father was at Amiens from the commencement of the
month of September, and it was impossible for me to have
written to him as being in Paris on the 30th of October ;
that he had gone away five weeks before I lodged at the
Cloister Notre Dame, and therefore I could not have written
to him from there before his departure, on the subject of
that arrest, and pray him to come and see me on the 30th
of October, in such and such houses with which I was not
acquainted, and where I never was — the more so as he was
at Amiens. I sent all this in writing to the Official, who
took very good care not to show it to the Doctor. I further
wrote him that, if he was unwilling to take the trouble to
prove its falseness, he should give a commission to the
guardian of my chUdren, who would willingly do it. But
far from this, what did they do ? I am shut up more
closely than before. I am accused and defamed every
where, and they deprive me of the means of justifying
myself. They fabricate letters for me, and they are
unwilling I should prove my innocence of them. For two
months after the last interrogation not a word was said to
me, while the same rigour was practised towards me ; that
Sister treating me worse than ever.
Up to this I had not written anything for my justifi
cation to the Archbishop or to the Official ; for I had no
liberty to write to others, no more than I have at present.
I had been, up to the time that I tried to watch myself
in the manner I have mentioned, without any sensible or
perceptible support, but in a peace of paradise, leaving

Chap. V.] AUTOIMOORAPnY. 179
myself as a mark for all the malice of men. My diversion
was to express my state in verse. It seemed to me that,
though shut up in a close prison, my soul had the former
liberty, larger than the whole earth, which appeared to me
but as a point in comparison with the vastness I experienced ;
and my contentment was without contentment for myself,
because it was in God alone, above every own interest.
Twelve days before Easter I went to confession. I raised
my eyes without knowing why, and I saw a picture of our
Lord fallen under his cross, with these words : " See if
there is any sorrow like unto my sorrow." At the same
time, I received a powerful impression that crosses were
about to fall on me in greater crowds. I had always, until
then, entertained some hope j ustice would be done me ; but
when I saw that the more I appeared innocent the more
they endeavoured to obscure my innocence, and the more
closely I was kept confined, I concluded they sought not
my innocence, but only to make me appear guilty. What
happened confirmed me still more in this thought.
The Official came to see me by himself, without the
Doctor, who had been present at the interrogations, and he
said to me, " We must not talk about the false letter ; it
was nothing" (after having previously told me it was for
that I was imprisoned). I said to him, "What, Sir, is it
not the point in question — the counterfeiting the writing of
a person and making her pass for one who holds assemblies
and has designs against the State ? " He immediately said
to me, "We will seek the author." I said to him, "He is
no other than scribe Gautier," whose wife had told me he
counterfeited all sorts of writing. He saw well I had hit
the mark. Then he asked me where were the papers
I had written on the Scripture. I told him I would give
them when I should be out of prison. I did not wish to
say to whom I had confided them. He said to me, " If
we happen to ask them from you, say the same thing,"
making me offers of service. Yet he went away very

180 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
pleased thinking he had a means of ruining me beyond
remedy, and satisfying Father La Mothe's desire that
I should never be let out of prison.
He drew up a proces verbal as if he had interro
gated me judicially, although it was nothing but a simple
conversation. The proces verbal ran, that up to that
having been in appearance docile, I had rebelled when they
had demanded my papers. I knew nothing of all this. I
wrote a very strong letter to the Official on what he had
said to me, that the letter they had forged was nothing.
I also wrote to the Archbishop, who is himself mild enough,
and who would not have been led to treat me with so much
rigour if he had not been solicited by my enemies. He
gave me no answer. But the Official thought he had found
a means of ruining me by saying I had been rebellious,
and I would not give up my writings. Three or four days
before Easter he came with the Doctor of the Sorbonne and
his proces verbal. To the latter I answered that I had
made a great difference between a private conversation
and an interrogation, and that I had not deemed myself
obliged to tell a thing which had been asked me only hypo-
thetieally, and that the papers were in the hands of my
maid. They asked me if I was willing to hand them over
to be disposed of as they pleased. I said, " Yes ; that
having written only to do the will of God, I was as content
to have written for the fire as for the press." The Doctor
said nothing could be more edifying. The copies of my
writings were placed in their hands, for as to the originals
they had long ceased to be at my disposal. I do not know
where those who took them from me have placed them ;
but I have this firm faith, that they will all be preserved
in spite of the tempest. As for me, I had no more of them
than I gave, and I did not know where were the others ;
thus I could say it with truth.
The Prioress of the House where I am a prisoner asked
the Official how my affair went, and if I would soon be let

Chap. V.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 181
out of prison. It escaped him to say to her (and perhaps
he did it owing to the Doctor, the better to screen himself) :
" My Mother, what could one do to a person that does and
says all that one desires and in whom nothing is found ?
She will be released on a very early day." Yet they did
not justify me. The Archbishop declared himself well
satisfied with me, and my release and innocence were
openly spoken of. Father La Mothe was the only one who
had apprehensions. They sought to catch me by surprise.
The more I was innocent, the more troubles I had. I
was informed my affair went well, and I should be released
at Easter. In the depth of my soul I had a presentiment to
the contrary.

182

MADAME GUYON. [Part III.

CHAPTER VI.
Up to this I had been ui a state of inexplicable con
tentment and joy at suffering and being a prisoner. It
seemed to me that the captivity of my body made me
better taste the liberty of my spirit. The more I was
confined externaUy, the more I was large and extended
within. My prayers stUl the same, simple and nothing ;
although there are times when the Spouse clasps more
closely and plunges deeper into himself. I had been in
this way up to the time that I committed the infidelity
of trying to watch myself in the manner I have told. On
St. Joseph's Day I was introduced into a more marked
state, one rather of heaven than of earth. I went to the
Calvary, which is at the bottom of the garden ; my gaoler
having had permission to take me there. It was in this
place (which has always been my delight), and there I
remained a very long time ; but in a state too simple, pure,
and naked for me to be able to speak of it. The most
elevated dispositions are those of which one can say
nothing. I am not astonished nothing is said of those of
the Holy Virgin and St. Joseph. All those which have
anything marked are much inferior.
By this state — so much above anything that can be told,
although in the same central depth which does not change
— I understood there was some new cup for me to drink :
like as the Transfiguration of Christ, where he conversed

Chap. VI.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 183
on his sufferings, was, as it were, the pledge of that which
he had to suffer, and an introduction into his Passion;
where, in fact, he entered internally from that very hour,
depriving himself for the rest of his life of the outpourings
of the Divinity upon the humanity ; so that he was
deprived from that moment of all the supports he pre
viously had. Then his Glory, exhibiting itself upon his
body, made, as it were, a last effort to withdraw for ever ;
and having to be altogether shut up in his Divinity, it
left the humanity in a privation so much the greater as
the state of glory and enjoyment was to him more natural.
As, then, from the Transfiguration, so far as I can under
stand, up to the death of Jesus Christ, all outpourings
of beatitudes were suspended, to leave him in pure
suS'ering, I can also say that the same happened to me
although unworthy to participate in the states of Jesus
Christ, and with the disparity between an insignificant
and weak creature and a God Man. For the day of St.
Joseph, a saint with whom I am in a very intimate
manner united, was as a day of Transfiguration for me.
It seemed to me that I had no longer anything of the
creature, and from this time a sort of suspension has taken
place, so that I have been as much abandoned by God as
persecuted by creatures : not that I have any pain or
trouble at this abandonment or that my soul has the least
inclination for anything else — that can no longer be, for
she is without inclination or tendency for anything what
soever; but nevertheless she is in such an abandonment
that I am sometimes obliged to reflect to know if I have
a being and subsistence. The whole of St. Joseph's Day
I was the same, and it began to diminish gradually up
to the day of the Annunciation, which is the day my heart
rejoices in : yet on that day it was signified to me that I
must enter upon new bitterness, and drink to the dregs of
the indignation of God. The dream that I had where all
the indignation of God fell upon me came back to my

184 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
mind, and I had to sacrifice myself anew. The evening of
the Annunciation I was put into an agony I cannot
express. The fury of God was entire, and my soul without
any support from heaven or from earth. It seemed to me
that our Lord desired to make me experience something
of his agony in the Garden. This lasted until Easter,
after which I was restored to my former tranquillity
with this difference, that all co-operation is removed, and
that I am, whether in regard to God or in regard to
creatures, as that which no longer exists. I have to
make an effort to think if I am and what I am ; if there
are in God creatures and anything subsisting.
Although I have been treated in the manner I have
said, and I shall hereafter tell, I have never had any
resentment against my persecutors. I have not been
ignorant of the persecution they caused me. God has
willed that 1 have seen all and known all ; he gave
me an interior certainty that it was so, and I have never
had a moment's doubt of it : but although I knew it, I had
no bitterness against them, and, had it been necessary
to give my blood for their salvation I would have given
it, and I would still give it with all my heart. With regard
to them, I have never had anything to mention in con
fession. There are feeble minds who say that we ought
not to believe that people do that which nevertheless
they do. Did Jesus Christ and the Saints pluck out
their eyes to avoid seeing their persecutors ? They saw
them, but they saw at the same time that they would
not have "had any power except it had been given
them from above." Therefore it is that, loving the blows
which God inflicts, one cannot hate the hand he uses to
strike us, although one well sees which it is.
On Holy Thursday the Official came to see me by him
self, and told me he gave me the freedom of the cloister —
that is to say, that I could go about in the House ; that he
would not give any liberty for outside. I could not even

Chap. VI.] AUTOWOGKAPHY. 185
obtain permission to speak to the guardian of my children.
Yet they did not cease continually urging my daughter to
consent to a marriage which would have been her ruin ;
and, in order to succeed, they had put her into the hands of
the cousin of the gentleman to whom they wished to give
her. That would have caused me great anxiety if I was
capable of feeling it ; but I had all my trust in God, and
that he would not permit it to take place, the person in
question having no tincture of Christianity, and being utterly
ruined. The Official told me, at the same time, that I was
entirely acquitted ; that I was left here only for a short
time for form's sake, that they might have the opinion of
the Prioress, whose merit and uprightness was long known.
The Prioress and all the community gave me the best
character that one can give of a person, and the community
conceived a very great affection for me, so that the nuns
could not help speaking good of me to everybody. Had I
my choice of all the convents in Paris, even those where I
am known, I could not be better than in this one. It was
there, 0 my Love, that I recognized yet more your provi
dence over me, and the protection you afforded me ; for
they had chosen this Community as the one where they
believed I should be treated with the greatest rigour, after
having in the strongest manner prejudiced it against me.
As soon as Father La Mothe learned they spoke weU of
me in this House, he persuaded himself they could not
speak well of me without speaking ill of him ; and although
I saw nobody, he wrote and complained to all the world,
that I decried him everywhere, and that the community
were speaking much ill of him ; so that he embittered anew
against me the minds of the Archbishop and of the Official,
whose confessor he is. Far from releasing me at the end of
ten days, as they had said, they left me there many months
without saying anything to me. They even circulated
new calumnies and, after having said I was innocent, they
blackened me worse than ever. The Archbishop said I

186 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
must expect nothing but from my repentance. He told
Pere de la Chaise that I had errors, and that I had even
retracted them with tears, but that there was good ground
to believe it was only through dissimulation, and therefore
it was necessary to keep me shut up. On this I demanded
only one thing, that they should punish me if I was
guilty, but that they should exhibit my interrogation. It
was what they never would do : on the contrary, the only
answer was fresh calumnies.
What has been most painful to me in all this affair,
is that it was impossible to take any measures. I was con
tinually tossed between hope and despair. They suddenly
came to tell me my persecutors had the upper hand, that
they had made His Majesty believe I was guilty of all the
crimes of which I was accused. Practically all my friends
withdrew, and said they did not know me. My enemies
cried Victory ! and redoubled their rigours and severities
against me. I continued content and resigned to remain
in disgrace, believing I must there end my days, and no
longer thought but of remaining all my life a prisoner.
Then suddenly there came days of hope, which showed the
business almost concluded in my favour, and that I was
on the point of being declared and recognized as innocent.
When the matter seemed settled and hope revived, there
came a new turn, and a fresh calumny of my enemies, who
made it believed they had found new documents against
me, and that I had committed new crimes. This was con
tinual, so that I regarded myself in the hands of God as
a reed beaten by the wind, laid flat then suddenly lifted up,
unable to continue either in disgrace or in hope. My soul
has never changed her position from being incessantly
beaten : she was always in the same state.
I was suddenly told that Father La Mothe had
succeeded in having me placed in a House of which he
is the master, and where it was believed he would make
me suffer extremely, for he is very harsh. He so fully

Chap. VI.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 187
believed it, that he had given orders to keep a room ready
to shut me up in. They brought me this news, which was
of all what I should dread. All my friends were weeping
bitterly. I did not feel even the first movement of trouble
or pity for myself ; my soul did not even for an instant
change her position. Another time a person of weight
offered to speak for me, and was confident of my imme
diate deliverance. The thing seemed done. I had not a
first movement of joy at it. It seems to me my soul is in
an entire immobility, and there is in me so entire a loss of
all which regards myself, that none of my interests can
cause me pain or pleasure. Besides, I belong so entirely
to my God, that I cannot wish anything for myself but
what he does ; death, the scaffold, with which numberless
times I have been threatened, does not make the least
alteration. Shall I say it, 0 my Love, that there is in me
a sovereign love for you alone above all love, which even
in Hell would make me content in the disposition in which
I am ; because I cannot content myself or afflict myself
with anything which should be my own, but with the sole
contentment of God. Now, as God will be infinitely happy,
it seems to me that there is not any misfortune, either in
time or in eternity, which can hinder me from being
infinitely happy ; since my happiness is in God alone.
No justice was rendered me ; on the contrary, they
endeavoured to invent new calumnies against me, and
thereby to conceal the strange persecution to which I was
subjected. The only confessor allowed me was one who
hears confession from the nuns, and he is deaf ; so that
they were obliged to have extraordinary ones brought. All
I could obtain was on the eve of Pentecost to make my con
fession to a monk, who came because the confessor was
ill, and it was out of the question to pass that festival
without confession. I admit the very frequent confession
practised in this House has been my greatest trouble ;
for our Lord keeps me in such an oblivion of myself, that

188 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
I could not confess anything but generalities, or matters
long passed : but as to the present, I do not know where
I am and what I am ; I can say nothing of it. A lady of
the world whom Providence caused me to meet in this
House, and who has conceived much affection for me, and
has rendered me all the services she was able, seeing the
injustice done to me, resolved to ask a Jesuit Father of
her acquaintance to speak to Pere de la Chaise. This
worthy Father did it: but he found Pere de la Chaise
much prejudiced against me, because they had made him
believe that I was in errors, and that I had even retracted
them, but that many stUl clung to me ; so that this worthy
lady advised me to write to Pere de la Chaise. I wrote
him this letter : —
" My Reverend Father,
" If my enemies had attacked only my honour and
my liberty, I would have preferred silence to justifying
myself, it being my habit to adopt this course ; but at
present, when they attack my faith, saying that I have
retracted errors, and when I am even suspected of having
still more, I have been obliged, while asking the protection
of your Reverence, to inform you of the truth. I assure
your Reverence I have done nothing of the kind, and what
surprises me is, that, after the Official himself has acknow
ledged that the memoirs which were given in against
me were false, and that the letter forged against me
was recognized as coming from a forger, as a conse
quence of the incontestable proofs I gave him it was
not mine: after those who have been given me for
examiners, who have never demanded from me a retrac
tation, but petty explanations, with which they appeared
satisfied, have declared me innocent, and I have even
placed in their hands writings which I had only made
for my own edification, offering them to their judgment
with all my heart — that after, I say, these things, I have

Chap. VI.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 189
reason to believe your Eeverence is not informed of my
innocence. I cannot, my Reverend Father, dissimulate
that, for any other article but that of faith, it would be
easy for me to suffer calumny, but how could I keep
silence for the most righteous grief that ever was ? I have
all my life made so open a profession of the most orthodox
sentiments, that I have even thereby attracted enemies.
If I dared open my heart to your Reverence with the
secrecy of a perfect confidence, it would be very easy to
prove to you, by incontestable facts, that it is temporal
interests which have brought me where I am. After
having refused things which in conscience I could not do,
I was threatened with being involved in trouble. I have
seen the menaces ; I have even felt their effects, without
being able to defend myself, because I am without intrigue
and without party ; and how easy is it, my Reverend
Father, to oppress a person destitute of all protection !
But how can I expect your Reverence to believe me, when,
unfortunately, I am only known to you by calumny?
However, I advance nothing that I cannot prove, if you
consent to be informed of it. It would be a favour that
would win the eternal gratitude of your, etc."
This letter had an effect the exact opposite of what was
anticipated. I wrote it only through complaisance and to
avoid scandal ; for they regarded as obstinacy my resolution
to make no step for my justification. They said that I was
expecting God to do everything, and that this was to tempt
him. I felt within that this letter and all they made me
write would be without effect ; that, on the contrary, they
would do more harm than good. Yet our Lord wUled I
should write, to make them see that all one does for a soul
given up to God is an exceedingly small thing, if he does
not himself do it. I had known from the commencement
that our Lord wished to be my sole deliverer. Therefore I
had a joy that cannot be expressed when I saw all the

190 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.
intrigues of the best-intentioned creatures only serve to
spoil everything. Pere de la Chaise spoke of me to the
Archbishop. This only served to give rise to new falsifica
tions and new persecutions. The Archbishop assured him
I was very criminal, and, the better to prove it, he feigned
to wish to show me favour. He sent here a Bishop, one of
his friends, to solicit the Prioress underhand that she
should make me write a letter of submission and civility,
in which I should declare that I was criminal and that I
had retracted, promising that, if I wrote this letter, they
would release me at once.
I forgot to say that, a month previous to this, the Official
came with the Doctor to see me, and, in the presence of the
Mother Superior, proposed to me that, if I would consent
to the marriage of my daughter, I should be released from
prison before eight days. I said I would not purchase my
liberty at the price of sacrificing my daughter ; that I was
content to remain in prison as long as it should please our
Lord. He answered that the King would not do any
violence but he desired it. I said that I knew the King was
too just and too equitable to act otherwise. Yet, a few days
afterwards, they reported to Pere de la Chaise, that I had
said that the King wished to keep me in prison until I had
consented to the marriage of my daughter ; that the Arch
bishop had himself told the guardian of my children that
I should not be released until I had consented to it ; and,
although I saw nobody and had no communication with
outside, they accused me of having invented this, and they
said I was a State criminal, and should again be shut up
under key. But before this they made another attempt
to see if I would write the letter they desired of me,
as preliminary to my deliverance. They had no intention
to deliver me, but a strong wish to have an incontestable
proof against me, in order to confine me for the rest of my
days — the one object my enemies had in view.

Chap. VIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 191

CHAPTER VII.
A FEW days later I saw, by night in a dream, the same
man who had made the first false document, and he
made two others, I also saw another intrigue of Father
La Mothe and a persecution he raised against me, so
that I found no refuge. Our Lord made me know, either
by presentiment or by dream, what they were doing against
me. Three or four days afterwards the Official and the
Doctor came to tell the Prioress that I must again be shut
up under key. She represented to them that the room I
was in was small, opening only on the side where the sun
shines all day; and in the month of July, how was it
possible ? it was to cause my death. They paid no
attention to this. The Mother asked why they shut me up
again. They told her I had done frightful things for a
month back in her House, that I had had strange bursts
of violence in this same House and that I scandalized the
nuns. In vain the Mother protested the contrary, and
assured them the whole community were edified by me, and
they could not tire of admiring my patience and my
moderation. The Official said he knew it at first hand, and
I had done terrible things in her House. The poor woman
could not restrain her tears at seeing an invention so
utterly remote from the truth.
They then sent to fetch me, and they maintained to me
that I had done horrible things in this House for a month

192 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
back. I asked what they were. They would not tell me.
I asked who could give an account of what I had done
beside the Prioress and the nuns, yet they would not
accept their testimony ; that I would suffer as long as it
pleased God : that they had commenced this business on
forgeries, and would continue it on the same. The Doctor
said to me I ought not to embitter matters, nor do the
horrible things they said I had done. I answered him that
God was witness of all. He told me that, in this sort of
affairs, to take God for a witness was a crime. I told him
that nothing in the world could prevent me having
recourse to God. I then withdrew, and I was shut up
more closely than the first time ; and because they had
not got a key, they fastened the room with a wooden bar
across. All who passed by there were astonished. I had
much joy at this new humiliation. Oh, what pleasure,
my Love, to be, for you, in the most extreme abjections !
When the Official was asked why he had caused me to
be shut up, he said, he did not know ; that they must ask
the Prelate. The guardian of my children went to see the
Archbishop, and asked him why they had imprisoned me,
since he himself had said I was exonerated. He answered
him, " You, Sir, know, being a Judge, that ten documents do
not condemn, but a single one may be found which condemns
absolutely." The Counsellor said to him, " But, my Lord,
what has my cousin done anew?" "What," says he, " you
do not know it ! She has done frightful things for a month
back." He, very greatly surprised, asked what they were.
He said to him, " After having declared she was inno
cent, she has written with tears, and as if under force, a
retractation, in which she states that she recognizes she has
been in error and in evil sentiments, that she is guilty of
the things of which they accuse her, and that she cursed
the day and the hour she became acquainted with that
Father " (meaning Father La Combe). The CounseUor was
strangely surprised, but he suspected it was an invention.

Chap. VII.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 193
He requested to see that, and also my interrogations. The
Archbishop told him it was a thing which would never be
shown, and that it was the affair of the King. The Coun
sellor, for greater certainty came here to see my friend, to
know if I had written and signed anything. My friend
assured him that neither the Official nor the Doctor had
come here for four months — that is, since the Holy Thurs
day, when they came to propose the marriage of my
daughter, on which occasion the Counsellor was present.
Thus he saw I had signed nothing, and that I had written
nothing, except, at the instance of the Mother, one letter
to the Archbishop, of no importance, the copy of which she
had and showed him. Here it is : —
"My Lord,
"If I have so long preserved a profound silence,
it is, not to be troublesome to your Greatness, but at pre
sent the necessity of my temporal concerns indispensably
requires me : I earnestly pray your Greatness to ask my
liberty from His Majesty. It will be a favour for which
I shall be under infinite obligations to you. I am the more
hopeful of obtaining it, because the Official told me, before
Easter, that I should not remain longer here than ten
days, although many times that period has since passed ;
but I shall in no way regret this if it has served to
persuade you, my Lord, of my perfect submission and of
the profound respect with which I am, etc."
This letter said nothing at all ; yet he asserted he had
a frightful one which I had written against the King and
against the State. It was not difficult for the scribe who
had written the first false letters to write others.
It was, then, these frightful counterfeit letters, which
were shown to Pere de la Chaise, for which I was shut up.
0 God, you see all this, and my soul was content in the
face of such falsities and such knaveries. As soon as I was
VOL. II. o

194 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
again shut up, a fresh rumour was set going that I had
been convicted of crimes, and that I had committed fresh
ones. Every one broke out against me ; even my friends
found fault with me, and blamed me for the letter I had
written to Pere de la Chaise. They commenced, also, in
the House to have doubts of me ; and the more desperate
I saw everything, the more content was I, 0 my God, in
your will. I said, " 0 my Love, now they will no longer
oblige me to have recourse to creatures. I await every
thing from you alone. Do with me, then, for time and
for eternity, whatever is pleasing to you. Gratify yourself
with my trouble." The guardian of my children was not
firm. He was sometimes for me, but as soon as Father
La Mothe spoke to him he was against me ; so that he
was continually wavering.
Three days before I was shut up. Father La Mothe had
said that they would shut me up again, and he wrote to
my sister, the nun, a violent letter against me. He also
said, " We have learned that, in the place where Father
La Combe is imprisoned, there is a commandant who
is one of his friends. They will take care to imprison
him." It should be known that when Father La Combe
was transferred to the Isle of Oleron, the commandants
did justice to his virtue. As soon as they saw him they
recognized he was a true servant of God. Consequently
the commandant, full of love for the truth, wrote to
Monsieur de Chateauneuf, that this Father was a man of
God, and that he begged some alleviation of his imprison
ment might be granted. De Chateauneuf showed the
letter to the Archbishop, who showed it to Father La
Mothe, and they decided he must be transferred from there.
This has been done. He was taken to a desert isle, where
he cannot see those commandants. 0 God, nothing is
concealed from you. Will you for long leave your servant
in ignominy and grief?
Before I was arrested, M.  had sent for a woman,

Chap. VIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 195
who is a person of honour, but who did not know me,
to tell her that she must go to the Jesuits and depose
against me many things which he mentioned to her. She
answered him, that she did not know me. He said
that was of no importance, it must be done ; that his
design was to destroy me. Thereupon this woman went
to consult a virtuous ecclesiastic, who told her it was a sin
and a falsehood. She did not do it. He then proposed it
to another person who excused himself. Another, a monk,
against whom there were subjects of complaint, to bring
himself into credit, wrote against me. It was who would
write most violently. I have a cousin-german, whom I
believe our Lord has provided for me ; for I expect sooner
or later he will finish his work. This relative, who is at
Saint-Cyr, spoke on my behalf to Madame de Maintenon.
She is the only person who has spoken for me. Madame
de Maintenon found the King much prejudiced, Father La
Mothe having been even with him to speak against me.
There was, therefore, nothing to be done. They came to
tell me there was no more hope, and all my friends said
that the only thing which could be expected was perpetual
prison. I fell dangerously ill, and the physician considered me i]i
great peril. It could not be otherwise, as I was shut up
in a place where the air was so hot it was like a stove.
They wrote to the Official to procure for me the necessary
alleviations, and even the Sacraments, and to permit
some one to enter my chamber to attend me. He gave no
answer, and but for the Superior of the House, who thought
they could not in conscience allow me to die without
treatment, and who told the Mother Superior to give it to
me, I had died without help ; for when it was mentioned
to the Archbishop, he said : " What, she is ill, is she, at
being shut up within four walls after what she has done ! "
and although the CounseUor asked it of him, he would
yield nothing. I had a very violent continuous fever.

196 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
inflammation of the throat, a cough, and a continual
discharge from the head upon the chest, which, it seemed,
must suffocate me. But, 0 God, you did not want me,
since you inspired the Superior of the House to give orders
I should be seen by the physician and the surgeon ; for I
should have died but for the promptness with which they
bled me. I believe few examples of like treatment can be
found. I knew all this, and that all Paris was let loose
against me, but I felt no pain at it. My friends feared
lest I should die ; for by my death my name would remain
in disgrace, and my enemies have the upper hand. These
latter believed I was already dead, and they rejoiced at it ;
but you, 0 my Love, did not will they should rejoice over
me ; you willed, after having abased me to the abyss, to
make your mercy shine forth.
The day of Pentecost it was put into my mind that, under
the ancient law, there were many martyrs of the Divinity ;
for the prophets, and so many other Israelites have been
martyrs of the true God, and have suffered only for
maintaining the Divinity ; that in the Primitive Church
the martyrs have shed their blood to maintain the truth of
Jesus Christ Crucified, God and man ; their martyrdom also
was bloody : but at present there are martyrs of the Holy
Spirit. These martyrs suffer in two ways — first, because
they maintain the reign of the Holy Spirit in souls ; and,
secondly, because they are the victims of the will of God ;
for the Holy Spirit is the wUl of the Father and of the Son,
as he is the love of it. These martyrs must suffer an
extraordinary martyrdom — not in shedding their blood, but
in being captives of the wiU of God, the plaything of his
providence, and martyrs of his Spirit. The martyrs of the
Primitive Church have suffered for the message of God,
which was announced to them by the Word. The martyrs
of the present time suffer for dependence on the Spirit of
God. It is this Spirit, which is about to be poured out on all

Chap. VIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 197
flesh, as is said in the prophet Joel. The martyrs of Jesus
Christ have been glorious martyrs, Jesus Christ having
drunk all confusion and disgrace. But the martyrs of the
Holy Spirit are martyrs of shame and ignominy. It is
for this reason the Devil no longer exercises his power
upon the faith of these last martyrs ; the question is no
longer of that : but he attacks directly the domain of the
Holy Spirit, opposing the celestial movement in souls, and
discharging his hatred on the bodies of those whose
spirit is beyond his attack. Oh martyrdom most horrible
and most cruel of all ! So will it be the consummation of
all martyrdoms. And as the Holy Spirit is the consumma
tion of all graces, so the martyrs of the Holy Spirit will be
the last martyrs, after which, during a very long time, this
Holy Spirit will so possess hearts and minds, that he will
cause his subjects to do through love all that is pleasing
to him, as the devils by tyranny made those whom they
possessed do all that they wished. 0 Holy Spirit,
Spirit of Love, make, then, of me all that pleases you for
time and for eternity. Let me be slave to your will, and
as a leaf is moved at the pleasure of the wind, may I
allow myself to move at your divine breath : but as the
impetuous wind breaks and tears away all that resists it,
break all that opposes itself to your empire, break the
cedars, as your prophet expresses it, — yes, the cedars shall
be broken, all shall be destroyed; but "Send out thy
Spirit, and thou wilt renew the face of the earth." It is
this same Spirit which destroys, that will renew the face
of the earth.
This is very certain. Send your Spirit, Lord ; you
have promised it. It is said of Jesus Christ, he expired,
"breathed out his spirit;" marking thereby the consum
mation of his sufferings and the consummation of the
ages. Also, it is said, he gave up his spirit after having
said, " It is consummated," which shows us the consum
mation of all things will be effected by the extension of

198 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
that same Spirit through all the earth ; and that this con
summation will be that of eternity, which will never ibe
consummated, because it wUl no more subsist but by the
vivifying and immortal Spirit. Our Lord in expiring
gave up his spirit into the hands of his Father, as if
to let us know that after this Spirit (which is, which
was, and which will be, the will and love of God com
municated to men) had come out from God to visit the
earth, it would return to God almost entirely withdrawn
from earth and continuing immovable for a time.
The reign of the Father has been before the Incar
nation; that of the Son through the Incarnation, as it
is said of Jesus Christ, that he came to reign ; and, since
his death, St. Paul says that " he will hand back his King
dom to God his Father," as if this Apostle would put into
the mouth of Jesus Christ these words : " I have reigned,
0 my Father, in you and through you. You have reigned
in me and through me. I now hand back my Kingdom
to you, that we may reign through the Holy Spirit."
Jesus Christ asks his Father for us in the Pater, "that
his Kingdom may come." Is not this Kingdom come since
Jesus Christ is King ? But let us hear what Jesus Christ
himself teaches us : " That your will be done on earth as
in heaven." It is as if he asked that his true reign, which
must come through that of the Holy Spirit, may come, —
reign where that Holy Spirit, by communicating himself to
them, shall make men accomplish his will upon the earth,
as it is accomplished in heaven, without repugnance,
without resistance, without delay, and infallibly. " It
wUl be then," Jesus Christ means to say, " that our reign,
0 my Father, wiU be consummated upon the earth. It
will be then my enemies shall be made my footstool ; "
and thus it will be, because the Holy Spirit, in subjecting
all wills to himself, wUl subject all men to Jesus Christ
and that, all wills being subjected, all spirits will also be
subjected. It is this which will bring about that, when the

Chap. VIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 199
Holy Spirit shall have renewed the face of the earth, there
will be no more idolaters; all will be subjected by the
Spirit to the Lord.
0 Spirit, Consummator of all things, reduce every
thing to one ! But before that can be, you will be a
Spirit-Destroyer. Accordingly, Jesus Christ, speaking of
the Spirit that he is about to send, says : " I am not come
to bring peace, but the sword. I am come to bring fire.
What do I wish, - but that it should burn ? " It is
necessary to be re-born of the Spirit and of water. The
message (speech) is like water that flows away ; but it is
the Spirit which renders it fruitful. It is this " Spirit,
which vrill teach us all things ; " as Jesus Christ says,
" He will take of mine :" for it is by the Holy Spirit the
Word is communicated to us, as in Mary : — Spirit who
teaches through the central depth.

200 MADAME GUYON. [Part 111.

CHAPTER VIII.
Although the Archbishop had told the Counsellor, who
is guardian of my children, that I had written to him
those retractations and those dreadful letters of which I
have spoken, which, as the Lord showed me in a dream,
they had got written by the forger who had done the
first one, they did not cease, in an underhand way,
urging me to write something similar, promising me
complete liberty. They wished to draw from me retracta
tions, and yet neither in the interrogations nor judicially
had they ever required them of me, because the Doctor, who
is an honorable man, was witness to it, and there was
nothing which called for them, as I was never interrogated
upon anything of this kind. But they hoped, in procuring
this letter from me, to declare me guilty to posterity, and
to show thereby they had reason for imprisoning me ;
thus covering all their artifices. They further wished a
pretext which might appear, and which would prove it
was with justice they had caused Father La Combe to be
imprisoned ; and they tried by menaces and by promises
to make me write that he was a deceiver. To this I
answered, that I was not unhappy in the convent nor in
prison, however rigorous it might be; that I was ready
to die, and even to ascend the scaffold, rather than write a
falsehood ; that they had only to show my interrogations ;
that I had spoken the truth as I had sworn to speak it.

Chap. VIU.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 201
As they saw they could extract nothing from me, they
composed an execrable letter, wherein they make me accuse
myself of all sorts of crimes, even of those our Lord has
given me the grace to be ignorant of: that I recognize
Father La Combe has deceived me ; that I hate the hour
I knew him. 0 God, you see this, and you keep
sUence : you will not always keep silence. When Father
La Mothe saw that people were beginning to believe he was
the author of the persecution and of the imprisonment of
Father La Combe, in order to excuse himself to the world,
he caused it to be conveyed to Father La Combe that
I had accused him. He said, " I have intreated the Arch
bishop to show me the interrogations of my monk. I even
wished to follow this up, and to demand the reason why
he was a prisoner, but the Archbishop told me that they
were matters concerning the King, with which I should not
meddle." He published to all the world that I was on the
point of ruining their House : that I tried to make them
Quietists — I, who never spoke to them. He bethought him
of another trick, in order it might never be known to His
Majesty that he was the author of our persecutions. He
made the Archbishop, whose director he is, consult him to
know if in conscience he, the Archbishop, could set me free ;
because he feared Madame Maintenon might speak in my
favour. To an answer making me appear guilty. Father
La Mothe, in a concerted letter, writes as if in my interest :
" I think, my Lord, you may let my sister go, notwith
standing all that is past ; and I answer you after having
consulted God, and I do not find any objection to it."
This letter is carried to His Majesty to show the probity
of Father La Mothe, and to arrest any suspicion touching
him. Yet they did not cease to say openly, notwithstand
ing the consultation, that they do not believe in conscience
they could set me at liberty, and it is on this footing they
speak of it to His Majesty ; making me appear so much the
more criminal as they make Father La Mothe the more

202 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
zealous. A Bishop, speaking of me one day to one of my
friends, who tried to defend me: "How," said he, "do
you wish to make us believe her innocent, — I, who know
that Father La Mothe, her own brother, has been
compelled by zeal for the good of the Church and by a
spirit of piety, to carry frightful reports against his sister
and his monk to the Archbishop ? He is a good man,
who has done this only through zeal." This Bishop is
intimate with the Archbishop : a Doctor of the Sorbonne,
who is everything with the Archbishop, said the same.
Although Father La Combe is in prison, we do not cease
to communicate together in God, in a wonderful manner.
I have seen a letter of his where he writes it to a person in
his confidence. Many spiritual persons to whom our Lord
has united me by a kind of maternity, experience the same
communication, although I be absent, and find in uniting
themselves to me the remedy for their ills. 0 God, you
who have chosen this poor insignificant creature to make
her the throne of your bounties and of your rigours, you
know I omit many things from not knowing how to express
them and from want of memory. I have told what I have
been able, with an extreme sincerity and an entire truth.
Although I have been obliged to write the proceedings of
those who persecute me, I have not done it through
resentment : since I bear them in my heart and pray for
them, leaving to God the care of defending me and
delivering me from their hands, without my making a
movement for that purpose. / have believed and under
stood that I should sincerely write all things in order
that he might be thereby glorified, and that he willed that
ivhat had been done in secret against his servants should
one day be published upon the house-top, and the more they
endeavour to hide themselves from the eyes of men the more
will God make manifest all things.
I experience at present two states both together. I
bear Jesus Christ Crucified and Child. As a consequence

Chap. VIII.] AUTOBIOGKAPIIY. 203
of the one, crosses are in great number, very severe and
without cessation ; there being few days I have not
many of them. As a consequence of the other, I have
something childlike, simple, candid ; something so innocent
that it seems to me, if my soul were put under a press,
only candour, innocence, simplicity and suffering would
issue from it. 0 my Love, it seems to me you have made
of me a prodigy before your eyes for your sole glory.
I cannot tell how it sometimes happens that when I
approach the image of Jesus Christ Crucified, or ChUd,
I feel myself, without feeling, suddenly renewed in one or
other of these states ; and there takes place in me
something of the original, which communicates itself to me
in an inexplicable manner, and which experience alone can
make understood — this experience is rare. It is, then, to
you, 0 my Love, that I make over what I have written
for you.
Written this 21st of August, 1688, aged forty years,
from my prison which I love and cherish.
I will write the memoirs of the rest of my life through
obedience, with a view to completing them one day, if it is
deemed suitable.
I forgot to say that I believe I felt the state of the souls
who approached me, and that of the persons who were
given to me, however distant these were. I call "feeling "
an interior impression of what they were; especially in
the case of those who passed for spiritual. I knew at once
if they were simple or dissimulating; their degree and
their self-love, for which things I had a repugnance to
them. I recognized when they were strong in themselves,
and resting on the virtue they believed themselves to have,
and by which they measured others, and condemned in
their mind those who were not like them, although more
perfect. These persons, who believe themselves and are
believed righteous, are much more disagreeable to God
than certain sinners through weakness ; whom the world

204 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
regards with horror, and to whom, nevertheless, God shows
very great mercies. This will only be seen at the Day of
Judgment. Yet God suffers with difficulty these strong
souls, of themselves so full, although they think themselves
humble, because they practise certain forms of humility ;
which most often only serve to augment their self-opinion.
If these souls had to suffer some real humiliation,
whether for some unexpected fall or public infamy, where
would they be ? Then one would know their lack of
solidity. If it were known how God loves true little
ness, men would be astonished at it. When people
speak to me of some persons of piety, my central depth
rejects those who are not in the littleness of which I
speak, and it admits those who are devoted to God as God
wishes them, without my knowing how this takes place.
I find there is in me something which rejects the evil and
approves the true good. It is the same in the practise of
the virtues ; this upright spirit discerns at once the true
virtue from that which is it not. It is, again, the same with
the Saints of heaven as with those of earth. Our Lord
makes me know that which constitutes the principal
character of their sanctity ; who those are who have been
more annihilated, or those whom God has sanctified by
action : and when some prerogative is attributed to a Saint,
and it is not the one which belongs to him, this central
depth rejects it without my paying attention ; but as soon
as that which belongs to them is said, it acquiesces.
The 21st of August, 1688, it was thought I was about to
be released from prison, and everything seemed arranged
for it. Our Lord made me feel in my central depth that,
far from intending to deliver me, it was new snares they
were spreading for me, and that they were taking counsel
together the better to destroy me ; that aU they had done
was only to make the King acquainted with Father La
Mothe, and to give him an esteem for him.
The 22nd at my waking, I was put into a state of agony.

Chap. VIILj AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 205
like that of Jesus Christ agonizing and seeing the counsel
of the Jews against him ; and the certainty of that plot was
again given to me. I saw that there was none but you,
0 my God, who could withdraw me from their hands. I
comprehend that you will one day do it by your right hand ;
but I am ignorant of the manner, and I abandon all things
to you. I am yours, 0 my Love, for time, and for eternity.
My soul has long been completely independent of all
which is not God : she has not need of any creature,
and though she should be alone in the world, she
would find herself infinitely content. Her indifference is
entire and perfect, and she does not depend on anything
whatsoever under the heaven : nothing but God occupies
and fills her. This deadness of all desire, this powerless-
ness to have need of any creature (I am not speaking of
things necessary for a corporal life) and this perfect satiety
exempt from all desire, because nothing is wanting, is the
greatest mark of the entire possession of God, who alone
as Sovereign Good can content the whole soul.
One day, as I was thinking to myself how it happens
that the soul who commences to be united to God,
although she finds herself united to the Saints in God,
has yet hardly any instinct to invoke them, it was put
into my mind that servants have need of credit and inter
cessors, but the wife obtains all from her husband even
without asking him for anything. He anticipates her with
an infinite love. 0 God, how little they know you !
They examine my actions ; they say I do not repeat the
Chaplet, because I have no devotion to the Holy Virgin.
0 divine Mary, you know how my heart is yours in God,
and the union which God has made between us in himself,
yet I cannot do anything but what Love makes me do.
I am altogether devoted to him and to his will.
The Official came with the Doctor, the guardian of my
children, and Father La Mothe, to speak to me of the
marriage of my daughter. Father La Mothe, who heard

206 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.
all this, did not say a word, except that he whispered to
me (believing thereby to hide his part in the persecutions,
and to persuade me he had no part in them) that I
was detained in the convent only about the marriage of
my daughter. I made little answer to him, and I treated
him as civilly and as cordially as was possible ; our Lord
giving me the grace easily for love of himself to treat him
so. They said to Father La Mothe I had received him
very well and they were edified at it. He answered that,
while I was showing him outward civility, I was abusing
him under my breath. He wrote the same to my brothers,
saying I had strangely illtreated him. I declare I was
surprised at such an invention, and I would not have
believed that one could invent in such a way.
God, who never abandons those who hope in him, has
done that which he had made me know he would do for
me by the hand of Madame de Maintenon. It happened
in the way I am about to describe : which should make us
marvel at the conduct of God, and the care he takes of
those who are his, while he appears most to abandon them.
God had permitted the affairs of my only uncle to fall
into disorder. He had a daughter, a canoness of intelligence
and merit. She had a very pretty little sister, and, as
Madame de Maintenon had lately established a House for
girls whose fathers were ruined in the service of the King,
the canoness went to present her sister to Madame de
Maintenon, who was very much pleased with her, and
also with her own cleverness. She begged her to
remain at the House until her little sister got used
to it ; but when she had become acquainted with the
cleverness and the capacity of the canoness, she engaged
her to remain altogether, or at least for some time,
begging her to see the House fairly started. Shall I say,
oh my Love, that I believe you have done this only for
me ? My cousin wished to speak in my favour to Madame
de Maintenon, but she found her so prejudiced against me

Chap. VHI.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 207
by calumny that she had the grief to see nothing could be
done in this quarter. She let me know it. I remained
very content in the will of God, with this rooted conviction,
that nothing would be done except through Madame de
Maintenon, and that this was the way of which God had
resolved to make use.
I remained then very peaceful, waiting the moment of
the good God, when Madame de Miramion, who had been
very much prejudiced against me, and who believed me
very criminal, because my enemies had persuaded her of
it, came by pure providence to the convent where I was.
She had much esteem for the Prioress. She asked her
if she believed me misled, as she had been told. The
Prioress and the nuns told her a thousand good things
about me, which their charity made them see. She
was amazed, for she had been assured I caused great
evils in this House. She resolved to serve me through
pure charity, and to speak to Madame de Maintenon, and
this had a good effect. But that which above all makes
us marvel at the providence of God with regard to me is
that the Abbess with whom I had placed that worthy girl,
the nun, who has caused me so many crosses both at
Gex, and because Father La Mothe's desire to get the
money I had given for her dowry has been in part the
cause of the persecution he stirred up against me — this
Abbess, I say, found herself obliged to come to Paris
for some business. She is a relative of Madame de
Maintenon ; and as she had need of arranging with me
for the dowry of that girl, she complained of the Arch
bishop's refusal to allow me to speak to her, and she
explained it was a business of charity I was doing in
favour of a poor girl, whom I was making a nun in
her House. This gave an opportunity to Madame de
Maintenon to speak for me, that I might be able to
arrange with this Abbess. Being again entreated by
my cousin, she spoke to the King, M'ho said they should

208 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
present him with a "Placet." It was brought to him,
and, as it was the eve of St. Louis, I had an instinct
to pray for the King that he might be enlightened as
to the truth. He ordered the Archbishop to set me at
liberty ; which not a little surprised and vexed him. I
marvelled, 0 my God, at your divine providence, and the
markedly special springs of your adorable control; since
this same money, which has been the first source of all
my troubles, through Father La Mothe's desire to have
it, you have made, 0 my God, the means of my liberty.
This Abbess did much more, for by her authority she
caused to be given to Father La Mothe, as it were in spite
of himself, and while fearing his practices were discovered,
a letter of esteem for my piety and the pious life I had led.

Chap. IX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 209

CHAPTER IX.
As the Archbishop was not willing to have the worst of it,
and my enemies, on seeing themselves powerless to hurt
me, were only the more embittered, they resolved to
inform the King that I could not be released until certain
formalities had been observed. They wished to draw up
a deed such as to make it appear that they were in
the right, and to screen themselves from all inquiries that
might hereafter be made against them ; and also to avoid
the lie being given to them as to the forgeries and the
reports they boasted of having against me, and their
assertions that I had written and executed acts of re
tractation. The Official came on Wednesday, October 1,^
1688. After having taken the testimony of the Mother
Superior as to my conduct in their convent, which she
gave in the most distinct and favourable manner possible,
he sent for me, and told me I must sign a deed which he
had previously drawn up, and which he had had copied
by his secretary. He produced two papers I had in truth
myself given him on the 8th of February of the same year,
1688, which had been used by me as memoirs, to answer
certain things he asked me, and which papers he had
inserted at fuU length in my interrogations ; but these he
would never publish, lest my innocence should thereby be
known, and people should see the frightful falsehoods
' This must be a miBtake for " September." See close of chapter, dated
September 20th.
VOL. II. P

210 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
which had been concocted against me, and for which
reparation was due. Moreover, these papers contained
the assurance and the protestations I had made of never
having wandered from the sentiments of the Holy Church
— my good Mother, for which I was ready to give a thousand
lives. In the deed which they presented to me, he had
inserted that I had given him two deeds. I refused to
sign it, and, on my refusal, the Doctor, who accompanied
him, told him that this word " deed" was not proper for
simple papers; that they must put "papers." He would
not consent. It was necessary to put "memoirs'' that I
had recognized as coming from me. I saw clearly there
was here some trick, and it was only for some evil purpose
they brought me back two papers otherwise useless, since
they were inserted at full length in my interrogation.
Wherefore reproduce the two papers and suppress all the
interrogations, unless to overreach me in some way? I
said I would willingly sign that I had placed in his hands
two memoirs of the 8th of February, 1688, provided they
wrote the contents of the said memoirs ; but to say simply
that I had given two memoirs, without explaining what
they were, I would not do it ; that after all they had
forged in my name, I ought to fear everything. He
would not allow any explanation. He gave way to fearful
violence against me, saying I should sign it, and swearing
I was ruined if I did not do so. I had to waive this, in
spite of all my reasons, to avoid their violence and with
draw myself from their hands. I requested that at least
the Doctor who accompanied him should sign my papers,
in order that they might not be able to substitute others
in their place. He would not allow this. He signed them
himself; but what use was that to me, since they remained
in his hands ? They told me if I signed all they requested
of me the door of the convent would infallibly be opened,
but if I refused there was no longer any safety for me
They wished to put into tlieir deed tliat I had been in

Chap. IX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 211
error ; and, in order to oblige me to sign a thing which I
would rather have given my life than sign, they told me
that every one makes mistakes — that this is what is meant
by errors. I asked him if he meant to say " errata," as
we read in books ; I would willingly do this, but as for
"errors" I would never consent to that. He said to me
gently enough, I should not make any difficulty ; that
it was for my good ; that he asked this of me as the
infallible means of withdrawing me from prison; that
besides, St. Cyprian, whose fete was next day, had died
in error, and he was none the less a saint ; that he himself,
on becoming priest, had made a kind of abjuration of error,
which he repeated to me in Latin. But when he saw
I persisted in saying that I had never been in error, and
that I would never sign if they inserted the word "error,"
he got into a frightful fury, declaring by his faith I should
sign, or he would know the reason why, with frightful
outbursts of violence to prove to me I was in error.
They told me that the letter of Father Falconi de la
Merci was prohibited at Rome, and that it had been
inserted in the later editions of my book as if to support
it. I answered that this letter, not being mine, was no
proof that I was in error. I wished to make them write
that I protested I had never wandered from the faitli, and
that I would give a thousand lives for the Church. They
would not. He spoke to me again about my books,
although I had submitted them, and asked me if I did
not condemn them of error. I said that if sentiments that
were not altogether orthodox had slipped in, I submitted
them, as I had always done. He wanted to have put in,
and he put it in spite of me, that I renounced all sorts of
errors. I said to him, " But why put in that ? " He said
if I did not put it he would say I was a heretic. Finally
I had to waive that objection. He added, that I forbade all
booksellers and printers to sell and distribute my books.
I stopped him there, and said to him, if the books were

212 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
not good let them forbid them, that I agreed to it; but
that, as for me, not having contributed to their printing,
I had nothing to do in the matter. The Doctor, who saw
the Official rise up in a strange fury, told me to let it
pass, making me understand it was more important for
me to get out of their hands. He told me afterwards he
would give me, if I wished, a deed signed with his own
hand, to the effect that he had advised me to sign. I was
about then to sign, and I skipped one side of the sheet in
order to have time for consultation.
As the Abbess had permission to come and bring to me
any one she pleased, I took advice ; for they had brought
me back the paper which I had signed on one side,
thinking it was a mistake. I was told I must at any price
be got out of their hands, provided I did not insert that
I had been in error. I said this was not in the deed, but
that "if in my books and writings there was error, I con
demned them with all my heart." They had thought to take
me by surprise, but my God has not aUowed it, making me
see their end, in all they demanded of me. They wished
to make me put, that if there was error in my books, as
well those which openly appeared as in those which did
not appear, I detested them. I said I had not written any
book which did not appear. I knew they had set going
a rumour that I had printed books in Holland, and they
desired by this deed to make me admit that it was so.
I said, then, I had not made any other book. To excuse
himself, the Official said, that my writings were thick
enough to pass for books, and he put "writings." The
Doctor, who hardly dared to speak, told him, however, I was
right. If he had insisted upon putting " I had errors "
I would rather have let my head be cut off than sign it.
Here are the contents of the paper I had given them
February 8, 1688, of which, through the mercy of God,
I had kept a duplicate, in order that those into whose
hands these writings may fall may see the difference

Chap. IX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 213
there is between these and those which have been foisted
upon me.
"I urgently intreat you, gentlemen, to write two
things: first, that I have never deviated from the most
orthodox opinions of the Holy Church; that I have
never had private opinions of my own ; that I have never
taken up with any party; that I am ready to give my
blood and my life for the interests of the Church; that
I have laboured all my life to strip myself of my own
opinions, and to submit my intelligence and my will.
The second, that I have never pretended to write anything
which was not conformable to the opinions of the Holy
Church; that if through my ignorance anything not
conformable to its opinions has slipped in, I renounce
it, and I with all my heart submit to its decision, from
which I never wish to deviate. That if I answer the inter
rogations put to me upon the little book, it is purely
through obedience, and not to maintain or defend it, as
I submit it with aU my heart."
I gave in that before the interrogation, and the one that
foUows some days later. It is without date. It was upon
a matter they tried to persuade me of, namely that
aU souls who have attained to union with God, fall into
ecstasy, and that this union only took place in ecstasy.
"God can give a soul the same graces which produce
ecstasy, although she does not lose the use of the external
senses as in ecstasy, which only comes from weakness ;
but she so loses all sight of self in the enjoyment of
her Divine Object that she forgets aU which concerns
her. It is then that she no longer distinguishes any
operation on her part. The soul seems then to do
nothing but receive what is profusely given to her. She
loves without being able to give an account of her love, and
without being able to teU what passes in her at that
moment. Only experience can make comprehensible that
which God operates in a soul faithful to him. While

214 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
receiving with all her heart, she corresponds so far as she
is capable to the operations of her God, sometimes observ
ing him act with complaisance and love, at other times
she is so lost and hid in God with Jesus Christ that she no
longer distinguishes her Object, which seems to absorb her
in himself." There is also added in the paper which is not
signed what follows: "I declare I am so much confused
when interrogated, through fear of lying without thinking
of it, or, rather, of making a mistake, that I know not what
I say. It seems to me all interrogation ought to cease,
since I give up everything and submit them entirely ;
besides, not having the little book with me, I cannot men
tion the passages which justify and explain the propositions
that might seem hard — as, for example, on the subject of
penitences, I remember there is in the same chapter a
passage where it is said, ' I do not pretend to disapprove
penitences, since mortification ought to proceed at an equal
pace with prayer, and even our Lord imposes on these
persons penitences of all kinds, and such as those who
are not conducted by that way would not even think of
doing.' There may be many propositions which, in strict
ness, are open to condemnation, but which, after one has
seen the sequel explaining them, appear very good. I do
not say this to support those which may not be approved,
but to point out that there are many which carry their
explanation within them."
I have forgotten to say that, when it was seen the nuns
spoke much good of me and declared their esteem, my
enemies and some of their friends came and told them
that the fact of their having esteem for me was very inju
rious to their House : that it was said, I had corrupted
them all and made them Quietists. They took alarm at
this. The Prioress forbade the nuns to speak good of
me ; so that, when I was again imprisoned, it was thought
they had discovered much evil, and that made even my
friends doubtful. I then saw myself rejected by all, and so

Chap. IX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 215
abandoned by the whole world that it was only with pain
they tolerated me in the House ; and even my friend,
fearing the esteem she had for me might be injurious to
her, gradually withdrew and became cold. It was then,
0 my God, that I could well say you were all things to
me. I saw the nature of human respect, which leads one
to betray the known truth ; for at heart they esteemed me,
yet, to keep themselves in repute, they pretended the
opposite. Father La Mothe went and carried to the
Jesuits forged letters of a frightful character that he said
were from me ; and he said he was in despair at being
obliged to speak against me ; and that it was through zeal
for religion he renounced the friendship he owed me.
Thereby he gained over Pere de la Chaise and almost all
the Jesuits.
I forget many circumstances which would be extremely
pertinent, but my memory has not recalled them. If I
could remember all your mercies, 0 my God, and your
conduct of me, one would be astonished and ravished at
it, but you will that many things shall remain concealed in
you. As you withdraw them from my memory, I will not
seek them, for I should be grieved to write anything but
what you give me, without my seeking it by reflection. I
have again forgotten to say that, when I told the Official
that with reason I was not willing they should insert that
word " error," because I felt certain it was a snare, owing
to their boasting they had in their hand a retraction, he
told me he must have been a great fool not to make me put
it in, and that the Archbishop would dismiss him, trying to
make me understand they wanted that word for their justi
fication. Five days from that, he came to make me sign
the second page. I would not have done it, being quite
indifferent whether I remained as I was, provided I did
your wUl, 0 my God: but Madame de Maintenon sent
me word to sign, and that she would inform the King
of their violence ; that it was necessary to get me out of

216 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
their hands. I signed then. After which I had the
liberty of the cloister.
The guardian of my children went to expedite the
"lettre de cachet." You permitted, 0 my God, by your
providence, this letter to go astray for five days through a
misunderstanding: that caused me again in this House
ups and downs ; as for my heart and my soul they remained
always at the same level. I have even had more perceptible
joy on entering my prison than on leaving it. At last, on
the eve of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, the " lettre de
cachet " was brought to me. I saw clearly, 0 my Love,
you wished the Cross to be exalted in me, and when I saw
the "lettre de cachet " came at that time, it was to me a
good augury. I saw the continual miracles of your provi
dence, and how you were conducting me bit by bit and
with the hand. I saw you were taking care of me in the
smallest matters, as a husband takes care of the wife he
loves uniquely. Although all the time of my imprisonment
had been each day an exercise of strange upsets, sometimes
up and sometimes down, it is certain that the greatest was
about the time of my release. My soul has never changed
her situation, except as I have described. I have learned
since I am at liberty, and even before, that a person who
persecuted me had obtained an order to send me two
hundred leagues from here, into a prison where I should
nevermore have been heard of. You waited to save
me, 0 my God, until things were utterly desperate. I
learned one morning that no one was willing to meddle in
my affair — neither Madame de Maintenon nor my cousin.
From that I received a very great joy ; and when the
affair has been most desperate, then I have felt again a
renewal of joy. Here, then, was I very happy, even when
I learned they were striving to have me placed in
perpetual imprisonment — and the measures were so well
taken for it, that when the "lettre de cachet" was
demanded from the secretary, after His Majesty's order

Chap. IX.] AUTOBIOGRAPUy. 217
had been given to set me free, he inquired if it was
not for that lady whom they were about to transfer. 0
God, how you overthrow the designs of men ! 0 my
Love, already I see the commencement of your promises
accomplished : I do not doubt for the rest.
The Abbess and my children's guardian came to fetch
me, and manifested great joy ; as did all my friends. It
was only the others who were extremely vexed at it. I
went out, without feeling I was going out, and without
being able to reflect on my deliverance. Yesterday morning
I was thinking. But who are you ? what are you doing ?
what are you thinking ? Are you alive, that you take no
more interest in what affects you than if it did not affect
you ? I am greatly astonished at it, and I have to apply
myself to know if I have a being, a life, a subsistence.
I do not know where I am. Externally I am like another ;
but it seems to me I am like a machine that speaks and
walks by springs, and which has neither life nor subsist
ence in what it does. This is not at all apparent externally.
I act, I speak like another ; even in a manner more free
and more large, which embarrasses no one, which pleases
all ; without knowing either what I do, or what I say, nor
why I do it, or say it, nor what causes me to say it. On
leaving the convent they took me to the Archbishop, as
a matter of form to thank him. It was indeed due to
him for what he had made me suffer, for I do not doubt
my God has been glorified by it. Then I went to see
Madame de Miramion, who indeed was rejoiced at a thing
to which she had not a little contributed. I there provi
dentially found Madame de Montchevreuil, who manifested
much joy at seeing me delivered, and assured me Madame
de Maintenon would have no less : which Madame de
Maintenon herself showed every time we met. I wrote to
her to thank her. A few days after my release, I went to
St. Cyr to salute her. She received me most kindly, and
in a marked manner. A few days before, she had declared

218 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
to my cousin how much my letter had pleased her, and
that in truth our Lord gave her for me sentiments of par
ticular esteem. I returned to see the Archbishop. He
begged me to say nothing of what had passed. Father La
Mothe, however, was in despair at my release ; but he
always pretended the contrary to those who had access
to me. He sent persons to spy me, and to surprise me
in my words. I do not yet know what effect this will have.
The Official begged Madame de Miramion not to receive
me into her Community, and he came to tell me not to
go there. That had not much effect, for this lady still
declared her intention to take me to her House, where I
am at the present moment. If God wills it, I shall one
day write the continuation of a life which is not yet
finished. This 20th of September, 1688.
The desire I have had to obey and to omit nothing will
have doubtless caused some repetitions ; they will at least
serve to show you my exactness in what you order me, and
that if I have omitted anything, it is either because I have
not been able to express it, or through forgetfulness.
Some days after my release, having heard mention
of the Abbe de F — ^,' I was suddenly with extreme force
and sweetness interested for him. It seemed to me our
Lord united him to me very intimately, more so than any
one else. My consent was asked for. I gave it. Then
it appeared to me that, as it were, a spiritual filiation took
place between him and me. The next day I had the
opportunity of seeing him. I felt interiorly this first
interview did not satisfy him : that he did not relish me.
I experienced a something which made me long to pour
my heart into his ; but I found nothing to correspond,
and this made me suffer much. In the night I suffered
extremely about him. In the morning I saw him. We
remained some time in silence, and the cloud cleared off a
little ; but it was not yet as I wished it. I suffered for
eight whole days ; after which, I found myself united to

Chap. IX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 219
him without obstacle, and from that time I find the union
increasing in a pure and ineffable manner. It seems to
me that my soul has perfect rapport with his, and those
words of David regarding Jonathan, that " his soul clave
to that of David," appeared to me suitable for this union.
Our Lord has made me understand the great designs he
has for this person, and how dear he is to him.

220 MADAME GUYON. [Fart III.

CHAPTER X.
I SHOULD be unable to write anything more regarding my
inner state ; I wUl not do it, having no words to express
what is entirely disconnected from all that can fall under
feeling, expression, or human conception. I shall only
say that, after the state when I came back to life, I found
myself for some years, before being placed in what is
called the Apostolic state — that of a Mission to help others,
the selfhood having been entirely consumed in the purga
tory I had passed through — I found myself, I say, in a
happiness equal to that of the Blessed, save for the
Beatific Vision ; nothing here below affected me ; and
neither at present do I see anything in heaven or in earth
which can trouble me as regards myself. The happiness
of a soul in this state cannot be understood without
experience, and those who die without being employed in
helping their neighbours, die in supreme felicity ; although
overwhelmed with external crosses. But when it pleased
God to honour me with his Mission, he made me under
stand that the true father in Jesus Christ, and the Apostolic
pastor, must suffer like him for men, bear their languors,
pay their debts, clothe himself with their weaknesses.
In truth, God does not do these sorts of things without
asking from the soul her consent ; but how sure he is this
soul will not refuse him what he asks ! He himself inclines
the heart for that he wishes to obtain. It seems he then

Chap. X.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 221
impresses upon it these words : " I was happy, I possessed
glory, I was God; but I have quitted all that, I have
subjected myself to pain, to contempt, to ignominy, to
punishment. I became man to save man. If thou art
wilUng to finish what remains lacking of my Passion and
that I should make in thee an extension of my quality of
Redeemer, it is necessary thou consent to lose the
happiness thou dost enjoy; to be subjected to wants, to
weaknesses, in order to bear the languors of those with
whom I shall charge thee, to pay their debts, and finally to
be exposed, not only to all the interior pains from which
thou hast been delivered for thyself, but to all the most
violent persecutions. If I had remained in my private life,
I should never have suffered any persecution ; only those
are persecuted who are employed to help souls." There
was needed, then, a consent of immolation to enter into
all the designs of God regarding the souls he destines for
himself. He made me understand that he did not call me, as
had been thought, to a propagation of the external of the
Church, which consists in winning heretics, but to the
propagation of his Spirit, which is no other than the
interior Spirit, and that it would be for this Spirit I
should suffer. He does not even destine me for the first
conversion of sinners ; but to introduce those who are
already touched with the desire of being converted, into
the perfect conversion, which is none other than this
interior Spirit. Since that time our Lord has not charged
me with any soul without having asked my consent, and,
after having accepted that soul in me, without having
immolated me to suffer for her. It is well to explain the
nature of this suffering, and the difference between it and
what one suffers on one's own account.
The nature of this suffering is something most inward,
most powerful, and most special. It is an excessive
torment, one knows not where it is, nor in what part of the

222 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
soul it resides. It is never caused by reflection, nor can
it produce any. It causes neither disturbance, nor embar
rassment ; it does not purify : and, for this reason, the soul
finds it gives her nothing. Its excess does not hinder an
enjoyment, without enjoyment, and a perfect peace. It
takes away nothing from the sense of largeness. One is
not ignorant that it is for souls one is suffering, and
very often one knows the person : one finds one's self
during this time united to him in a painful manner, as a
criminal is attached to the instrument of his punish
ment. One often bears the weaknesses that those persons
ought to feel; but ordinarily it is a general indistinct
pain, which oftentimes has a certain relation to the heart
causing extreme pain to the heart, but violent pains,
as if one pressed it, or pierced it with a sword : this
pain, purely spiritual, has its seat in the same place
which is occupied by the Presence of God. It is more
powerful than all corporal pains, and it is yet so
insensible, and so removed from sentiment, that the
person who is overwhelmed by it, if he was capable of
reflection, would believe that it has no existence, and that
he is deceiving himself. Since God willed me to par
ticipate in the Apostolic state, what have I not suffered !
But however excessive my sufferings, and whatever weak
ness I may have had in the senses, I have never desired
to be delivered from it : on the contrary, the charity for
those souls augments in proportion as the suffering
becomes greater, and the love one has for them increases
with the pain.
There are two kinds of pains : the one caused by the
actual unfaithfulness of the souls ; the other, which is
for the purpose of purifying them and making them
advance. The former contracts the heart, afflicts it,
weakens the sentiments, causes a certain agony, and
as it were a pulling ; just as if God were drawing it to
one side and the soul to the other, so that it tore the

Chap. X.J AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 223
heart : this pain is more insupportable than any other,
although it is not more deep. The pain of purification
for another is a general indistinct pain, which tranquillizes
and unites with the person for whom one suffers, and with
God. It is a difference which experience alone can make
intelligible. Every one with experience will understand
me. Nothing equals what one suffers for persons, who
very often are ignorant of it, or for others, who far from
being grateful, have a repugnance to those who are con
suming themselves for them through charity. All this
does not diminish that charity, and there is not any death
or torment one would not suffer with the utmost pleasure,
to make them what God desires.
The divine justice applied to a soul to make her suffer
while purifying others, does not cease to make her suffer,
when it is for an actual unfaithfulness, until this unfaith
fulness has ceased. It is not the same in the case of
purification : that takes place at intervals, and one has
a respite after having suffered. One finds one acquires
a certain ease with that soul, which shows that what one
has suffered has purified and, for the present moment,
placed the soul in the condition God wishes her. When
the souls are in the right path and nothing arrests them
this goes on quite evenly; but when they are arrested,
there is something within which makes it known.
The justice of God causes suffering from time to time
for certain souls until their entire purification. As soon
as they have arrived where God wishes them, one suffers
no longer anything for them ; and the union which had
been often covered with clouds, is cleared up in such a
manner that it becomes like a very pure atmosphere, pene
trated everywhere, without distinction, by the light of the
sun. As M.  has been given to me in a more intimate
manner than any other, what I have suffered, what I am
suffering, and what I shall suffer for him, surpasses any
thing that can be told. The least partition between him

224 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
and me, between him and God, is like a little dirt in the
eye, which causes it an extreme pain, and which would not
inconvenience any other part of the body where it might
be put. What I suffer for him is very different from what
I suffer for others ; but I am unable to discover the cause,
unless it be, God has united me to him more intimately
than to any other, and that God has greater designs for
him than for the others.
When I am suffering for a soul, and I merely hear the
name of this person pronounced, I feel a renewal of
extreme pain. Although for many years I am in a state
equaUy naked and void in appearance, owing to the depth
of the plenitude, nevertheless, I am very full. Water
filling a basin to the utmost limits it can contain, offers
nothing to distinguish its plenitude ; but when one pours
in more upon it, it must discharge itself. I never feel
anything for myself, but when anything stirs that depth,
infinitely full and tranquil, this makes the plenitude felt
with such excess that it gushes over on the senses. This
is the reason that makes me avoid hearing certain
passages read or repeated : not that anything comes to
me by external things, but it is that a word heard stirs
the depth : anything said of the truth, or against the truth,
stirs it in the same way, and would make it break out if
continued. It may be thought that, because, during all the time,
whUe faith is pleasant to the taste, one has difficulty in
reading, what I speak of here will be the same thing ; that
would be a mistake. In these last states it is impossible
to avoid using an expression which has some signification
analogous to that of the earlier states, owing to the paucity
of terms, and only experience can clear up aU this : for all
persons who are in the states of simple faith, accompanied
by some support, and some deep savour, believe themselves
at the point I mention. These last are concentrated, or
rather feel stirring in them through reading or what is

Chap. X.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 225
said to them, a certain occupation of God, which closes
their mouth and often the eyes, preventing them from
pursuing the reading. It is not the same here : here it
is an overflowing of plenitude, a bursting up from a brim
ming depth, always full for all the souls who have need
of drawing water from this plenitude : here it is the divine
reservoir, where the children of Wisdom incessantly draw
what is needed for them, when they are well disposed ; not
that they always feel what they draw there, but I indeed feel
it. The things which are written must not be interpreted
according to the strictness of the words ; for, if so under
stood, there is hardly a perfected state which a soul of a
certain degree might not believe herself to have experienced :
but patience ; she will herself hereafter see this infinite
difference. Even souls of the inferior degree wUl often
appear more perfect than those souls perfected in love
and through love ; because God, who wills these last to live
with other men, and to withdraw from them the sight of
so great a treasure, covers their exterior with visible weak
nesses, which, like mean dirt, cover infinite treasures, and
prevent their loss.
If God had not entirely separated the exterior of these
souls from their interior, they could no longer converse
with men. One experiences that in the new life. It
seems nothing more remains than to die. One finds
one's self so remote from the rest of men, and they think
so differently from what one thinks, that the neighbour
would become insupportable ; the soul would then willingly
say, " 0 my God, let your servant die in peace, since mine
eyes have seen my Saviour." Souls arrived at this point
are in an actual accomplished perfection, and they ordinarily
die in this state, when they are not destined to aid others ;
but when they are so destined, God divides the Godlike
central depth from the exterior, and hands over the
exterior to childlike weaknesses, which keeps the soul in
a continual abstraction and total ignorance of what she
VOL. II. <j

226 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
is; unless this central depth, of which we have spoken,
should be stirred, and that for the good of others : then one
has a strange experience, but to teU what it is baffles
expression. The exterior weaknesses of those souls serve
them as a covering, and even hinder them from serving as
support to others in the path of death, by which they are
conducting them. They are all childlike weaknesses. If
the souls who are conducted by those persons could
penetrate below this weak exterior, to the depth of their
grace, they would regard them with too much respect, and
would not die to the support that such a conducting would
afford them. If the Jews had penetrated beneath the
commonplace exterior of Jesus Christ, they would never
have persecuted him, and they would have been in a state
of continual admiration. These persons are a paradox
both to their own eyes and to the eyes of all who see
them; for one sees in them only a coarse bark, though
oftentimes there proceeds from it a divine sap ; and thus
those who vnll judge of them by the eyes of reason, know
not how to go about it. Oh divine wisdom, oh savoury
knowledge, you flow incessantly from the heart and from
the mouth of these souls, like a stream of divine sap,
which communicates life to an infinity of branches,
although one sees only a coarse and moss-covered bark.
" What do you see in the Shulamite," this choice soul,
you others who are watching her, says the sacred Bride
groom, "except the companies of an army in array?"
No, you will only see that in her. Do not therefore form
any judgment, oh you who are not thus far, and be assured
that, " although I am black I am very beautiful; that my
sun, by his burning looks, has discoloured me in this way
to preserve me for himself, and to withdraw me from the
sight of all creatures." To attack those souls is to wound
the heart of God. To judge them is to judge God. Those
who do it err in their judgments. It is this which
makes them dare, as the Apostle St. Jude says, to utter

Chap. X.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 227
maledictions against holy things, and to blaspheme the
sacred mysteries of the interior. The soul in this state knows
nothing of herself, as she is unknown by others. When
she speaks or writes touching herself, she does it as in the
case of divine things — she speaks and writes only by the
actual light given at the present moment, and which lasts
only as long as is necessary for her speaking or writing,
without any possibility of her seeing or thinking afterwards
of that which she previously saw; unless, indeed, the
actual light of it should be restored. It is like a person
to whom one opens a cabinet, full of treasures, who sees
them as long as it is open, and ceases to see them when
it is shut again. Therefore this soul is the fountain
sealed ; the Bridegroom alone opens : no one else shuts ;
no one else opens. Such a soul has no care for honour,
wealth, or life ; not only as to the will, but as to the real
practice : therefore she has no longer anything to be
careful for. If she was not such, she would be unable to
serve souls in all the extent of the designs of God. The
least circumspection hinders the effect of grace. Oh, how
few are the souls who are willing to give themselves up
for another without any self-respecting regard or reflection,
ready to do and to suffer for others ! The charity of an
Apostolic soul cannot be understood. It is the charity of
Jesus Christ himself. Oh, depth of this charity, free from
zeal and feeling, who would be able to comprehend thee ?
All the greatest crosses come in this Apostolic state (if
one can call them crosses), because hell and all men are
stirred up to hinder the good which is being done in souls.
If Jesus Christ had not come out from his private life, he
would not have been persecuted by the Jews and crucified.
If God left these souls concealed in the secret of his coun
tenance, they would be secure from the persecution of
men. But how cheerfully would one suffer the wheel or
the fire even for a single soul! We must not be as
tonished if the devils stir up all the regions of their

228 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
dominion against Apostolic souls. It is because the Devil
well knows that one soul of this kind, once listened to, would
destroy his empire. All devotions hurt him but moder
ately, for in the self-love of the devout he gets compensa
tion for what they make him lose by their regulated
practices ; but there is nothing to be gained by him from
a soul devoted to the truth of God and to his pure love,
who allows herself to be annihilated by the sovereign
dominion of God, and who, no longer subsisting in herself,
gives full power to God continually to extend more widely
his empire. The Devil cannot approach these souls except
at a distance. The rage with which he is animated against
them has no bounds. Oh, how mistaken we are when we
judge devotion by exterior actions ! To be devout, or to
be devoted to God, we must have neither choice nor pre
ference for one action more than for another. People
form ideas and imagine that a soul which is God's in a
certain manner, ought to be such and such ; and when
they see the opposite to the ideas they had formed for
themselves, they conclude God is not there ; whUe it is
often where he especially is. Oh, sovereign independence
of my God ! you would not be God if you did not know
how to glorify yourself by that which apparently dishonours
you. God has his pleasure in all which renders us supple
and small. He values not any virtue so much as to have
in his hand a soul which he may elevate to the clouds and
bury in the mire without her changing her situation in the
slightest. A state which depends upon some goodness
which one may distinguish or conceive, is indeed a virtuous
state, but not a divine state.
There are the saints of the Lord, who are sanctified,
not like other saints by the practice of virtues, but
by the Lord himself, and by an unlimited suppleness,
which is the real possession of all virtue. They are
all the more the saints of God, since they are only
holy in him and for him. They are holy in his style,

Chap. X.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 229
not in the style of men. 0 my Love, you have so
many souls who serve you in order to be holy: make
for yourself a troop of children who serve you because
you are holy; who serve you in your style! These
are the chUdren for whom you have sanctified your
self, and that suffices for them. Oh, what a horrible
monster, Selfhood ! Yes, my God, let me at least be the
plaything of your wUl ! Let there be neither virtue nor
sanctity for me, but singing with the Church, "Thou
alone art holy," let me sing the same thing for myself,
and for those you have given me ; in order that you may
be glorified and sanctified, not in them, but in you and
for you. 0 pure Love, to what dost thou reduce thy
subject !
The souls of which I speak are incapable of any sort
of preference or predilection: but they are moved by a
necessity, which, not being in them, for they are free, has
its seat in God himself, after the sacrifice of this same
liberty. They have not any natural love, but an infinite
charity, applied and stirred more powerfully for certain
subjects than for others, according to the design of God,
the need of the persons, and the closeness of the union
that God wills they should have with them. This strong,
even apparently ardent love, is not in the powers as other
inclinations; but in that same central depth which is
God himself. He governs as a sovereign and inclines
this same central depth, indistinguishably from himself,
towards the thing he wishes one should love, and to
which one is united; and this love is he; so that it
cannot be distinguished from God, although it terminates
in a particular subject. This central depth stirred
towards this person, causes an attraction towards him as
if towards God ; and as everything which stirs this central
depth renders God perceptible (which otherwise he would
not be, owing to the transformation), so the radical
inclination stirred towards that creature renders God

230 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
perceptible, but in a manner so much the more powerful,
more pure, more detached from the sensible, as the soul
is in an eminent degree. One feels something which
might seem to have relation to this from the commence
ment of the way, where everything which carries us
towards God causes a sensible inclination emanating from
God ; but these things are in the senses, or in the powers,
according to the degree of the soul. It is not at all that
which I mean. This is in the very central depth inac
cessible to any other than God himself.
There is no state so perfected which a soul in these
commencements might not attribute to herself, especially
those who, in the language of Scripture, "go from faith
to faith." For as one has from the commencement the
firstfruits of the Spirit, and it is the same faith which
grows deeper and purifies itself, expands and spreads until
the perfect consummation, it is also the same from the
commencement, and has almost the same effects. All
the difference is, that it resides in the powers all along
the way, until it loses itself in the inmost central depth,
which is none other than God himself, who perfects
everything in his divine unity. Even the interior move
ment which ought to be the sole director of souls of faith,
discovers itself from the commencement in those persons
destined to an eminent faith. This movement is more
sensible, more distinct, more in the powers at the com
mencement ; but finally it is this which directs and leads
them to mortify themselves, to renounce themselves, to
speak and to keep silence, to strip themselves until it
destroys them with itself in that God-depth. Then it
changes its nature, and becomes in such a way natural
that it loses all which made it distinguished apart from
God : then the creature acts as naturally as she breathes,
her suppleness is infinite.
It is well to explain here a matter which might cause
great mistakes to souls. It is, that the soul sunk in God,

Chap. X.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 231
and become infinitely supple in relation to God, may
seem either reserved, or to have difficulty in saying certain
things to others. It is not now a defect which is in her
in regard to herself, but this constraint comes from the
person to whom one should speak : for God makes felt
as if by anticipation, all the dispositions of the soul to
whom one should speak : and although that soul, if one
asked, would assert confidently, there was no repugnance
to receive what should be said (because, in fact, the will
is so disposed), yet it is certain that, whatever the good will,
the matters are repugnant, whether because they exceed
the present scope of that person, or because there are
still lurking secret ideas of a virtue based on reason. It
is, therefore, the narrowness of the person to whom one
speaks which causes the repugnance to speak. Moreover
the exterior state of childhood has a thousand little
things which might pass for unfaithfulnesses, similar to
those of persons who through self-love do not say the
things which are distasteful to them ; but it is easy to
see that this is not the ease, because they have passed
through a state which did not permit them reserve of a
thought, whatever it might cost. Souls of this state
must be judged by that which God has made them pass
through, rather than by what one sees ; for otherwise one
would judge them in relation to one's own state, and not
by that which they are. That which is weak in God is
stronger than the greatest strength, because this weakness
does not come from not having acquired all strength,
virtuous and understood by reason ; but because, having
infinitely passed beyond this, it is lost in the divine
strength, and this it is which causes those opposites, that
unite so well although they appear incompatible, of the
divine strength and of the child's weakness.
A.D. 1688.

232 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.

CHAPTER XI.
On leaving St. Mary's I went to Madame de Miramion.
Those who were the cause of my having been placed at
St. Mary's opposed this, and told me it was more suitable
that I should retire into a private house. As I penetrated
their intention, which was no other than to commit new
forgeries, in order to have the opportunity of causing me
fresh trouble, I remained firm in the resolution to enter
into the Community of that lady. As soon as they saw
they could not succeed with me, and that I wished to
live in a Community, they bethought themselves to write
to Madame de Miramion, assuring her that they them
selves saw me go, at least once a week, to Faubourg St.
Marceau, into discredited houses, and that I held assem
blies. Father La Mothe was the author of these letters,
and maintained that, being unwilling to credit it, he had
been there several times during the last month, and that
he had always seen me enter those houses. It is to be
remarked that I had never been to the Faubourg St.
Marceau, and that for three months I was confined to bed,
where every day an abscess I had in the eye was dressed ;
besides I had a very severe fever during that time.
Madame de Miramion, who was almost always present
when they treated me, and who knew I did not leave the
bed, was very indignant at this proceeding ; so that when
Father La Mothe came to see her, to confirm what he had

Chap. XL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 233
written, and to add still further calumnies, as to things
which, he said, I had done within eight days, she spoke
very strongly to him on the blackness of his accusations,
assuring him she believed all that had been told her of
the malignity he had practised on me ; as she herself was
witness that, for three months, I had not been able even
to leave the bed, or go to the Mass in their chapel, and
since I was with her I had not gone out four times ; and
then, it was a responsible member of my family who had
come to fetch me in the morning and bring me back in
the evening. When he saw himself so ill received, he
endeavoured to put other machines in motion. He com
plained everywhere, I had caused him to be ill-treated by
Madame de Miramion ; although I was then ignorant of
what passed, and only knew it some time afterwards,
when, being recovered, Madame de Miramion showed me
the letters.
That affection of the eye made me suffer much, and
God gave me great patience. In my sufferings my dis
position has always been a strong patience, and I blame
myself for having made it too apparent. It would have
been better to have made some slight complaint, while yet
content to suffer everything without a wish that the pain
should diminish. This is more free from self-love, and does
not attract so much esteem from others. Childlike sim
pUcity allows nature some complaint, especially when one
no longer complains through the life of nature ; for other
wise as long as nature lives through its complaints, and has
a secret joy in attracting compassion, aU complaint must be
checked : but when it has no longer life in this, something of
the selfhood is found iu that admirable strength, which does
not permit a sigh under the most violent pains ; then one
should complain in a smaU humble way, without affecting
anything, or keeping back anything. When the soul is
again become a child, she acts as a child. It is the same in
eating certain things : although one swallows equally the

234 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
sweet and the bitter, there is a slight spiritual selfhood in
taking without a word things which those who give them
to you know to be very bad. Thus there are hidden folds
in things that appear virtues, which cannot escape the
pure eye of divine Love.
My daughter was married at Madame de Miramion's,
and, owing to her extreme youth, I was obliged to go and
remain some time with her. I lived there two years and
a half. What made me leave her was the desire I had
to withdraw into a convent and to live there unknown ; but
God, who had other designs for me, did not permit it, as
I shall tell in the sequel. While I was with my daughter
the persecution did not cease. They were constantly in
venting something against me. When I was in the country
with her, they said I instructed the peasants, although
I saw none of them. If I was in the town, according to
their story, they made me receive persons, or else I went
to see them ; and yet I neither saw them, nor knew them.
All these things joined to the incUnation I had all my life
to pass it in retreat, determined me to write to the Mother
Prioress of the Benedictines of Montargis, that I wished
to end my days with her, unknown to everybody, without
seeing there even any nun but her : and without the
outside world, or my family, or any one in the world
knowing anything of it. We had agreed upon the matter,
and I was to be given a small apartment, where there
was a closet with a lattice opening over the altar, and a
little garden at the foot. It was what I wanted. The
confessor was to be trusted, and I would have commu
nicated in the morning by a little lattice on the days
I should have made my devotions. This project made
and accepted, I sent my furniture in advance; but as
the Mother Prioress spoke of it to her Archbishop, he
did not keep the secret. My friends and my enemies, if
so one may call persons to whom one wishes no ill, opposed
my project with very different views : the former, not

Chap. XL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 235
to lose me altogether ; and the latter, in order to ruin me,
and not allow their prey to escape. They considered
that a life such as I wished to lead would give the lie to
all the calumnies they had hitherto invented, and take
from them all means of persecuting me more. I saw
myself, then, obliged by both, who prayed the Archbishop
to forbid my being received, to live in the world, in spite
of my aversion for the world ; and to be still the mark
for the contradiction of men, the object of their calumnies,
the plaything of Divine Providence. I then knew God was
not content with the little I had suffered, and that he was
about to raise against me strange hurricanes : but as it is
almost impossible for me not to desire all that God desires,
I submitted cheerfully, and I made him an entire sacrifice
of myself; too happy to pay by such slight pains what
I owed to his justice, and too honoured by being in some
sort conformed to the image of his Son.
It may be thought strange that I say I made a sacrifice
to God, after having in so many places noticed that I no
longer found a will in me, or repugnance for anything
that God would desire. Yet it is certain when God wishes
to charge the soul with new crosses, different from those
she has had, and to make her bear heavier ones, however
conformed she may be to the will of God, yet, as he respects
the freewill he himself has given man, he stUl obtains
her consent, which never fails to be given. This I believe
it is which makes the sufferings of these persons have
some merit owing to the free consent of the will. We have
examples of it in Jesus Christ, " who for the joy set before
him endured the cross ; " and David, speaking of Jesus
Christ, says, " Sacrifices are not agreeable to you, therefore
I have said, Here am I ; you have given me a body, and
there it is written at the head of the book, I wUl do your
will." The same Jesus Christ, at the time of his death
and of his agony, did he not make a striking immolation :
"Not my wiU, but yours"? Did not the angel ask the

236 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
consent of Mary to be the mother of the Word ? Did she
not immolate him upon the cross, where she remained
standing Uke a priest assisting at the sacrifice that the
High Priest after the order of Melchizedek made of him
self? Some time before the marriage of pay daughter, I had
become acquainted with the Abbe F " ', as I have already
said, and the family into which she had entered being
among his friends, I had the opportunity of seeing him
there many times. We had some conversations on the
subject of the inner life, in which he offered many objec
tions to me. I answered him with my usual simplicity,
and I had reason to believe he had been satisfied. As the
affairs of Molinos were making great noise at that time,
people had conceived distrust on the most simple things,
and on terms the most common with those who have
written on these matters. That gave me opportunity to
thoroughly explain to him my experiences. The difficulties
he offered only served to make clear to him the root of
my sentiments ; therefore no one has been better able to
understand them than he. This it is which, in the sequel,
has served for the foundation of the persecution raised
against him, as his answers to the Bishop of Meaux have
made known to all persons who have read them without
prejudice. Having left my daughter, I took a small secluded house,
to follow there the disposition I had for retreat. I confined
myself to seeing my family, who hardly inconvenienced
me, and a small number of friends, whom I saw there only
at long intervals — the greater part not ordinarily residing
at Paris. Since my release from St. Mary's, I had con
tinued to go to St. Cyr, and some of the girls of that
House having declared to Madame de Maintenon that in
the conversations I had with them they found something
which led them to God, she permitted them to put con
fidence in me ; and on many occasions she testified, owing

Chap. XL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 237
to the change of some with whom hitherto she had not
been satisfied, that she had no cause for repenting it. She
then showed me much kindness, and, during three or four
years that this lasted, I received from her every mark of
esteem and confidence ; but it is this very thing in the
sequel which has drawn down upon me the greatest per
secution. The entree Madame de Maintenon gave me
at St. Cyr, and the confidence shown me by some young
ladies of the court, distinguished by their rank and by
their piety, began to cause uneasiness to the persons who
had persecuted me. They stirred up the directors to take
offence, and, under the pretence of the troubles I had had
some years before, and of the great progress, as they said,
of Quietism, they engaged the Bishop of Chartres, Superior
of St. Cyr, to represent to Madame de Maintenon that I
disturbed the order of her House by a private Direction ;
and that the girls whom I saw were so strongly attached
to what I said to them, that they no longer listened to
their Superiors. Madame de Maintenon caused me to be
told in a kindly way. I ceased to go to St. Cyr. I no
longer answered the girls who wrote to me, except by open
letters, which passed through the hands of Madame de
Maintenon. A person of my acquaintance, a particular friend of
Monsieur Nicole, had heard him often declaim against
me, without knowing me ; and he thought it would be easy
to make him get over his prejudice if I could have some
interviews with him, and by this means to disabuse many
persons with whom he had relations, and who declared
themselves in the most open manner hostile to me. That
person urged me strongly to it, and, notwithstanding the
repugnance I at first felt, certain of my friends, to whom
I made known the urgency employed with me for this
purpose, advised me to see him. As his ailments did not
permit him to go out, I promised, after some civilities on
his part, to pay him a visit. He at once referred to the

238 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
" Short Method," and told me that little book was full of
errors. I proposed to him we should read it together, and
begged him to kindly tell me those which struck him, and
that I hoped to remove his difficulties. He told me he
was quite willing, and commenced to read the little book,
chapter by chapter, with much attention; and when I
asked him if there was nothing in what we had just read
which struck him, or caused him trouble, he answered,
" No; that what he was looking for was further on." We
went through the book, from one end to the other, without
his finding anything that struck him. Oftentimes he said
to me, " Here are the most beautiful comparisons possible."
At last, having long sought the errors he thought he had
seen in it, he said to me, " Madame, my talent is to write,
and not to hold such discussions, but if you will see one
of my friends, he will state his difficulties to you, and you
will perhaps be very glad to profit by his light ; he is very
clever, and a very good man. You will not be sorry to
make his acquaintance, and he understands all this better
than I. It is Monsieur Boileau, of the Hotel Luines." I
excused myself for some time, to avoid controversies, which
did not suit me, not pretending to defend the little book,
and letting it pass for what it was worth. But he pressed
me so strongly, I could not refuse him. Monsieur Nicole
proposed to me to take a house near him, and to go to con
fession to Father de la Tour, and spoke to me as if he had
much wished me to be of his friends, and connected with
his party. I answered all his proposals as civilly as
possible ; but I let him know that the little property I had
kept for myself did not allow me to hire the house he
proposed ; that, wishing to live in a perfect retreat, the
distance of that I occupied put it beyond my power to see
there much society, which was in accordance with my
inclination; and that, not having a carriage, the same
distance offered an obstacle to the proposal he made me
of going to confession to Father de la Tour, because he

Chap. XL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 239
lived at one end of Paris, and I at the other. We parted
none the less good friends, and I knew he greatly praised
me to some persons to whom he had spoken of my visit.
A few days after, I saw M. Boileau, as he had wished
it. He spoke to me of the " Short Method." I repeated
to him what I have so often said, of the disposition
in which I had composed that little book, and of that in
which I still was regarding it. He told me he was truly
persuaded of the sincerity of my intentions, but that this
little book, being in the hands of a great many people,
might injure many pious souls, through the mischievous
consequences that might be deduced from it. I begged
him to be so kind as to tell me the passages which caused
him trouble, and I said I hoped to remove his difficulties.
We read the little book, and while reading he told me the
difficulties he found. I explained the matter to him, so
that he appeared to be satisfied ; after which he no longer
insisted. Thus we went through the whole book — he
insisting more or less on the passages that stopped him,
and I explaining to him simply my thoughts and my
experience, without disputing on matters of doctrine, in
which I reUed on him entirely, as more capable than I of
deciding. This discussion finished, he said to me, " Madame,
there would have been no difficulty with regard to this
little book, if you had explained things somewhat more
fully, and it might be very good if you explain in a
preface that which is not clear in the book;" and he urged
me strongly to work at it. I answered him, that never
having had the intention of making public this little book
(.which was properly only a private instruction I had
written at the entreaty of one of my friends, who had
asked it from me, in consequence of some conversations
we had had together on the matter), I had not been able to
foresee either that it would be printed, or that the meanings
he had just explained to me could be put upon it ; but

240 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.
that I would always be ready to give the explanations
that should be desired, in order to remove objections that
might be taken to it. He greatly praised me, and made
me promise that I would explain, in a sort of preface,
the difficulties he had proposed, after which, he assured
me, the book might be good and useful. I did this some
days afterwards, and sent him an explanation, with which
he appeared very well satisfied. I saw him again, once
or twice, and he urged me to have the little book reprinted
with this preface. I represented to him, that this little
book had furnished the pretext for the persecution and
troubles I had been exposed to ; that it was not suitable
for me to put myself forward as the author ; that I did
not think I ought to contribute to the printing of this any
more than of the former ; but the strongest reason I had,
was the promise I had given the Archbishop not to write
any more on this subject. He approved my resolution,
and we separated very well satisfied with one another.
I fell iU some time after, and as the nature of my ail
ment was little understood by the doctors, they pre
scribed the waters of Bourbon, after having in vain tried
to cure me by ordinary remedies. It was a very strong
poison, which had been given me : a servant had been
gained over for the purpose. Immediately after he gave
it, I suffered such violent pains that, without prompt
help, I should have died in a few hours. The lacquey at
once disappeai-ed, and has not since been seen. That
he had been instigated to do it, many circumstances
proved ; which I do not mention for the sake of brevity.
WhUe I was at Bourbon, the water I threw up burned
like spirits of wine. As I take no care of myself I should
not have thought I had been poisoned, if the Bourbon
doctors, after throwing the water on the fire, had not
assured me of it. The mineral waters gave me little
benefit, and I still suffered for seven years and a half.
Since then people have three or four times tried to poison

GuAp. XL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 241
me. God preserved me through his goodness, and by the
presentiments he gave me of it. This illness and the
journey to Bourbon caused me to lose sight of M. Nicole,
of whom I no longer heard mention, except that, about
seven or eight months afterwards, I learned he had com
posed a book against me on the subject of that little book
we had read together, with which both he and his friend
had appeared satisfied by the explanations I had given
them : I believe his intentions were good ; but one of my
friends, who read that book, told me that the quotations
were not exact, and that he had little understanding of the
subject on which he had written. Shortly afterwards, I
learned that Dom Francis L'Ami, a Benedictine of merit,
well known, with whom I was not acquainted, a friend of
M. Nicole, struck by the little solidity in his book, had
undertaken to refute it, and, without having any knowledge
of the " Short Method," in order to justify it from M.
Nicole's imputations, he made use only of passages from
his own book and what he quoted : he himself not having
the little book. He has not printed that refutation ; but
it is still in existence, being in the hands of one of his
friends. I let everything pass without thinking of justify
ing myself.

VOL. II.

242 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.

CHAPTER XII.
The directors of St. Cyr having succeeded in what they
wished, and I no longer going there, the matter made some
noise. Those who had hitherto given me trouble, with
some others who did not know me, set everything to
work to decry me. I will not enter into the motives
which influenced them : God knows them. But I believed
at the time I should think of a more complete retirement :
and as all the outcry they made was based upon the con
fidence of a small number of friends whom they said I
was teaching how to pray (for that was the foundation of
aU the persecution), I adopted the plan of seeing nobody,
expecting this would put an end to the talk. Thus the
love of retirement, together with the desire I had to
deprive those who hated me so gratuitously, of the oppor
tunity of attacking me anew, made me go and spend some
days in the country, in a house nobody knew ; and after
having let my family, my friends, and those who perse
cuted me believe that I would no more come back to Paris,
I returned to my house, where I saw none of them for the
rest of the time I remained there. M. Fouquet, uncle to
my son-in-law, was the only person who knew where I
was. I needed some one to receive the little income I had
reserved for myself, when parting with my property, and
also an upright witness who knew how I was living in my
solitude. They no longer then saw me : I was, it seemed.

Chap. XIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 243
beyond reach. But who can avoid the malice of men when
God wills to use it to make us enter into his eternal
designs of crosses and ignominy?
The course I had adopted ought, it would seem, to have
put an end to the murmurs, and calmed the minds : but
quite the opposite happened; and I believe one of the
things which most contributed to it was the silence of my
friends, who, sharing the humiliation that such a procedure
reflected upon them, suffered in peace without complaining
of any one, and contented themselves with the witness that
their conscience afforded them in secret, in no way showing
to the excited minds that they knew the motives which made
them so act, but also exhibiting a just reserve as to the
confidence they would have wished people to place in them.
My retirement, then, did not produce the effect that had
been expected. It was suggested that from a distance I
was spreading the poison of Quietism, as I had done near
at hand ; and, to give countenance to the calumny, they
stirred up a number of pretended " devotees," who went
from confessor to confessor, accusing themselves of crimes
which they said were due to my principles. There were
those I had tried to save from their irregularities, to whom,
some years before, I had forbidden my house, after having
failed in my endeavours.
Before I had entirely secluded myself, a very extra
ordinary thing happened. M. Fouquet had a valet, very
well educated and a very worthy man, and a girl who lived
in the house became madly in love with him. I do not tell
here anything which numbers of persons of honour and
probity have not learned from M. Fouquet himself. She
declared her passion to that man, who was horrified. One
day she said to him, " Wretch ; I have given myself to the
Devil that you might love me, and you do not love me."
He was so frightened at this declaration he went and told
his master, and he, after having questioned the girl, who
told him horrible things, turned her out. As the valet was

244 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
well educated, the horror of what that wretched creature
had done, led him to become a Father of St. Lazare. M.
Fouquet did not neglect that unfortunate. He engaged
numbers of persons, suitable alike from their learning and
their virtue, to have a care of her. All gave her up, for
she was so hardened that they saw no remedy but in a
miracle of grace. This valet of M. Fouquet, become a Father
of St. Lazare, fell mortally ill. He sent for M. Fouquet,
begging him not to let him die without seeing him. He
recommended that unfortunate to him, and said, "When
I think it is owing to me she has withdrawn herself from
jfesus Christ to give herself to the Devil, I am afflicted
beyond belief" M. Fouquet promised him again to do
what he could. I do not know what moved him to bring
the creature to me ; but it is certain that it was to make
known, at least for a time, the power of God : and that, as
the Devil had not been able to make M. Fouquet's valet
consent to sin, so that Spirit of lies has no power over
those who are God's, but what God permits him to exercise,
as in Job's case. M. Fouquet then brought this girl to
me, and, on seeing her, without knowing the cause, I had
a horror of her. She was not less distressed at being
near me ; but, nevertheless, God overthrew the DevU, and
Dagon was cast down before the Ark. This girl, while
with me, often said to me, " You have something strong
that I cannot endure," which I attributed to a piece of the
true cross I had on my neck. Although I attributed it
to the true cross, I nevertheless saw that God operated
through me, without me, with his divine power. At last
this power obliged her to tell me her frightful life, which
makes me tremble as I think of it. She related to me the
false pleasures that Spirit of Darkness had procured for
her ; that he made her pass for a saint in the place where
she lived; that he allowed her to perform visible austerities;
but that he did not allow her to pray : that, as soon as she
fished to do it, he appeared to her under a hideous form,

Chap. XIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 245
ready to devour her ; that in the other case, he appeared
to her under a form as amiable as possible, and that he
gave her all the money she wished. I said to her, " But
amid all these false pleasures he procures for you, have
you peace of heart ? " She said to me in a terrible tone,
" No ; I experience a hellish trouble." I answered her,
"In order that you may see the happiness there is in
serving Jesus Christ, even in the midst of pain, I pray him
to make you taste for one moment that peace of heart,
which is preferable to all the pleasures of earth." She
was immediately introduced into a great peace. Quite
transported with this, she said to M. Fouquet, who was
present, "Ah, Sir, I am in Paradise, and I was in Hell."
These good moments were not lost ; M. Fouquet took
her immediately to M. Robert, Grand Penitentiary, to whom
she made a general confession and promised amendment.
She was well enough for six months; but the Devil en
raged, caused, I believe, the death of the Penitentiary,
who died suddenly. Father Breton, a Jacobin, who had
many times endeavoured to rescue her from the abyss into
which she had cast herself, also died. I then became very
ill, and this creature, who was allowed admittance to me
because M. Fouquet begged it, came to see me. She said
to me, " I knew that you were very ill. The Devil told me.
He said he did all he could to cause your death, but it was
not permitted to him; he wUl none the less cause you
such evils and persecutions you will succumb to them." I
answered her, there was nothing I was not ready to suffer
provided she was thoroughly converted ; that she should not
listen to the Devil any more, whom I had forbidden her to
answer, after having made her renounce him and renew
the vows of her baptism. Because he had commenced by
making her renounce her baptism and Jesus Christ, I
made her do the contrary, and give herself anew to Jesus
Christ. She said to me, "You must have great charity
to be willing still to contribute to my conversion ; for he

246 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
told me he would do you so much UI, and stir up so many
against you that you would succumb." At this moment
I seemed to see, in the imagination, a blue flame which
formed a hideous face : but I had no fear of it any more
than of the threats he sent me ; for God for many years
keeps me in this disposition, that I would cheerfully give
my life, even all the repose of my life, which I value much
more, for the salvation of a single soul. One day that M.
Fouquet suspected nothing, a priest came to see him and
asked him news of this creature. As he thought it was
a good design brought him, M. Fouquet told him that they
hoped for her entire conversion, and that they saw much
progress towards it. This priest, or this devU in the form
of a priest, asked where she lodged. He told him, and
when M. Fouquet came to see me a little after, and spoke
to me of the priest, it occurred to me it was that wicked
priest of whom she had spoken to me, and with whom she
had committed so many abominations (for she had told
me her life and her crimes), and this proved only too true.
She came no more. The Penitentiary died, as I have
said, and M. Fouquet fell into a languishing illness, that
terminated only with his life ; but the girl came no more
to see us.
I had been led, as I have mentioned, to see M. Boileau
on the subject of the " Short Method." I had reason to
believe he was satisfied with my conduct, from the things
he repeated to some of my friends, of our conversations ;
but he was, a little after, one of my most eager persecutors.
An extraordinary woman, who passed for a very devout
person, having placed herself under his direction, on her
arrival in Paris, made him change his sentiments. He
apparently spoke of me to her on the subject of the visits
I had paid him. She assured him I was wicked, and I
would cause great evils to the Church. She excited then,
as she has since done, much attention in Paris.' She was
' See " St. Simon," vol. ii. p. 160.

Chap. XIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 247
brought to visit people of every character and position,
bishops, magistrates, ecclesiastics, women of rank — in
a word, under pretext of a pretended miraculous ailment,
they estabUshed her reputation to such a point that they
could do nothing but talk of the extraordinary things that
appeared in her. I could not imagine what this woman
could be, nor what motive led her to speak of me in the
manner she did. She seemed to have fallen from the
clouds, for nobody knew who she was, nor whence she
came ; and it has always been a puzzle for all those who
have heard her spoken of, except M. BoUeau, and perhaps
some one in his most intimate confidence. As her name
was entirely unknown to me, I did not believe myself any
more known to her ; but some years after, having learned
that she had borne the name of Sister Rose, it was not
difficult for me to divine the reasons why she had thus
spoken of me. This woman, about whom there was in
fact something very extraordinary (God knows what caused
it, for she prided herself on knowing the most secret
thoughts, and having the most detailed knowledge, not only
of things at a distance from her, but even of the future) —
this woman, I say, persuaded M. Boileau, and persons of
virtue and probity with whom he was in relation, that the
greatest service they could render God was to decry me,
and even to imprison me, owing to the ills I was capable
of causing. What made her desire I should be imprisoned
was the apprehension that I might proclaim what I knew
of her. If she still lives, she wiU see by my sUence that,
being God's to the degree I am, she had nothing to dread ;
the history of her life having been confided to me under
the pledge of secrecy by herself.
Immediately there was an mconceivable outburst.
Had I even known aU these detaUs, which only came to
my knowledge later, and had I even then known who this
woman was, I beUeve I should have faUed in any effort
to disabuse minds so prejudiced : I should not have been

248 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.
believed, and perhaps I should not have been willing to
say anything against her ; because God then kept me in
that disposition of sacrifice, of suffering everything, and
receiving from his hand all that might happen to me
through this person, and those whom she had led away
by her pretended extraordinary power. Nevertheless, she
stated one circumstance which ought to have changed the
opinion of so many good persons, if they had been willing
to be enlightened ; but the prejudice was such that they
would not even examine into the truth, let alone believe it.
It is indeed true, my Lord, that when you wiU to make
one suffer, you yourself blind the most virtuous persons,
and I will honestly confess that the persecution from the
wicked is nothing in comparison with that from servants
of God, deceived, and animated by a zeal they believe just.
This circumstance was, that God had made known to her
the excess of my wickedness, and that he had given her as
an assured sign of the truth she advanced, that in my writ
ings I had merely copied those of Mademoiselle Vigneron ;
and that it would be easy to see their correspondence with
my books. A person of great consideration, to whom M.
Boileau confided this, wished to prove the matter for him
self. He went to the Minims and asked them for those
writings. They made a great deal of difficulty, assuring
him that they had never left their hands. However,
not being with civility able to refuse that person, who
promised to bring them back in a few days, he examined
them himself; but far from seeing in them any relation
with what I had written, he foimd a total difference. In
order to disabuse M. Boileau of his prejudice, he proposed
to him to satisfy himself with his own eyes, and to read
for himself those writings, to see their contrariety. But,
in spite of all his urgency on two different occasions, and
the deference due from M. Boileau to that illustrious
person, he would never do it, assuring him this woman
had told him the truth, and that, knowing her as he did.

Chap. XIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 249
he could not suspect her of the contrary. The truth is,
I had never seen those writings of Mademoiselle Vigneron,
and I hail never heard her name pronounced up to that
time. They tried further to disabuse M. Boileau, by a
number of acts of hypocrisy of which some good people,
whom he himself esteemed, were witnesses. But nothing
could induce him to examine things closely — God doubt
less not permitting him, in order to make me suffer so
many crosses, humiliations, and pains, to which he contri
buted not a little.
On which side might deceitfulness be looked for — from
a person always submissive and obedient, who so willingly
gives up her judgment and her will, who has renounced
all for God, who is known for a long time by so many
good people, that have followed her in all the ages of her
life and offer for her a testimony little open to suspicion :
or, from a person unknown, who changes her name in
most of the places where she has lived (for there are at
least four that have come to my knowledge), — from a per
son whom devotion elevates from the dust; poor, whom
devotion raises and enriches : while mine, if I have any,
and God knows it, has only brought me humiliations, the
strangest confusions, and universal discredit ? 0 my
Lord, it is there I recognize you; and since, to please
you, it is necessary to be conformed to you, I value more
my humiliation at seeing myself condemned by all the
world than if I saw myself at the summit of glory. How
often, in the bitterness of my heart, I have said, I would
fear more a reproach of conscience than the condemnation
of all men! This woman persisted always in saying I
must be imprisoned, I would ruin everybody. Those
whom I have ruined, you know it, Lord, are fuU of love
for you. What made this woman speak in that way was,
as I have said, the fear that, if I had seen her, or had known
her name, I might have spoken of things she had a great
interest in keeping hid. Yet this creature attracted such

250 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
credit, and stirred up against me such persecutions, that
every one had pleasure in inventing new fables against me.
It was who could compose the most libels. He who was
best at invention was the most welcome. They believed
against me the most incredible things, and they did not
believe in my favour persons most worthy of trust, of the
highest probity, who knew me from my youth, and whose
word would be believed in any other matter. I have
digressed a little on the subject of this girl, and I resume
the thread of my narrative.
Some ecclesiastics, led away by M. Boileau, or by views
and motives which charity does not permit me to speak of,
but known to a small number of friends who remained to
me, co-operated in aU this. There were also some direc
tors vexed because some persons who appeared to have
a kindliness for me had left them for Father AUeaume (who
was my intimate friend), with which, however, I had
nothing to do. However it be, every device was used to
decry me, and in order to render what they caUed my
doctrine suspected, they thought it was necessary to decry
my morals. They omitted nothing to attain their purpose,
and, after having persuaded the Bishop of Chartres of the
pretended danger to the Church by endless stories, he set
to work to persuade Madame de Maintenon, and those of
the Court he knew to be my friends, of the necessity
of abandoning me, because I was wicked, and capable of
inspiring them with wicked sentiments. Madame de
Maintenon held out some time. The part she had taken
in my release from St. Mary's, my conversation, my
letters, the testimony of those of her friends in whom
she had most confidence, made her suspend her judgment.
At last she gave way to the reiterated urgency of the
Bishop of Chartres and of some others he employed in
the direction of St. Cyr. He did not succeed equally with
some persons of rank, who, having been many years
witnesses of my conduct, knew me for themselves, and

Chap. XIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 251
were acquainted with the different springs that had been
put in motion to ruin me. I owe them the justice to make
known that it was no fault of theirs that the authority of
the King was not employed to shield me from so much
injustice. They drew up a memoir likely to influence
him in my favour, giving him an account of the conduct
I had observed, and was still observing in my retirement.
Madame de Maintenon was to have supported it by her
testimony, but, having had the kindness to communicate
it to me, I believed God did not wish me to be justified
by that channel, and I required of them that they should
leave me to the rigours of his justice, whatever they
might be. They consented to defer to my request. The
memoir already presented was withdrawn, and they
adopted the course of silence, which they have since
continued, being no longer able to do anything in my
favour, owing to the outburst and prejudice.

252 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.

CHAPTER XIII.
Some of my friends thought it would be advisable for me
to see the Bishop of Meaux, who was reported not to be
opposed to spiritual religion. I knew that, eight or ten
years before, he had read the " Short Method " and the
" Canticles," and that he had thought them very good.
This made me consent to it with pleasure ; but, 0 my
Lord, how have I experienced in my life that everything
which is done through consideration and human views,
although good, turns into confusion, shame, and suffering !
At that time I flattered myself (and I accused myself of
my faithlessness) that he would support me against those
who were attacking me. But how far was I from knowing
him ! And how subject to error is that which one does
not see in your light, and which you do not yourself
disclose !
One of my friends, of the highest rank, the D  de
Ch  [Duke of Chevreuse], brought the Bishop of Meaux
to my house. The conversation soon fell upon that which
formed the subject of his visit. They spoke of the " Short
Method," and this Prelate told me that he had once
read it and also the " Canticles," and that he had thought
them very good. What I say here is not to support those
books, which I have submitted with all my heart and
which I still submit, but in order to give a simple account
of all that is past, as I have been required to do. The

Chap. XIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 253
D  de Ch  gave him the " Torrents," on which
he made some remarks : not of things to be condemned,
but which needed elucidation. The D  de Ch 
had the kindness to remain present. This Prelate said
to us such strong things on the interior way and the
authority of God over the soul, I was surprised. He gave
us even examples of persons he had known, whom he
deemed saints, that had killed themselves. I confess
I was startled by all this talk of the Bishop of Meaux.
I knew that in the primitive Church some virgins had
caused their own deaths in order to keep themselves pure ;
but I did not believe, in this age, where there is neither
violence nor tyrants, a man could be approved for such an
action. The D  de Ch  gave him my history of my
life, that he might know me thoroughly ; which he thought
so good, that he wrote to him, saying, " he found in it
an unction he found nowhere else ; that he had been three
days reading it without losing the presence of God." These
are, if I remember rightly, the exact words of one of his
letters. What will appear astonishing is, that the Bishop
of Meaux, who had had such holy dispositions while reading
the history of my life, and who valued it while it remained
in his hands, saw in it, a year after it had left them, things
he had not seen before : which he even retailed, as if in
reality I had written them.
He afterwards wrote to the D  de Ch  , that he
had just learned a thing which had been written to him
from the abbey of Olairets, and which confirmed the
interior way. A nun of Olairets, on the point of death,
as they held the holy candle to her, called her Superior,
and said to her, "My Mother, God wishes at present
to be served by an entire stripping of self and the destruc
tion of the whole selfhood. It is the way that he has
chosen ; " and as a proof she was speaking the truth, she
made known to them, though in a manner they did not
at first understand, that she should not die until that holy

254 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
candle was burned down. According to ordinary rules she
could not live more than a quarter of an hour ; her pulse
had entirely ceased. The Superior having extinguished
the holy candle, she was three days in that state, without
any change in her pulse, with the same signs of death.
They caused the holy candle to be lit again, and she died
when it burned down. I merely relate what was in the
letter. I omit the refiections of the Bishop of Meaux on
such a strange case, having forgotten them ; but it is
certain that, after this, he did not believe there could be
any doubt of the most interior ways. I forgot to say the
Bishop of Meaux had requested me to observe secrecy as
to his visiting me. As I have always inviolably preserved
it for my greatest enemies, I was not likely to fail in it for
him. The reason he alleged for the secrecy he wished
observed is, that he was not on good terms with the
Bishop of Paris ; but he himself went and told what he
had begged me to be silent on. My silence and his talk
have been the source of all the trouble I have since
suffered. The Bishop of Meaux, having then accepted the pro
posal to examine my writings, I caused them to be placed
in his hands ; not only those printed, but all the com
mentaries on Holy Scriptures. I had previously given
them to M. Charon the Official, by one of my maids ; but
the fear they should be lost — as, in fact, they were, the
Official having never returned them — led that girl to dis
tribute them among a number of copyists, who made the
copy that was afterwards given to the Bishop of Meaux.
It was a great labour for him, and he required four or
five months to have leisure to go to the bottom of every
thing, which with much exactitude he did in his country
house, where he had gone to escape interruption. To
show the more confidence in him, and lay open the inmost
recesses of my heart, I made over to him, as I have said,
the history of my life, where my most secret dispositions

Chap. XIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 255
were noted with much simplicity. On that I asked from
him the secrecy of the confessional; he promised an
inviolable. He read everything with attention, and, at the
end of the time stipulated, was in a position to hear my
explanations and offer his objections.
It was at the commencement of the year 1694 : he
wished to see me at the house of one of his friends, who
lived near the Daughters of the Holy Sacrament. He
said the Mass in that Community, and gave me there the
Communion : afterwards he dined. This conference, that
according to him was to be so secret, was known to all
the world. Many persons sent to beg him to go to the
convent of the Daughters of the Holy Sacrament, that
they might speak to him. He went there, and they took
care to prejudice him ; as he appeared to be so when in
the evening he returned and spoke to me. He was not
the same man. He had brought all his extracts and a
memoir, containing more than twenty articles, to which
all his objections were reduced. God assisted me, so that
I satisfied him on everything that had relation to the
dogma of the Church and the purity of doctrine. But
there were some passages on which I could not satisfy
him. As he spoke with extreme vivacity, and hardly
gave me time to explain my thoughts, it was not possible
for me to make him change upon some of those articles,
as I had done upon others. We separated very late,
and I left that conference with a head so exhausted,
and in such a state of prostration, I was UI from it
for several days. I wrote to him, however, several letters,
in which I explained, the best I could, those difficulties
that had arrested him; and I received one from him
of more than twenty pages, from which it appeared that
he was only arrested by the novelty to him of the subject
and the slight acquaintance he had with the interior
ways ; of which one can hardly judge except by experience.
I will repeat here, as well as memory allows me, the

256 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
greater part of those difficulties. He thought, for example,
that I rejected and condemned as imperfect, distinct acts,
such as specific requests, good desires, etc. : this I was far
from doing, since the contrary is scattered through all my
writings, if any one will give attention to them. But as
I had experienced incapacities to do those discursive
acts, incapacities common to certain souls, and on
which they had need to be warned in order to be faith
ful to the Spirit of God, who was calling them to
something more perfect, I endeavoured, as well as I was
able, to aid them in those straits of the spiritual life ;
where, for want of a guide who has passed through,
souls are often stopped, and exposed to be deceived as
to what God wishes of them. It is easy, methinks, to
conceive that a person who places his happiness in God
alone can no longer desire his " own " happiness. No one
can place all his happiness in God alone but he who
dwells in God through charity. When the soul is there,
she no longer desires any other felicity but that of God, in
himself and for himself. No longer desiring any other
felicity, all "own" felicity, even the glory of heaven for
herself, is no longer that which can render her happy;
nor consequently the object of her desire. The desire
necessarily follows the love. If my love is in God alone
and for God alone, without self-regard, my desire is in
God alone, without relation to me.
This desire in God has no longer the vivacity of an
amorous desire, which is not in the enjoyment of what it
desires; but it has the repose of a desire, fiUed and
satisfied : for God being infinitely perfect and happy, and
the happiness of that soul being in the perfection and in
the happiness of her God, her desire cannot have the
activity of an ordinary desire, which awaits what it desires ;
but it has the repose of that which has what it desires.
Here, then, is the centre root of the state of the soul,
and the reason why she no longer perceives aU the good

Chap. XIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 257
desires, as do those who love God in relation to them
selves, or those who love themselves and seek themselves
in the love they have for God.
Now, this does not prevent God from changing the
dispositions, making the soul for moments feel the weight
of her body, which shaU make her say, " I desire to
depart and to be with Christ." At another time, feeling
only a disposition of charity towards her brothers without
regard or relation to herself, she " will desire to be
anathema and separated from Jesus Christ for her
brethren." These dispositions, which seem to be opposed,
agree very well in a central depth, which does not vary ;
so that though the beatitude of God in himself and for
himself, into which the sensible desires of the soul have,
as it were, flowed and reposed, makes the essential happi
ness of this soul, God does not cease to waken those
desires when it pleases him. These desires are no longer
the desires of former times, which are in the " own " wUl,
but desires stirred and excited by God himself, without the
soul reflecting on herself; because God, who holds her
directly turned towards himself, renders her desires as her
other acts non-reflective; so that she cannot see them if
he does not show them, or if her own words do not give
her some knowledge of them, while giving it to others.
It is certain, to desire for herself she must will for herself.
Now all the care of God being to sink the will of the
creature in his own, he absorbs also every known desire in
the love of his divine will.
There is still another reason which makes God take
away and put into the soul sensible desires as it pleases
him : it is, that, God wishing to dispense something to this
soul, he makes her desire it in order to have a ground for
giving it to her, and for hearing her : for it is indubitable
"he hears the desire of this soul and the preparation of
her heart ; " and even, the Holy Spirit desiring for her and
in her, her desires are the prayers and requests of the
VOL. II. s

258 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
Holy Spirit, and Jesus Christ says in this soul, "I know
that you hear me always." A vehement desire of death
in such a soul would be almost a certainty of death. To
desire humiliation is far below desiring the enjoyment of
God. Nevertheless, when it has pleased God to greatly
humUiate me by calumny, he has given me a hunger for
humiUation. I call it hunger, to distinguish it from desire.
At another time he inspires this soul to pray for specific
things. She feels at that moment her prayer is not
formed by her will, but by the will of God ; for she is
not even free to pray for whom she pleases, nor when
she pleases ; but when she prays she is always heard.
She takes no credit to herself for this; but she knows
that it is he, who possesses her, who hears himself in
her. It seems to me I conceive this infinitely better than
I explain it.
It is the same with the sensible inclination, or even
the perceived, which is much less than the sensible.
When a sheet of water is on a different level from another
which discharges into it, this takes place with a rapid
movement and a perceptible noise ; but when the two waters
are on a level the inclination is no longer perceived : there
is one, however, but it is imperceptible ; so that it is true
to say, in one sense, that there is none. As long as the
soul is not entirely united to her God by a union which
I call permanent, to distinguish it from transitory unions,
she feels her inclination for God. The impetuosity of this
inclination, far from being a perfect thing, as unen-
hghtened persons think it, is a defect and marks the
distance between God and the soul. But when God has
united the soul to himself, so that he has received her into
him, "where he holds her, hidden with Jesus Christ,"
the soul finds a repose which excludes all sensible inclina
tion, and which is such that experience alone can make it
understood. It is not a repose in peace tasted, in the
sweetness and mildness of a perceived presence of God ;

Chap. XIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 259
but it is a repose in God himself which participates of his
immensity, so much has it of vastness, simplicity, and
purity. The light of the sun which should be limited by
mirrors would have something more dazzling than the
pure light of the air ; yet those same mirrors which
enhance its brilliance, limit it, and deprive it of its purity.
When the ray is limited by anything, it fills itself with
atoms, and makes itself more distinguishable than when
in the air ; but it is very far from having its purity
and simplicity. The more things are simple and pure,
the more of vastness they have. Nothing more simple
than water, nothing more pure : but this water has a
wonderful extent, owing to its fluidity. It has also a
quality, that having no quality of its own, it takes all sorts
of impressions. It has no taste ; it takes all tastes. It
has no colour, and it takes all colours. The intellect and
the will in this state are so pure and so simple that God
gives them such a colour and such a taste as pleases him ;
like the water which is sometimes red, sometimes blue, in
short impressed with any colour, or any taste, one wishes
to give it. It is certain, though one gives to the water
the diverse colours one pleases in virtue of its simplicity
and purity, it is not, however, correct to say that the water
in itself has taste and colour, since it is in its nature
without taste and without colour, and it is this absence of
taste and colour that renders it susceptible of every taste
and every colour. It is this I experience in my soul. She
has nothing she can distinguish or know in her, or as
belonging to her, and it is this which constitutes her
purity : but she has everything that is given to her, and as
it is given to her, without retaining anything thereof for
herself. If you ask the water what is its quality, it would
answer you that it is to have none. You would say to it,
" But I have seen you red." " Very likely, but I am not,
however, red. It is not my nature. I do not even think
of what they do to me, of all the tastes and all the colours

260 MADAME GUYON. [Part 111.
they give me." It is the same with the form as with the
colour. As the water is fluid, and without consistence, it
takes all the forms of the places where it is put — of a
vessel either round or square. If it had a consistence of
its own it could not take all forms, all tastes, all odours,
and all colours.
Souls are good for but little as long as they preserve
their own consistence; all the design of God being to
make them lose by the death of themselves all that
they have of the " own " in order to act, to move, to
change and to impress them, as it pleases him : so that
it is true they have none. And this is the reason that,
feeling only their simple nature, pure and without specific
impression, when they speak or write of themselves, they
deny all forms being in them, not speaking according to
the variable dispositions in which they are put. They pay
no attention to these, but to the root of that which they are,
which is their state always subsisting. If one could show
the soul like the face I would not, methinks, conceal any
of her spots — I submit the whole. I believe, further, what
causes the soul to be unable to desire anything is, that
God fills her capacity. I shall be told the same is said of
heaven. There is this difference, that in heaven not only
the capacity of the soul is filled, but, further, that capacity
is fixed, and can no longer increase. If it grew, the saints
would augment in holiness and in merit. In this Mfe,
when by his goodness God has purified a soul, he fills
this capacity : this it is which causes a certain satiety, but,
at the same time, he enlarges and augments the capacity :
while enlarging it, he purifies it ; and it is this causes the
suffering and the interior purification. In this suffering
and purification life is painful : the body is a burden. In
the plenitude nothing is wanting to the soul, she can
desire nothing. A second reason why the soul can desire
nothing is, that the soul is, as it were, absorbed in God, in
a sea of love ; so that, forgetting herself, she can only think

Chap. XIII.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 201
of her love. All care of herself is a burden to her : an
Object which far exceeds her capacity absorbs her and
hinders her from turning towards self. We must say of
these souls what is said of the children of Wisdom : " It
is a nation which is only obedience and love." The soul
is incapable of other reason, other view, other thought,
than love and obedience. It is not that one condemns
the other states, by no means ; and thereon I explained
myself to the Bishop of Meaux in a manner that ought not,
I think, to leave him any doubt thereon.

262 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL

CHAPTER XIV.
I have another defect, which is that I say things as they
occur to me, without knowing whether I speak well or ill :
whilst I am saying or writing them, they appear to me
clear as day : after that, I see them as things I have never
known, far from having written them. Nothing remains
in my mind but a void, which is not troublesome. It is a
simple void, which is not inconvenienced by the multitude
of thoughts or by their dearth. This caused one of my
greatest troubles in speaking to the Bishop of Meaux. He
ordered me to justify my books. I excused myself as
much as I could; because, having submitted them with
my whole heart, I did not desire to justify them : but he
insisted on it. I first of all protested I only did it through
obedience, condemning most sincerely all that was con
demned in them. I have always held this language,
which was more that of my heart than of my mouth. He
still wished me to render a reason for an infinity of things
I had put in my writings, which were entirely new and
unknown to me. I remember, among others, a passage
regarding Eliud — that man who speaks so long to Job,
when his friends had ceased speaking to him. I never
knew what I had intended to say. The Bishop of Meaux
insisted, I said, that all this Eliud says in that long dis
course was by the Spirit of God. This did not appear to
me BO : on the contrary, one sees an astonishing fulness of

Chap. XIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 263
himself. I will here say, in passing, that if one will give
some attention to the rapidity with which God has made
me write of so many things, far above my natural grasp,
it is easy to conceive that, having had so small a part in
it, it is very difficult, not to say impossible, for me, to
render a reason for them in dogmatic style. This it is
which has always led me to say, I took no part in them,
and, having written only through obedience, I was as
content to see everything burned as to see it praised and
esteemed. There were also faults of the copyists, which
rendered the sense unintelligible, and the Bishop of Meaux
wanted to make me responsible for the errors, which he
insisted were there : and he overwhelmed me by the
vivacity of his arguments, which always reduced them
selves to belief in the dogma of the Church, that I did not
pretend to dispute with him ; whereas he might have
discussed quietly the experiences of a person, submissive
to the Church, who asked only to be set right, if they
were not conformable to the rules she prescribes ; which
was precisely the thing contemplated when this examina
tion was undertaken.
He spoke to me of the woman of the Apocalypse, as if
I had pretended to be her myself. I answered, St. John
had meant to speak of the Church and of the Holy Virgin :
that our Lord was pleased to compare his servants to a
thousand things, which properly fit only him ; and that
there is nothing in the general Church which does not
take place in some degree in the particular soul. It is
then an application which is made to the soul, and God
fulfils that application, as St. Paul says, he filled up
what was wanting to the passion of Jesus Christ : again,
what is said of Wisdom is applied to the Holy Virgin,
but the design of Solomon was merely to express Wisdom ;
and so with the rest. It is then a comparison, which
God nevertheless takes pleasure in fulfiUing, where it
pleases him. All that has been said of the woman of the

264 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
Apocalypse, in the sense in which it has pleased God to
attribute it to me, those plenitudes, for example, are not in
the body, but in the soul, as many persons who will read
this have experienced with me. It seems one sends out
a torrent of graces. When the subject is disposed, this is
received in him. When he is not so, it rebounds upon us.
It is what Jesus Christ said to the disciples, " Those who
are children of peace wiU receive the peace : as for those
who will not receive it, your peace will return upon you."
It is that to the letter. One explains one's self in these
matters the best one can, and not as one wishes : but
"the animal man will not understand" that which it is
only given to the spiritual man to understand.
As to that outflow of graces which was another diffi
culty to the Bishop of Meaux. It has been given me to
understand it in connection with those words of our Lord,
when the woman had touched him: "A secret virtue is
gone out of me." I have never pretended to render aU
this credible : I have written in order to obey ; and I have
related things as they were shown to me. I have always
been ready to believe I was deceived, if I was told so.
God is my witness, I do not cling to anything. I have
always been ready to burn the writings should they be
thought capable of doing harm. There is Uttle imagina
tion in what I write ; for I often write what I have never
thought. What I should have wished of the Bishop of
Meaux, was that he would not judge me by his reason,
but by his heart. I have never premeditated any answer
before seeing him ; ingenuous truth alone was my strength,
and I was as content my mistakes should be known, as
the graces of God. My paltriness may have mingled
itself with his pure light : but can the mire tarnish the
sun ? I hoped the same God who had once made a she-
ass speak could make a woman speak ; who often knew no
more what she said than Balaam's she-ass. Those were
the dispositions of my heart when I had the conference

Chap. XIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 265
with the Bishop of Meaux, and, thanks to God, I have never
had any other.
The objections he made to me sprung, I believe, only
from the smaU knowledge he had of mystic authors,
whom he confessed to have never read, and the small
experience he had of the interior ways. He had been
struck on some occasions by extraordinary things he had
seen in certain persons, or that he had read, which
made him judge God had special routes by which he made
them attain to a great holiness : but this way of simple
faith, small, obscure, which produces in souls, according
to the designs of God, that variety of special leadings
where he leads them in himself, it was a jargon that he
regarded as the effect of a crazy imagination, and the
terms of which were to him equally unknown and intoler
able. Another thing he reproached me with, is having
written somewhere, that I had no graces for certain souls,
nor for my self. When I have spoken of having no longer
grace for myself, I have not meant to speak of sanctifying
grace, which one always needs, but of the gratuitous,
sensible, distinct, and perceived graces, which are experi
enced in the commencement of the spiritual life. I meant
to say I did not contribute to the reign of God by anything
striking, but in gaining some souls by disgrace, ignominy,
and confusion. He attributed to the sensible what was
purely spiritual, as what I have written in my Life of an
impression I had when with a lady, one of my friends. It
is certain my state has never been to have extraordinary
things which react upon the body: and I believe that
usually this only happens in the sensible, not in the purely
spiritual love. But on that occasion where they had read
a passage of Holy Scripture, on which a very profound
light was given to me, the persons who were present
explained it in the opposite sense. I dared not speak, and
there took place in me a contrast between what I knew

266 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
was true, and what they said, which could not be borne.
The inability to speak, not daring it, the necessity of
hearing others speak, produced an effect upon me that
I have only that time felt, which overflowed on my body
and made me ill. It is true I have felt in the heart, when
God gave me some souls, intolerable and inexplicable
pains. It was a keen impression in the depth of my soul
which I cannot better explain than by this which is given
me, that Jesus Christ, in having his side opened upon
the cross, had given birth to the predestinated. He caused
his heart to be opened, as if to show they came forth from
his heart. He suffered in the Garden of Olives the pain of
the separation of the lost, who would not profit by the
blood he was about to shed for them. This pain was in
him excessive, and such that it needed the strength of a
God to bear it. I have explained that in the Gospel of St.
Matthew. The Bishop of Meaux raised great objections to
what I had said, in my Life, of the Apostolic state. What
I have meant to say is, that persons, who, by their state
and conditions (as, for instance, laics and women) are not
called upon to aid souls, ought not to intrude into it
of themselves : but when God wished to make use of
them by his authority, it was necessary they should be
put into the state of which I have written. What
had given occasion for it is, that numbers of good
souls who feel the firstfruits of the unction of grace — that
unction of which St. John speaks, which teaches all truth,
— when, I say, they commence to feel this unction, they are
so charmed with it, that they would wish to share their
grace with all the world. But as they are not yet in the
source, and this unction is given them for themselves
and not for others, in spreading themselves abroad they
gradually lose the sacred oU, as the foolish virgins, while
the wise ones preserved their oU for themselves, untU they
were introduced into the chamber of the Bridegroom : then

Chap. XIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 267
they may give of their oil, because the Lamb is the lamp
who iUumines them. That this state is possible, we have
only to open the histories of all times to show, that God has
made use of laics and women without learning to instruct,
edify, conduct, and bring souls to a very high perfection.
I believe one of the reasons why God has wiUed to make
use of them in this way, is in order that the glory should
not be stolen from him. "He has chosen weak things to
confound the strong." It seems that God, jealous that
what is only due to him should be attributed to men, has
willed to make a paradox of these persons, who are not in
a state to take from him his glory. As to what regards
me, I am ready to believe that my imaginations are mixed
up as shadows with the divine truth, which may indeed
conceal it, but cannot injure it. I pray God with all my
heart to crush me by the most terrible means, rather than
I should rob him of the least of his glory. I am only a
mere nothing. My God is all powerful, who is pleased to
exercise his power upon the nothing.
The first time I wrote my Life, it was very short. I
had put there in detail my sins, and had only spoken very
little of the graces of God. I was made to burn it ; and
I was commanded absolutely to omit nothing, and to write,
regardless of myself, all that should come to me. I did it.
If there is anything too much like pride, I am capable
only of what is worthless ; but I have thought it was more
suitable to obey without self-regard than to disobey and
conceal the mercies of God through a humility born of the
selfhood. God may have had his designs in this. It is ill
to publish the secret of one's King, but it is well done
to declare the graces of the Lord our God, and to enhance
his bounties by the baseness of the subject on whom
he exhibits them. If I have failed, the fire will purify all.
I can very well believe I may have been mistaken; but
I cannot complain, nor be afflicted at it. When I gave
myself to our Lord, it was without reserve and without

268 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
exception ; and as I have written only through obedience,
I am as content to write extravagances as good things.
My consolation is, God is neither less great, nor less perfect,
nor less happy for all my errors. When things are once
written down, nothing remains in my head. I have no
idea of them. When I am able to reflect, it appears to
me I am below all creatures, and a veritable nothing.
When I have spoken of binding and loosing, the words
should not be taken in the sense in which it is said of the
Church. It was a certain authority, which God seemed
to give me, to withdraw souls from their troubles and to
replunge them therein, God permitting that it was verified
in the souls ; not that I have supposed that I was the
better, nor that it took place in a manner reflected upon
me, which God has never permitted ; but, while writing
simply and without self-regard, I have put things as they
were shown to me.
The Bishop of Meaux insisted on saying I stifled distinct
acts, as believing them imperfect. I have never done so ;
and when I have been interiorly placed in a powerlessness
to do them, and my powers were as though bound, I defended
myself with aU my strength, and only through weakness
did I yield to the strong and powerful God. It seems
to me that even this powerlessness to do conscious acts did
not deprive me of the reality of the act ; on the contrary,
I found my faith, my confidence, my self- surrender were
never more living, nor my love more ardent. This
made me understand that there was a kind of act direct
and without reflection ; and I knew it by a continued
exercise of love and faith, which, rendering the soul sub
missive to all the events of providence, leads her to a
veritable hatred of self and a love of only crosses, ignominy,
and disgrace. It seems to me that all the Christian and
Evangelic characteristics are given to her. It is true her
confidence is full of repose, free from anxiety and inquietude ;
she can do nothing but love and repose in her love. She

Chap. XIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 269
is like a person drunk, who is incapable of anything but
his drunkenness. The difference between these persons
and the others is, that the others eat the food, masticating
it carefully to nourish themselves, and these swallow the
substance without reflecting on it. I am so far from
wishing to stifle distinct acts, as being imperfect, that if
any one will take the trouble to read my writings, he will
remark in many places expressions which are very distinct
acts. It would be easy to show that they then flow from
the source, and the reason why one, at that time, expresses
his love, his faith, his self-surrender, in a very distinct
manner; that one does the same in hymns or spiritual
songs, and that one cannot do it in prayer unless God
impels. I should remark that acts must be according to the
state of the soul. If she is multiplex, the acts must be
multiplex ; if she is simple, simple : in short, either direct
or from reflection. Patience is an act. He who receives,
does an act, though less marked than he who gives. The
flowing of the soul into God is an act. He who is moved
and acted upon has acts; they are not his own acts in
truth, and the souls then are not the principle of their acts.
It is an act to obey the hand which pushes. The agent
moves his subject ; the subject moved acts by its principle
of movement. All these are acts, but not acts regulated and
methodic, nor of which the soul is the principle, but God.
Now, the acts God causes to be done are more noble and
more perfect, although more insensible. " Those who are
moved by the Spirit of God are the children of God." He
who is moved does an act, which is not properly an act of
his, but an act of letting himself move without resistance.
He who does not admit these secondary acts, destroys all
the operations of grace as a first principle, and makes God
only secondary, doing nothing but accompanying our
action ; which is opposed to the doctrine of the Cfiurch.
I can say the same thing of specific requests ; for it is

270 MADAME GUYON. [I'aut HI.
on specific requests the Bishop of Meaux has tormented
me most, not only in this first conference, but in those I
had with him at the end of that same year, of which
I shall speak hereafter. I collect together here, as well as
I can remember, aU that relates to this examination, not
to refer to it a second time. The Bishop of Meaux would
have me make requests ; but what can I ask for ? God
gives me more blessings than I wish for; what should I
ask of him ? He forestalls my requests and my desires.
He makes me forget myself, that I may think of him. He
forgets himself for me : how should I not forget myself for
him ? He, to whom love leaves sufficient liberty to think
of himself, hardly loves ; or at least, might love more. He,
who does not think of himself, can neither ask, nor pray
for himself : his love is his prayer and his request. 0
Divine Charity, you are every prayer, every request, every
thanksgiving, and yet you are none of this ! You are a
substantial prayer, which, in an eminent degree, includes
every distinct and detailed prayer. 0 Love, you are that
sacred fire, who render pure and innocent your victims,
without their thinking of their purity. They speak of
themselves outside themselves in you as of you, without
distinction. I am not astonished, 0 David, that you
spoke of yourself as Christ, of whom you were the figure.
You were so become identical with him that in the same
passages you speak of yourself and of him, without
changing style or person. In short, it appears to me, the
exercise of charity contains every request and every prayer;
and as there is a love without reflection, there is a prayer
without reflection : and that which has this substantial
prayer is the equivalent of all prayers, since it contains
them all. It does not detail them, owing to its simplicity.
The heart, which ceaselessly watches on God, attracts the
watchfulness of God over it. There are two kinds of souls :
the one to which God leaves liberty to think of themselves,
the others whom God invites to give ttiemselves to him

Chap. XIV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 271
by such an entire forgetfulness of themselves that he
reproaches them for the least self-regards. These souls
are like little children who let their mothers carry them,
and have no care for what concerns them. This does not
condemn those who act. They both follow their attraction
according to the spirit of grace and the advice of an
enUghtened director. Open the book on the Love of God
by St. Francis de Sales ; he says the same thing in
numberless places. I say, then, there are spiritual as
well as corporal inabilities. I do not condemn acts or
good practices. God forbid ! When I have written of
these things, I have not pretended to give remedies to
those who walk and have a facility for those practices,
but I have done it for numerous persons who are unable
to perform these acts. It is said these remedies are
dangerous and may be abused. It is only necessary to
remove the abuse. It is what I have laboured to do with
all my power.
The Bishop of Meaux maintained there are only four
or five persons in the whole world who have this manner
of prayer, and who are in this difficulty of performing
acts. There are more than a hundred thousand in the
world : therefore one has written for those, who are in
this state. I have endeavoured to remove an abuse,
which is, that souls who commence to feel certain
inabilities (which is very common) think they are at the
summit of perfection ; and I have wished, while exalting
this last state, to make them understand their distance.
As to what regards the root of doctrine, I avow my
ignorance. I believed my director would remove faulty
terms, and that he would correct what he should not
think good. I would rather die a thousand times than
wander from the sentiments of the Church, and I have
always been ready to disavow and condemn whatever
I might have said, or written, which could be contrary to
them.

272 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.

CHAPTER XV.
When this conference was finished, I thought only of
retirement, following the advice of the Bishop of Meaux;
I mean to say, no longer to see any one, as I had already
commenced doing for a considerable time. I wrote some
letters to the Bishop of Meaux, wherein I tried to explain
to him the things he had not allowed me leisure to do in
the conference. I addressed them to the Duke de Ch  ,
through whom all had passed, and he had the kindness
to send me the answers. The vivacity of the Bishop of
Meaux, and the harsh terms he sometimes employed, had
persuaded me he regarded me as a person deceived and
under illusion. From this standpoint I wrote to the Duke
de Ch  , who showed him my letter, in which I thanked
him also for all the trouble he had taken. The Bishop of
Meaux answered him, that the difficulties, on which he had
insisted and some on which he stUl insisted, neither
touched the faith nor the doctrine of the Church. That
he thought differently, in truth, from me on those articles,
but that he did not believe me the less Catholic ; and if,
for my consolation and that of my friends, I wished an
attestation of his sentiments, he was ready to give me a
certificate stating that, after having examined me, he had
not found in me anything but what was Catholic, and, in
consequence, he had administered to me the sacraments of
the Church. The Duke de Ch  had the kindness to

Chap. XV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 273
communicate this to me : but I thanked him, and begged
him to say that, having wished to see him only for my
personal instruction, and for the sake of a small number
of friends, who might have been disquieted at all the
fracas that had been made, the testimony he had the
kindness to render to them and to me also was sufficient
for me ; that I would do what I could to conform myself to
the things he had prescribed for me ; but that the sincerity
I professed did not allow me to conceal from him that
there were some on which I was not able to obey him,
however sincerely desirous and whatever effort I made to
enter upon that practice. After which I broke all com
munication with both parties, assuring them nevertheless
that, as often as there should be a question of rendering
reason for my faith, I would return at the first signal that
should be given me through the person who was charged
with my temporal concerns.
M. Fouquet was the only person to whom I confided
the place of my retirement. He told me, at the end of
several months, that the change of Madame de Maintenon
towards me having become public, those who already
had so much persecuted me kept no longer any measure :
there was a horrible outburst, and they retailed stories
in which they attacked my morals in a very unworthy
manner. This made me take the step of writing to
Madame de Maintenon a letter which ought, methinks,
to have dissipated her prejudice, or at least, put her
as well as the public in a position to know the truth.
I wrote her that, as long as they had only accused me of
praying, and teaching others to do so, I had contented
myself with remaining concealed : — that I had believed, by
neither speaking, nor writing to any one, I should satisfy
everybody, and I should calm the zeal of certain upright
persons ; who were troubled only because of the calumny: —
that I had hoped thereby to stop the calumny ; but, learn
ing I was accused of things which touched honour, and
VOL. II. T

274 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
that they spoke of crimes, I thought it due to the Church,
to my family, and to myself that truth should be known : —
that I requested from her a justice, which had never been
refused even to the most criminal, — it was to have my
case investigated ; to appoint for me commissioners, half
ecclesiastic, half laic, aU persons of recognized probity
and free from prejudice ; for probity alone was not suffi
cient in an affair where calumny had prejudiced number
less people. I added, that, if they would grant me this
favour, I would betake myself to any prison it would
please her or the King to indicate ; that I would go there
with a maid, who was serving me for fourteen years. I
further told her, if God made known the truth, she would
be able to see I was not altogether unworthy of the kind
nesses, with which she had formerly honoured me; that
if God willed me to succumb under the force of calumny, I
would adore his justice, and submit to it with all my heart,
demanding even the punishment those crimes merited.
I addressed this letter expressly to the Duke de Beau-
villiers, in order to be sure it reached her, begging him
to give it himself into her own hand, and to say I would
send for the answer at the end of seven or eight days. He
had the kindness to give my letter : but Madame de Main
tenon answered him, that she had never believed any of
the rumours that were circulated as to my morals : that
she believed them very good ; but it was my doctrine which
was bad; — that, in justifying my morals, it was to be
feared currency might be given to my sentiments, that it
might be in some way to authorize them ; and it was better,
once for all, to search out what related to doctrine, after
which the rest would of itself drop.
M. Fouquet, who had fallen into a languishing disease,
died at this time. He was a great servant of God, and a
faithful friend, whose loss would have been very much felt
by me in my then circumstances, if I had not had more
regard to the happiness he was going to enjoy than to the

Chap. XV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 275
help I found myself deprived of, when so universally
abandoned. I used to send every day a maid I had to
learn news of him ; because I did not go out at all. He
sent me word that I should have horrible trials : that there
would be great persecutions, such that, if they were not
shortened in favour of the elect, no one could resist them ;
but that God would support me in the midst of affliction.
As he was full of faith and love of God, he died with very
great joy. It happened to me to write to him, that I
believed he would die before the Corpus Christi. This was
eight days before it. As he had no fever but the languor
of which I have spoken, no one believed it ; yet he declared
it would be as I told him. One of my maids, by whom
I had sent my letter, and who read it to him, returned
quite startled: "Madame," she said to me, "what have
you done to have written that to M. Fouquet? He is
sure to live more than two months; and so people say.
Madame de  , who is there, and others wUl say you
are a false prophetess." I began to laugh, and asked her
why she had self-love for me. " I have said what occurred
to me at the moment : if God wills that I should have
spoken only to receive humiliation, what matters it to me ?
If I have said the truth, there is only a short time to wait."
M. Fouquet gave directions for everything and for his inter
ment, which he wished to be with the poor, and as a poor
man. Two days before Corpus Christi, that same maid
was sent there by me. She found him in his ordinary
state. He told her he would come to say adieu to me
when dying; but that he would not cause me any fear.
She told him he was not likely to die so soon. He
answered her with that faith which was usual to him : " I
shall die as she has told me." This maid found Madame
 , and said to her, through a self-love, intolerable to me,
" Madame perhaps meant to say the little Corpus Christi."
She returned, and told me these same reasons : that M.
Fouquet was better, and what she had said to Madame

276 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
 I blamed her greatly and asked her, who had made

her the interpreter of the will of God. As for M. Fouquet,
he never hesitated. When I was in bed at midnight, two
days before Corpus Christi there came a Ught into my
room, which glistened on the little gilt nails that were in
a place near my bed, with a noise as if all the panes of
glass in the house had fallen. The maid who was in bed
near my room, went up into that of her companion,
thinking all the panes of glass had fallen into the garden :
yet there was nothing at all. At the moment, I did not
make any reflection on it ; and, in the morning, I sent as
usual to ask news of M. Fouquet. She found he had died,
and learned it was at the same hour as that at which what
I have related happened. I had only joy at his death, so
certain was I of his happiness : and although I lost the
best friend I had in the world, who might be useful to
me in the tempest with which I was menaced, joy at the
happiness he possessed and at the accomplishment of the
will of God, left no place with me for grief. I knew I had
lost a friend who feared nothing, for he had nothing to
lose, and who would have served me at the expense even
of his life ; but how little my interests weighed with me,
and how much more at heart I held his ! He possessed
him whom he had loved and served. I should have been
much more led to envy than to mourn him, if love for the
will of God had not prevailed in my heart over everjdihing.
I learned the circumstances of his death, which were these.
His nephew the Abbe de Ch  used never to leave him.
When it was half-past eleven at night, he told him to go
and rest, and to return in an hour : that he would find
him as it would please God. He had received all his Sacra
ments, even the Extreme Unction. The Abbe de Ch 
did as he was told, and came back three-quarters of an
hour later. He found him dead. He had a face so calm,
not altered ; he did not grow rigid ; and, though he had
died of a diarrhoea, there was no bad smell : on the contrary.

Chap. XV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 277
they could not tire of looking at him. Some days after
wards, I dreamed I saw him as when he was in life. I
knew, however, he was dead. I asked him how he fared in
the other world. He answered me with a contented counte
nance : " Those who do the wUl of God, cannot displease
him." I have thought this little digression would not be
unwelcome to those for whom I have written this, since
the majority knew him.
I was extremely touched at the refusal of Madame de
Maintenon to assign me commissioners. I knew well they
desired to deprive me of the last resource by which I might
make known my innocence, and this new examination was
only meant to impose upon the public and make the con
demnation more authentic. They expected thereby to shut
the mouths of those of my friends whom a more violent
conduct would have wounded; for, although these said
nothing to justify me, their silence in the midst of such
universal defaming, and their refusal to condemn me, as did
the rest, made it clear enough that they thought differently,
and that they suffered in peace what they could not
prevent. I took the course of letting God order in the
matter, whatever might be pleasing to him; for how
could I imagine an offer of that nature would not have
put an end to prejudice ? I was not ignorant of the
persons who opposed themselves to it. They feared lest
my innocence should be recognized, and the machinations
that had been employed to tarnish it. Some even feared
being accused ; but, thanks to God, I have never had any
desire to accuse any of my persecutors : my views are not
fixed so low. There is a sovereign hand, which I adore
and which I love, that makes use of the malice of the one,
and the zeal without knowledge of the others, in order to
effect his work by my destruction. I believe, also, God
made use thereof to deprive my friends of certain sup
ports, imperfect and too human, which they found in
the creature; God wishing they should base aU their

278 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
dependence on him alone. They were, moreover, flattered
by a certain confidence that those persons had in them, in
preference to many others, from a mere natural liking.
God wished them too pure to leave them all these things,
and I knew they would receive much more evil from that
quarter than any good they had received from it. Devia
tions appear little at first, but in the end they appear what
they are. As that person had been imposed upon, there
was little to hope from her mediation. God has no need
of the intervention of any one to effect his work ; he builds
only upon ruins. We must carefully guard against the
temptation of judging the will of God by apparent success ;
for as we arrange in our heads the probable means by
which God desires to be glorified, when he destroys those
means, we think he will not be so. God never can be
glorified but by his Son, and in that which has most
relation to his Son. All other glory is according to man,
not according to God.
It will be said to me, " But to pass for a heretic ! "
What can I do ? I have simply written my thoughts. I
submit them with aU my heart. It is said, they are
capable of a good and a bad sense. I know I have written
them in the good; that I am even ignorant of the bad.
I submit them both ; what can I do more ? When I have
written, I have always been ready to burn what I wrote
at the least signal. Let them burn it, let them censure :
I take therein no interest. It is enough for me that my
heart renders testimony to me of my faith ; since they do
not desire the public testimony that I offer to render of it.
They tried to tarnish my morals to tarnish my faith. I
wished to justify the morals to justify the faith. They
will not have it. What can I do more ? If they condemn
me, they cannot for that remove me from the bosom of the
Church, my mother ; since I condemn all she could con
demn in my writings. I cannot admit having had thoughts
I never had, nor having committed crimes I have not even

Chap. XV.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 279
known, far from committing them ; because this would be
to lie to the Holy Ghost. And like as I am ready to die
for the faith and the decisions of the Church, I am ready
to die to maintain that I have not thought, what they
insist I have thought, when writing, and that I have not
committed the crimes they impute to me. It is certain, even
in their regular procedure towards me (I do not speak of
the passionate, which was unexampled), they absolutely
violated the gospel : because according to the gospel, they
were bound to summon me, to ask what was my thought
in writing \frhat I have written ; to show me the abuse it
might be put to ; then on my condemning with all my
heart the bad sense that might be put on it, declaring I
had never meant it, — begging them to burn everything,
even though it might be good, if a bad use might be
made of it, — ought they not to do me justice, and say
that, as I was mistaken in my expressions, and had only
a good intention in what I had written, they condemned
my books without condemning myself ; that, on the con
trary, they approved my good faith and submission ? That
which I say here is one of the ordinary rules of the Church.
However, as it was advisable to avoid all intercourse so
as not to scandalize anybody, — in order to practise that
other verse, " If your eye is a subject of scandal to you
tear it out," I determined to withdraw entirely. Before
doing so, I communicated to a small number of friends,
who remained to me, the resolution I was taking, and that
I was bidding them a last fareweU. Whether I should die
of my then illness (for I had continuous fever for more
than forty days, with a severe accession twice a day,) or
whether I should recover of it, I was equally dead for
them : that I prayed God to finish in them the work he
had commenced : that if this wretched nothing had con
tributed anything good through his grace, he would know
how to preserve what was his : that if I had sown error
through my ignorance (which I did not believe, since we

280 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
had never spoken together, except of renouncing ourselves,
carrying our cross, following Jesus Christ, loving him
without interest or relation to self) they could judge it was
for their sake, not for mine, that I deprived myself of all
intercourse with them, who had always edified me and
been useful ; while I might have injured them without
intending it, and been the occasion of scandal. I prayed
them, at the same time, to regard me as a thing forgotten.

Chap, XVL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 281

CHAPTER XVI.
I BEGAN to perceive that others were aimed at in the
persecution stirred up against me. The object was far too
insignificant for so much movement, so much agitation;
but, as those they had in view were beyond reach in them
selves, they thought to injure them through the esteem
they had for a person so decried, and whom they were
endeavouring still to render more odious. I had warned
the Abbe F[6nelon] long before of the change of Madame
de Maintenon towards him, and of that of persons who
manifested the greatest confidence in him ; but he would
not believe me. I had known the artifices that were
employed for this purpose, and I had endeavoured to put
him on his guard against persons who had all his con
fidence; in order that he should not unnecessarily put
himself in their power, and to make him perceive they
were acting with less uprightness than he was willing to
believe. He persisted still in the idea he entertained, that
I was mistaken, and I waited in peace till God should
disabuse him by other ways. The event has since
justified my conjectures, and we have seen those same
persons attack him without disguise, and enjoy exclusively
a confidence and a favour he might have preserved had he
been less devoted to God and more influenced by those
kinds of advantages of which the ordinary run of men are
BO covetous.

282 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
I knew Madame de Maintenon would use my letter as
an opportunity for speaking against me ; that she did it
even from a good motive, in the false persuasion she
possibly was under, that, as she had some years previously
assisted to save me from oppression, she was bound to
exert herself to crush me. What caused me the most
trouble was that she judged others by the impression she
had against me. All this knowledge and some dreams
I had (for God often by this way has made me know things
that were done against me) made me resolve to remain
concealed while awaiting the developments of providence.
If I could have been sensible to anything, it would have
been to the troubles of the others, and to the iUs I might
cause them, if I could have regarded them otherwise than
in the will of God, in which the greatest ills become
blessings. But I am too insignificant to attribute to
myself either ill or blessing. There is only one ill which
can be justly attributed to me, it is the ill of sin; for
although through the mercies of God I have not committed
the evil they attribute to me, I have sufficiently offended
God in other ways by my infidelity. He is so pure that,
after so many fires of tribulation, I stiU find myself very
impure before him, when he shows me to myself. It is
not that I do not clearly see that his infinite goodness
every day takes away those impurities. We are impure
only through our affections. The affection even to procure
the glory of God renders us unworthy that he should make
use of us for that purpose. I believe both parties have
too much faith to impute to anything else than providence
what they have since suffered, and what they may yet
suffer; yet I am wilUng to take the burden of it before
God. I pray him with all my heart that I alone may
bear the pain of all. 0 my Lord, exercise upon me in
this life and in the other, if you will it, a justice without
mercy, but show mercy to those persons in this life and
in the other. Let me be the scapegoat, loaded with the

Chap. XVL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 283
iniquity of your people ; let all fall upon me alone ; 0
my God, spare them all, but do not spare me, I adjure
you by your blood. You know, Lord, I have not sought
my glory nor my justification in what I have done and
demanded ; I have sought your glory alone. I have wished
to justify myself for them. That could not be ; be you,
yourself, their justification and their sanctification.
Although I took the resolution to withdraw from all
intercourse, I nevertheless made it known that, when
ever there should be any question of answering for my
faith, I would be ready to betake myself wherever it
should be desired. A few days after, I learned that
Madame de Maintenon, in concert with Some persons of
the Court, who were already embarked in this business, who
had a kindness for me, and who were interesting them
selves in good faith, had adopted the course of causing a
fresh examination of my writings, and to employ for this
purpose persons of knowledge and recognized probity. The
Duke de Ch  undertook to inform me. He wrote me
that he, as well as the others in whom I had most
confidence, believed it was the surest way to alter public
opinion, and to put an end to the prejudice. It would
have been so, in fact, if each one had proceeded therein
with the same views and the same intention : but it was a
condemnation they wished to make sure of, and to render
it so authentic that those, who hitherto had remained
persuaded of my good faith and the uprightness of my
intentions, should be unable to stand out against a
testimony, the less open to suspicion, as they seemed to
have sought it themselves, and that everything, so to say,
had passed through their hands. I did what they wished,
and I sent word I was always ready to render reason for
my faith; and that I asked nothing better than to be
put right, if contrary to my intention, there had escaped
from me anything that was not conformable with sound
doctrine.

284 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
It only remained, then, to choose the persons who
should make the examination. It was necessary they
should be equally acceptable to both parties; men who
had learning, piety, and some acquaintance with mystic
authors, because that was the matter principally under
consideration — to judge my writings in relation to theirs,
both as to the root of the sentiments, and as to the
conformity of the terms and expressions. It seemed
difficult to have this discussion at Paris, owing to the
Archbishop, from whom all parties agreed that the
cognizance of it must be vrithheld. He would not have
suffered it, because naturally it concerned him alone, as it
took place in his diocese ; and if he had been willing to
undertake it himself, none of those who engaged in this
affair had sufficient confidence in him to accept his
decision. I will, however, say here, that during the course
of that examination, the Archbishop having received a
quantity of false memoirs that had been given to him
against me, sent word to a lady, one of my friends,
by a relative of his own and of that lady, that I should
come and see him, and that he would extricate me from
all my troubles. He wished to have the glory of it, and
that no one else should meddle. He would have fully
justified me, according to what I have since learned on
good authority. I owe this justice to the fidelity of my
God, that he did not fail me on this occasion, and that he
put it into my heart to go to him. I even believed myself
obliged to obey the voice of my Shepherd ; but my friends,
who feared the Archbishop should discover my secret
regarding the Bishop of Meaux, ignoring that he had
not kept it himself, did not allow me to go, nor to follow
the inclination I had. I did not go then, acting on this
occasion against my own heart, and seeing in the general
all the misfortunes this refusal entailed. The Archbishop
of Paris, indignant with reason at my refusal to go and see
him, censured my books, which, up to that, he had not done,

Chap. XVL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 285
having been satisfied with the explanations I had given
him six or seven years before. After this censure there
were no bounds to the calumny ; and the Bishop of Meaux
found himself still more authorized in the condemnation
he had promised to Madame de Maintenon. I return to
the proposed examination.
The first person on whom they cast their eyes was the
Bishop of Meaux. He had already, to the knowledge of
Madame de Maintenon, made a private one, some months
before. She wished to see him, to ascertain his sentiments,
and the point to which she could count upon him in the
design she had. It was not difficult for that Prelate to
penetrate her intention and to observe the interest she took
in the business, or rather her uneasiness for her friends.
There is reason to believe he promised her all she wished,
and it may be said the event has only too well justified
this. On the other hand, those who were interested for
me in this business, and I myself, were very well pleased
to see him enter upon it. I had had an opportunity of
explaining to him an infinity of things on which he had
appeared to me satisfied, although on some others he had
persisted in a contrary opinion. I did not doubt that, in a
quiet discussion in presence of people of consideration and
knowledge, who would be all equally conversant with the
subject, I should make him at least change his opinion
BO far as not to condemn in me what he would not dare
to condemn in so many saints canonized by the Church,
together with their works. He had, moreover, administered
the Sacraments to me during his first rigorous examina
tion, and had offered to give me a certificate of it for my
consolation. The things on which we did not agree, not
having been decided by the Church, did not offend against
the faith. All these considerations led me to ask for him.
I also asked for the Bishop of Chalons, who had mildness
and piety. I thought he would have more knowledge of
the things of the spiritual Ufe and of the interior ways

286 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
than the Bishop of Meaux, and that my language would
be to him less barbarous ; for, in fact, it was this was in
question rather than the dogma of the Church. Two of
my most intimate friends wished that M. Tronson should
also enter upon it. He had been for a long time Superior
of the House of St. Sulpice. They had both a very special
confidence in him.
When these three persons had accepted the proposal
that was made them, I took the liberty of writing to them,
to make them acquainted with what concerned me, and
had given occasion to this discussion ; at least, the two
last. I will here insert that letter in its natural sequence.
Letter to Bishops of Meaux and Chalons, and to M. Tronson.
" How should I, gentlemen, be able to appear before
you, if you believe me guilty of the crimes of which I am
accused ? How will you be able to examine without horror
books emanating from a person that they would represent
as execrable ? But also how should I not appear, since,
having taken the liberty of asking His Majesty for you
to examine my faith, and having been happy enough to
obtain what I desire, it would be to deprive myself of the
only resource that remains to me in this life, which is to
be able to make known the purity of my faith, the up
rightness of my intentions, and the sincerity of my heart
before persons who, although prejudiced, are for me above
all suspicion, owing to their light, their uprightness and
their extreme probity ? I had taken the liberty of asking
His Majesty to join lay judges in order they might probe
what concerns my morals, because I thought it was
impossible there could be a favourable judgment of the
writings of a person who passes for guilty. I offered to
go to prison, as you will see, my Lords, by the letter
annexed, if you will kindly read it. I offer more — it is to
prove that I have neither done, nor could do the things
of which I am accused. I do not mean that those who

CiiAP. XVL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 287
accuse me should prove what they advance, although this
would be the ordinary course, but I offer myself to prove it
is not so. If you will have the charity to examine what
concerns the criminal before the examination of the books,
I shall be infinitely obliged. It is easy to learn everything
for and against my whole life. I will tell you, my Lords,
with the utmost ingenuousness the things of which I am
accused, and the character of the persons who accuse me.
I am ready to suffer every kind of test, and I am sure it will
be easy for you with the grace of God to discover an
exceptional malignity. You will see the character of the
persons who accuse me, and perhaps it will be a great
good for the Church to examine who are the guilty ; those
who accuse me, or she who is accused. Three persons of
uprightness are incited against me : the Bishop of Char
tres, because his zeal is deceived — it will be easy for me to
show by whom and how ; the Cure of Versailles, who has
not always been as rabid against me as he is, since, on my
release from St. Mary, he wrote me, after having read the
books which were in question, that he was quite of my
sentiments. I have his letter. Since that time he did me
the honour to number me as one among his friends, and
came to see me more often than any one else. He has
testified to all my friends the esteem he had for me ;
even since the last time I had the honour of seeing him,
he has said a thousand good things of me at St. Cyr,
and, afterwards, much ill. He imagined I had withdrawn
Madame de G  and Madame de M  from his
direction, to put them under that of the Jesuit Father
AUeaume. It is a fact Madame de G  was under the
conduct of Father AUeaume before I had the honour of
knowing her. It was not I, then, who placed her there.
Madame do M  believed herself obliged, in giving her
self to God, to leave the Court, which was for her a danger,
in order to devote herself to the education of her chUdren,
and tlie care of hor family, which up to that she had

288 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.
neglected : leaving Versailles and residing at Paris, she
needed a director at Paris. Yet the Cure, who is said
at present to have the ear of Madame de Maintenon, and
who has it in fact, makes two opposite complaints : the
one, that I have withdrawn these ladies from the direction
of their legitimate pastor to place them under the conduct
of a Jesuit Father ; the other, that I directed them. How
have I given them a director if I directed ? For if I have
given them a director, I do not direct them. God has
not abandoned me to such a point, that I should meddle
with directing; although I believe he sometimes gave
experiences to assist others with : but all the persons I
have been acquainted with have had their directors.
"When those ladies were in the world, they put on
patches, used rouge, and some of them ruined their families
by play and extravagance in clothes ; nothing was said
against it, and they were let go on. Since they have
abandoned all that, there has been an outcry, as if I had
destroyed them. Had I made them abandon piety for
self-indulgence, there would not be so much noise. I
have proofs and the witness of letters, which have been
written to the Cure of Versailles, which will show clearly
the justification of what I advance, if I am granted the
favour of being heard. The third person, of those who are
incited against me, is M. Boileau, stirred up by a devotee,
who assures him God has made known to her I am dis
pleasing to him, and this accompanied by things mani
festly false, which it is easy to verify.
" These are the persons who are upright and, through
zeal, incite every one against me. The rest of the accusers
are all persons with whom I have had no intercourse,
except to give them alms, to have forbidden them my
house, or to have pointed them out for what they were. I
wUl tell you, my Lords, when you please, the facts which
have led these persons to accuse me, namely La Gentil,
La Gautiere, the girls of P  V  , the girls from Dijon,

Chap. XVL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 289
Grenoble, and Fi. I do not claim, my Lords, to hide from
you the smallest thing, because, thanks to God, I do not
wish to deceive myself. As soon as I knew I was accused
of acting as director I withdrew myself. I no longer
received any one, as you will see, my Lords, from this other
letter. I have always thought it was necessary before
everything to be enlightened on the criminal: therefore
I implore you, by the charity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to
receive the memoirs which will be given you against me.
If I am guilty, I ought to be punished more than another,
since God has given me the grace to know him and to love
him, and I am not ignorant enough to be excused ; for I am
certain Jesus Christ and Belial are not in the same place.
" I have taken the liberty of asking for the Bishop of
Meaux since last year, because I have always had such a
great respect for him, and I am persuaded of his zeal for
the Church, of his lights, and of his uprightness, and I have
always had a disposition to condemn what he will condemn
in me. I have taken the liberty of asking for the Bishop
of Chalons (although the Abbe de Noailles is the most
zealous of those who decry me), as well because for a long
time I know his discernment and his piety, as that because,
being interested through his niece, I am very happy he
should know the truth for himself. I have asked for M.
Tronson, although I know all the labour expended to decry
me to him, because I know his uprightness, his piety, his
light, and that it is necessary he should know for himself
the ground the Bishop of Chartres has to excite his zeal
against me. I conjure you, my Lords, by the charity that
reigns in your hearts, not to hurry this business, to allow it
all the time that is necessary to get to the bottom, and to
allow me the favour of being heard and explaining myself
on everything. I pray you to be persuaded that I speak
to you sincerely. Have the kindness, if it pleases you, to
inform yourselves, not from those who do not know me, but
from those who know me, if my heart is not upon my
VOL. II. u

290 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
lips. As to that which concerns the matter of my books
and writings, I declare I submit them with all my heart,
as I have already done, and as I have declared in the
annexed paper. I declare, my Lords, I submit my books
and my writings purely and simply, without any condition,
for whatever you will please to do with them : that therein
I do not claim anything for myself : that, after having sub
mitted them to the Church in general, I submit them to
your lights in particular. I protest to have written them
through obedience, without other design than to give them
to my director, for him to do with them what he pleased,
indifferent whether he burned them or not. Although these
books have caused me very severe crosses, and have served
as a pretext for many things, yet, had I known that they
must have brought me to suffer death, the same obedience
which has made me write them, would still have made me
do so. I have still the same disposition and the same
indifference as to their success.
"I pray you, my Lords, to bear in mind I am an
ignorant woman ; that I have written my experiences in
perfect good faith ; that if I have explained myself ill, it is
an effect of my ignorance ; as for the experiences they are
real. Moreover, I have written, as I have declared, without
the aid of any book, without even knowing what I was
writing, in such abstraction that I remembered nothing of
what I had written. It is these writings, then, I submit
purely and simply to your judgment, my Lords, to do
with them whatever you please : therein is my interest ;
there is, moreover, the interest of truth. It is for that, my
Lords, I conjure you to examine thoroughly whether what
I write is not found in the mystic authors and saints
approved this long time. I offer myself to show it to you,
if you do me the favour to hear me. You will not refuse
me this justice. It is even necessary as a foundation for
your judgment. I further ask a favour, my Lords, in the
name of our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for you and for

Chap. XVL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 291
me, which is — to write the questions and answers I shall
make. This is necessary because the memory of things
perishes, and you wUl be well pleased to see on what you
have condemned or approved me. This is necessary for
me myself, that, recognizing my mistakes, I may withdraw
myself from those sentiments. I hope you will grant me
all I here ask by the blood of Jesus Christ my Saviour.
It is necessary, moreover, to clear up one difficulty before
undertaking another, in order it may remain for ever
approved or condemned.
•' August, 1694."
I sent at the same time to those persons, besides my
two little printed books, my commentaries on Holy
Scripture; and I undertook by their order a work to
facilitate for them the examination they undertook, and to
lighten for them a labour which was nevertheless trouble
some enough, or which at least would have taken up much
time. This was, to collect a certain number of passages
from approved mystic authors, which showed the conformity
of my writings and the expressions I had used, with those
of these holy authors. It was an immense work. I caused
the manuscripts to be transcribed as fast as I had written
them, to send to these gentlemen, and, according as
opportunity offered, I explained the passages that were
doubtful or obscure, or which had not been sufficiently
explained in my commentaries. For these I had composed
at a time when, the affairs of Molinos not having yet made
a stir, I had written my thoughts without precaution and
without imagining they could be twisted to the sense
condemned. That work has for its title " Les Justifications."
It was composed in fifty days, and appeared very suitable
for throwing light on the matter ; but the Bishop of Meaux
would never either read or allow the others to see those
" Justifications."

292 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.

CHAPTER XVII.
I SOON perceived the change in the Bishop of Meaux, and
how much I had been deceived in the idea I had formed of
him. Although he was very reserved in disclosing his
sentiments when he spoke to my friends, he was not the
same with persons he believed ill disposed to me. I had
confided to him, as I have already said, under the seal of
confession, the history of my life, wherein were noted
my most secret dispositions ; yet I have learned he
had shown it and turned it into ridicule. He wished to
compel me to show it to these other gentlemen, and
insisted so strongly thereon (although it had no connection
with the examination in progress), I saw myself obliged to
submit to what he wished. I caused it to be given them.
I communicated to one of his friends and mine — the Duke
de Ch[evreuse] — the alteration in my opinion of the Bishop
of Meaux, and how I had reason to believe he was only
thinking of condemning me. He had said that, without
the history of my life, it could not be done, and that in it
one would see the pride of the Devil. It was for this
reason he wished it should be seen by those gentlemen.
I begged this friend that the subjects, as they were
settled by those persons, should be written out, and, in
order to have a sure witness of what would take place
there, I most urgently begged him to be present at the
conferences. I should have much wished they were not

Chap. XVIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 293
decided till the end, and that, until then, they held their
judgment in suspense; not doubting that, as they were
aU assembled after having prayed God, God would at the
moment touch their hearts with his truth independently
of their intelligence ; for otherwise, as the grace promised
to those gathered together for truth escapes and departs,
the intellect takes the upper hand, and one judges then
only according to the intellect. Moreover, being then no
longer sustained by this grace of truth, which has only its
moment, — and finding themselves carried away by the
clamouring crowd who are supported by credit, authority,
and favour, — in listening to them the intellect hinders
the heart by the continual doubts it forms. My friend
proposed it to these gentlemen. The Bishop of Chalons
and M. Tronson would willingly have consented, for
they were both acting with all the uprightness and good
faith imaginable ; but the Bishop of Meaux found means
to prevent it. He had so assumed control of the business
that it was absolutely necessary everything should bend to
what he pleased. He was no longer the same he had been
six or seven months before, at the first examination. As at
that time he had entered upon it only through a spirit of
charity and with a view to know the truth, notwithstand
ing his extreme. vivacity, he altered his opinion on many
subjects that his prejudice made him at first reject. He
appeared even sometimes touched by certain truths, and to
respect things which struck him, although he had not the
experience of them. But here it was no longer the same
thing, he had a fixed point &om which he did not swerve,
and, as he wished to produce a striking condemnation, he
brought to it everything he thought capable of contributing
thereto. It was in the same spirit that he wrote a long letter to
the friend of whom I just spoke, to prove to him that,
according to my principles, the sacrifice of eternity was a
real consenting to hatred of God, and other things of that

294 MADAME GUYON. [Part IH.
nature on trials. I still feel quite moved when I think
of it — to consent to hate God ! 0 good God ! how could
a heart who loves him so passionately mean such a thing ?
I believe that this view, a little strongly held, would be
sufficient to cause my death. This needs explanation, and
I wiU give it here much as I sent it to him at the time.
Whether the soul be placed in such terrible trials that she
has no doubt of her reprobation (which is called a holy
despair) : whether she carries in herself the state of hell
(which is a feeling of the pain of damnation) : if one were
to stir her central depth by such a proposition, she would
exclaim, " Rather a thousand hells without that hatred."
But what one calls "to consent to the loss of her eternity,"
is when the soul in that state of trial believes it certain,
and then, with no view but of her own misfortune and her
own pain, makes the entire sacrifice of her eternal loss,
thinking that her God will be neither less glorious nor less
happy. Oh, if one could understand by what excessive
love of God and hatred of self this is done, and how far
one is from having these thoughts in detail ! But how
should I be understood and believed ? Alas ! how often
in that state, have I asked my God, graciously, to give me
hell that I might not offend him. I said to him, " 0 my
God, hell is in others the penalty of sin : make it in me
prevent sin, and make me suffer all the hells that all the
sins of all men merit, provided I do not offend you."
The sacrifices of particular and distinct things take
place only in the exercise itself : as a person who faUs into
the water makes at first all his efforts to save himself, and
does not relax his effort until his weakness renders it
useless ; then he sacrifices himself to a death that
appears to him inevitable. There are anticipated sacrifices,
such as are general sacrifices, which distinguish nothing,
except that God proposes to the soul the greatest pains,
troubles, desertions, confusions, scorn of creatures, dis
credit, loss of reputation, persecution on the part of God,

Chap. XVIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 295
of men, and of devils, and that, without specifying
anything in particular of the means he will use : for
the soul never imagines them such as they are, and
if he proposed them to her, and she could understand
them, she would never consent. What, then, does
God ? He demands from the soul her freewiU, which he
has given her, which is the only thing the soul can sacrifice
to him, as the only thing which belongs to her as her own.
She makes then to him a sacrifice of all she is, in order
that he may make of her, and in her, all that shall please
him, for time and for eternity, without any reserve. This
is done in an instant, without the intellect considering
anything. Even from the commencement of the way of
faith, the soul bears this radical disposition, that if her
eternal loss caused an instant of glory to her God, more
than her salvation, she would prefer her damnation to her
salvation, and this viewed from the side of the glory of
God : but the soul understands she would be unhappy
without guilt, and to glorify her God.
This general sacrifice in anticipation for all sorts of
sufferings, temporal, and eternal, takes place in some souls
with an impetuosity of sovereign master, and with such an
interior sweetness that the soul is, as it were, carried away.
She experiences that the same God, who demands a
general consent for the troubles, makes it be given, and it
is given, as promptly as the thing is proposed : and when
the sacrifice is pleasant and sweet, the exercises which
follow it are infinitely cruel; for then the soul forgets
absolutely the sacrifice she has made to her God, and
remembers only her wretchedness. Her intellect clouded,
her will hardened and rebellious, and her trouble, cause her
inexplicable torments. There are others whom God causes
to make this sacrifice of their entire selves with such
strange pains that one might call it a mortal agony : the
bones are broken, and one suffers in giving himself to God
a pain that is beyond imagination. These latteir suffer less

296 MADAME GUYON. [Pabt IIL
in the trials, and the pain of the consenting has been for
them a good purification. But remark, this sacrifice has
nothing particular in view but extreme pains, when it
anticipates the trial, or the purification.
It is the same with the sacrifice which takes place in
the trial, for then the soul is quite plunged, not only in the
pain, but in the experience of her wretchedness; in a
feeling of reprobation which is such that the soul roars,
if one may say so : then, through despair, she makes the
sacrifice of an eternity, which seems to escape from her
in spite of her. In the first sacrifice the soul thinks only
of her trouble and her pain, or the glory of her God ; but
in this last, it seems she has lost God and that she has
lost him through her fault, and that loss is the cause of
all her miseries. She suffers at the commencement pain
ful rages and despairs. The fear of offending God makes
her desire by anticipation a hell, which, as she believes,
cannot fail her. This violence ceases at the end of the
trials, and it is as a person who can no longer cry because
he has no longer the strength : and then it is, the pain is
more terrible, because her violent grief was a support to
her : but when in that state there occur in addition mortal
maladies, where one believes one's self at two fingers from
the real Hell by death (for this appears in all its terror,
without finding refuge or means of assuring her eternity,
and the heaven seems of brass — I know it from actual
experience,) then the soul sacrifices herself to God very
really for her eternity, but with agonies worse than even
hell. She sees that all her desire was to please God, and
that she is going to displease him for an eternity. Never
theless there remains to her a certain central depth,
which says, without however consoling her: "I have a
Saviour who lives eternally, and the more my salvation is
lost in me and for me, the more it is assured in him and
through him."
What is astonishing is that in this state the soul is so

Chap. XVH.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 297
afflicted and so tormented with the experience of her miseries
and the fear of offending God, that she is delighted to die ;
although her loss appears certain to her, in order to
escape from that state and to be no longer in danger of
offending God ; for she thinks she offends him although
there be nothing of the kind. Her folly is such and her
grief so excessive that she does not consider that by
living she might be converted, and in dying she is lost.
Not at all ; because she imagines conversion is no longer
for her. The reason of it is, that as her will has never
wandered by a single self-regard nor the least consent,
that will remaining attached to God and not turning
aside from him, she no longer finds it to perform the acts
of sorrow, detestation, and the rest. It is this which
causes her the most trouble.
A fm-ther surprising fact is, that there are souls in
whom all these troubles are only spiritual, and it is these
which are the most terrible : with such persons the body
is cold, although the soul sees herself in the will of all
evils, and in a powerlessness to commit them; and it is
they who suffer most. If I could tell how I have experi
enced this strange trouble, and, in addition, the disposition
of the body (while married) in no correspondence with
marriage, and without betraying anything of it, one would
see what this trouble is. I call it spiritual hell : for the
soul believes she has the will for all evils, without
being able to commit any of them and without corre
spondence of the body. Others suffer less in the spirit and
in all ways, and experience very great weaknesses in the
body. But I have written so much, there is nothing more
to be said.
I wiU, however, further add to answer the difficulty of
the Bishop of Meaux, touching the sacrifice of purity, that
this proposition never can be as he by anticipation sup
posed it ; for the trial precedes the sacrifice. God permits
that virgins (and it is to those that this most ordinarUy

298 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
happens) enter upon trials so much the greater as they
were the more attached to their purity, seeing that God
tries them either by devils in a well-known manner, or by
temptations that appear to them natural; it is for them
so great a grief, that hell without those troubles would be
a relief. Then they make to God a sacrifice of that same
purity which, to please him, they had preserved, though
with a taint of selfhood ; but they do it with the agonies
of death : not that they consent to any sin — they are further
removed from it than ever, — ^but they bear with resignation
and sacrifice of their whole selves what they cannot pre
vent. I beg that attention may be paid to the fact that
these souls, thus tried by God, suffer inexplicable torments ;
that they do not allow themselves a single satisfaction ;
that it would be even impossible for them to find it : while
those other wretches who addict themselves to all kinds of
sins, suffer no trouble, granting their senses what they
wish, and living in an unbridled licentiousness. It is
through persons of this latter character that the persecu
tion against me has commenced. I have said elsewhere,
they went from confessor to confessor accusing themselves
as converted from all the horrors of Quietism, and, as they
supposed I was of the same sentiments with them, they
caused all the indignation to fall upon mc, while giving
themselves the merit of a genuine conversion. For this
reason they have been left, not only in peace, while I have
been torn in pieces and persecuted in the strangest manner,
but they have been canonized, so to say, and left at liberty
to spread the poison of their evil principles, based solely
on a frightful and unbounded licentiousness. 0 my
God, you see it and suffer it. I have done all that was
possible to rescue some from that unhappy state, when
providence has placed me in a position to do so. I would
stUl do it, if to rescue a single one it should cost me the
same persecution.
I perceived every day that the Bishop of Meaux was

Chap. XVIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 299
going further and further away, and, what was worst for
the cause in question, that he was confirming himself
in his thoughts; for this confirmation places an almost
insurmountable obstacle to the light of truth. What eluci
dations had I not given at the time of the first conference
on the subject of specific requests, desires, and other acts ?
But nothing found an entrance, because he wanted to
condemn. I learned from the Duke de Ch  that he
still repeated over again those same difficulties. How
not understand that the perceived desire, being an act and
an operation of the self, must die with the other acts or,
rather, must pass into God, in order no longer to have
other desires than those God gives; and as one no more
takes back his own will, so one no more takes back his
desires ? This does not hinder God from making him
desire and will as it pleases him, and he who moves the
soul can move her to desire, although she no longer has
own desires ; for if she had them as oion, it would be a
continued subsistence of the selfhood : but the author of
the "Essential WiU" says on that all that can be said,
as well as St. Francis de Sales " On the Will ; " for the
same reasoning will apply to both. It is, that it is not
a death or loss of desires, or of wiU, but a flowing of those
same desires and of that will into God, because the soul
transports with her aU she possesses. While she is in
herself she desires and wills in her manner; when she
is passed into God, she wills and desires in the manner
of God. If one does not admit the flowing of the desires
into God, one must admit loss neither of own operation
nor of own act, nor of will. The one is so attached to
the other that they are indivisible. In the same way as
one does not resume at any time his operations, after
having given them up ; as one does not return into the
womb of his mother, after having left it : in the same
way, one does not resume any more his own desires.
But in the same way as one does not give up his oion

300 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
operations in order to become useless, but in order to let
God operate, and to operate one's self by his movement, so
one lets his desires flow into God only in order to desire
according to his movement, and to will through his will.
We cannot condemn the one without condemning the
other, for they are necessarily linked. After all, I am
not the only person who speaks of the annihUation of
the selfhood. If they condemn it in me, the channel is
nothing by itself. God wUl write it in the spirit and in
the heart of whom he pleases. That fixation of the
Bishop of Meaux caused me infinite trouble, because,
whatever I might do to enlighten him from outside, it
is God's part to stir the interior ; but how can he do it
if one remains shut up, though it should be only by a hair ?
I further learned that one of the great complaints of
the Bishop of Meaux was, that I praised myself and had
frightful presumption. I would willingly ask, who is the
more humble, he who uses of himself words of humility
and says nothing to his advantage (though ordinarily such
persons, being praised by others in this matter, would
find it hard to bear that people should take them at their
word), or he, who simply says of himself the good and
the ill, quite unconcerned that all the world may think
ill of us and decry us in reality? He who humbles
himself, or he who is quite content to be humiliated ? As
for me, I tell what I know of good in me, because it
belongs to my Master ; but I am not troubled that nothing
of it should be believed, that I should be decried at the
sermon, that I should be defamed in the gazette. This
does not affect me more than when I praise myself ; and,
as I do not correct my apparent pride because I have no
shame of it, so I do not trouble myself at the public
decry, because I think more ill of myself than all the
others can do.
The Bishop of Chalons, who had returned, after having
taken a holiday, to examine as well the books as the

Chap. XVIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 301
commentaries on scripture, consented to the proposal that
was made him, that they should meet at the country
house of M. Tronson ; because he, being weak and much
ailing, could not go to the houses of those gentlemen. I
had asked as a favour the Duke de Ch  should be
present as a special friend of those two prelates, through
whom everything had passed, very well instructed in the
matter in hand, as well as in that which had given rise to
this examination. I also asked that, after having examined
a difficulty, the decision on it should be written, in order
to put the facts beyond question. This appeared to me
absolutely necessary, not only for the elucidation of the
truth, but in order to have a subsisting proof of what I,
as well as the others, had to lay down for myself upon the
root of things, and on that which had furnished the matter
of the examination. But the Bishop of Meaux, who had
promised Madame de Maintenon a condemnation, and who
wished to make himself master of the business, raised so
many difficulties, sometimes under one pretext, sometimes
under another, that he found means of evading all I had
asked, and letting nothing appear but what seemed good to
him. He said then, I might see M. Tronson separately,
after I had seen the Bishop of Chalons with him. The
meeting was at the house of the Bishop of Meaux, and the
Duke de Ch  was there, expecting to be present at the
conference, as I had asked for him. The Bishop of Chalons
arrived early. I spoke to him with much ingenuousness,
and as he was not yet filled with the impressions which
have since been given to him, I had every ground for
being satisfied. I had the consolation of seeing him enter
with kindness into what I said.
The Bishop of Meaux, after keeping us a long time
waiting, arrived towards evening, and, after a moment of
general conversation, he opened a portfolio he had brought,
and said to the Duke de Ch  , that, the question being
about doctrine and a matter purely ecclesiastical, the

302 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
discussion of which only concerned the Bishops, he did not
think it suitable that he should remain present, and it
might be a constraint on them. It was a pure evasion, in
order to avoid a witness of that character, on whom, clever
as he was, it would not have been possible for him to
impose : for he knew him far too well instructed to allow
himself to be surprised, and too upright not to testify the
truth as to facts which should have taken place under
his eyes. The business was not a decision on faith, the
judgment of which belongs to the Bishops, but a quiet
discussion of my sentiments, which it was desirable to
elucidate in order to see wherein I went too far, and
whether my expressions on the matters of the interior life
were conformable, or not, to those of the approved mystic
authors, as I believed I had not departed from them : for
I had protested hundreds of times my submission in what
these gentlemen should tell me to be of faith and of the
dogma of the Church ; on which I noways pretended to
dispute with them. But the Bishop of Meaux pursued
his course, and would not for anything deviate from it.
I felt in the depth of my heart the refusal of that prelate.
I at once knew its consequences, and I no longer doubted
the engagements he had undertaken for a condemnation.
What more natural than the presence of a person of the
character of the Duke de Ch  , who had the merit, the
probity, and the depth of knowledge that every one knows,
through whom everything had passed, and who was so
much interested in the elucidation on hand, in order to
undeceive himself and the others, supposing me mistaken,
and that I had, contrary to my intentions, inspired senti
ments opposed to the purity of the faith ? What, I say,
more natural than to have a witness of this character, who
would have only served to confound me, if I had spoken
differently from what he had heard me say at all times ; or
who might have disabused himself and disabused the others,
in a quiet conference where I might have been shown my

Chap. XVIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 303
errors ? It was even the end they had in view when they
had commenced to speak of this business : but God did not
permit it, and the Duke de Ch  did not deem it proper
to insist, seeing the Bishop of Chalons answered nothing :
besides this, he only acted through kindness and yield
ing to my great desire. I remained, then, alone with these
two gentlemen. The Bishop of Meaux spoke a long time
to prove all ordinary Christians had the same grace. I
endeavoured to prove the contrary ; but as the business
properly was only to justify my expressions on things of
more consequence, I did not insist thereon, and only
thought of making him see the conformity of my senti
ments with those of the approved authors who have
written on the interior life. He still reiterated that one
gave to that life too perfect a state, and endeavoured to
obscure and make nonsense of all I said ; particularly when
he saw the Bishop of Chalons touched, penetrated, and
entering into what I was saying to him. There was no
use in disputing, but to submit, and to be ready to believe
and act conformably to what they should say. It has
always been the true disposition of my heart, and I have
no trouble in giving up my own judgment.
I had previously written a letter to the Bishop of
Meaux with my ordinary simplicity, in which I told him
that I would be noway distressed to believe I had been
mistaken. He produced it with a malignant turn, as an
avowal I had made of having been mistaken in matter of
faith ; and that, recognizing my errors after he had made
me know them, I had declared, as if in scorn, I was no
way concerned at it : and it was in the same spirit I had
said, in the same letter or in another, that I was as con
tent at writing absurdities as good things; not at all
taking into account the obedience in which I wrote, and
how I expected my director, who had to judge it, would
correct all, and thus my mistakes would serve to make
known the unworthiness of the channel which God had

304 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
pleased to inake use of. The Bishop of Meaux made a
crime out of a letter so full of littleness and written with
so much simplicity. He reproached me numbers of times
with my ignorance, that I did not know anything : and,
after having made nonsense out of all my words, he kept
incessantly crying out, he was astonished at my ignor
ance. I answered nothing to these reproaches : and the
ignorance, of which he accused me, ought to make him see
at least that I speak the truth, when I assert it is by an
actual light I write, nothing otherwise remaining in my
mind. He made another crime of what I have said — that
to adhere to God is a commencement of union; and he
continually reverted to his attempt to prove to me, that all
Christians with ordinary faith, without spiritual life, can
arrive at deification. But it is impossible to answer a
man who knocks you down, who does not listen to you,
and who incessantly crushes you. As for me, I lose then
the thread of what I wish to say, and remember nothing.
That conference was of no use for the root of the
matters. It only put the Bishop of Meaux in a position to
teU Madame de Maintenon that he had made the proposed
examination, and that, having convinced me of my errors,
he hoped with time to make me alter my opinion, by
engaging me to go and spend some time in a convent of
Meaux, where he would be able to finish more tranquilly
what he had, as it were, sketched out. As for me, when
they spoke to me of being examined by these gentlemen,
I rejoiced at it, because I believed, according to all ordi
nary usage, they would all three together see me : and, as
a consequence, Jesus Christ would preside there. I hoped
thereby to win my cause: because I did not doubt the
Lord would make them know the truth, my innocence, and
the malice of my accusers. But God, who apparently
willed I should suffer all that has since happened to me,
did not permit it to be thus. He gave power to the Devil
to act, to hinder the union of those three gentlemen, and
to introduce disorder in everything.

Chap. XVIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 305
As the Bishop of Meaux had come only at night, I had
had previously full opportunity of conversing for a long
time with the Bishop of Chalons, in presence of the Duke
de Ch  . That prelate appeared very well satisfied
with me, and even said to me I had only to continue my
manner of prayer, and he prayed God to augment more
and more his graces to me. In the outbursts of the
Bishop of Meaux he softened the blows as much as he
could, and made me see, on this occasion, that, when he
acted of himself, he did it with all the kindness and equity
possible. AU he could do was to write down some answers
I made, addressing myself to him, because the Bishop of
Meaux, in the heat of his prejudice, abused me without
being willing to listen to me.
I wished to see this prelate once again. I saw him
alone, and although he had been already prejudiced, he
appeared satisfied with the conference, and repeated to me,
that he saw nothing to change either in my manner of
prayer or the rest : that I should continue : that he would
pray God to augment his mercies upon me, and that I
should remain concealed in my solitude, as I had been
doing for two years. I promised him. It was deemed
proper I should go and see M. Tronson. I went to Issi.
The Duke de Ch  had the kindness to be present. M.
Tronson examined me with more exactness than the
others. The Duke de Ch  had the kindness himself to
write the questions and the answers. I spoke to him with
all the freedom possible. The Duke de Ch  said to
him, "You see she is straightforward." He answered,
" I feel it indeed." That word was worthy of so great a
servant of God as he was, who judged not only by the
intellect but by the taste of the heart. I withdrew then,
and M. Tronson appeared satisfied, although a false letter
against me had been sent to him, which purported to come
from a person who denied it.
VOL. II. X

306 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.

CHAPTER XVIII.
Who would not have thought, after all these examinations,
apparently satisfactory, that I should have been left in
peace ? Quite the contrary happened ; because, the more
my innocence appeared, the more those who had under
taken to make me criminal, set in motion springs to reach
their end. Things were on this footing when the Bishop
of Meaux, to whom I had offered to go and spend some
time in a Community of his diocese, that he might know
me of himself, proposed to me "The Daughters of St.
Mary," of Meaux. This offer had pleased him immensely ;
for he expected, as I have since learned, to draw from it
great temporal advantages. He believed them even still
greater; and he said to Mother Picard, Superior of the
convent where I entered, that it would be worth the Arch
bishopric of Paris or a Cardinal's hat to him. I answered
the Mother, when she told it to me, that God would not
permit him to have either the one or the other. I set out
as soon as he told me. It was the month of January, 1695,
in the most frightful winter there has been for a long time,
either before or since. I was near perishing in the snow,
where I remained four hours ; the carriage having got into
it, and being almost covered in a hollow way. I and my
maid were drawn out through the window. We sat upon
the snow, awaiting the mercy of God, expecting only death.
I have never had more tranquillity, although benumbed and

Chap. XVIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 307
wetted with the snow we melted. These are the occasions
that show if one is perfectly abandoned to God. That
poor girl and I were without inquietude, in perfect resigna
tion, certain of dying if we passed the night, and seeing no
prospect of help. We were there when some carters passed,
and they extricated us with difficulty. It was ten at night
when we arrived. We were not expected ; and when the
Bishop of Meaux first learned it, he was astonished,
and very pleased that I had thus risked my life to obey
him punctually. I had an illness of six weeks, a continued
fever. But that which had at first appeared so good to the
Bishop of Meaux, afterwards only seemed " artifice " and
" hypocrisy." It is thus they described, and still describe,
the little good God makes me do ; and far from believing
the gospel, which assures us that a tree cannot be bad
whose fruits are good, as they will have it that the tree is
bad, they attribute the good to a malicious and hypocritical
artifice. It is a strange hypocrisy that lasts a whole life,
and which, far from bringing us any advantage, causes
only crosses, calumnies, troubles and confusions, poverty,
discomfort, and all sorts of ills. I think one has never
seen the like ; for ordinarily one is only a hypocrite to
attract the esteem of men, or to make one's fortune. I am
assuredly a bad hypocrite, and I have badly learned the
trade, since I have so ill succeeded. I take my God to
witness, who knows that I do not lie, that if to be Empress
of all the earth and to be canonized during my life, which
is the ambition of hypocrites, I had to suffer what I have
suffered for wishing to be my God's without reserve, I
would have rather chosen to beg my bread and die as a
criminal. These are my sentiments without disguise.
Therefore I bear this testimony to myself in the presence
of my God : that I have desired to please but him alone ;
that I have sought only him for himself; that I abhor my
own interest more than death; that this long series of

308 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
persecutions which is not finished, and which to all
appearance will last as long as my life, has never made
me change my sentiments, nor repent of having given
myself to God and having abandoned all for him. I have
found myself at times when nature was fearfully over
burdened ; but the love of God and his grace have rendered
sweet for me, without sweetness, the most bitter bitterness :
not that I had within any sensible support — by no means ;
for my dear Master struck me still more rudely than men.
Thus was I, on the part of God and men, without support,
or perceived consolation : but his invisible and unfelt hand
supported me ; without that, I had succumbed to so many
troubles. " All your waves," I sometimes say, " have fallen
upon me ; " " you have drawn against me all the arrows
from your quiver." But a hand one adores and loves
cannot give rough blows. I was not afflicted with the
sort of afflictions which one pities and which are honour
able. I appeared severely chastised for my crimes. It is
that which made every one think he had a right to ill treat
me and believe he rendered a great service to God.
Methinks I then understood that it was the manner in
which Jesus Christ had suffered. The sufferings and the
death of St. John were glorious for him, but those of Jesus
Christ were full of confusion. " He has been numbered
among the malefactors," and it will be always true to say
he was condemned by the sovereign Pontiff, by the chief
priests, the doctors of the Law : even judges that did not
belong to their nation, deputed by the Romans, who
prided themselves on doing justice. Happy those who
suffer with all these circumstances, so closely related to
the sufferings of Jesus Christ ; who was further struck by
God, his Father. But how bitter are sufferings of this kind,
the most bitter of all to him who has not the same taste
as Jesus Christ ! The condemnation of the impious is
nothing; but the condemnation of persons esteemed just
in everything, appears a condemnation arrived at with

Chap. XVIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 309
knowledge of the case, by judges, equitable and full of
light, after complete examination.
To return to my subject. I entered the convent in the
state I was in. I waited more than an hour in the porter's
lodge, benumbed and without fire, because it was necessary
to inform the Bishop of Meaux, and to rouse up the nuns.
There was in their lodge a good-natured man, who, as
I have since learned, was a man of prayer : he said quite
aloud, " That lady must indeed belong to God, and be
spiritual, to wait in the state she is in with so much
tranquillity." By this remark he impressed some sort of
esteem for me upon persons who had been strongly set
against me. The Bishop of Meaux wished me to change
my name, that, as he said, it should not be known I was
in his diocese, and that people should not torment him on
my account. The project was the finest in the world, if he
could have kept a secret ; but he told every one he saw,
I was in such a convent, under such a name. Immediately,
from all sides, anonymous libels against me were sent to
the Mother Superior and the nuns. This did not prevent
Mother Picard and the nuns from esteeming and loving me.
I had come to Meaux in order that the Bishop should
examine me, as he told everybody ; and yet he set off for
Paris the day after my arrival, and did not return till
Easter. He ordered I should communicate as often as the
nuns, and even oftener if I wished it ; but I did not care
to do so, conforming as much as possible to the Com
munity. It happened, meantime, that those who persecuted me
circulated a letter that they said was from the Bishop of
Grenoble, in which it was stated, he had driven me from
his diocese ; that I had been convicted, in the presence of
Father Richebrac, then Prior of the Benedictines of St.
Robert of Grenoble, of horrible things, although I had
letters from the Bishop of Grenoble since my return, which
proved quite the contrary, and which showed the esteem he

310 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
had for me. I wrote to Father Richebrac. Here is the
answer I received : —
" Madame, "Is it possible that it should be necessary to
seek me in my solitude in order to fabricate a calumny
against you, and that they made me the instrument of it ?
I never thought what they put in my mouth, nor of making
the complaints of which they pretend I am the author. I
declare, on the contrary, and I have already many times
declared, that I have never heard of you anything but
what is very Christian and very honourable. I should
have taken good care not to see you, Madame, if I had
believed you capable of saying what I would not dare to
write, and what the Apostle forbids us to name. If it is,
however, necessary in your justification I should name it,
I will do it on the first notice, and I will distinctly say : there
is absolutely nothing of the kind ; that is to say, I have
never heard you say anything similar nor anything which
has the least resemblance to it ; and, for my part, I have
said nothing which could lead any one to believe I had heard
it of you. They have already written to me on the subject,
and I have already given the same answer. I would do it a
thousand times more if I was asked a thousand times.
Two stories arc mixed up, which should not be confounded.
I know that of the girl who retracted ; and you, for your
part, know, Madame, the part I took in the business with
the Prelate — simply through zeal for the truth, and not to
wound my conscience by a cowardly silence. I then spoke
freely, and I am ready to do the same, if God at present
requires it of me, as then he did. I shall believe he
requires it if I am asked. But what shall I say more
precise than what I say here ? Nevertheless, if anything
more is necessary, take the trouble to inform me. I will
render testimony to the truth. It is in this disposition

Chap. XVIIL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 311
I am, sincerely in our Lord, while asking your prayers to
him, "F. RiOHBBRAO.
"Blois, April 14, 1695."
The Bishop of Grenoble wrote, at the same time, to the
person who had set going that pretended letter [it was the
Cure of St. James of Haut-pas] in a manner to make him
feel how indignant he was that he should be put forth aS
the author of such calumnies. In fact, how would it be
possible to reconcUe the horrors it imputed to me at the
time of my sojourn at Grenoble, with the letters he had
written in my favour to his brothers at Paris, to recommend
my interests to them, more than a year after I had left his
diocese. Here is the copy of that which was for the Civil
Lieutenant, that he sent in the letter he did me the honour
to write me : —
" I could not refuse to the virtue and the piety of
Madame de la Mothe Guyon the recommendation she
asks to you, Sir, in favour of her family, in a business
which is before you. I should have some scruples if I did
not know the uprightness of her intentions and your
integrity : therefore permit me to solicit you to do her all
the justice which is due to her. I ask it with all the
cordiality with which I am yours,
"Cardinal Camus.
"Grenoble, Jan. 25, 1688."
Here is the letter he wrote me : —
" Madame, " I should wish to have, more often than I have,
opportunities of letting you know how dear to me are
your interests, temporal and spiritual. I bless God that
you have approved the counsels I have given you for these
latter. I omit nothing to engage the Civil Lieutenant to
render you the justice which is due to you for the former.

312 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
Praying you to believe you will always find me disposed to
prove to you by everything that I am truly, Madame,
" Your affectionate servant,
" Cardinal Camus."
" Grenoble, January 28, 1688."
Yet nothing contributed more to the general defaming
than that other pretended letter of the Bishop of Grenoble.
For how contradict a testimony such as that of the Cure
of St. James, so well known at that time by his connection
with a great number of persons of merit, to whom he had
given a copy of that letter, so that in fifteen days' time all
Paris was full of it ! The Bishop of Meaux, who had a
copy like the rest, was strangely surprised at the answer
of Father de Richebrac, as weU as at the letters of the
Bishop of Grenoble, which I let him see. He protested
against the blackness of the calumny. He had good
moments, which were afterwards destroyed by the persons
who urged him against me, and by his self-interest. A
Cure of Paris made out another very terrible and very
ridiculous story. He went to the house of a person of the
highest rank, and, speaking of me, he said I had taken
away a woman from her husband, a person of position,
and had made her marry her Cure. He was strongly
pressed to say how that could be done. He persisted still,
that nothing was more true. That gentleman and his
wife no longer doubted, and immediately told one of their
friends, who went to see them, and who knew me. The
thing at first appeared to him incredible ; but they main
tained so strongly the Cure had assured them of it, that he
had the curiosity to clear up the matter, firmly determined
never to see me again if the thing was so. He went to see
that Cure. He questioned him about me, and pressed him
closely. At last the Cure said to him, I was capable of
that, and even worse. This gentleman said to him,
" But, Sir, I do not ask you what she is capable of You

Chap. XVHL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 313
do not know her. But I ask you if it is true she has done
that ? " He said no, but I was capable of doing worse.
The Cure had never seen me, so this judgment was
astonishing. At last it turned out that it was in Auvergne
the thing had happened. I believe he even said it was
forty years ago. This strangely astonished those to whom
he had related the fable, when they had learned its false
hood. I wonder how they could have credited it.
Yet another stratagem was practised ; this was, to send
to confession to all the Cures and confessors of Paris a
wicked woman, who assumed the name of one of my maids.
This woman was La Gautiere. She confessed to several
in a single day, in order to let none escape. She told
them she had served me sixteen or seventeen years, but
she had left me, being unable in conscience to live with such
a wicked woman ; that she had left me owing to my abomi
nations. In less than eight days I was decried through
all Paris, and I passed, without contradiction, for the most
wicked person in the world. Those who so spoke believed
themselves well informed, and that they knew it from a
very reliable source. It happened that the maid who
served me was at confession to a canon of Notre Dame.
She spoke to him ! the troubles that were caused to her
mistress, who was, she said, very innocent. The Canon
begged her to tell him her name. She told it to him. He
replied, " You astonish me, for a person who does not in
the least resemble you, has come here saying she is you,
and has told me horrible things." She disabused him, and
showed him the blackness of that procedure. The same
thing happened to four or five others. But could she
disabuse aU the confessors ? And I never would suffer her
to use confession to make known the truth, leaving every
thing to God, and not wishing to lose any of the crosses or
humiliations he has himself chosen for me. In the midst
of so many contradictions, I have not been without illness
and very acute pain.

314 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
I was, then, all the time from my arrival at Meaux to
Easter without seeing the Bishop, who returned from Paris
only for that festival. I was still very iU. He came into
my room, and the first thing he said to me was, that I had
many enemies, and that everything was let loose against
me. He brought me the articles composed at Issi. I
asked him the explanation of some passages, and I signed
them. I was much more ill afterwards. He came back
the day of the Annunciation, which had been put back
after Easter. I have a very great devotion to the In-
carnfxte Word, and while the nuns were finishing the
burning of a triangular candle before an image I had of
the Child Jesus, as they were singing a musical motet,
the Bishop of Meaux entered. He asked what was the
meaning of the music in my closet. They answered, that,
as I had a very great devotion to the Incarnate Word,
I had given them a treat that day, and they were come
to thank me, and sing the motet in honour of the Incarnate
Word. They were hardly out of my chamber, when he
came to my bed, and said to me that he wished me to sign
immediately that I did not believe in the Incarnate Word.
Several nuns who were in the antechamber near my door
heard him. I was greatly astonished at such a proposi
tion. I told him I could not sign falsehoods. He answered,
he would make me do it. I answered him, that I knew
how to suffer by the grace of God ; I knew how to die ;
I did not know how to sign falsehoods. He answered,
that he begged me, and if I did that, he would re-estabUsh
my reputation, which they were endeavouring to tear to
pieces ; that he would say of me all the good in the world.
I replied, that it was for God to take care of my reputation
if he approved of it, and for me to sustain my faith at the
peril of my life. Seeing he gained nothing, he withdrew.
I am under this obUgation to Mother Picard and the
Community, that they gave him the most favourable testi
mony about me. Here is one they gave me in writing : —

Chap. XVIU.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 315
" We the undersigned, Superior and nuns of the Visita
tion of St. Mary of Meaux, certify, that Madame Guyon
having lived in our House by the order and permission of
the Bishop of Meaux, our illustrious Prelate and Superior,
for the space of six months, she has not given us any
cause for trouble or annoyance, but much of edification ;
having never spoken to a person within or without except
with special permission ; having, besides, neither received
nor written anything except as the Bishop has permitted
her ; having observed in all her conduct and all her words a
great regularity, simplicity, sincerity, humility, mortifica
tion, sweetness, and Christian patience, and a true devotion
and esteem of all that is of the faith, especially in the
mystery of the Incarnation and Holy Childhood of our Lord
Jesus Christ. That if the said lady wished to choose our
House to live there the rest of her days in retirement, our
Community would deem it a favour and gratification.
This protest is simple and sincere, without other view or
thought than to bear witness to the truth.
" (Signed) Sister Franjois Elizabeth le Pioabd, Superior.
" Sister Magdalen Amy Gueton.
" Sister Claude Marie Amouri.
" July 7, 1695."
When they spoke to the Bishop of Meaux of me, he
answered, " Just as you, I see in her nothing but good ;
but her enemies torment me, and want to find evil in her."
He wrote one day to Mother Picard, that he had examined
my writings with great care ; that he had not found in
them anything except some terms which were not in all
the strictness of theology ; but that a woman was not
bound to be a theologian. Mother Picard showed me that
letter to console me, and I swear before God I write nothing
but what is perfectly true.

316 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.

CHAPTER XIX.
Some days afterwards the Bishop of Meaux returned. He
brought me a paper written by himself, which was only a
profession of faith, that I had always been Catholic,
Apostolic, and Roman, and a submission of my books to the
Church, — a thing I would have done of myself, had it not
been asked of me. And then he read me another, which he
said he must give me. It was a certificate such as he gave
me long afterwards, and even more favourable. As I was
too ill to transcribe that submission in his writing, he told
me to have it transcribed by a nun, and to sign it. He
took away his certificate to have it copied clean, as he
said ; and he assured me that, when I gave him the one,
he would give me the other ; that he vnshed to treat me as
his sister ; and that he would be a knave if he did not do
so. This straightforward procedure charmed me. I told
him I had placed myself in his hands, not only as in
the hands of the Bishop, but as in those of a man of
honour. Who would not have thought he would have
carried it all out ?
I was so ill after his departure, from having spoken a
Uttle when I was extremely weak, that I had to be brought
back with cordial waters. The Prioress, fearing that if he
returned the next day it would kill me, begged him by
writing to leave me that day quiet ; but he would not.
On the contrary, he came that very day, and asked me if

Chap. XIX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 317
I had signed the writing he had left me ; and, opening a
blue portfolio which had a lock, he said to me, " Here is
my certificate ; where is your submission ? " While saying
this, he held in his hand a paper. I showed him my sub
mission, which was on ,my bed, and that I had not the
strength to give it to him. He took it. I did not doubt he
was about to give me his writing ; but nothing of the kind.
He shut up the whole in his portfolio, and said he would
give me nothing ; that I was not at the end ; that he
was about to torment me more, and that he wanted other
signatures — among others this, that I did not believe in
the Incarnate Word. I remained without strength and
without speech. He ran away. The nuns were shocked
at such a trick ; for nothing obliged him to promise me
a certificate. I had not asked him. It was then I made
the protestations, which are initialled by a notary of
Meaux; I asked for him, under pretext of making my
will. Some time after, the Prelate again came to see me. He
required me to sign his pastoral letter, and to acknowledge
I had held the errors therein condemned. I endeavoured to
make him see, that what I had given him comprehended
every kind of submission, and although in that letter he
had placed me in the rank of evil-doers, I was endeavouring
to honour that state of Jesus Christ without complaining.
He said to me, " But you have promised to submit your
self to my condemnation." " I do it with all my heart,
Monseigneur," 1 answered him ; " and I take no more
interest in those little books than if I had not written them.
I will never depart, if it pleases God, from the submission
and respect I owe you, however things turn. But Mon
seigneur, you have promised me a discharge." " I will
give it to you when you do what I wish," he said to me.
" Monseigneur, you did me the honour to tell me that when
I gave you signed that act of submission you had dictated
to me, you would give me my discharge." " Those are,"

318 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
said he, "words which escaped before having maturely con
sidered what one can and ought to do." " It is not to make
complaint that I say this to you, Monseigneur, but to bring
to your memory that you promised it to me ; and, to show
you my submission, I am willing to write at the foot of
your pastoral whatever I can put there." After I had
done this, and he had read it, he said that he liked it
well enough. Then, after having put it in his pocket, he
said to me, " That is not the question. You do not say
you are formally a heretic, and I wish you to declare it, and
also that the letter is very just, and that you acknowledge to
have been in all the errors it condemns." I answered him,
" I beUeve, Monseigneur, it is to try me you say this ; for
I shall never persuade myself that a Prelate so full of piety
and honour would use the good faith with which I have
come and placed myself in his diocese, to make me do
things I cannot do in conscience. I have thought to
find in you a Father. I conjure you that I may not be
deceived in my expectation." " I am Father of the
Church," he said to me, " but, in short, it is not a question
of words. If you do not sign what I wish, I will come
with witnesses, and, after having admonished you before
them, I will accuse you to the Church, and we will cut you
off, as it is said in the gospel." " Monseigneur," I answered,
" I have only my God for a witness. I am prepared to
suffer everything, and I hope God will give me the grace to
do nothing contrary to my conscience, without departing
ever from the respect I owe you." He further wished, in
the same conversation, to oblige me to declare that I
recognized there are errors in the Latin book of Father La
Combe, and to declare, at the same time, I had not read it.
The worthy nuns who saw part of the violence and
outburst of the Bishop of Meaux could not get over it, and
Mother Picard said to me that my too great gentleness
emboldened him to ill treat me ; because his character was
such, that he ordinarily behaved thus to quiet people, and

Chap. XIX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 319
bent to haughty persons. However, I never changed my
conduct, and I preferred to accept the role of suffering,
than to deviate in anything from the respect I owed his
character. I am confident that all the persons who have
known that I had been to Meaux have believed two things
equally false: the one, that I was there by the King's
order, whUe it was of my own accord; the other, that
during the six months I was there the Bishop of Meaux
had interrogated me at different times, to learn my
thought upon the inner life, what was my manner of
prayer, or on the love of God. Nothing of the kind. He
has never spoken to me on these things. When he came,
it was, he said, my enemies who told him to torment me ;
that he was satisfied with me. At other times he came
full of fury, to demand that signature he well knew I
would not give him. He threatened me with all that has
since been done. He did not intend, he said, to lose his
fortune for me ; and a thousand other things. After these
explosions he returned to Paris, and was some time
without again coming.
At last, having been about six months at Meaux, he
gave me of himself a certificate, and no longer demanded
from me any other signature. What is astonishing is, that,
at the time he was most excited against me, he said that
if I wished to come and live in his diocese he would be
pleased ; that he wished to write upon the inner life, and
that God had given me upon this very certain lights. He
had seen that Ufe of which he has so much spoken. He
never told me he found anything to object to therein. All
this has happened only since I ceased to see him ; or he
has seen in that life which he no longer had, what he had
not seen when he was reading it. Shortly before I left
Meaux, he told the Bishop of Paris and the Archbishop
of Sens how satisfied he was, and edified by me. He
preached to us on the day of the Visitation of the Virgin,
which is one of the principal festivals of this convent. He

320 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
there said the Mass, and wished me to communicate from
his hand. In the middle of the Mass he gave an astonish
ing sermon on the inner life. He advanced things much
stronger than those I have advanced. He said he was not
master of himself in the midst of these awful mysteries ;
he was obliged to speak the truth, and not to dissimu
late; that it must be that this avowal of the truth was
necessary, since God compelled him to make it in spite
of himself. The Prioress went to salute him after his
sermon, and asked him how he could torment me, thinking
as he did. He answered her it was not he, it was my
enemies. A little after, I left Meaux; but my departure
has been related with so much malignity, that I must
explain all the circumstances.
As I had been six months at Meaux, where I had
promised to remain only three, and, besides, my health was
very bad, I asked the Bishop of Meaux if he was satisfied,
and if he desired anything more of me. He answered,
"No." I told him I would go away then, because I had
need of visiting Bourbon. I asked him if he would be
pleased that I should come to end my days among those
good nuns ; for they loved me much, and I loved them,
although the air was very bad for me. He was very well
pleased at it, and told me he would always receive me
gladly; that the nuns were very satisfied and edified by
me; that he was returning to Paris. I told him my
daughter, or some ladies of my friends, would come to
fetch me. He turned to the Prioress, and said to her,
" My Mother, I pray you to receive those who come to
fetch madame, whether it be her daughter or her friends ;
to let them sleep and lodge in your house, and keep them
there as long as they wish." It is well known how sub
missive are those nuns of St. Mary to their Bishop, and
their exactitude to follow to the letter whatever he orders
them, without the least variation. Two ladies then came
to fetch me. They arrived for dinner. They dined.

Chap. XIX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 321
supped, and slept, and dined again the next day at the
convent ; then, about three o'clock, we set out.
Hardly had I arrived when the Bishop of Meaux re
pented having let me go out of his diocese. What made
him change, as we have since known, is that, when he
gave an account to Madame de Maintenon of the terms in
which this affair was concluded, she let him know she was
dissatisfied with the attestation he had given me : that it
concluded nothing, and would even have a contrary effect
to what was proposed, which was to undeceive the persons
who were favourably disposed to me. He believed then,
in losing me, he was losing all the hopes with which he
had flattered himself. He wrote to me to return to his
diocese, and I received at the same time a letter from the
Prioress, that he was more resolved than ever to torment
me ; that, whatever desire she had to have me again, she
was obliged to let me know the sentiments of the Bishop
of Meaux conformable to what I knew. What I knew is,
that he was building a lofty fortune upon persecuting me,
and, as he aimed at a person far above me, he thought
that, in my escaping him, everything escaped him.
Mother Picard, in sending me the letter of which I have
just spoken, sent me a new attestation of the Bishop
of Meaux, so different from the former which he wished
me to return, that I judged henceforth I had no justice to
expect from the Prelate. He had written to her to take
back the first attestation, and to give me the latter ; and, if
I had set out from Meaux, she should at once send it to
me, in order he might have back the former which he had
given me. The Mother, who clearly saw by past treatment
what I should be exposed to, if I again fell into the hands
of the Bishop of Meaux, let me sufficiently understand it
by her letter, to decide me to avoid for the future all
discussion with him. However, to observe with him all
the rules of politeness from which I have never departed
(without complaining of a procedure so peculiar and so
VOL. II. Y

322 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
full of injustice), I answered the Mother Superior, that
I had made over to my family what the Bishop of Meaux
asked back ; that, after all that had passed, they had such
an interest in a document of that nature, which consti
tuted my justification, it was unlikely they would part
with it ; the more so, as that which she sent me from the
Prelate not only served nothing for my justification, but
seemed to countenance all that had been said against me,
while saying nothing to the contrary.
Here is the copy of the said first attestation : —
"We, Bishop of Meaux, certify to all whom it may
concern, that, by means of the declarations and submission
of Madame Guyon which we have before us subscribed with
her hand, and the prohibitions accepted by her with
submission, of writing, teaching, dogmatizing in the
Church, or of spreading her books printed or manuscript,
or of conducting souls in the ways of prayer, or otherwise :
together with the good testimony that has been furnished
us during six months that she is in our diocese and in the
convent of St. Mary, we are satisfied with her conduct, and
have continued to her the participation of the Holy
Sacraments in which we have found her : we declare,
besides, we have not found her implicated in any way in
the abominations of Molinos or others elsewhere con
demned, and we have not intended to comprehend her in
the mention which has been made by us of them in our
Ordinance of April 6, 1695 : given at Meaux, July 1, 1695.
" F. Benigne, Bishop of Meaux."
Here is the copy of the second : —
" We, Bishop of Meaux, have received the present sub
missions and declarations of the said Dame Guyon, as well
that of the 16th of April, 1695, as that of the 1st of July of
the same year, and we have delivered her a certificate of
it to avail her what is proper, declaring we have always

Chap. XIX] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 323
received her and receive her without objection in the
participation of the Holy Sacraments in which we have
found her, as the submission and sincere obedience, both
before and since the time she is in our diocese and in the
Convent of St. Mary, together with the authentic declaration
of her faith and the testimony which has been furnished us
and is furnished us of her good conduct for the six months
she has been at the said convent, required it. We have
enjoined her to make at suitable times the requests and
other acts we have marked in the said articles by her
subscribed as essential to piety and expressly commanded
by God, without any believer being able to dispense with
them under pretext of other acts pretended more perfect or
eminent, or other pretexts whatever they be, and we have
given her repeated prohibitions, both as Diocesan Bishop and
in virtue of the obedience she has promised us voluntarily
as above, of writing, teaching, or dogmatizing in the
Church, or of spreading abroad her books printed or
manuscript, or conducting souls in the ways of prayer, or
otherwise, to which she has submitted anew, declaring she
executed the said deeds. Given at Meaux, at the said
convent, the day and year as above.
"F. Benigne, Bishop of Meaux."
One can judge, from the vivacity of the Bishop of Meaux
and the hopes he had conceived, of the effect which such a
refusal produced on him. He gave out, I had climbed
over the walls of the convent to fly. Besides that I climb
very badly, all the nuns were witnesses of the contrary :
yet this has had such a currency many people still believe
it. A procedure of that kind no longer aUowed me to
abandon myself to the discretion of the Bishop of Meaux,
and, as I was informed they were about to push things to
the utmost violence, I believed I should leave to God aU that
might happen and yet take all prudent steps to avoid the
effect of the menaces that reached me from all sides. I had

324 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
many places of retreat ; but I would not accept any, in order
not to embarrass any one and not to involve my friends
and my family, to whom my escape might be ascribed. I
took the resolution of not leaving Paris, of remaining
there in some retired place with my women, and withdraw
ing myself from the sight of all the world. I remained in
this way about flve or six months. I passed the days alone,
in reading, praying God, and working : but, towards the end
of the year 1695, I was arrested, ill as I was, and con
ducted to Vincennes. I was three days in seclusion in
the house of M. des Grez, who had arrested me, because
the King, full of justice and kindness, would not consent to
put me in prison, saying many times, a convent was
sufficient. They deceived his justice by the most violent
calumnies, and painted me to his eyes with colours so black
as even to make him ashamed of his goodness and of
his equity. He consented then I should be taken to
Vincennes.

Chap. XX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

325

CHAPTER XX.
I WILL not speak here of that long persecution, which has
made so much noise, through a succession of ten years of
prisons of all kinds, and of an exile almost as long, which is
not yet finished, by trials, calumnies, and all imaginable
kinds of sufferings. There are facts too odious on the
part of divers persons, which charity makes me cover (and
it is in this sense charity covers a multitude of sins), and
others on the part of those who, having been seduced by
ill-intentioned persons, are for me respectable through their
piety and other reasons, although they have showed too
bitter a zeal for things of which they had no true knowledge.
I am silent as to the one, through respect ; as to the other,
through charity. What I may say is that through so
long a series of crosses, with which my life has been filled,
it may be conceived the greatest were reserved for the end,
and that God, who has not cast me off through his kind
ness, took care not to leave the end of my life without a
greater conformity with Jesus Christ. He was dragged
before all sorts of tribunals : he has done me the favour
to be the same. He suffered the utmost outrages without
complaining: he has shown me the mercy of behaving
similarly. How could I have done otherwise in the view
he gave me of his love and of his goodness? In this
resemblance to Jesus Christ I regarded as favours what
the world regarded as strange persecutions. The inward

326 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
peace and joy prevented me from seeing the most violent
persecutors other than as instruments of the justice of
my God, who has always been to me so adorable and so
amiable. I was then in prison as in a place of delight
and refreshment ; that general privation of all creatures
giving me more opportunity of being alone with God, and
the want of things which appear most necessary making
me taste an exterior poverty I could not have otherwise
tasted. Thus I have regarded all those great apparent
ills, and that universal defamation, as the greatest of all
blessings. It seemed to me it was the work of God's
hand, who wished to cover his tabernacle with the skins of
beasts to conceal it from the eyes of those to whom he was
not willing to manifest it.
I have borne mortal debility, overwhelming, crushing,
and painful illnesses without treatment. God, not con
tent with that, abandoned me spiritually to the greatest
desolations for some months, so that I could only say
these single words : " My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me ? " It was at that time I was led to take the
part of God against myself, and to practise all the aus
terities I could think of: seeing God and all creatures
against me, I was delighted to be on their side against
myself. How could I complain of what I have suffered
with a love so detached from all own interest. Should
I now be interested for myself, after having made such
an entire sacrifice of that "me," and all that concerns it?
I prefer, then, to consecrate all those sufferings by silence.
If God permitted, for his glory, one day something of
them to be known, I would adore his judgments ; but as
for me, my part is taken in that which regards me per
sonally. With regard to prayer, I must always protest of the
truth of its ways. I have defended my innocence with
sufficient firmness and truth to leave no doubt in the
public mind that the calumnies which are circulated

Chap XX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 327
against persons whose prayer is genuine and love sincere,
are false, and the talk of their calumniators rash, and
contrary to all kinds of truth and justice. The more
violent the calumny, the more the heart which loves God
and whose conscience reproaches it with nothing, is happy
and content. It seems that the persecution and the
calumny is a weight which sinks the soul still deeper in
God, and makes her taste an inestimable happiness.
What matters to her that all creatures are let loose
against her, when she is perfectly alone with her God,
and she gives him a solid testimony of her love ? For
when God heaps benefits upon us, it is he who gives us
marks of his own. But when we suffer what is a thou
sand times more terrible than death, we give him testi
monies of the fidelity of ours. So, as there is no other
means of testifying to God we love him but in bearing
for his love the most terrible troubles, we are infinitely
indebted to him when he gives us the means.
But, perhaps there will be surprise that, not being
wiUing to write any detaU of the most severe crosses of
my life, I have written of those which are far less. I have
had certain reasons for doing so. I have believed myself
bound to touch on some of the crosses of my youth, to
make known the course of crucifixion that God has always
led me by. As to those other passages which relate to
a more advanced state of my life: since the calumnies
did not concern me alone, I have felt obliged in conscience
to give detaUs of certain facts to expose not only their
falsity, but also the conduct of those through whom they
have originated, and who are the true authors of those
persecutions, of which I have only been the accidental
object ; particularly in these latter times, since in reality
I have been persecuted in this way only to involve therein
persons of great merit, who were out of reach by them
selves, and could be attacked personaUy only by mixing
up their affairs with mine. I have thought, then, I should

328 MADAME GUYON. [Part HI.
enlarge a little more in detail on what had relation to that
class of facts : and the more so, that the question being
of my faith, which they wished for that purpose to render
suspected, it appeared to me of consequence to make known,
at the same time, how far I have always been from the
sentiments they wish to impute to me. I have thought
it due to religion, to piety, to my friends, to my family, and
to myself: but as to personal iU treatments, I have felt
bound to sacrifice them, to sanctify them by a profound
silence, as I have already said.
I shall only cursorily say something of the dispositions
in which I have been at the different times of my imprison
ment. During the time I was at Vincennes and M. de la
Reinie interrogated me, I continued in great peace, very
content to pass my life there, if such was the will of God.
I used to compose hymns, which the maid who served me
learned by heart as fast as I composed them ; and we used
to sing your praise, 0 my God ! I regarded myself as a
little bird you were keeping in a cage for your pleasure,
and who ought to sing to fulfil her condition of life. The
stones of my tower seemed to me rubies : that is to say,
I esteemed them more than all worldly magnificence. My
joy was based on your love, 0 my God, and on the
pleasure of being your captive; although I made these
refiections only when composing hymns. The central
depth of my heart was full of that joy which you give
to those who love you, in the midst of the greatest crosses.
This peace was spoiled for some moments by an
infidelity I committed. It was considering beforehand,
one day, the answers that I should make to an interroga
tion that I was to be subjected to the next day. I
answered to it all astray ; and God, so faithful, who had
made me answer difficult and perplexed matters with much
facility and presence of mind, knew how to punish me
for my forethought. He permitted that I could with
difficulty answer the most simple things, and that I

Chap. XX.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 329
remained almost without knowing what to say. This
infidelity, I say, spoiled my peace for some days; but it
soon returned, and I believe, my Lord, that you permitted
this fault only to make me see the uselessness of our
arrangements on such occasions, and the security in
trusting ourselves to you. Those who still depend upon
human reasoning will say, we must look beforehand and
arrange ; and that it is to tempt God and to expect
miracles, to act otherwise. I let others think what they
please ; for me, I find security only in abandoning myself
to the Lord. All scripture is full of testimonies which
demand this abandonment. " Make over your trouble
to the hand of the Lord: he will act himself. Abandon
yourself to his conduct : and he will himself conduct your
steps." God has not meant to set snares for us in telling
us this, and in teaching us not to premeditate our answers.
When things were carried to the greatest extremity (I
was then in the Bastille), and I learned the defaming and
horrible outcry against me, I said to you, 0 my God, "If
you desire to render me a new spectacle to men and
angels, your holy will be done. All that I ask of you
is, that you save those who are yours, and do not permit
them to separate themselves. Let not the powers, prin
cipalities, sword, etc., ever separate us from the love of
God which is in Jesus Christ. For my own case, what
matters it to me what men think of me ? What matters
it what they make me suffer^ since they cannot separate
me from Jesus Christ, who is implanted in the depth of
my heart. If I displease Jesus Christ, though I should
please all men, it would be less to me than the dirt." Let
all men, therefore, despise and hate me, provided I am
agreeable to him. Their blows will polish what is defective
in me, in order that I may be presented to him for whom
I die every day until he comes to consume that death.
And I prayed you, 0 my God, to make me an offering
pure and clean in your blood, to be soon offered to you.

330 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
Sometimes it seemed God placed himself on the side of
men to make me the more suffer. I was then more
exercised within than from outside. Everything was
against me. I saw all men united to torment me and
surprise me — every artifice and every subtility of the
intellect of men who have much of it, and who studied
to that end ; and I alone without help, feeling upon me
the heavy hand of God, who seemed to abandon me to
myself and my own obscurity; an entire abandonment
within, without being able to help myself with my natural
intellect, whose entire vivacity was deadened this long
time since I had ceased to make use of it, in order to
allow myself to be led by a superior intellect; having
laboured aU my life to submit my mind to Jesus Christ
and my reason to his guidance. During this time I could
not help myself, either with my reason, or any interior
support ; for I was like those who have never experienced
that admirable guidance from the goodness of God, and
who have not natural intellect. When I prayed I had
only answers of death. At this time that passage of
David occurred to me : " When they persecuted me, I
afflicted my soul by fasting." I practised then, as long
as my health allowed it, very rigorous fasts and austere
penances, but all this seemed to me like burned straw.
One moment of God's conducting is a thousand times
more helpful.

Chap. XXL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 331

CHAPTER XXI.
As my life has always been consecrated to the cross, no
sooner had I left prison, and my mind began to breathe
again, after so many trials, than the body was over
whelmed with all sorts of infirmities, and I have had
almost continual illnesses, which brought me to death's
door. In these latter times I am able to say little or nothing
of my dispositions, because my state has become simple
and invariable. The root of that state is a profound
annihUation, so that I find nothing in me that can be
named. All that I know is, that God is infinitely holy,
just, good, happy: that he includes in himself all good,
and I, all wretchedness. I see nothing lower than me,
nor anything more unworthy than me. I recognize
that God has given me graces capable of saving a
world, and that perhaps I have paid all with ingrati'
tude. I say, "perhaps," because nothing subsists in me,
good or ill. The good is in God. I have for my share
only the nothing. What can I say of a state always the
same, without forethought or variation ; for the dryness, if
I have it, is the same to me as a state the most satisfying.
All is lost in the immensity, and I can neither will nor
think. It is like a little drop of water sunk in the sea ; not
only is it surrounded by it, but absorbed. In that divine

332 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
immensity the soul no longer sees herself, but in God she
discovers the objects, without discerning them, otherwise
than by the taste of the heart. All is darkness and
obscurity as regards her ; all is light on the part of God,
who does not allow her to be ignorant of anything ; whUe
she knows not what she knows, nor how she knows it.
There is there neither clamour, nor pain, nor trouble, nor
pleasure, nor uncertainty ; but a perfect peace : not in her
self, but in God; no interest for herself, no recollection
of or occupation with herself. This is what God is in
that creature : as to her, abjectness, weakness, poverty,
without her thinking either of her abjectness or her
dignity. If one believes any good in me, he is mistaken,
and does wrong to God. All good is in him, and for him.
If I could have a satisfaction, it is from this, that HE IS
WHAT HE IS, and that HE WILL BE IT ALWAYS. If he
saves me, it will be gratuitously ; for I have neither merit
nor dignity.
I am astonished that any confidence can be felt in this
" nothing." I have said it ; yet I answer what is asked me
without troubling myself whether I answer well or ill. If
I say ill, I am not at all surprised ; if I say well, I do not
think of attributing it to myself. I go without going,
without forethought, without knowing where I go. I wish
neither to go, nor to stop myself. The will and instincts
have disappeared ; poverty and nakedness is my portion.
I have neither confidence nor distrust, nor in short any
thing, anything, anything. If obliged to think in myself, I
should probably mislead everybody, and I know neither how
I mislead them, nor what I do to mislead them. There
are times I would, at the peril of a thousand lives, that God
should be known and loved. I love the Church. All that
wounds her, wounds me. I fear everything which is con
trary to her ; but I cannot give a name to that fear. It is
like an infant at the breast, who, without distinguishing
monsters, turns away from them. I do not seek anytlnng;

Chap. XX1,J AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 333
but there are given me at the instant expressions and words
very forcible. If I wished to have them they would escape
me, and if I wished to recall them, the same. When I have
anything to say and I am interrupted, everything is lost. I
am then like a child, from whom an apple is taken away
without his perceiving it. He seeks it, and no longer finds
it. I am vexed for a moment at its being taken from
me ; but I immediately forget it. God keeps me in an
extreme simplicity, uprightness of heart, and largeness ; so
that I do not perceive these things except in the occasions :
for without an occasion stirring it I do not see anything.
If one said anything to my advantage, I should be surprised,
not finding anything in myself. If one blames me the
only thing I know is, I am the same abjectness, but I do
not see what they blame there. I believe it without seeing
it, and everything disappears. If I am made to reflect
upon myself, I do not recognize there any good. I see
all good in God. I know he is the principle of all, and,
without him, I am only a fool.
He gives me a free air, and makes me converse with
persons, not according to my dispositions, but according to
what they are, giving me even natural cleverness with
those who have it ; and that, with an air so free, they go
away pleased. There are certain devotees whose language
is for me a stammering. I do not fear the snares they
spread for me. I am not on my guard for anything, and
everything goes well. I am sometimes told, "Take care
what you will say to So-and-so." I forget it immediately,
and I cannot take care. Sometimes I am told, "You
have said such-and-such a thing : those persons may put
an ill interpretation on it. You are too simple." I believe
it, but I cannot do otherwise than be simple. 0 carnal
prudence, how opposed I find thee to the simplicity of
Jesus Christ ! I leave thee to thy partisans : as for me,
my prudence, my wisdom, is Jesus, simple and little ; and
though I should be Queen by changing my conduct, I

334 MADAME GUYON. [Part IIL
could not do it. Though my simplicity should cause me all
the troubles in the world, I could not leave it.
Nothing greater than God : nothing more little than I.
He is rich : I am very poor. I do not want for anything.
I do not feel need of anything. Death, life, all is alike.
Eternity, time : all is eternity, all is God. God is Love,
and Love is God, and all in God, and for God. You would
as soon extract light from darkness, as anything from
this " nothing." It is a chaos without confusion. All
species are outside of the "nothing," and the "nothing "
does not admit them : thoughts only pass, nothing stops.
I cannot say anything to order. What I have written,
or said, is gone : I remember it no more. It is for me
as if from another person. I cannot wish either justifica
tion or esteem. If God wills either one or the other, he
will do what he shall please. It does not concern me.
That he may glorify himself by my destruction, or by re-
estabUshing my reputation, the one and the other is alike
in the balance.
My children, I do not wish to mislead you, or not to
mislead you. It is for God to enlighten you, and to give
you distaste or inclination for this " nothing," who does
not leave her place. It is an empty beacon : one may
in it light a torch. It is perhaps a false light, which
may lead to the precipice. I know nothing of it. God
knows it. It is not my business. It is for you to discern
that. There is nothing but to extinguish the false light.
The torch will never light itself if God does not light it.
I pray God to enlighten you always to do only his will.
As for me, if you should trample me underfoot, you
would only do me justice. This is what I can say of a
" nothing " that I would wish, if I was able to wish, should
be eternally forgotten. If the " Life " was not written,
it would run a great chance of never being so ; and yet
I would rewrite it at the least signal, without knowing
why, nor what I wished to say.

Chap. XXL] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 335
Oh, my children, open your eyes to the light of truth !
Holy Father, sanctify them in your truth. I have told
them your truth, since I have not spoken of myself. Your
Divine Word has spoken to them by my mouth. He alone
is the truth. He has said to his Apostles, " I sanctify
myself for them." Say the same thing to my children.
Sanctify yourself in them and for them. But how reconcile
your words, 0 my Divine Word ? You say on the one
hand, " Sanctify them in your truth. Your word is truth."
On the other, " I sanctify myself for them." Oh, how well
these two things agree ! It is to be sanctified in the truth
of all sanctity, to have no other sanctity but that of Jesus
Christ. May he alone be holy in us and for us. He will
be holy in us when we shall be sanctified in his truth
by that experimental knowledge that to him alone belongs
aU sanctity, all justice, all strength, all greatness, all
power, all glory : and to us all poverty, weakness, etc. Let
us remain in our " nothing " through homage to the sanctity
of God, and we shall be sanctified and instructed by the
truth. Jesus Christ will be holy for us, and will be to
us everything. We shall find in him all that is deficient
in us. If we seek anything for ourselves out of him,
if we seek anything in us as ours, however holy it may
appear to us, we are liars, and the truth is not in us. We
seduce ourselves, and we shall never be the saints of the
Lord, who, having no other sanctity but his, have renounced
all usurpations, and at last then: entire SELFHOOD. Holy
Father, I have replaced in your hands those whom you
have given me. Guard them in your truth, that falsehood
may not approach them. It is to be in falsehood to
attribute to one's self the least thing. It is to be in false
hood to believe we are able to do anything: to hope
anything from one's self or for one's self : to believe we
possess anything. Make them know, 0 my God, that
herein is the truth of which you are very jealous. All
language which departs from this principle is falsity;

336 MADAME GUYON. [Part III.
he who approaches it, approaches the truth, but he who
speaks only the ALL OF GOD and the NOTHING OF THE
CREATURE is in the truth, and the truth dwells with him :
because, usurpation and the selfhood being banished from
him, it is of necessity the truth dwells there. My children,
receive this instruction from your mother, and it will
procure life for you. Receive it through her, not as from
her or hers, but as from God and God's. Amen, Jesus.
Conclusion.
I pray those who shall read this not to be angry against
the persons who, through a zeal perhaps too bitter, have
pushed things so far against a woman, and a woman so
submissive ; because, as Tauler says, " When God wishes
to purify a soul by suffering, he would for a time cast
into darkness and blindness an infinite number of holy
persons, in order they might prepare that vessel of election
by rash and disparaging judgments, that they would form
against her in that state of ignorance. But at last, after
having purified that vessel, he would sooner or later lift
the bandage from their eyes, not treating with rigour a
fault they would have committed through a secret leading
of his admirable providence. I say, further, that God
would sooner send an angel from heaven to dispose by
tribulations that chosen vessel than to leave her without
suffering." December, 1709.

THE END.

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