LVIII. To the Rev. Father Dom John de Saint François, General of the Order of Feuillants.

On St. Francis de Sales.[A]

Vive ✠ Jésus!

1624.

Alas! my Rev. Father, you command me to do what is beyond my capacity. The intimate knowledge that God has permitted me to acquire of the interior life of my blessed Father and Lord, and especially that with which He has favoured me since this holy man's decease (for the object being present somewhat, it seems to me, obscured the light), is, I feel, altogether beyond my deserts: and I confess to you quite frankly that I have no facility whatever in expressing myself. Yet to obey your Reverence and for the love and respect which I owe to the authority by which you command, I will write what comes to my mind in all simplicity, in the presence of God.

First, then, I have always observed in him the perfect gift of faith accompanied with great clearness, certitude, perception, and extreme suavity. It was a subject upon which he spoke admirably, and he once told me that God had bestowed upon him much light and knowledge of the mysteries of our holy faith, and he thought that he had a good grasp of the correct interpretation of the Church's teachings to her children. To this his life and writings bear witness.

God had so fully illuminated this holy soul, or, as he put it, shed so clear a light in the highest point of his soul, that he had, so to say, but to open the eyes of his spirit and the excellencies of the truths of faith lay before him, and from this proceeded raptures, ecstacies, and celestial ardours. He submitted himself to the truths thus unveiled to him by a simple yielding up of his will, and the place wherein these illuminations were centred he called "The Sanctuary of God." It was his place of retreat, his every day abode, for notwithstanding continual exterior occupation he held his spirit in this interior solitude as much as was possible. The one longing, the sole aspiration and desire of this holy man, it always seemed to me, was to live by faith and according to the maxims of the Gospel. He used to say that the true way to serve God was to follow Him and walk in His footsteps by the pure light of grace, without the support of consolations, of feeling, of light, other than that of bare faith, and for this reason he valued derelictions, desolation, and dryness of spirit. He never stopped, he said, to think whether or no he had consolations, and that if Our Lord sent them he received them in simplicity; if they were not given him he made no reflections about their loss. But as a matter of fact he usually had great sensible sweetness, as was betrayed by his countenance, however slightly he withdrew into himself, which he was in the habit of doing. Thus did he draw good out of all things, turning all to the profit of his soul. The time of preparation for his sermons, which he usually spent walking about, was one of special illumination for him. Study, he said, provided him with prayer, and he came from it enlightened and full of holy affections.

Several years ago he told me that he had no sensible devotion in prayer, and that God operated in him without feeling, but by sentiments and illuminations, which were diffused in the intellectual part of his soul, the inferior part having no share therein. These were for the most part perceptions and sensibilities of simple unity and heavenly emotions which he did not try to fathom: for his practice was to hold himself in humility and lowliness before God with the trustful reverence of a loving child.

When writing to me he has often asked me to remind him when we met to tell me what God had given him in prayer. When I did so he would say, "These things are so impalpable, so pure, so intangible, that one cannot explain them when they have passed, only their effects remain in the soul."

For several years before his decease there was left him little leisure for prayer, as business overwhelmed him, and one day when I asked him if he had any time for prayer, he said: "No, but I do what is the same." In such wise he held himself always united to God, saying that in this life work and labour are prayer. And most certainly his life was a continual prayer. Though, from what has been said, it is easy to believe that the delightful union of his soul with God in prayer was not his only enjoyment. Oh! indeed it was not, for however the will of God was presented to him he equally loved it. And in his last years he had, I believe, attained such purity in his love that all things were the same to him so long as he saw God's will in them. There was nothing in the world, as he used to say, that could give him any satisfaction out of God. Thus he lived, as was manifest to those who knew him, no more in himself but truly Jesus Christ lived in him. This universality in his love of the will of God was the more excellent and the purer by reason of the clear light which God diffused in his soul, and because of it his soul was neither subject to change nor to deception, and by it he perceived in himself the first movements of self-love which he faithfully suppressed the more perfectly to be united to God. He told me, that, sometimes in the depth of his greatest afflictions, he felt consolations beyond comparison more sweet than at ordinary times, for by means of this intimate union with God things most bitter became to him most sweet.

But, if your Reverence wishes to see clearly the state of this holy soul on these points, read, if you please, the three or four last chapters in the "Divine Love."[B] All his actions were animated with the sole motive of pleasing God, and truly (as he says in this sacred book) he asked nought of heaven nor of earth but to see the will of God accomplished. How many times has he not repeated over to me those words of David: "O! Lord, what have I in heaven, and besides Thee what do I desire on earth? Thou art my portion and my eternal inheritance." He lived on the principle that what was not God was nothing to him. His eminent virtue and that universal indifference which was remarked in him by all were the product of this perfect union. I never read those chapters which treat of it in the ninth book of "Divine Love" without seeing clearly that as occasions arose he practised what he taught.

That admirable but little known maxim, Ask for nothing, desire nothing, refuse nothing, which he faithfully carried out to the very end of his life, could not originate with one who was not entirely indifferent and dead to self. In regard to his actions such incomparable equality of mind did he possess that there was no changeableness in his attitude. He unquestionably felt keen resentment when subjected to rudeness or insult, above all when God was offended, or his neighbour oppressed; but on such occasions, as is mentioned in his memoirs, he exercised complete self-control and would retire into himself with God and remain silent. Yet he none the less set to work, and that promptly, to remedy the evil, for he was the refuge, the succour, the support of all.

Because he had acquired a perfect mastery of his passions, there reigned in his soul complete submission to God, and in his heart an imperturbable peace. "What is there that could disturb our peace?" he said to me at Lyons. "When all is in confusion around me it does not trouble me, for what is all the world besides in comparison with peace of heart?" This power was the outcome of his intense and virile faith, for he regarded all things, the least and the greatest, as ordained by that divine Providence in which he reposed with more tranquility than a child on its mother's bosom. He used to say that Our Lord taught him this lesson from his youth, and that if he could be born again he would despise human prudence more than ever, and would let himself be still more entirely governed by divine Providence. He had very great illumination on this subject, and conveyed it forcibly to the souls he counselled and governed. All the undertakings God committed to him he placed under the protection of this supreme government, and never was he more certain of an affair or more content amidst vicissitudes than when he had no other support than God. On the contrary, when human prudence foresaw the impossibility of the execution of a design his firm confidence in God alone remained unshaken. Therefore did he live without solicitude. I remarked this to him when he had made up his mind to establish our Congregation, and he replied: "I have no light as to how to do it, but I am sure that God will do it"; and so it came about, and that far more quickly than he anticipated. Speaking of this confidence in God, I remember once many years ago, when attacked with a violent temptation, which he bravely resisted, he wrote to me: "I feel very much under its pressure. It seems to me that I have no strength to resist and that I should succumb if the occasion were presented to me, but the weaker I feel the more do I trust in God, and I assure myself that were the object to present itself, I should be invested with the power of God, and that my enemies would be as lambkins before me."

Our Saint was not exempt from the stirrings of passions nor did he wish nor think it desirable to be so. Except for the purpose of governing and checking them, which he said gave him pleasure, they were disregarded by him; and he looked upon them as excellent opportunities for practising virtue and establishing it more solidly in the soul. His own were so absolutely under his control that they obeyed him as slaves, and in the end hardly showed themselves at all. His was a manifestly bold and generous soul, very dear Father, strong to bear burdens and responsibilities and to carry out the undertakings with which God inspired him. Nothing, as he said, could induce him to abandon these; not an inch would he abate, and he had a courage that conquered all difficulties.

Certainly such perseverance as his, required wonderful strength of mind, for who has ever seen him out of humour, or losing one iota of self-control? Who has ever seen his patience ruffled or his soul embittered against any one whomsoever? and all because he had a guileless heart.

That he was gentle, humble, and gracious none could fail to remark. His mind was clearer, freer, and broader than any other I have come in contact with; the prudence and the wisdom natural and supernatural with which God had endowed him were excellent and solid.

Our Lord indeed forgot nothing in perfecting His work. "Charity," as he says, "entering into a soul brings with it every other virtue sweetly and unostentatiously in the degree and measure by which charity animated it." He made no mysteries, and did nothing that might excite admiration; there was no singularity about him, no display of great virtue to exalt him in the eyes of the vulgar. He walked the common way, but in so supernatural a manner that it seemed to me that of all to be admired in his life this was the most admirable trait. He had no affected ways, neither casting up his eyes nor closing them, but he kept them modestly lowered and made no unnecessary gestures. His face, passive, sweet, and grave, portrayed the profound tranquility within.

Whoever observed his outward bearing was unfailingly impressed. Whether at prayer, reciting the office, or saying Mass, his countenance shone with angelic splendour, but it was above all at the consecration of the Mass that it seemed to radiate. This has been remarked to me a thousand times. He had a special devotion to this adorable Sacrament. It was his true life, his sole strength, and when carrying it in Procession he looked like one on fire with love. As his outpourings of love when before the Divine Sacrament, and his wonderful devotion to our Lady are treated of elsewhere I will not speak of them here.

Oh, how worthy of admiration was the order with which God had endowed this blessed soul! so much was it under the control of reason, so calm, and so lucid the light shed by God within it that absolutely nothing passed therein that was hidden from him.

So clear was his view in regard to perfection of spirit that he could distinguish between the most subtle and intangible sensibilities, and never willingly would he tolerate the less perfect in his soul; his burning love could not suffer it. It was not that he did not commit some imperfections, but they were always from frailty or pure surprise, and I never knew him to leave in his heart one single attachment, however small, that was contrary to perfection. Purer than the sun, whiter than the snow in every act, resolve, and desire, he was united to God not only by his purity, but in humility and simplicity.

To hear him speak of God and of perfection was a delight, for his terms were precise and intelligible, so that they easily brought home to the understanding the high and subtle points of the spiritual life and this great gift he used for the guidance of souls. Reading the depths of their hearts and clearly seeing the motives from which they acted, he guided and governed them with a skill other than that of this world. His indefatigable charity for souls is well known, and the incomparable delight with which he laboured amongst sinners, never resting till he had put the conscience in peace and set the soul on its way to heaven. What care did he not bestow upon the weak and repentant sinner, making himself one with him, weeping together with him over his sins, and becoming so one in heart with his penitent that none could conceal anything from him.

Zeal for the salvation of souls was, I consider, his dominant virtue, and in a sense it may be said that he preferred the service of his neighbour, for whom he wore himself out, to the immediate service of God. His charity was regulated in a remarkable manner, for he loved the many souls for whom he had a special regard, and they were great in number, not equally yet perfectly, and purely, recognizing the most estimable virtue and the measure of grace in each and giving it place accordingly in his regard. While to all he bore the utmost respect because he saw God in his neighbour and him in God, yet his humility never prevented him from reverencing the dignity of his position as Bishop, and with what gravity and majesty he bore himself in it.

I now venture to repeat what so many persons have said to me—that when they saw this man it seemed to them that they looked upon Our Lord on earth. And to me he always appeared the living picture in which the Son of God, Our Lord, was portrayed, for most truly the order and economy of his soul was divine.

I remain, my Reverend Father, Your very humble, obedient, and unworthy daughter and servant in Our Lord,

Sister Jane Frances Frémyot (Of the Visitation of Holy Mary).