The Autobiography of Madame Guyon | Page 9

God, at least for a time,
was that a nephew of my father's passed by our home on a mission to
Cochin China. I happened at that time to be taking a walk with my
companions, which I seldom did. At my return he was gone. They gave
me an account of his sanctity, and the things he had said, I was so
touched that I was overcome with sorrow. I cried all the rest of the day
and night. Early in the morning I went in great distress to seek my
confessor. I said to him, "What! my father, am I the only person in our
family to be lost? Alas; help me in my salvation." He was greatly
surprised to see me so much afflicted, and comforted me in the best
manner he could, not thinking me so bad as I was. In my backslidings I
was docile, punctual in obedience, careful to confess often. Since I
went to him my life was more regular.
Oh, thou God of love, how often hast Thou knocked at the door of my
heart! How often terrified me with appearances of sudden death! All
these only made a transient impression. I presently returned again to
my infidelities. This time thou didst take and quite carried off my heart.
Alas, what grief I now sustained for having displeased Thee! what
regrets, what exclamations, what sobbings! Who would have thought,

to see me, but that my conversion would have lasted as long as my life?
Why didst thou not, O my God, utterly take this heart to thyself, when I
gave it to Thee so fully. Or, if Thou didst take it then, oh, why didst
Thou let it revolt again? Thou wast surely strong enough to hold it, but
Thou wouldst perhaps, in leaving me to myself, display thy mercy that
the depth of my iniquity might serve as a trophy to thy goodness.
I immediately applied myself to every part of my duty. I made a
general confession with great compunction of heart. I frankly confessed
all that I knew with many tears. I became so changed that I was
scarcely known. I would not for ever so much made the least voluntary
slip. They found not any matter for absolution when I confessed. I
discovered the very smallest faults and God did me the favor to enable
me to conquer myself in many things. There were left only some
remains of passion, which gave me some trouble to conquer. But as
soon as I had by means thereof, given any displeasure, even to the
domestics, I begged their pardon, in order to subdue my wrath and
pride; for wrath is the daughter of pride. A person truly humbled
permits not anything to put him in a rage. As it is pride which dies the
last in the soul, so it is passion which is last destroyed in the outward
conduct. A soul thoroughly dead to itself, finds nothing of rage left.
There are persons who, being very much filled with grace and with
peace, at their entrance of the resigned path of light and love, think they
are come thus far. But they are greatly mistaken, in this view of their
state. This they will readily discover, if they are heartily willing to
examine two things. First, if their nature is lively, warm and violent, (I
speak not of stupid tempers) they will find, from time to time, that they
make slips, in which trouble and emotion have some share. Even then
they are useful to humble and annihilate them. (But when annihilation
is perfected all passion is gone--it is incompatible with this state.) They
will find that there often arises in them certain motions of anger, but the
sweetness of grace holds them back. They would easily transgress, if in
any wise they gave way to these motions. There are persons who think
themselves very mild because nothing thwarts them. It is not of such
that I am speaking. Mildness which has never been put to the proof, is
often only counterfeit. Those persons who, when unmolested, appear to

be saints are no sooner exercised by vexing occurrences than there
starts up in them a strange number of faults. They had thought them
dead which only lay dormant because nothing awakened them.
I followed my religious exercises. I shut myself up all day to read and
pray. I gave all I had to the poor taking even linen to their houses. I
taught them the catechism and when my parents dined out I made them
eat with me and served them with great respect. I read the works of St.
Francis de Sales and the life of Madam de Chantal. There I first learned
what mental prayer was, and I besought