The Autobiography of Madame Guyon | Page 4

born on April 18, 1648. My parents, particularly my father, was
extremely pious; but to him it was a manner hereditary. Many of his
forefathers were saints.
My mother, in the eighth month, was accidentally frightened, which
caused an abortion. It is generally imagined that a child born in that
month cannot survive. Indeed, I was so excessively ill, immediately
after my birth, that all about me despaired of my life, and were
apprehensive I should die without baptism. Perceiving some signs of
vitality, they ran to acquaint my father, who immediately brought a
priest; but on entering the chamber they were told those symptoms
which had raised their hopes were only expiring struggles, and all was
over.
I had no sooner shown signs of life again, than I again relapsed, and
remained so long in an uncertain state, that it was some time before
they could find a proper opportunity to baptize me. I continued very
unhealthy until I was two and a half years old, when they sent me to the
convent of the Ursulines, where I remained a few months.

On my return, my mother neglected to pay due attention to my
education. She was not fond of daughters and abandoned me wholly to
the care of servants. Indeed, I should have suffered severely from their
inattention to me had not an all-watchful Providence been my protector:
for through my liveliness, I met with various accidents. I frequently fell
into a deep vault that held our firewood; however, I always escaped
unhurt.
The Dutchess of Montbason came to the convent of the Benedictines,
when I was about four years old. She had a great friendship for my
father, and obtained his permission that I should go to the same convent.
She took peculiar delight in my sportiveness and certain sweetness in
my external deportment. I became her constant companion.
I was guilty of frequent and dangerous irregularities in this house, and
committed serious faults. I had good examples before me, and being
naturally well inclined, I followed them, when there were none to turn
me aside. I loved to hear God spoken of, to be at church, and to be
dressed in a religious garb. I was told of terrors of Hell which I
imagined was intended to intimidate me as I was exceedingly lively,
and full of a little petulant vivacity which they called wit. The
succeeding night I dreamed of Hell, and though I was so young, time
has never been able to efface the frightful ideas impressed upon my
imagination. All appeared horrible darkness, where souls were
punished, and my place among them was pointed out. At this I wept
bitterly, and cried, "Oh, my God, if Thou wilt have mercy upon me, and
spare me yet a little longer, I will never more offend Thee." And thou
didst, O Lord, in mercy hearken unto my cry, and pour upon me
strength and courage to serve thee, in an uncommon manner for one of
my age. I wanted to go privately to confession, but being little, the
mistress of the boarders carried me to the priest, and stayed with me
while I was heard. She was much astonished when I mentioned that I
had suggestions against the faith, and the confessor began to laugh, and
inquire what they were. I told him that till then I had doubted there was
such a place as Hell, and supposed my mistress had spoken of it merely
to make me good, but now my doubts were all removed. After
confession my heart glowed with a kind of fervor, and at one time I felt

a desire to suffer martyrdom. The good girls of the house, to amuse
themselves, and to see how far this growing fervor would carry me,
desired me to prepare for martyrdom. I found great fervency and
delight in prayer, and was persuaded that this ardor, which was as new
as it was pleasing, was a proof of God's love. This inspired me with
such courage and resolution, that I earnestly besought them to proceed,
that I might thereby enter into His sacred presence, but was there not
latent hypocrisy here? Did I not imagine that it was possible they would
not kill me, and that I would have the merit of martyrdom without
suffering it? Indeed, it appeared there was something of this nature in it.
Being placed kneeling on a cloth spread for the purpose, and seeing
behind me a large sword lifted up which they had prepared to try how
far my ardor would carry me I cried, "Hold! it is not right I should die
without first obtaining my father's permission." I was quickly
upbraided with having said this that I might escape, and that I was no
longer a martyr. I