• OOHtlLKRS .Situ..., ilu^t: (jiJUm;- UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO 3 1822 02122 5800 I '} H ^ 19 p^fpv^'^ ¥■ M 6 'J KAIiHAPr ,:rir' V.//v,/A . //.'^/.rr- ^-0 lU'.I.KilttrS KXTKIUliNCl-: sccoiul in;irria;,'r. lli-r inuKk'n luvnie was Jeanue Marie Bou- vitivs lie la Motho. Ill viMv early infanoy she was afHictetl with a complaint, whieh rediu-i'il her to siieh extremity, that her life was for some time ilespnireil of To this period she refers in after life, with feelint^'s whieh her reli;^iotis experience was naturally calculated to inspire. Her life had its vicis>itudes, its trials, its deep sor- rows; but in view of the sanetification whieh had attended them, she was deeply thankful, that God had been pleased to spaie her. " It is owing," she says, " to thy goodness, God, that there now remains to me the consolation of having sought and followed Thee ; of having laid myself upon the altar of sacrifice in the strength of pure luve ; of having laboured for thine interests and glory. In the commencement of my earthly existence death and life seemed to combat together ; but life proved victorious over death. Oh, might I but hope, that, in the conclusion of my being here on earth, life will be for ever victorious over death ! Doubtless it will be so, if Thou alone dost live in me, my God, who art at jjresent my only life, my only love." In the city of Montargis, where her father resided, was a seminary for the instruction of young girls, under the care of the Ursnline Nuns. The Ursulines are a sisterhood of religions jxjrsons, who bind themselves, in addition to other vows of a more strictly religious character, to occupy themselves in the education of children of their own sex. At the age of two years and a half, she was placed at the Ursuline Seminary, but remained there only for a short time. When she was taken from it she remained for a time at the residence of her parents ; but for some reason not clearly understood, but probably in part from an imperfect view of the value of parental influence, was left by her mother chiefly in the care of the domestics of the fixmily. In after life she refers to this period as one in which her mental and moral culture, such as she was even then capable of receiving, was not properly attended to. She speaks of it also as a period in which she incurred, in repeated instances, those dangers, from which she sometimes narrowly escaped, which are incidental to the sports and to the thoughtless and venturesome spirit of childhood. But God, who had designs OF MADAME GUYON. 3 of mercy for her own soul, and through her instrumentahty for the souls of others, protected her. It was in the year 1652, that a lady of distinguished rank, the Duchess of Montbason, who wished probably to avail her- self of the means of religious retirement and instruction which they afforded, came to reside with the Benedictines, another religious body, who had established themselves at Montargis. The daughter of M. De la Mothe was then four years of age. At the solicitation of the Duchess, an intimate acquaintance and friend of her father, who said it would be a source of great satisfaction to her to have the company of his little daughter, she was placed with the Benedictines. " Here I saw," she says, in the account of her life, which she afterwards wrote, " none but good examples ; and as I was naturally disposed to yield to the influence of such examples, I followed them when I found nobody to turn me in another direction. Young as I was, I loved to hear of God, to be at church, and to be dressed in the habit of a little mm." While resident at the House of the Benedictines, though early in life, she appears to have received some religious ideas, and to have been the subject of some religious impressions. She speaks in particular of a dream, in which she seemed to have a very distinct conception of the ultimate misery of im- penitent sinners, as making a deep impression on her mind. Aroused by the images of terror which were then presented to her, and operated upon by other circumstances vv^hich were cal- culated to awaken her religious sensibilities, she became very thoughtful, and exhibited at this early period a considerable in- terest in religious things. She was too young to apjireciate fully the relation existing between herself and the Deity ; but the idea of God was so far developed to her opening but vigor- ous conceptions, that she inwardly and deeply recognised His claims to her homage and her love. She endeavoured to con- form to these convictions, not only by doing in other respects whatever seemed to be the will of God, but by openly and frankly expressing her determination to lead a religious life. Happy in these solemn views and determinations, she one day, with a frankness perhaps gi'eater than her prudence, remarked in the presence of her associates, that she was ready to become 4 I.IKK AMI UKI.liilors KXI'KKlKNiK ji nmrtyr for (lod. 'VUc ^irls wh.) rosiiK'd witli licr at tlie Bene- ilictinos, not altoL^i-tluM- ploascd that one so yoiing slioulil go so far bi'forc them in a course so honourable, and su^jposing per- haps tliat tliey discovered some ingredients of human pride mingUng with rchgious sincciily, came to tlie conchision to test sucli enlargetl })retcnsions. They })ersuaded lier that God in His providences had suddenly but really calkHl her to the endurance of that martyrdom for which she had exhibited and professed a mind so lully prepared. They found her true to what she bad previously professed. And having periuitted her to offer up her private supplications, they comlucted her to a room selected for the pur()ose, with all those circumstances of deliberateness and solemnity, which were api)ropriate to so marked an occasion. They spread a cloth upon the flooi', upon which she was required to kneel, and which was destined to receive her blood. One of the older girls then appeared in the character of an executioner, and lifted a large cutlass, with the ai)parent intention of separating her head from her body. At this critical moment, overcome by her fears, which were stronger than her young faith, she cried out, that she was not at liberty to die ivithout tlie consent of her father. The girls, in the spirit of triumph, declared that it was a mere excuse to escape what was prepared for her. And assur- ing her that God would not accept as a martyr one who had not a martyr's spirit, they insultingly let her go. This transaction, so cruel in its application, although it pro- bably originated in thoughtlessness more than unkindness, had a marked effect upon her mind. Young as she was, she was old enough to perceive, that she had not only been open but volun- tary in her professions ; that she had been tried, and been found wanting. Those religious consolations, which she had previously experienced, departed. Something in her conscience reproached her, that she either wanted courage or faith, to act and to suffer, under all circumstances and without any reserve, in the cause of her heavenly Father. It seemed to her, in the agitation of her spirit, that she had offended Him, and that there was now but little hope of His support and favour. Thus, as in many other similar cases, the religious tendency, unkindly crushed in the very bud of its promise, withered and died. During her residence at the House of the Benedictines, she OF MADAME GUYON. was treated with great kindness. In one instance only was she the subject of punishment on the part of those who had the charge of her ; and this seems to have happened in consequence of the misapprehension, or the designed misstatement of licr young associates. Her health, however, was exceedingly deli- cate ; and soon after the transactions just now mentioned, she was taken home, in consequence of frequent and severe indispo- sition. She complains that she was again left almost exclusively in the care of domestics ; and that consequently she did not meet with that attention to her morals and manners, which was desirable. Certain it is, as a general statement, that domestics are not in a situation to discharge, in behalf of young children, all those duties which may reasonably and justly be expected of parents. It might be unjust, however, even where appear- ances are unfavourable, to ascribe to parents intentional neglect, without a full knowledge of all the circumstances. CHAPTER II. Placed a second time at the Ursiiline Seminary — Oliavacter and kindness of her paternal half-sister — Interview with Henrietta Maria, the Queen of England, at her father's house — Explanations of this interview — References to her moral and religious feelings — Transferred from the care of the Ursulines to that of the Dominicans — A Bible left in her room — Her study of it — Proposes to partake of the Eucharist — Eemarks. Each of her parents had a daughter in their first marriage. These two daughters, acting on the principles and methods of personal consecration recognised in the Roman Catholic Church, had devoted themselves to a religious life in the Ursuline Con- vent, and thus became associated in its system of instruction. After having been taken from the Benedictine Seminary, and spending some time at home in a manner not very profitable. Mademoiselle Jeanne Marie, their young half-sister, who had already spent a little time there, was once more placed at the Ursulines with them. She was now in the seventh year of her age. The lather, sensible that her education had hitherto failed to receive suiHcicnt attention, commended her to the eRi)ecial care fi I.U'K ANl> UKLUIIOIS KX rKlUKNCF. ot' liis ONvii iliui^litor, MS tlio host qimlilicd of tlie two half-sisters, by kiiuliu>ss t)f tlispositioii iis well iis in other respectn, to aid in the (levelopniont of heriuiml ami the foriiiiition of her manners. In iior after life, as she recalled with <;ratitude the dealings of ln>d with her in her younger years, she s})oke in affectionate terms of this sister, as a person charncterized alike by good judgment and by religious sentiments, and as especially fitted to train up young girls. "This good sister," she says, " employed her time in instruct- ing me in piety, and in such branches of learning as were suitable to my age and capacity. She was possessed of good talents, which she improved well. She spent much time in prayer, and her faith seemed strong and pure. She denied herself every other satisfaction, in order that she might be with me, and give me instruction. So great was her affection for me, that she experienced, as she told mo herself, more pleasuie with me. than anywhere else. Certain it is, that she thought herself well paid for her efforts in my behalf, whenever I made suitable answers on the studies in which I was engaged. Under her care I soon became mistress of most of those things which were suitable for me." At this period of her life an incident occurred, which requires some explanation. The period of which we are now speaking, was subsequent to the great Civil War in England, which resulted in the death of Charles I,, the establishment of a new government, and the expulsion of the surviving members of the royal family. Charles had married Henrietta Maria, the daughter of Henry IV., and sister of Lewis XIII. of France. She fled from England to her own country in 1644 ; residing for the most part, in sorrow and poverty, in the Convent of Chaillot, at that time a village in the neighbourhood of Paris, but now making a part of the city itself. She died in 1669 ; and it is worthy of notice, that her death furnisheil occasion for one of the most celebrated of the funeral orations of Bossuet. Some years after her flight this distinguished person visited the city of Montargis ; and as the family of M. De la Mothe held a high rank in that city, and especially as there were pro- bably some common grounds of religious sympathy and attach- ment, it will not be surprising that Henrietta Maria should OF MADAME GUYON. 7 liave honoured them with a visit. It is related in her Auto- biography, that, while she was at the Seminary of the Ursulines, she was frequently sent for by her father. On one of these occasions she says that she found at her father's house the Queen of England. She was then near eight years of age. " IMy father told the Queen's Confessor, that, if he wanted a little amusement, he might entertain himself with me, and propound some questions to me. He tried me wnth several very difficult ones, to which I returned such correct answers, that he carried me to the Queen, and said to her, ' Your Majesty must have some diversion with this child.' She also tried me, and was so well satisfied and pleased with my lively answers and my man- ners, that she not only requested my fiither to place me with her, but urged her proposition with no small importunity, assur- ing him that she would take particular care of me, and going so far as to intimate, that she would make me Maid of Honour to the princess, her daughter. Her desire for me was so great, that the refusal of my father evidently disobliged her. Doubt- less it was God who caused this refusal, and who in doing so turned off the stroke which might have probably intercepted my salvation. Weak as I then was, how could I have withstood the temptations and distractions incidental to a connexion with persons so high in rank ?" After this interview she went back as usual to the Ursuline Seminary, where her paternal half-sister continued her affec- tionate care. But her authority was limited ; she could not control, in all respects, the conduct of the other girls who boarded there, with whom the younger sister, Jeanne Marie, was sometimes obliged to associate, and from whom she acknow- ledges, in the account she has given of her life, that she con- tracted some bad habits. She ceased to be entirely strict and scrupulous in the utterance of the truth ; she became in some degree peevish in her temper, and careless and undevout in her religious feelings, passing whole days without thinking of Giod. But happily she did not remain long under the power of such vicious tendencies and habits. Her sister's unwearied watchful- ness and assiduity were the means, with the divine blessing, of recovering her from this temporary declension. And she re- mained at the Seminary some time longer, always making ra[tid 8 I.IFK ANI> liKl.lGlOUS EXPEIUENUB iiuprovenu'iit wlu'ii slio was in tlic onjoyiiiont of f:;ood health, aiul ctMiciHfttini; the esteem of lier iissociivtes and instructors, by her rej^uhir ami virtuous deportment, as well as by her profi- cieney in knowledi^e. At ten yeai-s of age she was taken home again. After a short resideneo at home, she was placcil at the Dominican convent, probably the same of which Do la Force gives so particular an account in his work, entitled Nouirllc Description dela France. It wivs founded in 1242. " 1 stayed," she says, " only a little while at home. The reason of my remaining so short a time was this : A nun of the Dominican Order, who belonged to a distinguished family, and was an intimate friend of my father, solicitetl him to [)lace me in her convent, of which she was Pi-ioress. This lady had conceived a great affection for me ; and she promised my father that she would take care of me herself, and would make me lodge in her own chamber. But circumstances occurred which prevented her from fulfilling her intentions. Various troubles arose in the religious community of which she had the charge, which necessarily occupied her attention, so that she was not in a situation to take much care of me." Her opportunities for intellectual improvement, during her residence in the Dominican convent, were interrupted in some degree by sickness ; but with a mind of naturally enlarged capacity, wliich seemed to have an instinct for knowledge, she could hardly fail to improve. At this place she was left more by herself than had been customary with her. But her soli- tary hours, secluded as she was in a great degree from objects that miglit have distracted her attention, were not unprofitable ones. One circumstance is worthy of particular notice. The pupils of the convent, although they received religious instruc- tion in other ways, do not appear to have been put in possession of the Bible, and to have had the use of it in private. A Bible, however, had been providentially left, by whose instrumentality, or from what motive, is unknown, in the chamber which was assigned to Mademoiselle De la Mothe, Young as she was, she seems to have had a heart to appreciate, in some degree, the value of this heaven-sent gift. " / spent ichole days" she says, '' in readincj it, giving no attention to other books or other sub- OF MADAME GUYON. 9 jectsfrom morning to night ; and having great ijoivers of recol- lection, I committed to memory the historical parts entirely." It is higbly probable that these solitary perusals of the Bible had an iDfluence on her mind through life, not only in en- larging its sphere of thought and activity, but by teaching her to look to God alone for direction, and by laying deep and broad the foundations of that piety which she subsequently experienced. She remained at the Convent of the Dominicans eight months. When she entered upon the twelfth year of her age, she pro- posed to partake of the sacrament of the Eucharist. She ac- knowledges, that for some time previous she had been remiss in religious duties. Some jealousies and disaffections, as is not unfrequently the case, had sprung up among the younger mem- bers of her father's familj'. A feeling of dissatisfaction and melancholy seems to have entered her mind ; and, as if weary of God, she gave up what little religious inclination and feeling- she had, saying, " she was none the better for it," and wickedly implying in the remark, that the troubles connected with reli- gion exceeded the benefits resulting from it. It would not be correct to say that she had given up religion, but rather had given up many favourable feelings and many outward practices connected with religion. This remark will be the better under- stood when we say, that, although she had been interested in religion, it does not appear that she possessed those traits or qualities which really constitute it. Prompted, partly by ex- ample, and partly by serious impressions, she had sought it, but had not found it. Her religious interest varied at difierent times. At one time, in particular, it seems to have been very great. She seems to have had convictions of sin ; she had some desires to live in God's guidance and favour ; she formed good resolutions ; she had a degree of inward consolation. But when we examine these experiences closely, I think we shall find rea- son for saying, that such desires, convictions, and resolutions, which often lay near the surface of the mind without stirring- very much its inward depths, were, in her case at least, the incidents and preparatives of religion, rather than religion itself. The great inward Teacher, the Holy Ghost, had not as yet sub- dued the natural life, and given a new life in Christ. She her- 10 I. IKK .\NI> ItKLKilOlS EX I'KIII KM K self iiitiiuatos. tliiit luM- i('lii;loii was chielly in appearance, and that self, and not the love of(ilod, was at the bottom. The sn-jT^jTCstion to partake of the sacrament of the Snpper, and thns by an outward act at least, to array herself more dis- tinctly on the Lord's side, seems to have originated with her fatlior. In order to bring about what he had near at heart, ho placed her again at the Ursulino Seminary. Her paternal half- sister, who appeal's to have had some increased and leading re- sponsibility as an instructress, pleased with the suggestion, bnt at the same time aware of her unfortunate state of mind, kboured assiduously to give rise to better inward dispositions. The labours of this patient and aftcctionate sister, who knew what it was both to believe and to pray, and for whom religion seems to have iiad a charm above everything else, were so effectual, that Jeanne ^larie now thought, as she expresses it, " of giving herself to God in good earnest." The day at length arrived ; she felt that the occasion was too important to be trifled with ; she made an outward confession of her sins, with apparent sincerity and de- voutness, and partook of the sacramental element for the first time with a considerable degree of satisfaction. But the result showed that the heart was not reached. The day of her re- demption had not come. The season and its solemnity passed away, withont leaving an effectual impression. The sleeping passions were again awaked. " My faults and failings," she says, " were soon repeated, and drew me off from the care and the duties of religion." She grew tall ; her features began to develop themselves into that beauty which afterwards distin- guished her. Her mother, pleased with her appearance, indulged her in dress. The combined power of her personal and mental attractions were felt in the yonng and unreflecting attachments of persons of the other sex. The world resumed its influence, and Christ was in a great degree forgotten. Such are the changes which often take place in tlie early his- tory of religious experience. To-day there are serious thoughts, awakened and quickened feelings, and good resolutions ; every- thing wears a propitious aspect. To-morrow, purposes are abandoned, feelings vanish ; and the reality of the world takes the place of the anticipations of religion. To-day the hearts of mothers and sisters, and of other friends, who have laboured OF MADAME GUYON. 11 long and prayed earnestly for the salvation of those who are dear to them, are cheered and gladdened. To-morrow they find the solicitations to pleasure prevailing over the exhortations to vir- tue ; and those who had been serious and humble for a time, returning again to the world. But it is often the case, that these alternations of feeling, which it is not easy always to explain, have an important connexion, under the administration of a higher and divine providence, with the most favourable results. They may, in many cases, be regarded as constituting a ne- cessary part of that inward training, which the soul must pass through, before it reaches the position of true submission and of permanent love. They show us the great strength of that attachment which binds us to attractions which perish, the things of time and sense. They leave a deep impression of the for- bearance and long-suffering of God. They teach the necessity of the special and powerful operations of divine grace, without which the heart, naturally alienated from all attachment to the true object of its love, would perish in its worldly idolatry. GHAPTEK III. Visit from lier cousiu De Toissi, Missionary to Cochin China — Results of this visit — Renewed religious efforts — Endeavours to obtain salvation by works rather than by faith — Return of spiritual declension — Account which she gives of her own feelings and conduct at this time — Remarks. About this time the Roman Catholic Church of France, de- sirous to spread abroad the Christian religion, was enlarging its missions in the East. Among the individuals whose piety led them to engage in this benevolent work, was a nephew of M. De la Mothe. His name was De Toissi, of whom some account is given in the Plistory of Foreign Missions, Relation des Missions Etrangeres, under the name of De Chamesson. This young man, in company with one of the French bishops, the titular bishop of Heliopolis, had commenced his journey to tlie place of his labours in Cochin China ; and in passing through Montargis, had called at the residence of his uncle. His visit was short ; but characterized as it was by the circumstance, that he was 12 liri". AM* KKI.UilorS KXI'KIUKNCK abv>ut U> leave his native laiul perliaps tor ever, and on business too tlmt wtus intinitely dear to the heart of humanity and rehgion, it wius full of interest, lie was one of those, who could say in the sweet langua<;e of the subject of this Memoir, when in after life she sutfered in prison and in exile, " My country, Lord, art Tliou aloiic ; No other can I claim or own ; Tlie point, where all my wishes meet, — My Law, my Love, life's only sweet." " I happened," she says, " at that time to be gone walking with my companions, which I seldom did. At my return he was gone. They gave me an account of his sanctity, and of the thinsrs he had said. I was so touched with it, that I was over- come with sorrow. I cried all the rest of the day and of the night." This was one of those incidents in the Providence of God, which come home to the heart. How often has the mere sight of a tmly pious man brought the hardened sinner under comdc- tion ! How often have those who have been unmoved by the most eloquent religious appeals, been deeply affected by the most simple and unpretending words, when uttered under cir- cumstances favourable to such a result. When she heard the statement of the deep and devoted piety of her cousin De Toissi, her thoughts, from contrast rather than resemblance, naturally reverted to herself She remembered how often God had called her; and how often she had listened without obeying, or had obeyed without persevering. " What !" she exclaimed to her Confessor and religious teacher, " am 1 the only person in our family to be lost ! Alas ! help me in my salvation." Her whole soul was roused to a sense of her situation. She recalled with deep compunction her repeated seasons of seriousness and religious inquiry, and of subsequent declension. " Alas !" she exclaimed, " what grief I now sustained for having displeased God ! What regrets ! What exclamations ! What tears of sorrow !" Once more she endeavoured to bring her mind to a religious frame. Once more she applied herself to the task of lier soul's salvation, apparently with great sincerity and earnest- ness ; but without being able to find the simple way of accept- OF MADAME GUYON. 13 i ance hj faith. She resisted her passions, which were Hable to be strongly moved, with a considerable degree of success. She asked the forgiveness of those w-hom she had displeased. Ap- preciating, in some degree, the relation between religion and practical benevolence, she visited the poor, gave them food and clothing, and taught them the catechism. She spent much time in private reading and praying. She purchased and read some of the practical and devotional books which were most highly valued among her people, such as the Life of Madame de Chantal and the works of St. Francis de Sales. She inscribed the name of the Saviour in large characters upon a piece of paper ; and so attached it to her person as to be continually reminded of Him. With an erroneous notion of expiating her sin by her own suffering, she voluntarily subjected herself to various bodily austerities. Determining to leave nothing undone which seemed to furnish any hope of spiritual improvement, it is worthy of notice that she made a vow, in imitation of the devout Madame de Chantal, of ever aiming at the highest per- fection, and of doing the will of God in everything. This undoubtedly was an important resolution, which, we may reason- ably suppose, would have been followed by the happiest conse- quences, if it had not been made in her own strength, and in ignorance of the great renovating principle, that all true strength is dejived from God through Christ by faith. Among other things, she came to the resolution, if Providence should permit, to enter a Convent, and in the apparent hopelessness of aid from any other source, to secure her spiritual interests and her salvation by becoming a Nun. This part of her plan, which shewed the depth of her feeling, was frustrated by her father, who was tenderly attached to hei-, and, while he was earnestly desirous that his daughter might become truly religious, be- lieved that she might possess religion without separating from her family, and without an entire seclusion from the world. The Lord of Life, no doubt, beheld and sympathized in the anxiety which she felt, and in the efforts she made. God is not indifferent. He never can be indifferent, to those who strive to enter in. He numbers all their tears ; He registers all their resolves. How can it be otherwise ? If the state of mind be that of true striving after God, He himself has inspired it. It 14 i.iii: Asi> Ki:i,u;it>rs kxi'Kiuknck is true tlmt He soinetimos pennits tlioso whom lie ileterniines event imlly to Mess, to strive lonij, uiul perhaps to wander in erroneous ways. ]^ut tlie result of this painful experience will be, that they will ultimately understand much better than they otherwise wouUl have done, the direction and the issue of the true path. They have a lesson to learn which cannot well be disi>ensed with ; and God therefore is willing that they should learn it. What that lesson is, it is not always easy to say, in individual cases. I'erhaps the remains of self-conddeuce exist within them, which can be removed only by the experience of the sorrows which are attendant upon the errors it invariably commits. And accordingly God leaves them to test the value of human wisdom. They try it ; they fall into mistakes ; they are overwhelmed with confusion ; and then, and not till then, they see the necessity and importance of reposing all their confidence in Him, who alone can guide them in safety. Mademoiselle De la Mothe continued in this state of raind about a year. But this also had its end. What led to the termination of religious prospects so flattering, it is difficult to state. There is some reason for thinking, however, that the love of God, not far from this time, began to be disturbed by the accession and influence of a love, which was more mixed and earthly in its origin. She relates that her father with his family left the city of Montargis, in order to spend some days in the country ; and that he took with him a very accomplished young gentleman, one of his near relations. This young man, of whom she speaks in high terms for his religious sentiments, as well as his intellectual and other accomplishments, became much attached to her. She was still young, being only in her fourteenth year. This individual, notwithstanding her imma- ture age, made propositions of marriage. And this, after a suit- able time, would probably have been the result, with the cordial consent of all the parties concerned, but their relationship was so near as to bring them within the degrees of consanguinity prohibited in the Catholic Church. This obstacle could have been removed by a dispensation from the Papal See ; but still it was so serious, that her father did not think it proper to give his consent. Still they were mutually pleased, and spent much OF MADAME GUYOX. 15 time in each other's company. It was at this time, that she says significantly and penitently, that she "began to seek in the creature what she had previously found in God." But we will let her describe her spiritual decleosion in her own language. She says, " I left off prayer. I became as a vineyard exposed to pillage, whose hedges, torn down, gave liberty to all the creatures to ravage it. I hegan to seek in the creature luhat I had found in God. And thou, oh my God ! didst leave me to myself, because I left thee first.^ and wast pleased, in permitting me to sink into the horrible pit, to make me see and feel the necessity of maintaining a state of continual watchfulness and communion with thyself Thou hast taught thy people, that thou wilt destroy those who, by indulging wrongly placed affections, depart from thee. (Psalm Ixxiii. 27.) Alas ! their departure alone causes their destruction ; since in departing from Thee, the Sun of Eighteousness, they enter into the region of darkness and the shadow of death. And there, bereft of all true strength, they will remain. It is not possible that they should ever arise again, unless Thou shalt revisit them ; unless Thou shalt restore them to light and life, by illuminating their darkness, and by melting their icy hearts. Thou didst leave me to myself, because I left Thee first. But such was Thy goodness, that it seemed to me, that Thou didst leave me with regret." " I readily gave way," she says, " to sallies of passion. 1 failed in being strictly conscientious and careful in the utterance of the truth, I became not only vain, but corrupt in heart. Although I kept up some outward religious appearances, religion itself, as a matter of inward experience, had become to me a matter of indifierence. I spent much time, both day and night, in reading romances, those strange inventions to destroy youth. I was proud of my personal appearance, so much so that, con- trary to my former practices, I began to pass a good deal of my time before the mirror. I found so much pleasure in viewing myself in it, that I thought others were in the riglit, who prac- tised the same. Instead of making use of this exterior, which God gave me as a means of loving Him more, it became to me the unhappy source of a vain and sinful self-corn })lacency. All seemed to me to look beautiful in my person ; but in my de- IG l.U'K ANM> PvKLUiUiL'S KXrRIUENCI-: cIiMision luul ilarknoss I ilul imL then )ierc('ivt\ that the outward boaiity covoivil d siii/iiI and fidlen soul." l>iit this was not the jutlgniont then passed upon her by the worhl, — so severo in the exaction of its own claims, but so indul- gent in mitigating the claims oi' Ciod. Under a form outwardly beautiful, and veiled by manners that had received the most correct and advantageous culture, it was not easy for man to })ereeive the elements and workings of a heart which harboured moral and leligious rebellion. In the eye of the world, imper- fectly capable of penetrating beyond the exterior, which delights in elegance of form and perfection of manners, there was but little to blame, and much to praise ; but in the eye of God, which sees and estimates the inmost motive, it was not possible for outward beauty to furnish a compensation for inward defor- mity. And in using the phrase inward deformity, we do not necessarily mean that she was worse than many others who have a reputation for good morals. Estimating her by the world's standard, she had her good qualities, as well as those of an opposite character, her excellences as well as her defects. Never- theless, there w^as that wanting which constitutes the soul's true light, without wliich all other beauty fiides, and all other excel- lence is but excellence in name, — the love of God in the heart. CHAPTER IV. Removal from Montargis to Paris — Louis XIV. — Characteristics of the age — Effect of her removal to Paris upon her character — Her personal appearance at this period — Offers of marriage — Is married to M. Guyon in March 1664 — Notices of the family of M. Guyon. Some time in the year 1G63, M. De la Mothe removed his family from Montargis to Paris, — a step obviously not calcu- lated to benefit his daughter, in a religious sense. Paris was at that time, as now, the centre of scientific culture and tVie arts, of refinement of manners and of fashionable gaiety. Louis XIV. was then the reigning sovereign of France, — a man of considerable powers of intellect, and of great energy of will, — OF MADAME GUYON. 17 in whom two leading desires predominated — the one to make France gi"eat, the other to make himself the source and centre of her greatness. The greatness of France, sustained and illus- trated in the wisdom and splendour of her great monarch, was the central and powerful element of his system of action. Hence the expense and labour bestowed upon the royal palaces, and all the great public works of a national character ; hence his vast efforts to enrich and beautify Versailles, which he had selected as his principal residence ; hence his desire to attach to his person, and to rank among the attendants of his court, the most distinguished of his nobles. His munificence to men of literature, his patronage of the arts, the pomp and ceremony which characterized all great public occasions, all sprung from the same source.* All France, and particularly Paris, felt an influence so well adapted to harmonize with the tendencies of the human heart. It was an age characterized by many noble efforts in literature and the arts, and equally characterized by its unfounded pre- tensions, its vanity, and its voluptuousness. Almost everything, especially in the capital, w^as calculated to dispossess humility, and to impart an exaggerated turn of mind. The sights and sounds, the displays of wealth, in every street ; the crowded populace, intoxicated with the celebrity of their sovereign and of their nation ; the vulgar and the fashionable amusements, which were without end ; all were calculated to divert the mind from serious reflection — to lead it to sympathize with the senses, and to dissociate it from its own inward centre ; a state of things which would have been a severe trial even to established piety. This unpropitious state of things had an unfavourable effect upon Mademoiselle De la Mothe ; and accordingly she intimates, in the record of her feelings, that she began to entertain exag- gerated ideas of herself, and that her vanity increased. This was the natural result of lier new position. Her parents, as well as herself, led astray by the new state of society in which they found themselves, spared no cost in obtaining whatever might make her appear to advantage. The w^orld, illuminated * Tliirty-six tlinnsand lHl)Oiii''^rs woi'o (^nijilciycd at Vcrsnillrs nt ono timo. 15 18 I. Ill; AM» UKi.u;k>i;s kxi'Iouikncio with I'also lii^hts to lior young vision, Bocnied to be in reality what it was ehiolly in appearance, and consequently presented itself as an ohject worth con(pieriiig and possessinj>-. At this period she gave to it, more warmly and nnrcseivedly than at any other, that kindling heart and expanded intellect, which she afterwards gave to religion. She was tall and well made in her person ; refined and prepossessing in her manners, and possessed of remarkable powers of conversation. Her counte- nance, Ibrmed upon the Grecian model, and characterized by a brilliant eye and expansive forehead, had in it a natural majesty, which inijiressed the beholder with a sentiment of deep respect, while it attracted by its sweetness. Her great powers of mind (a mind which in the language of one of the writers of the French Encyclopedic was formed for the world, '"''fait -pour le monde") added to the impression which she made on her entrance into Parisian society. Under these circumstances her future husband, M. Jacques Guyon, a man of great wealth, songht her in marriage. He was not the only person whose attention was directed to her. " Several apparently advantageous offers of marriage," she says, " were made for me; but God, unwilling to have me lost, did not permit them to succeed." In accordance with the custom of the time and country, (a custom oftentimes but little pro- pitious to those who are most deeply concerned,) the arrange- ments in this important business were made by her father and her suitor with but little regard to the opinions and feelings of Mademoiselle De la Mothe. She did not see her designated husband till a few days before her marriage ; and when she did see him, she did not find her affections united to him. She gives us distinctly to understand in her Autobiography, that there were other individuals who sought her, with whom she could have more fully symi)athized, and could have been more hapi)y. But a regard for the opinions of her father, in whom she had the greatest confidence, (although in this case he seems to have been influenced too much by the circumstance of the great wealth of M. Guyon,) overruled every other consideration. She signed the articles of marriage, without being permitted to know what they were, on the 28th of January 16G4, but she was not married till the 21st of March in the same year. OF MADAME GUYON. 19 She had then nearly completed her sixteenth year. Her hus- band was thirty-eight. Of the family of her husband we know but little. His father, a man of activity and talent, acquired considerable celebrity by completing the Canal of Briare, which connects the Loire with the Seine. This great work (a work the more remarkable for being the first important one of the kind that was under- taken in France) was commenced in the reign of Henry IV., under the auspices of his distinguished minister, the Duke of Sully. After the death of Henry, and the retirement of Sully from the administration of affairs, the work was suspended till 1638, when Louis XIIL made arrangements, on liberal terms, with two individuals, Messrs. Jacques Guyon and another individual by the name of Bouteroue, to complete it. In this way Guyon, who was entirely successful in an undertaking beset with difficulties, was not only brought into public notice, but became very wealthy. He was also rewarded with a patent of nobility at the hands of Cardinal Richelieu, the then leading minister. His wealth, as well as an honourable and noble posi- tion in society, seems to have been inherited by his only son, the individual to whom Mademoiselle De la Mothe was thus united in marriage. CHAPTER V. Remarks on her marriage — Treatment she experienced at her husband's house — Unkindness of her mother-in-law — The great incompatihleness of her situation and her character — Her situation considered in its relation to the designs of Providence — Her account of the trials she endured. In the union before us, the circumstance of great wealth and of noble rank did not compensate for diversity of disposition and for great disparity of age. It could hardly be expected that Madame Guyon, with all her advantages of beauty, talent, and honourable position in society, could be entirely satisfied, at sixteen years of age, with a husband twenty-two years older than herself, whom she had seen but three days before her marriage, and who had obtained her through the principle of 20 l.ll'K AND KKl.UiU»U.s KXI'KlilKM'K tilial ohodionco, latlior tluiii tliroiigli that of wanu ami volun- tary rtlYection. " No sooner," slie says, " was I at the house of my husband than 1 ])erceived it would be for lue a house of monrnin KEl.lOlors KXl-fclUIKNCB no 0110 wiili wlioiii 1 could coinuiuiHcato my unhappiness, — no one who mii^ht share my sj;riol", ami hel|) me to bear it. To have made known my roelnip;s ami trials to my parents, would onlv have occasioned new crosses. 1 was alone and helpless in mv irrief." CHAPTER VI. Her trials result in a rcncwcil tlispositiou to seek God — Of the connexion of Pro- vidtntial events with the renewal of the heart — The birth of her first child, and its effect upon her mind — Losses of property — Experience of severe sickness — Death of her paternal half-sister at IVIontargis, and of her mother at Paris — Result of these afflictions upon her mind — Eenewed efforts of a religious nature — Her reading — Her interviews at her father's house with an exiled lady of great piety — Remarks — Her interviews with her cousin, M. De Toissi, Missionary to Cochin China — Her conversation with a Religious of the Order of St. Francis — Her conversion. Sucn are the expressions which convey to us her sense of her trials. In this extremity, it occurred to her, (alas ! that we learn this lesson so often from sorrows alone,) that, in the deficiency of all hope in creatures, there might be liope and hel]^) in God. It is true that she had turned away from Him ; and having sought for solace where she had not found it, and where she ought not to have sought it, she felt ashamed to go back. But borne down by the burdens of a hidden Providence, (a Provi- dence which she did not then love because she did not then understand it,) she yielded to the pressure that was upon her, and began to look to Him, in whom alone there is true assistance. She had now been married about a year. A number of things occurred about this time, which are worthy of notice. They tend to illustrate what I have remarked in the preceding chapter, on the operations of grace in connexion with the posi- tion in which we are placed in Pi'ovidence. If it is not strictly true that God saves us by His providences, — a remark which is sometimes made, — I think we may regard it as essentially true that He saves us by His grace, dis[)ensed and operating in con- nexion with His providences. Providences test the disposition OF MADAME GUYON. 27 of the mind ; they not only test it, but alter it and control it to some extent, and may be the means of placing it in a position the most favom-able for the reception of inward divine teaching. One circumstance, which was calculated to have a favourable effect upon the mind of Madame Guyou, was the birth of her first child. God was pleased to give her a son, to whom she gave the name of Armand Jacques Guyon. This event, appeal- ing so strongly to family sympathies, was naturally calculated to interest and soften the feelings of those who had afflicted her. And this was the case. But this was not all. It brought with it such new relations ; it opened such new views of employment and happiness, and imposed such increased responsibilities, that it could hardly fail to strengthen the renewed religious tendency, which had already begun to develop itself. Under the respon- sibility of a new life added to her own, she began to realize that, if it were possible for her not to need God for herself, she must need Him for her child. God, in His dispensations, mingled judgments and mercies. Another circumstance, worthy of notice, was the loss of a part of the property of the family. The revenues, accruing to the family from the Canal of Briare, which has already been men- tioned, as having been completed by her husband's father, were very great. Louis XIV,, whose wars and domestic expenditures required large sums of money, took from them a part of the in- come arising from that source. The family, besides their usual place of residence in the country, had a valuable house in Paris, in connexion with which also a considerable sum of money was lost at this time. If the birth of a son tended to conciliate and to make things easy, the loss of property had a contrary effect. Her stepmother, who seems to have been an avaricious woman, was inconsolable at these losses ; which, in the perversity of her niind, she made the occasion of new injuries and insults to her daughter-in-law, saying with great bitterness, that the family had been free from afflictions till she came among them, and that all their troubles and losses came with her. Another circumstance worthy of notice, was a severe sickness which she had in the second year of her marriage. The business of her husband kept him much in Paris ; and the situation of his affairs was such as to require his constant presence there. 28 I.IKK ANI> KKI.KIlorS KXl'KKIKNCl!; Aftor imuli oiii»osition of Ikt molhcr-iii-hiw, she obtained her eonsoiit to leave their residence, and lor a time to reside there with him. Bnt she did not obtain this consent until she had called in the aid of her father, who insisted upon it. She went to tlie Hotel dc Loni,aieville, where her husband staid. She was received with every demonstration of kindness fiom Madame Do Lon<;ueville, and from the inmates of the house ; and there were many tilings, notwithstandini:; the generally unpleasant position of her domestic relations, which tended to render her residence in the city agreeable. Here she fell sick, and the prospect was, that she would soon die. So far as the world was concerned, she felt that it had lost, in a great degree, its attractions, and she was willing to go. The priest who attended her, mistaking a s[)irit of deadness to the world, originating in part from her inability to enjoy it, for a true spirit of acquiescence in God's dispensations, thought well of her state. She seemed to hira to l)e truly religious. But this was not her own opinion. She had merely begun to turn her eye, as it were, in the right direc- tion. " My sins were too present to my mind," she says, " and too painful to my heart, to permit me to indulge in a favourable opinion as to my acceptance with God. This sickness was of great benefit to me. Besides teaching me patience under violent pains, it served to give me newer and more correct views of the emptiness of worldly things. It had tlie tendency to detach me in some degree from self, and gave me new courage to suffer with more resignation than I had ever done." But this was not all. Death had begun to make inroads in her family circle. Her paternal half-sister, at the Ursuline Convent in Montargis, died two months before her marriage. To this sister, to whom she was exceedingly attached, she makes repeated references. She seems to have been a woman gentle in spirit and strong in faith, who lived in the world as not of the world ; and we may naturally suppose, died in the beauty and simplicity of Christian peace. The loss of a sister, so deservedly esteemed and loved by Madame Guy on, could not possibly be experienced without making the earth less dear, and heaven more precious. In the second year of her marriage and the eighteenth year of her age, she experienced the separation of another strong tie to earth, by the loss of her mother. " My OF MADAME GUYON. 29 mother departed this life," she remarks, " in great tranquillity of spirit, having, besides other virtues, been in particular very charitable to the poor, God, who seems to have regarded with favour her benevolent disposition, was pleased to reward her, even in this life, with such a spirit of resignation, that, though she was but twenty-four hours sick, she was made perfectly easy about everything that was near and dear to her in this world." It is easy to see, in the light of these various dispensations, that God, who builds His bow of promise in the cloud, had marked her for His own. He had followed her long, and warned her often. He stopped her pathway to the world ; but He left it open to heaven. He drew around her the cords of His pro- vidence closely, that she might be separated, in heart and in life, from those unsatisfying objects, which, in her early days, presented to her so many attractions. It was God who was present in all these events ; it was God who, through an instru- mentality of His own selection, was laying His hand painfully but effectually upon the idols which she had inwardly cherished, sometimes trying her by mercies, where mercy might affect her heart, but still more frequently and effectually by the sterner discipline of outward disappointment and of inward anguish. Not in vain. He who understands the nature of the human heart, and the difficulty of subjecting it, thus adjusted every- thino; in great wisdom, as well as in real kindness. The trials which He had sent were among those which work out "the peaceable fruits of righteousness." By these various providences, afflicting as they were, she was led to the determination, (a de- termination from this time never abandoned,) 07ice more to seek God. She had sought Him before, but she had not found Him. But, in turning from God to the world, she had found that which gave no satisfaction. Bitterly had she learned, that if there is not rest in God, there is rest nowhere. Again, there- fore, she formed the religious resolve, — a resolve which God enabled her not only to form, but to keep. Her feelings at this time are well expressed in a well-known hymn, which is designed to describe the state of a sinner who has seen the fallacy and the unsatisfying nature of all situations and of all hopes out of Christ. 30 1,11 K, AND UKLltiloLS KXI'KIUHNOU " IVrliiipN III- will julinit my plcn ; IViliajis will hour my pniycr ; But if I iH-risli, 1 will prjiy, Ami iicrisli only there. " I can but perish if I go ; I am resolved to try ; For if I stay away, I know I must for ever die." Fully detorinined to seek God, in all time to come, as her fliief good, she adopted those measures which seemed to her best. They shew her sense of need and her deep sincerity ; but they indicate also how difficult it is for the natural heart, espe- cially under certain systems of religious belief and practice, to detach itself from its own methods and its own supposed merits, and in true simplicity of spirit to follow Him who is " the way, the truth, and the life." It is evident, however, although they were in some sense only preparatory, that they had a connexion with the great lesson which she was destined ultimately to learn. Among other things which seemed to be necessary in her present state, she ceased to give that attention to her outward appearance which she had done formerly. Fearful that she might either excite or increase emotions of vanity, she diminished very much the time occupied at the mirror. In addition, she commenced doin i{i:i,it;ioi"sous, thoy soenicd to uudcrstaud each other's hearts. " They convei-sed together," she says, " iu a spirit ual Ian yuage." They luvd that to si)eak of, which souls uticonverted can never know, — a Saviour, sins lorgiveii, and joy and peace in believing. The example and the exhortations of De Toissi,* could not fail to make a deep impression. Many were the tears she shed when he de])arted. 8he renewed her solemn resolutions. She endeavoured to imitate him in his state of continual prayer, by offering up to God ejaculations, cither silent or spoken, moment by moment. On the S}stem of mere human effort, she seems to have done all that she could do. But still she did not under- stand ; a cloud hung over one of the brightest intellects when left to itself, — so perplexing to human wisdom, and so adverse to the natural heart is the way of ibrgiveness and justification hy faith alone. Those know it who experience it, and those only ; but her hour had not yet come. More than a year had passed in this state of mind, and w ith such efforts — but ap[)a- rently in vain. With all the appliances mentioned, with afilic- tions on the one hand to separate her from earthly objects, and encouragements on the other to allure her to heaven, she still seems to have remained without God and without hope in the Avoild. So much does it cost, in a fallen world like this, to detach a soul from its bondage and to bring it to God ! God has not only spicad the feast, in the salvation which He has offered through His Son, but, by means of ministers, both pro- vidential and personal. He goes out into the highways, and compels them to come in. God was pleased to send one more messenger. " Oh, my Father !" says Madame Guyon, in connexion with the incidents we are about to relate, " it seems to me sometimes, as if Thou didst forget every other being, in order to think only of my faithless and ungrateful heart." There was a devout man of the Religious Order of St. Francis — his name is not given — deeply impressed with religious sentiments ; he spent five years in solitude, for spiritual renovation and communion with God. * Madame Guyon {Tm Vie, Part I. chap, iv.) says, there is some account of this indiviilual in the work entitled Eelation den llissions Etrangeres, under the name De Ciiamesson. OF MADAME GUYON. 35 With a heart subdued to the world's attractions, and yet in- flamed for the world's good, he went out into the field of labour. He thought that God called hira to labour for the conversion of a person of some distinction, who lived in the vicinity of M. De la Mothe. But his labours there proved fruitless — or rather they resulted only in the trial of his own faith and patience. The humble Franciscan, revolving in his mind where he should next go and announce the divine message, was led by the in- ward monitor, in connexion with the indications of Providence, to go to the house of M. De la Mothe, with whom he seems to have had some acquaintance in former times. M. De la Mothe, a man in whom the religious tendency was strong, was exceed- ingly glad to see him, and to receive his instructions, especially as he was then out of health, and had not much expectation of living long. His daughter, Madame Guyon, desirous of render- ing him every assistance in his increasing infirmities, was then at her father's house, although her own health was very infirm. Her father was not ignorant either of her outward or inward trials. She had conversed with him wath entire frankness on her religious state. She related to him the exercises of her mind, her dissatisfaction with her present sj)ii'itual condition, and her earnest desire to avail herself of every favourable oppor- tunity to receive religious instruction. Her father, influenced by the representations she made, as well as by his high sense of the piety and religious wisdom of the Franciscan, not only advised but strongly urged her to consult with him. Attended by a kinswoman, as seemed to be proper, she visited the Franciscan, and stated her conviction of her need of reli- gion, and her often-repeated and long-continued eiforts made without effect. When she had done speaking, the Franciscan remained silent for some time, in inward meditation and prayer. He at length said : " Your efforts have been unsuccessful, Ma- dame, because you have sought without, ivhat you can only find u'ithin. Accustom yourself to seek God in your heart, and you ivill not fail to find Him." It is very probable, that she had heard a similar sentiment before ; but if so, it came to her as religious truth always does come to those in their natural state, who are permitted to hear, before grace has enabled them to understand. But now the 3d I.U'i: AND ItF.l.KilOl'S KXl'KIUKNCK hour i>f CuhI's provitleiuv atul of special inercy had arrived. Clearly and strouj:;ly did the Divine Spirit apply a truth which otherwise woulil have fallen useless to the ground. These few words, somewhat singular in expression, ohviously convey the great princii)le, that religion does not and cannot consist in outward working, — in a mere round of ceremonial duties, — in anything which comes exclusively under the denomination of an external action. But, on the contrary, it is inward in the sense of having its seat in the heart's affections, and in accord- ance with the great scriptural doctrine, that the ^\ji(st shall live by faith." From the moment that Madame Guyon heard these words, she was enabled to see the error she had committed, — that of endeavouring to obtain God by a system of outward operations, — by the mercenary purchase of formal services, rather than by the natural and divine attraction of accordant sympathies. Speculatively, there may be a God objective, a God outward, a God recognised by the intellect as a great and majestic being living in the distance. And in certain respects this is a view of God which is not at variance with the truth. But still God can never be known to us as oio- God, He can never be brought into harmony with our nature, except as a God imuard, a God received by faith and made one with us by love, and having His home in the sanctified temple of the heart. " Believe in the Lord your God ; so shall ye be established. Believe his prophets ; so shall ye prosper." (2 Chron. xx. 20.) " Having said these words," she says, " the Franciscan left me. They were to me like the stroke of a dart which pierced my heart asunder. I felt at this instant deeply wounded with the love of God ; — a wound so delightful, that I desired it never might be healed. These words brought into my heart what I had been seeking so many years ; or rather they made me dis- cover what was there, which I did not enjoy for want of know- ing it. Oh, my Lord ! thou wast in my heart, and demanded only the turning of my mind inward, to make me feel thy pre- sence. Oh, infinite Goodness ! Thou wast so near, and I ran hither and thither seeking thee, and yet found thee not. My life was a burden to me, and my happiness was within myself. I was poor in the midst of riches, and ready to perish with hunger near a table plentifully spread and a continual feast. OF MADAME GUYON. 37 Oh Beauty, ancient and new ! Why have I known thee so late ? Alas, I sought thee where thou wast not, and did not seek thee where thou wast ! It was for want of understanding these words of thy Gospel : ' The Mngdom of God cometh not ivith observation, neither shall they say, Lo ! here, or lo ! there, for, behold, the kingdom of God is ivithin you.' This I now experienced, since thou didst become my King, and ray heart thy kingdom, where thou dost reign a Sovereign, and dost all thy will. " I told this good man, that I did not know what he had done to me ; that my heart was quite changed ; that God was there ; for from that moment he had given me an experience of His presence in my soul, — not merely as an object intellectually perceived, but as a thing really possessed after the sweetest manner. I experienced those words in the Canticles : ' Thy name is as precious oiiitment poured forth ; therefore do the ■ virgins love thee.' For I felt in my soul an unction, which, as a salutary perfume, healed in a moment all my wounds. I slept not all that night, because thy love, oh my God ! flowed in me like delicious oil, and burned as a fire which was going to de- stroy all that was left of self in an instant, I was all on a sudden so altered, that I was hardly to be known either by myself or others. I found no more those troublesome faults, or that reluctance to duty, which formerly characterized me. Tliey all disappeared, as being consumed like chaff in a great fire. " I now became desirous that the instrument hereof might become my Director,-'' in preference to any other. This good father, however, could not readily resolve to charge himself with my conduct, though he saw so surprising a change effected by the hand of God. Several reasons induced him to excuse him- self: first, my person, then my youth, for I was only twenty years of age ; and lastly, a promise he had made to God, from * DiRFXTOii. — It is perhaps liardly necessary to say to the reader, that it is cus- tomai-y for persons in the Romish Church to choose some ecclesiastic for a Director or spiritual guide. The office of Director and the office of Confessor, sometimes exist in the same person, and the terms Director and Confessor, appear in some instances to be used as synonymous with each other. Strictly speaking, however, it is not the business of the Director to hear confessions, ])Mt simply to give reli- gious counsel, in those various circumstances in which Christians, especially in the beginning of the religious life, aro found tfi need it. 3H i.iiK AND i;Ki.n.ikirs kxtkiuhnck a distrust o( liiinsclt', never to take upon liiniseir the direction ot' any of onv sex, unless God, by some particular providence, should I'liari^e him theiewith. Upon my earnest and repeated request to him to heeonie my Director, he said he would pray to (Jod thereupon, and bade me do so too. As he was at prayer, it was said to him, ' Fear not that chaige ; she is my spouse.' This, when I heard it, aftected me greatly. ' What !' (said I to myself,) ' a frightful monster of iniquity, who have done so much to oflend my God, in abusing His favours, and i-equiting them with ingratitude, — and now, thus to be declared His spouse !' After this he consented to my request. " Nothing was more easy to me now than to practise prayer. Houi-s passed away like moments, while I coidd hardly do any- thing else hnt pray. The fervency of my love allowed me no intermission. It was a prayer of rejoicing and of possession, wherein the taste of God was so great, so pure, unblended and iminterrupted, that it drew and al)Sorbed the powers of the soul into a profound recollection, a state of confiding and affec- tionate rest in God, existing without intellectual effort. For I had now no sight but of Jesus Christ alone. All else was ex- cluded, in order to love with greater purity and energy, without any motives or reasons for loving which were of a selfish nature." Such are the expressions, in which she speaks of the remark- able change which thus passed upon her spirit, — an event in her life which opened new views, originated new feelings, insti- tuted new relations, and gave new strength. Too important in itself and its relations to be forgotten under any circumstances, we find her often recurring to it witli those confiding, affection- ate, and grateful sentiments, which it was naturally calculated to inspire. One of her poems, which Cowper has translated, expresses well the feelings which we may suppose to have existed in her at this time. LOVE AND GRATITUDE. " All are indebted much to Thee, JJtd I for more than all ; Yrom many .i deadly snare set free, And raised from many a fall. Overwhelm me from above, Daily with Thv bi)undlrsf: l<>v<- OF MADAME GUYON. 39 " What bonds of gratitude I feel, No language can declare ; Beneath the oppressive weight 1 reel, 'Tis more than I can bear ; When shall I that blessing prove, To return Thee love for love ? ' Spirit of Charity ! Dispense Thy grace to every heart ; Expel all other spirits thence ; Drive self from every part. Charity divine ! Draw nigh ; Break the chains in which we lie. ' All selfish souls, whate'er they feign, Have still a slavish lot ; They boast of liberty in vain, Of love, and feel it not. He, whose bosom glows with Thee, He, and he alone, is free. ' Oh blessedness, all bliss above, W^hen thy pure fires prevail ! Love * only teaches ivJiat is Jove ; All other lessons fail ; We learn its name, but not its powers. Experience only makes it ours." CHAPTER VII. Remarks on intellectual experience, in distinction from that of the heart — Of that form of experience which is characterized by joy — Her experience characterized especially by the subjection of the will — Of the course to be pursued in translating from the writings of Madame Guyon — Her remarks on the union of the human with the Divine will — Her remarks on faith — Conversation with a Franciscan — Immersion of her soul in God, and her contemplation of all things in him. Madame Guyon makes a number of practical remarks on the nature of her religious experience at this time. Recognising an important distinction, she regarded the change at this period as not merelj'' an intellectual illumination, but as truly a change of the hea7i. Undoubtedly she had received new light. She had been led to see more distinctly than ever before the extreme per- versity and blindness of the natural mind. She had now a clearer perception both of what God is, and of what He requires ; and especially of the way of forgiveness and salvation by faith in * God is Loir, 1 .Fohn iv. S, 40 l-ll"K AND HKI.kilolS KXTKIUKNCK Clirist alone, lUit poivoptiou is not love. The righting of the unilerstandini:; is not noccssiuily idcnticiil with the rectification of the sensibilities. The understanding, enlightened of God, will sometimes dictate what the heart, in its opposition to God, will be slow to follow. This was not her case. Iler under- standing was not only enlightened, but her heart was renewed. No sound was heard but that of the " still small voice," which speaks inwardly and effectually. There was no dream, no vision, no audible message. lier change was characterized, not by things seen, but by operations experienced ; not by revelations imparted from without, and known only as existing without, but by aifections inspired by the Holy Ghost from within, and constituting, from the time of their origin, a part of the inward consciousness. It is very obvious from her statements, that, in her first ex- perience of the new life, she had great joy. Joy was a marked characteristic of it. But, taught by the great inward Teacher, she was enabled to perceive from the first, that it would not be safe for her to estimate either the reality or the degree of her religion by the amount of her happiness. It is true there is not only such a thing as joy, but such a thing as religious joy, which, therefore, may properly be described, in the language of the Scriptures, as "joy in the Holy Ghost." But this is a very diflferent thing from saying, that joy and religion are the same thing. Joy is not only not religion, but it does not always arise from religious causes. The grounds or causes of its origin are numerous, and sometimes very diverse. A new speculative truth, new views which are at variance with the truth, or even the pleasant intimations of a dream or vision, whether more or less remarkable, (to say nothing of physical causes, and of providential causes, — causes connected with the state of our health and with our situation in life,) may be follow^ed by a pleasurable excitement of the emotional part of our nature, which may be mistaken for true religion. Certain it is, how- ever, that no joys can be regarded as really of a religious nature and as involving the fact of religion, which are not attended with repentance for sin and faith in Jesus Christ, with the re- novation of the desires and with the subjection of the will. The views of Madame Guyon on this subject were distinct and de- cided. 8he took the Saviour for her exam[)le. She did not OF MADAME GUYON. 41 seek joy, but God, — God first, and what God sees fit to give afterwards. Slie believed and knew, if she gave herself to God wholly, without reserve, God would take care of her happiness. The leading and decisive characteristic of her religious ex- perience was the subjection and loss of her own will in its union with the Divine will. It may be expressed in a single term, union. " As Thou, Father, art in me, and I in Thee, that they also may be one in us." On this subject a number of her remarks may properly be introduced here, with a few preliminary state- ments. Madame Guyon's literary education, although it com- pared well with that of other French ladies at that time, was, in some respects, defective. The institutions for young ladies, not excluding the celebrated Seminary of St. Cyr, established a few years after, did not profess, and were not able to give, that thorough mental training which was had in the French colleges and universities. And it is hardly necessary to say, that the greatest natural ability will not necessarily compensate for de- fects in education. Her style of writing is eloquent and im- pressive in a high degree, but a critical eye will discover in it deficiencies, which are to be ascribed in part to the cause which has just been intimated. It is to be noticed, also, that the theo- logical and experimental terms which she uses, sometimes have a specific meaning, not unknown perhaps in some of the mystic writers, but which can certainly be ascertained only by an inti- mate knowledge of her own experience, character, and writings. Take, as an illustration of this remark, the word " Puissances" which is literally rendered by the English word, Poicers ; but it is very evident, that the latter term gives only an indefinite and imperfect idea of the sense which she attaches to the original term. She uses it in its mental application, meaning the mental powers, but not all of them. She distinguishes between the will, Volonte, the Understanding, Entendement, and the Puis- sances ; meaning generally by the loiter term, the propensive and affectional part of our nature, not excluding the appetites ; what we sometimes denominate by the single expression, the natural sensibilities. It would not be snfticient, therefore, merely to translate her words by rendering them with the words and methods of expression that formally correspond to them. A translation of words is not necessarily a translation of itleas. It is necessary first to ascertain what she meant, and then to 42 MFK AN|) UKI.HIIors KXI'KKIKNCE oinbody lior ideas in siuli a luoilo ot" expression, as will convey to the English reader just (hat nieanini; which she herself would have conveyed, if she had used the Enj^lish language with the Anglo-Siixou mind. Add to this, her statements on the same subject are ot>en tniguicntary ; broken in ])arts, uttered in vari- ous and remote places of her works, and accompanied more or less with digressions ami repetitions. What I give as a translation is, in some cases, of the nature of an interpreted translation, a translation of the spirit rather than of the letter. So elevated is her leligions experience, and so peculiar is lier religious dialect, added to the other circumstances which have been alluded to, that a true translation of wdiat she was and of what she meant can be made in no other way. With these remarks, we give some of her views. " The union between the soul and God may exist in various respects. There may be a union of the human and the Divine perceptions. There may be a union of the desires and affections to some extent and in various particulars. But the most perfect union, that which includes whatever is most important in the others, is the union of the human and the Divine will. A union of the affections, independently of that of the will, if we can suppose such a thing, must necessarily be imperfect. When the will, which sustains a pre-eminent and controlling relation, is in the state of entire union with God, it necessarily brings the whole soul into subjection ; it implies necessarily the extinction of any selfish action, and brings the mind into harmony wntli itself, and into harmony with everything else. From that moment our powers cease to act from any private or selfish regards. They are annihilated to self, and act only in reference to God. Nor do they act in reference to God in their own way and from their own impulse ; but move as they are moved upon, being gradually detached from every motion of their ow^n. '' In the presence of the light of faith, every other light neces- sai-ily grows dim and passes away, as the light of the moon and stars gradually passes aw^ay, and is extinguished in the broader and purer illumination of the rising sun. This light now arose in my heart. Believing with this faith, the fountains of the heart were opened, and I loved God with a strength of love corresponding to the strength of faith. Love existed in the soul : and, throwing its influence around every other principle OF MADAME GUYON. 43 of action, coustituted as it were the soul's dwelling-place. God was there. According to the words of St. John, ' He that dwelleth in love, divelleth in God. God is love.'" When at a certain time the pious Franciscan, who had been under God the instrument of her conversion, and now acted as her spiritual Director, questioned her in relation to her feelings towards God, she answered : " I love God far more than the most affectionate lover among men loves the object of his earthly attachment. I make this statement as an illustration, because it is not easy to convey my meaning in any other way. But this comj)arison, if it furnishes an approximation to the truth, fails to discover the truth itself. It is merely an illustration, which may enable one imperfectly to conceive the strength of that love which exists in me, but is not, and cannot be, a true measure- ment of it. " This love of God," she adds, " occupied my heart so con- stantly and strongly, that it was very difficult for me to think of anything else. Nothing else seemed worthy of my attention. So much was my soul absorbed in God, that my eyes and ears seemed to close of themselves to outward objects, and to leave the soul under the exclusive influence of the inward attraction. My lips also were closed. Not unfrequently vocal prayer, that form of it which deals in particulars, ceased to utter itself, be- cause my mind could not so far detach itself from this one great object as to consider anything else. When the good Father, the Franciscan, preached at the Magdalen Church, at which I at- tended, notwithstanding the importance and interest which attached to his religious addresses, I found it difficult for me, and almost impossible, to retain any definite idea, of what he said. He preached there on three successive occasions about this time ; and the result was always the same. I found that Thy truth, my God, springing from the original source, as if Thy divine and eternal voice were speaking truly, yet inaudibly in the soul, made its impression on my heart, and there had its effect, without the mediation of words. " This immersion in God absorbed all things ; that is to say, seemed to [)laco all things in a new position relatively to God. Formerly I had contcnn)hite(l things as dissociated from God ; but now I beheld all things in the Divine Union. I could no more separate holy creatures from God, regarded as the source of ■n Mil-: AND KKI.lClOl'S KM'KUI KNC'K their holiness, tliiiii 1 ctuiKl eoiisiiKr llio sun's i;iys us existing ili.-tinct I'roni the sun itself, ami living and sliining hy viitnc of their own power of lii'e. This was trno of the greatest saints. I couUl not see the saints, Peter, and Paul, and the Virgin Mary, and others, as separate from God, but as being all that they are, from Him and in Him, in oneness. I eould not behold them out of God ; but I behekl them all in Him." CHAPTER VIII. Of the very marked ami decisive; nature of her conversion — Ceases to conform to tho ^s•orld in her diversions and modes of dress — Birth of lier second son — Her views of providence in connexion with her position in life — Of the discharge of her duty to her family and to others — Her great kindness and charity to the poor — Her efforts for the preservation of persons of her own sex — Her labours for the conversion of souls — Conversation with a lady of rank — Happy results — Domestic trials — Un- kiudncss of her stepmother and of her maid-servant — Partial alienation of her husband's afi'ections — Conduct of her eldest son — Her solitary state. Madame Guyon dates this great change as taking place on Magdalen's day, the 22d of Jidy, 1G68.* She was then a little more than twenty years of age. The change experienced in the transition from the life of nature to the life of God in the soul, is very different in different persons. In the case of Madame Guyon, slowly progressive in its preparatory steps, it was very decisive and marked at the time of its actually taking place. It was obviously a great crisis in her moral and religious being, — one in which the pride and ob- stinacy of the natural heart were broken down, and in which, for the first time, she became truly willing to receive Christ alone as her hope of salvation. A gospel change implies the existence of a new nature. A nature which has life in it ; and wdiich, having the principle of life in itself, puts forth the acts of life. And it is thus that the fact, both of its existence and of its character, is verified. The true life always shows itself outwardly, in its ap[)ropriate time and way, " By their fruits" says the Saviour, " ye shcdl know them." No other evidence will or ought to compensate for the absence of this. This evidence Madame Guyon gave. From the moment that she gave herself to the Lord to be His, in the * La Vie de Madame Gnyon, I'art I. chap. 10. g 5. OF MADAME GUYON. 45 inner spirit as well as the outward action, and in the action cor- responding to the spirit, the language of her heart, like that of the Apostle Paul, was, " Lord^ ivliat ivilt tJiou have me to do T' " I bade farewell for ever," she says, " to assemblies which I had visited, to plays and diversions, to dancing, to unprofitable walks, and to parties of pleasin-e. The amusements and pleasures which are so much prized and esteemed by the world, now ap- peared to me dull and insipid, — so much so, that I wondered how I ever could have enjoyed them." For two years previously she had left off the cm-ling of her hair, — a very general and favourite practice at that time. From this time it became her object, in her dress, in her modes of living, and in her personal habits generally, as well as in her interior dispositions, to conform to the requisitions of the Inward Monitor, the Comforter and Guide of holy souls, who now began to speak in her heart. Sustaining the relations of a wife, a mother, and a daughter, and seeing now more clearly into the ways and requisitions of Providence, she endeavoured, from higher motives and in a better manner than ever before, to discharge the duties which she owed to her father, her husband, and her children. Pre- viously to the time of which we are now speaking, God had been pleased to give her another son. Her first son she fre- quently names as being made, through the perverting influence of her stepmother, a son of trial and sorrow. The second son, who gave better promise both for himself and others, was born in 1667. We have scarcely anything recorded of him, except the few painful incidents of his early death. These new and expanding relations furnished opportunities of duty and occa- sions of trial, which ceased from this time, at least in a great degree, to be met in the strength of worldly motives, or by the arts of worldly wisdom. God, in whom alone she felt she could trust, became her wisdom and strength, as well as her consolation. We may truly say, whatever allowance it may be necessary to make for human infirmity, that God was her portion. She could say with the Psalmist, " The Lord is my fortress and deliverer, — my strength in whom I will trust." The views which she took of religious truth and duty, were of an elevated char- acter, without being mixed, so far as we can perceive, with 40 i.irK AND iu;i.i(iit»rs kxtkuiknck eleiuents tlint aro lalso ami limatical. It is triio, that even at this early i)oiio(l ol' lior experience, the religiim.s impulse, as if it had ail instinctive conviclion of the end to which it was tending, took a higher position tlian is ordinary, but without failinjj; to he guided by the sjurit of sound wisdom. If she was a woman who, both by nature and grace felt deejily, she was also a woman who thought clearly and strongly. Among other things, it is worthy of notice that she distinctly recognised, not only intellectually, but, what is far more important, she recog- nised practicall//, that God orders and pervades our allotment in life ; that God is in life, not in the mitigated and merely speculative sense of the term, but really and fully ; not merely as a passive spectator, but as the inspiring impulse and soul of all that is not sin ; i)i life, in all life, in all the situations and modifications of life, for joy or for sorrow, for good or for evil. The practical as well as speculative recognition of this princijjle may be regarded as a first step towards a thorough walking with God. A heart unsubdued, a heart in which worldly piinciples predominate, does not like to see God in all things, and tries unceasingly to shake off the yoke of Divine Providence. To the subdued heart, on the contrary, — to the heart in which Christian principles predominate, — that yoke always is, and of necessity always nmst be, just in ^^roportion as such principles predominate, " the yoke which is easy and the burden which is light." Early did this Heaven-taught woman learn this ; and she was willing to apply to her own situation, and to her own responsible relations, what she liad thus learned. It is one thing to have the charge of a family, and another to know and to feel, that this responsible })Osition is the arrangement and the gift of Providence. Providence, whose eye is unerring, had placed her in that relation ; and whatever cares or sorrows might attend her position, she felt that, as a woman, and em- phatically as a Christian woman, she must recognise it as the place which God had a})pointed, and as involving the sphere of duty which God had imposed. But her care was not limited to her family, to the exclusion of other appropriate objects of Christian benevolence. She had means of doing good, which she did not fail to employ. The income of her husband's property, or rather the property of OF MADAME GUYON. 47 which he had the control at this time, stated in the French currency, was about forty thousand Hvres annually, — a very large income at that period. Of this amount, a certain portion was placed in her hands by her husband, to be expended by her as she might think }»roper ; and, accordingly, as God gave her opportunity, and in imitation of that Saviour whom she now followed, she did what she could for the poor and the sick, discharging, without any hesitation, duties which would be ex- ceedingly unpleasant and irksome to a mind not supported by Christian principle, " I was very assiduous," she remai'ks in her Life, " in performing deeds of charity. I had feelings of strong compassion for the poor, and it would have been pleasing to me to have supplied all their wants. God, in His providence, had given me an abundance ; and, in the employment of what He had thus bestowed upon me, I wished to do all that I could to help them. I can truly say, that there were but few of the poor in the vicinity where I lived who did not partake of my alms. I did not hesitate to distribute among them the very best which coidd be furnished from my own table. It seemed as if God had made me the only almoner in this neighbourhood. Being refused by others, the poor and suffering came to me in great numbers. My benefactions were not all public. I em- ployed a person to dispense alms privately, without letting it be known from whom they came. There were some families who needed and received as:>Lstance, without being willing to acce})t of it as a gratuity ; and I reconciled their feelings with their wants, by permitting them to incur the formality of a debt. I speak of giving, but, looking at the subject in the religious light, I had nothing to give. My language to God was, — ' OA, my Divine Love^ it is thy substance — / am only the steward of it — ■ / ought to distribute it according to thy will.' " Her efforts for the good of others were not limited to gifts of food and clothing. Ruinous vices prevailed in France during the reign of Louis XIV. The profligacy of the Court, though less intense than that which was 'exhibited subsequently in the Regency of the Duke of Orleans and the reign of Louis XV., could hardly fail to find imitators among the people. This will explain some further efforts to do good. In a number of in- stances, with a forethouii-ht creditable to her sound iudgmeirt as 48 I.ll'K ANIt KKI.ICIOI'S KXI'KItlKNCK woll jis liLM- \nc\y, she iiit'oiins ns lliat slio caused poor young- girls, especially suili as ucic pailiiiilarly (.'liaracterized by beauty of pei^son, to be tauglil in some art or trade ; — that, having em- ployment anil means oi' subsistence, they might not be under a temptation to adopt vicious courses, and thus throw themselves away. And this was not all. Inspired with the sentiments which animate the hearts of some i)ious females of later times, she did not consider it inconsistent with religion to endeavour to reclaim those ol" her sex who had fallen into the grossest sins. She says that God made use of her to reclaim several females from their disorderly lives, one of whom was distinguished by her fiimil}' connexions as well as her beauty, who became not only reformed, but truly penitent and Christian in her disposi- tions, and died a happy death. " I went," she says, " to visit the sick, to comfort them, to make their beds. I made oint- ments, aided in dressing wounds, and paid the funeral expenses incurred in the interment of those who died." And as one of her methods of doing good, she adds, " I sometimes privately furnished tradesmen and mechanics, who stood in need of assist- ance, with the means that were requisite to enable them to prosecute their business." It is very obvious, that in outward charity she did much — perhaps all that could reasonably be expected. But further, under the influences of her new life, which re- quired her to go about doing good, she laboured for the spiritual as well as the temporal benefit of others, — for the good of their souls, as well as for that of their bodies. Before the day dawned, prayers ascended from her new heart of love. " So strong, almost insatiable, was my desire for communion with God, that I arose at four o'clock to pray.'' Her greatest pleasure, and, compara- tively speaking, her only pleasure, was to be alone with God, to pray to Him, and to commune with Him. She prayed for others as well as herself She says, " I could have wished to teach all the world to love God." Her feelings were not inoperative. Her efforts corresponded with her desires. She says that God made use of her as an instrument in gaining many souls to himself. Her labours, however, were more successful in some cases than in others, as would naturally be expected. Speaking of one of the female relatives of her husband, who was very OF MADAME GUYON. 49 tlioughtlcsb on religious subjects, she remarks, " I wanted her to seek the religious state, and to practise prayer. Instead of complying, she expressed the opinion that I was entirely desti- tute of all sense and wisdom in thus depriving myself, when I had the means of enjoying them, of all the amusements of the age ; but the Lord has since opened her eyes to make her despise them." " There was a lady of rank," she writes, " whom I sometimes visited. She took a particular liking to me, because, as she was pleased to say, my person and manners were agreeable to her. She said that she observed in me something extraordinary and uncommon. My impression is, that my spiritual taste reacted upon my physical nature, and that the inward attraction of my soul appeared on my very countenance. And one reason of this opinion is, that a gentleman of fashion one day said to my hus- band's aunt, ' I saw the lady your niece, and it is very visible that she lives in the presence of God !' I was surprised at hearing this, as I did not suppose that a person so much addicted to the world could have any very distinct idea of God's presence, even in the hearts of His own people. This lady, I say, began to be touched with the sense of God. The circumstances were these : At a certain time she proposed to me to go with her to the theatre. I refused, as, independently of my religious prin- ciples and feelings, I had never been in the habit of going to such places. The reason which I first gave to her for not acceding to her proposition, was of a domestic nature, namely, that my husband's continual indisposition rendered it inconve- nient and improper for me. Not satisfied with this, she conti- nued to press me very earnestly to go with her. She said that I ought not to be prevented by my husband's indispositions from taking some amusement ; that the business of nursing the sick was more appropriate to older persons ; and that I was too young to be thus confined to them. This led to more particiilar conversation. I gave her my reasons for being particularly attentive to my husband in his seasons of ill health. But this was not all. I told her that I entirely disapproved of theatrical amusements, and that I regarded them as es[)ecially inconsiateut with the duties of a Christian woman. The lady was far more advanced in years than I was ; but whether it was owing in part 50 I.IFK AND HK[,l(iIors EXPKKIKNCK to this ciicmnstanco or not, my remarks made such an impres- sion on her, tliat (>lie never visited such places afterwards. " lint our intercourso witli each otlier did not end here. I wjis once in company with her and another lady, who was fond of talking, and had read the writings of the Christian Fathers. They had much conversation with each other in relation to God. The learned lady, as might he expected, talked very learnedly of Him. I must confess that this sort of merely intel- lectual and speculative conversation, in relation to the Supreme Being, was not much to my taste. I scarcely said anything ; my mind being drawn inwardly to silent and inward communion with the great and good Being, about whom my friends were speculating. They at length left me. The next day the lady, with whom I had previously had some conversation, came to see me. The Lord had touched her heart ; she came as a penitent, as a seeker after religion ; she could hold out in her opposition no longer. But I at once attributed this remarkable and sudden change, as I did not converse with her the day previous, to the conversation of our learned and speculative acquaintance. But she assured me it was otherwise. She said, it was not the other's conversation which affected her, but my silence ; adding the remark, that my silence had something in it which pene- trated to the bottom of her soul, and that she could not relish the other's discourse. After that time we spoke to each other with open hearts on the great subject. " It was then that God left indelible impressions of grace on her soul ; and she continued so athirst for Him, that she could scarcely endure to converse on any other subject. That she might be wholly His, God deprived her of a most affectionate husband : He also visited her with other severe crosses. At the same time He poured His grace so abundantly into her heart, that He soon conquered it, and became its sole master. After the death of her husband and the loss of most of her fortune, she went to reside on a small estate which yet remained to her, situated at the distance of about twelve miles from our house. She obtained my husband's consent to my going to pass a week with her, for the purpose of consoling her under her afflictions. The visit was attended with beneficial results. God was pleased to make me an instrument of spiritual good to her. 1 conversed OF MADAME GUYON. 51 much with her on religious subjects. She possessed knowledge, and was a woman of uncommon intellectual power ; but being- introduced into a world of new thought as well as new feeling, she was surprised at my expressing things to her so much above what is considered the ordinary range of woman's capacity. I ishould have been surprised at it myself, had I reflected on it. But it was God, who gave me the gift of perception and utter- ance, for her sake ; He made me the instrument, diifusing a flood of grace into her soul, without regarding the unworthiness of the channel He was pleased to make use of. Since that time her soul has been the temple of the Holy Ghost, and our hearts have been indissolubly united." Keligion, so far as it is religion, is always the same ; the same in all lands and in all ages ; the same in its nature, the same in its results ; always allied to angels and God, and always meeting with the opposition of that which is not angelic and is not of God. It is not surprising, therefore, that Madame Guyon's new heart should meet with opposition from the world's old one. " When the world saw that I had quitted it, it persecuted me, and turned me into ridicule. I became the subject of its conversation, of its fabulous stories, and of its amusement. Given up to its irreligion and pleasures, it could not bear that a woman who was little more than twenty years of age, should thus make war against it, and overcome it." Her age was not the only circumstance that was remembered. That youth should quit the world was something ; but that wealth, intelligence, and beauty, combined with youth, in the same person, should quit it, was much more. On merely human principles it could not well be explained. Some were offended ; some spoke of her as a person under some species of mental delusion ; some attri- buted her conduct to stupidity, inquiring very significantly, " What can all this mean ? This lady has the reputation of knowledge and talent. But we see nothing of it." But God was with her. She relates that, about this time, she and her husband went into the country on some business. She did not leave her religion on leaving her home. The river Seine flowed near the place where they staid. " On (he hanks of the river," she says, '■'■ finding a dry and solitary place, 1 sought intercourse irifh my (rod." Her husl>and had gone with 52 I. IKK .VNh KKKKiloUS KXI'KIUKNCK her into the country ; Imt ho did not accompany her there. There is something impressive in this little incident. She went ulono to the haidcs of the Seine, to the waters of the beautiful river, ami into the dry and solitary place. It was indeed a soli- trtry place ; but can we say that she who went there, went alone ? (nnl waft icith her, — God, who made the woods and the watei"s, and who, in the beginning, walked with His holy ones nmid the trees of the garden. " The communications of Divine Love," she adds, " were unutterably sweet to my soul in that retirement." And thus, with God for her portion, she was happy in the loss of that portion which was taken away from her, " Lul tlie wotld despise uud Icavo me, They have left my Saviour too ; Human hearts and looks deceive me ; Thou art not, like them, untrue. " Man may trouble and distress me, 'Twill but drive me to thy breast ; Life with trials hard may press me ; Heaven will bring me sweeter rest." Happy would it have been, if she had been exposed ordy to the ridicule and the opposition of those who were without. Among the members and relatives of her own family still less than ever, with the exception of her father, did she find any heart that corresponded fully to her own. It seems to have been the great object of her stepmother, who was exceedingly desirous to retain the influence over her son which she had exercised previous to his marriage, to weaken and destroy his affections for his wife. Her object was cruel as it was wicked, although she probably justified herself in it, from the fear that the benevolent disposition of Madame Guyon, both before and after experiencing religion, might rcsidt in a waste of the pro- perty of the flimily, if she should possess all that influence with her husband, to which such a wife was entitled. " My mother- in-law," she says, " persuaded my husband that I let everything go to wreck, and that, if she did not take care, he would be ruined." The stepmother was seconded by the maid- servant, and the result ol" their cond)ined elForts was, that he became unsettled and vacillating in his affections, — not constant OF MADAME GUYON. 53 in his love ; sometimes, and perhaps we may say always, when separated from their influence, truly and even passionately affec- tionate ; at other times, and more frequently, he was distrustful and cruel. In this perplexed and conflicting state of mind, it is not surprising that we find his language and his conduct equally conflicting, equally inconsistent. Sometimes he speaks to her in the language of violence and abuse, sometimes in a relenting spirit and with affection. He was not pleased with the religious change which appeared in his wife. " My husband," she says, " was out of humour with my devotion ; it became insupportable to him. ' What I' says he, ' you love God so much that you love me no longer! So little did he comprehend that the true con- jugal love is that which is regulated by religious sentiment, and which God himself forms in the heart that loves Him." At other times, when left to his better nature, he insisted much on her being present with him ; and frankly recognising what he saw was very evident, he said to her, " One sees plainly thai you never lose the presence of God." The sorrow, therefore, which pained her life before her con- version, remained afterwards. It was a wound of the heart, deep and terrible, but which cannot well be appreciated or ex- pressed. To a woman who possesses those confiding and affec- tionate inclinations which characterize and adorn the sex, there is no compensation, there can be no compensation, for an absence of love, — least of all, in that sacred and ennobling relation, in which she gives up her heart, in the fond expectation of a heart's return. It is true, that it was a marriage, in the first instance, without much acquaintance ; but still it was not without some degree of confidence, and still less without hope. But it ought to be said, that Madame Guyon always refers to this painful subject with dignity and candour, — not condemning others with severity, and willing to take a full share of blame to herself These trials would never have been known from her pen, had they not been written at tlic express and positive command of her spiritual Director, wliom she regarded it a religious duty to obey. At the time of her v.-riting she had no expectation that her statements would be made pul)lic. The waiting-maid, who had gained so mncli infincnco over 54 F.IKi: AN1> KKLKIKMS KXI'KIUKNC'E iier hiisbaiul, " becatiio," she says, " every day more liaiij^lity. It sceineil as if Satan were in lier, to incite her to torment me. And what cnrai:;ed her most of all was, that her vexatious treat- ment, her fretfiilness, and her impertinent complaints and rebukes, had cejised to trouble me as they once did. Inwardly supported, I remained silent. It was tlien that she thought that if she could hinder me from going to partake of the holy Sacrament, she would give me the greatest of all vexations. She was not mistaken, divine Spouse of holy souls ! since the oidy satistaction of my life was to receive and honour Thee. The church at which I worshipped was called the Magdalen Church. I loved to visit it. I had done something to orna- ment it, and to furnish it with the silver plates and chalices of the Communion service. It was there, when things were in such a situation at my house as to allow me to do it, that I retired and spent hours in prayer. It was there, with a heart filled with love, that I partook of the holy Sacrament. This girl, who knew where ray affections were and how to wound them, took it into her head to watch me daily. Sometimes I evaded her, and had my seasons of retirement and prayer. Whenever it was otherwise, and she discovered my going thither, she immediately ran to tell my mother-in-law and my husband. " One of their alleged grounds of complaint was the length of time which I spent in religious services. Accordingly, when the maid-servant informed them, that I had gone to the church, it was enough to excite their angry feelings. Whenever this took place, I had no rest from their reproofs and invectives that day. If I said anything in ray own justification, it was enough to make them speak against me as guilty and sacrilegious, and to cry out against all devotion. If I remained silent and made no answer at all, the result was merely to heighten their indignation, and to make them say the most unpleasant things they could devise. If I were out of health, which was not unfrequently the case, they took occasion to come and quarrel with me at my bed- side, saying, that my prayers and my sacramental communions were the occasions of my sickness. As if there were nothing else which could make me ill, but my devotions to Thee, my Lord !'■ OF MADAME GUYOX. 55 The eflfoits of the stepmother were not limited to attempts to weaken the affections of her husband ; she endeavoured also to alienate from her the respect and affections of her eldest son. And she too well succeeded ; althousfh there is reason to think that he came to better dispositions in after life. There was something in this, so deep and sacred is a mother's love, which seems to have affected the feelings of Madame Guyon more keenly than anything else in her domestic afflictions. " The heaviest cross," she says, " which I was called to bear, was the loss of my eldest son's affections and his open revolt against me. He exhibited so great disregard and contempt of me, that I could not see him without causing me severe grief." She says, that she conversed with one of her pious friends in relation to this strange and heavy trial, whose advice was, that since she could not remedy it, she must suffer it patiently, and leave everything to God. In general she thought it best to bear her domestic trials in silence, whatever they might be. As a woman of prayer and faith, she did not look upon them exclusively in the human light ; but regarding them as sent of God for some gracious purpose, she was somewhat fearful of seeking advice and consolation from any other than a divine source. Indeed she was so situated that she could not well do otherwise than she did, having but few friends at this time, with whom it would have been prudent to have consulted upon these things. Her own mother was dead. The half sister, whom she loved so much, and with whom she had been accustomed in earlier life to take counsel, was no longer living. The two sisters of her husband, constituting with him all the children of their family, who seem to have had no un- favourable dispositions, were almost constantly absent at the Benedictine Seminary. They were brought up under the care of the prioress, Genevieve Granger, a pious and discreet woman, whom we shall have occasion to mention hereafter. Those of her pious friends in whose discretion she could fully trust, were not only few in number, but it was not always easy or safe to see them. " Sometimes," she remarks on one occasion, " I said to myself, Oh that I had but any one, who would take notice of me, or to whom I might unbosom myself! what a relief it would be ! But it was not granted me." .')(*, 1.11 r, ANI1 ISELIOIOUS EXPERIENCR It ouirlit to 1)0 adiUnl, liDWcvor, in connexion with the domestic trials of which wo have given some account, that they were alle- viated, in some degree, by the satisfiiction which she took in her two younger children. They were both lovely, and worthy to be loveil. The birth of the second son has aheady been men- tioned. The third child was a daughter, born in 16G9. Of this child she speaks in the warm terms of admiration and love, dictated by the observation of her lovely traits of character, as well as by the natural strength of motherly affection. She re- presents her as budding and opening under her eye into an object of delightful beauty and attraction. She loved her for her love- liness ; and she loved her for the God who gave her. When she was deserted by the world, when her husband became estranged from her, she pressed this young daughter to her bosom, and felt that she was blessed. This too, this cherished and sacred plea- sure, was soon destined to pass away. CHAPTER IX. We are to consult our own improvement and good, as well as that of others — Her desires to be wholly the Lord's — Her efforts to keep the outward appetites iu subjection — I^emarks on this subject — The inordinate action of all parts and powers of the mind is to be subdued, as well as of the appetites — Austerities or mortifications may be practised without necessarily attachine; to them the idea of expiation or of merit — Statement in relation to the monks of La Trappe — Temp- tations to go back again to the world — Visit to Paris — Of the errors and sins she committed there — Her grief — Her journey to Orleans and Touraine — Temp- tations and religious infidelities and falls repeated — Incident on the banks of the Loire — Her remarks upon her sins — Her visit to St. Cloud — Her sorrow — Inqui- ries on the subject of holy living. " Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." Our own vine- yard is not to be neglected. True Christianity verifies its exist- ence and its character, not merely in doing good to others, but partly, at least, in the regulation of our own inward nature. It is not enough to visit the sick and to teach the ignorant, to feed the hungry and to clothe the naked, while we leave our own appetites and passions unsubdued, unregulated. The subject of this Memoir, however warm-hearted and diffu- sive may have been her charity to others, felt that there were OF MADAME GUYON. 57 duties which she owed to herself. There was something within lier, which told her that God's providence, which searches through all space and reaches all hearts, had designated her, not merely as a suhject of forgiveness, but as a subject of sanctifying grace ; not merely as a sinner to be saved, but as a living Temple in which His own Godhead should dwell. And He, who, in dwell- ing in the soul constitutes its true life, inspired desires within her, corresponding to these designs. Referring to the great change which she dates specifically as having taken place on the 22d of July, 1668, she says, " I had a secret desire given me from that time, to be wholly devoted to the disposal of my God. The language of my heart, addressing itself to my heavenly Father, was, what cotddst thou demand of me, which I would not willingly sacrifice or offer thee ? Oh, spare me not ! It seemed to me that I loved God too much, willingly or knowingly to offend Him. I could hardly hear God or our Lord Jesus Christ spoken of, without being almost trans- ported out of myself." And in accordance with these views, she endeavoured to re- cognise jjracticalhj the Saviour's direction, " Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." And also that other direction, " If thy right eye offend thee, pluch it out and cast it from thee ; for it is profitable for thee, that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into Hell." It is hardly necessary to say, that no man can properly be accounted as wholly the Lord's, whose appetites, which have their moral as well as physical relations, are not under control. It is very possible that such a person may be a Christian ; that is to say, a Christian in the ordinary and mitigated sense of the terms. It would certainly be reason- able to say, that he may possess a soul, which may properly be described as forgiven ; but still it is a soul which continues to be characterized by undue imperfections. He may possess a soul, as undoubtedly he does, to which the blood of the Atone- ment has been applied ; but still it is a soul which is neither fully nor adequately renovated. If it be true, that the penalty of the Divine Law, in its application to him as an individual, has been satisfied, it is equally true, I think, that the new crea- tion of the Gospel, the reign inwardly of the Holy Ghost, has r>S l.ll i: ANI> UKl.Kilors KXI'KKIKNCK not yet fully oiiiu\ Tlio groat work ot* sanctilicaliou must l)C carrieil on and rcnderctl complote. And it is liardly necessary to add, that tiie inward man cannot be sanctilied witliont the sanctitication, in some proper sense of the terms, of that wliich is outward. And, accordingly, nnder the influence of such views as these, she was enabled, with that assistance which God always gives to those who add faith to their elforts, to subdue and to regulate, on Christian principles, this important part of our nature. Some of the methods she took seem to imply an undue degree of violence to principles of our nature, which are given us for wise purposes, and which in their appropriate action are entirely innocent. But there is a principle involved in the practical sub- jection of the appetites, which will in part justify her course. It is, that an inordinate exercise of the appetites is to bs overcome by what may be termed an inordinate repression ; that is to say, by a repression, which under other circumstances would neither be necessary nor proper. She refused for a time to indulge them in anything, in order that she might regain her lost control, and be enabled afterwards to employ them aright. She curbed them strongly and strictly, even beyond what might otherwise have been necessary, not only for the purpose of breaking their present domination, but for the purpose of annulling the terrible influence of that law of habit, which gave to their domination its permanency and power. " I kept my appetites," she says, " under great restraint ; subjecting them to a process of strict and unremitting mortification. It is impossible to subdue the inordinate action of this part of our nature, perverted as it is by long habits of vicious indulgence, unless we deny to it, for a time, the smallest relaxation. Deny it firmly that which gives it pleasure ; and if it be necessary, give to it that which disgusts ; and persevere in this course, until, in a certain sense, it has no choice in anything which is presented to it. If we attempt to do otherwise, if we take the course, during this warfare with the sensual nature, of granting any relaxation, giving a little here and a little thei-e, not because it is right, but because it is little, we act like those pereons who, under pretext of strengthening a man who is condemned to be starved to death, take the course of giving him, from time to time, a little nour- OF MADAME GUYOX, 59 ishraent, and who tlius prolong the man's torments, while they defeat then* own ohject, " And these views will apply," she adds, " to the propensive and aifectional part of our natm-e, as well as to the appetites ; and also to the understanding and the will. We must meet their inordinate action promptly ; we must eradicate from them every motive and impulse of a selfish nature which can be found in them, otherwise we support them in a dying life to the end. The state in which we are dying to the loorld, and the state in which we are dead to the ivorld, seem to me to be clearly set forth by the Apostle Paul, as distinct from each other. He speaks of bearing about in the body, the dying of the Lord Jesus ; but lest we should rest here, he fully distinguishes this from the state of being dead, and having our life hid with Christ in God. It is only by a total death to self that we can expe- rience the state of Divine union, and be lost in God. " But when a person," she remarks further, " has once expe- rienced this loss of self, and has become dead to sin, he his no further need of that extreme system of repression and mortifica- tion, which, in connexion wnth the Divine blessing, had given him the victory. The end for which mortification was practised is accomplished in him, and all is become new. It is an un- happy error in those good souls, who have arrived at the con- quest of the bodily senses, through a series of long and unre- mitted mortifications, that they should still continue attached to the exercise of them. From this time, when the senses have ceased from their inordinate action, we shoidd pet^nit them to accept, with indifference and equcmimiti/ of mind, whatever the Lord sees fit in His providence to give them, — the pleasant and the unpleasant, the siceet and the hitter. " And having obtained the victory over the appetites, he who seeks after entire holiness of heart, will pass on to other parts of our fallen nature, and will endeavour to subject the wandering intellect, the misplaced affections, and the inordinate will. Severely repressive acts, analogous to the cutting off the right hand, or the plucking out of the right eye, must be put forth here also. And success may be expected to follow, if the efforts of the creature, whatever they may be, (and which are always utter weakness, without the inspiration of God, and without the GO 1,11 K ANP UKMiiidi's r.xri:niKNCE niv'mo blcssinr:;,) arc attenclcil with piaAHM-, with faith, and with the spirit of serious and devout recollection." ller views of austerities or acts of mortification, as thoy are given in her Autobiography, and as they are interpreted and perhaps somewhat modified in her Short Method of Prayer, and her other works, arc less objectionable than some might suppose, who have not carefully examined them. It is very probable, that her earliest views on this subject were incorrect and dan- gerous. IJut after she had become emancipated (which was the case at an early period of her experience) from certain early impressions, it is obvious that she regarded acts of austerity and mortification as having relation to the laws of our nature, and not as furnishing an atoning element ; as disciplinary, and not as expiatory, — a distinction which is radical and of great conse- quence. And in accordance with this view, she thought that sucli austere and self-mortifying acts, which are to be practised with a reference to certain definite physical and mental results, should continue only for a time. In other words, when the end of the austerity or mortification is secured, the act itself should cease. I doubt not that the distinction which separates the idea of expiation from austere and self-mortifying acts, and makes them merely disciplinary, would be found to hold good in many in- stances ; but, w'ithout pretending to say how far this may bo the case, I will relate here a single incident which will illustrate what I mean. The monks of the celebrated monastery of La Trappe, in France, after the reform which was effected there by M. De Ranee, were exceedingly strict in their mode of life. The deprivations they endured, and the austerities they imposed upon themselves, seemed to be as great as human nature is well capable of enduring. A person at a certain time visited the monastery, and witnessing the austerities which were practised, he expressed to the monks his admiration of their self-denial in rejecting those indulgences which were so common among other persons. The monks, laying their hands on their hearts, with a look of deep humiliation, replied in words to this effect. " We bless God that we find Him all-sufficient without the possession of those things to which you have referred. We reject all such possessions and indulgences, but without claiming any merit for OF MADAME GUYON. 61 it. Our deepest jjenances are proper subjects of repentance. We should have been here to httle purpose, had we not learned that our penitential acts, performed with too little feeling, are not such as they should be ; and that our righteousness is not free from imperfection and pollution. Whatever we may endure, or for whatever reason it may be done, we ascribe all our hopes of mercy and acceptance to the blood of Christ alone."* The subjection of the appetites, which has a close connexion with mental purity, and is exceedingly important, constitutes but a part, and perhaps we may say but a small part, of that physical and mental contest and victory to which the Christian is called. His whole nature, every thought and every feeling, every act of the desires and of the will, is to be brought into subjection to the law of Christ. We may well suppose, that the pious subject of this Memoir, with the great powers of analysis and reflection she possessed, fully understood this. The state- ments which we have just now quoted from her, show that she did. It was her desire and purpose, botli in body and in spirit, to be wholly the Lord's, But she found that the contest, which she was summoned to carry on with other and higher parts of her nature, was more trying and less successful than that which she had prosecuted in other respects. Under the influence of principles which are good when they are not inordinate, she found to her great grief that she still loved to hear and to know more than a sanctified Christianity would allow. Man, under the influence of the natural life, is disposed to diffuse himself, — to overleap the humbling barrieis of God's providence, and to mingle in what is not his own. The principle of curiosity, always strong, but especially so in a mind like hers, was not only not dead, but what is still more import- ant, it ceased to be properly regulated. It was still a matter of interest with her, (more so, as it seemed to her, than was con- sistent with entire holiness of heart,) to see and to be seen, and to experience the pleasures of worldly intercourse and con- versation. At one time the contest which she experienced in this direc- tion was ver}' considerable. Satan linew how and where to aim * Actoiiiit of the Monastery of Lii 'J'raiipc, and I'f tin. Institution of Port IJoyal, l>y Mary Anne Scliimmclpoiininck, vol. i, p. 110. 02 I.IFR AN'D KKLKJIors KXPClUKNi'K liis arrows. IK' IkuI siij^^ju-ity enough to jiorceivc that she was not a woman that could easily be subdued by appeals and tenip- tntions applied to her physical nature, but that they must be nmile to her great powers of intellect, her pride of character, and her desire of personal admiration and of personal influence. The suggestion came insidiously, but it entered deeply into the heart. For two years she had laboured faithfully in the cause of Christ. We do not mean to say that she had been without sin, but that she had struggled faithfully, though sometimes unsuccessfully against sin, and without ever thinking for a mo- ment of yielding quietly to its solicitations and influences ; and it was not till after all this favourable probation that the secret whisper, breathed out gently and with great art, came to her soul. It came from the source of all evil, and was applied with Satanic skill. Is it possible that I must so far give up all to God, that I shall have nothing left for the world ? In this age of refinement and pleasure, when everything is awake to intelli- gence, and when there is apparently but one voice of joy, is it necessary, or even reasonable, that my eye should be shut and my ears closed, and my lips silent ? The assault was made with so much adroitness, that her religious resolution, after having been strenuously sustained for some time, began to waver. It is in connexion with this state of things in her mental ex- perience, that she speaks of a visit of some length, which she made in Paris, — her usual residence being a short distance out of the city. During this residence there, she says, in ex[»res- sions which convey an ominous import to the religious mind, " I relaxed in my usual religious exercises, on account of the little time I had." It is hardly necessary to remark, that reli- gious declensions generally begin in this way. When she first went to Paris at this period, she seems to have been compara- tively in a good religious state. She speaks of God's grace to her, — of His continual presence and care. She had experienced some heavy temptations and trials before, but does not appear to have yielded to them in any great degree. But she felt here as she had not felt before, since she professed to walk in a new life, — the dangerous power of the heart, even of the Christian heart, whenever it is left to itself, and is unrestrained by Divine grace. Speaking of her internal state about this time, she says. OF MADAME GUYON. 63 " I seemed to myself to be like one of those young brides, who find a difficulty after their marriage, in laying aside their self- indulgence and self-love, and in faithfully following their hus- bands into the duties and cares of life." To a mind that was not fully established in the religious life, or which was tempo- rarily shaken in its religious principles, — Paris, which was not more the centre of civilisation and of science, than it was of worldly pleasure and of fashion, was a place full of hazard. She found the temptation great ; and it is a sad commentary on liuman weakness when we say, that she in some degree yielded to it. She says, " I did many things which I ought not to have done!' What these things were, we do not fully know. She mentions, however, as one thing which gave her trouble, that she felt an improper gratification in receiving the attention of others. In other words, her vanity still lived. There were a number of persons in the city, apparently persons without experimental re- ligion, who were extremely fond of her ; and it was one of the faults which she speaks of having committed at this time, that she allowed them to express their personal regard in too strong terms, without checking it as she ought. It appears also, from some remarks she makes, that she regarded herself as having conformed too much to the dress of the Parisian ladies. Amons: other things which indicate her sense of her danger and of her actual unfaithfulness to God, she speaks of promenading in the public walks of the city, a practice not necessarily improper or sinful. But she gives us to understand that she did not do it merely out of complaisance to her friends who desired her com- pany, nor for the physical pleasure and benefit which might be expected from the practice ; but partly, at least, from the un- sanctified feeling of personal display, the desire of seeing and of being seen. But deeply did she lament these falls. " As I saw that the purity of my state was likely to be sul- lied by a too great intercourse with the world, I made haste to finish the business which detained me at Paris, in order to return into the country. It is true, God, I felt that Thou hadst given me strength enough, in connexion with Thy pro- mised assistance, to avoid the occasions of evil. But I found myself in a situation of peculiar temptation. And J liail so far 64 I. IKK ANI> lCl-:i,U!10L'S KXTKUIENCK }ioKk'il to the evil iiilliioiuvs, to wliiih 1 luul i)cen exposed, thai 1 I'oiind it dillicult to resist the vain ceremonies and coniphiis- anees, whieli characterize fashionable life. Invited to join in the pleasnres to which the world was so generally and strongly devoted, 1 was very far from tiisting the satisfaction, which they seemed to give to others. ' Alas !' said I, ' tltis is not my God, and nothing beside Ilim can give solid pleasure.' " I was not only disai)pointeil, but I felt the deep sorrow which always afllicts imfaithful souls. 1 cannot well describe the anguish of which I was the subject. It was like a consum- ing lire. Banished from the presence of my Beloved, my bride- groom, how could I be hai)py ! I could not find access to Him, and I certainly could not find rest out of Him. I knew not what to do. I w^as like the ^dove out of the Ark ; which, find- ing no rest for the sole of its foot, was constrained to return again ; but finding the window shut, could only fly about with- out being able to enter." Her husband, with the keen eye of one who did not consider the value of her natural character as enhanced at all by her religious traits, saw her position, and we may well suppose secretly rejoiced at it. It was no disquiet to him, looking at the matter in the worldly light, that she had made her appear- ance in the fashionable companies of the most gay and fashion- able city in the world. And still he could not but see that the snare, which was thus laid for the faith and piety of his wife, in the attractions and assemblies of Paris, had in some degree failed. He was not ignorant that she had both seen her dan- ger, and had exhibited the wisdom and the decision to flee from it. But certainly, if her religious principle was thus severely tested at Paris, there could be no hazard to it, in her making an excursion into the country, among mountains and rivers, and others of God's great works. This, obviously, was a very natural snggestion. It was proposed, therefore, that she should take a distant journey. Her husband could go with her, and was ready to do it. His state of health was such, that it could hardly fail to be beneficial. And if her own health should not be improved, as it would be very likely to be, it would certainly contribute to her happiness. And it was an incidental consi- deration which had its weight, that her parents came from OF MADAME GUYON. G5 Montargis, the place of her early life and recollections, which could be visited iu the way. Orleans, too, which it was contem- plated to visit in the tour, was a celebrated and beautiful city. Nor was it a small thing to an imaginative mind like hers, to tread the banks and to behold the scenery of the magnificent Loire. With that great river there were some interesting recol- lections connected. Not many years before, its waters had been wedded to those of the Seine by the Canal of Briare ; an astonishing work, which was a monument of the enterprise of her husband's father, and the principal source of the wealth of her family. Hence arose the journey to the distant province of Touraine. This may be dated in the spring or summer of 1670. But this journey also, undertaken under more favourable auspices than her visit to Paris, was attended with temptation and sin. During the life of her husband, she geiierally jour- neyed in a carriage, and with such attendants and equipage as was thought suitable to her position in society, or as her hus- band's desires and tastes might dictate. And as she travelled from town to town, in the Orleanois and down the banks of the river Loire, the Loire known in history and song, her eye be- trayed her heart, and she found the spirit of worldly interest again waking up within her. But the company of others, involving as it does the suggestions and solicitations of unsanc- tified nature, is sometimes more dangerous than the sight of cities or of the works of nature and art. In that part of France her father's family and her husband's had been known, so that her movements were not likely to be kept secret. Her personal reputation had preceded her. Her powers of conversation were remarkable ; and were always felt when she was disposed to exert them. Men were taken also with her beauty and her wealth. " In this journey," she says, " abundance of visits and applauses were bestowed upon me ; and I, who had already experienced the pangs of being unfaithful to God, found emo- tions of vanity once more springing to life within me. Strange as it may appear, and after all the bitterness I had experienced, I loved human applause, while I clearly perceived its folly. And I loved that in myself which caused this ap[)lausc, wliile in the conflict of my mind's feelings, I desired to be delivered from it. The life of nature was pleased with ])ublic favour ; but the 10 6;» 1,1 FK ANH HKLUilOl'S KXl'KUrENCE lite of gmce niaile nic see the diiiiger of it, and dread it. Oh, what paiijijs tlic lieart feels which is in this situation ! Deep was tlie afthelion which this combat of grace and nature cost me ! Wliat renilered my position tlic more dangerous was, that they not only praised my youth and beauty, but passed com]>liments upon my virtue. But this I could not receive. 1 had been too deei)ly tauglit that there is nothing but unworthi- ness and weakness in myself, and that all goodness is from God." " We met with some accidents," she says, " in this journey, which were sufficient to have impressed and terrified any one. And it is proper for me to say, with gratitude, that though the corruptions of my nature prevailed against me, to the extent and in the manner which I have just mentioned, my Heavenly Father did not desert me. He kept me submissive and resigned in dangers, where there seemed to be no possibility of escape. At one time, as we Avcre travelling on the banks of the Loire, we got into a narrow path, from wdiicli w^e could not well re- treat. The waves of the river washed the base of the narrow road which was before us, and partly undermined it, so that it was necessary for our footmen to support one side of the car- riage, in order to pass it over. All around me were terrified ; but God kept me in tranquillity. Indeed, sensible of my weak- ness, and fearful that I might still more dishonour Plim, I seemed to have a secret desire, that He would take me out of the temptations and trials of the world, by some sudden stroke of his providence." It is obvious that in this excursion, which she designates as her journey to Orleans and Touraine, she yielded in some degree to the temptations to which slie was subject. In the sorrow and depression of her spirit, she went in search of religious friends and teachers, to confess and lament her backslidings. But they did not, or perhaps could not, enter into her feelings. " They did not condemn," she says, " what God condemned ; and treated those things as excusable and proper, which seemed to me to be disa])proved and even detestable in His sight. But in saying that they wholly extenuated my faults, or did not con- sider them very great, I ought to add, that they did not under- stand (nobody hut myself could understand) how much God OF MADAME GUYONT. 67 liad done for me. Instead of measuring my faults by the mercies and graces which God had conferred upon me, they only considered what I was, in comparison ivitli u-hat I might have been. Hence, instead of blaming me, their remarks tended rather to flatter my pride, and to justify me in things which incurred the Divine displeasure and rebuke. '■ It is an important remark, that a sin is not to be measured merely by its nature, m itself co7isidered ; but also by the state of the person who commits it ; as the least unfaithfulness in a wife is more injinious to a husband, and affects him more deeply, than far greater acts of unkindness and neglect in his domestics. I had given myself to God in a bond of union more sacred than any human tie. Was it possible, then, to bestow my thoughts and affections on another, without offending Him to whom my soul had already betrothed itself ? My trials were connected, in part, with the fashions of those gay times, the modes of dress, and methods of personal intercourse. It seemed to me that the dress of the ladies, with whom, in my journey to Orleans and Touraine, I was led almost necessarily to associate, was hardly consistent with Christian, or even natural modesty and decorum. I did not wholly conform to the prevalent modes, but I went too far in that direction. " It is true, that my associates, seeing that I covered my neck much more than was common for females at that time, assured me that I was quite modest and Christian-like in my attire ; and as my husband liked my dress, there could be nothing amiss in it. But there was something within me, which told me that it was not so. Tlie Christian knows what it is to hear the voice of God in his soul. This inward voice troubled me. It seemed to say, whither art thou going, thou ' whom my soul lovetli ?' Divine love drew me gently and sweetly in one direction ; while natural vanity violently dragged me in another. I was undecided ; loving God, but not wholly willing to give up the world. My heart was rent asunder by the contest." This was indeed a sad state to be in. But it is proper to say, that there was one marked difference between the present and her former state. In the days of her life of nature, at least in that period before which God began to operate in her by his Holy Spirit, she not only sinned, but had in reality no disposi- 68 l.IKK AN1> KKl.lClolS KX I'KiaKXCi: tion to do otherwise. She (ovcd to Bin. It was dilibrcnt now. Renovated, tliough imperfect — sincerely desirous to do right, tlionp;h often failing to do so, becanse she was not enliglitened in the way of holy living by faith alone — she could not fall into transgression without experiencing the deepest sorrow and tor- ment of mind. Sin liad lost the sweetness which once charac- terized it. She began to perceive, that even the smallest trans- gression cannot fail to separate from God. The wretchedness, therefore, which it occasioned, when slic found in any case that she liad sinned against her Heavenly Father, was inexpressible. If, under the impulse of an unsanctified curiosity, she gave an unguarded look — if in a moment of temptation she uttered a hasty reply to the rebukes and accusations of others — (moral delinquencies which some might not regard as very great) — she found that it cost her bitter tears. Even when she dispensed her munificent charity, which brought consolation to the poor and suffering, she sometimes found, with sorrow of heart, that the donation which ought to have been made with " a single eye" was corrupted by a glance at the rewards of self-complacency and of worldly applause. " The God of love," she says, " so enlightened my heart, and so scrutinized its secret springs, that the smallest defects became exposed. In my conversation with others, I could often discover some secret motive which was evil, and was in consequence com- pelled to keep silence. And even my silence, when examined by the aid of the divine light, was not exempt from imperfection. If I was led to converse about myself, and said anything in my own favour, I discovered pride. And I could not even walk the streets, without sometimes noticing in my movements the im- pulse of the life of self." She seemed to be in the condition described in the seventh chapter of Romans, — a description which will apply both to the struggles of the enlightened sinner when deeply convicted of his transgressions, and to the inward conflicts of the partially sanctified Christian. " I delight in the law of God after the inward man ; but I see another law in my mem- bers, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin." " It must not be supposed, however," she adds further, " that God suffered my faults to go unpunished. Oh, my God ! — with OF MADAME GUYON. 69 what rigour dost thou punish the most faithful, the most loving and beloved of thy children ! The anguish which the truly devout soul experiences, when it sees sin in itself, is inexpressible. The method which God takes inwardly to correct those whom He designs to purify radically and completely, must be felt, in order to be understood. The anguish of the soul, in consequence of its inward consciousness of failing to do its duty, can perhaps best be expressed by calling it a secret burning, — an internal fire. Or perhaps it may be compared to a dislocated joint, which is in incessant torment, until the bone is replaced. Sometimes such a soul is tempted to look to men and to seek consolation in the creature ; but this is in violation of God's designs upon it, and it cannot in that way find any true rest. It is best to endure patiently, till God sees fit, in His own time and way, to remove the agony, and thus learn effectually the bitterness of transgression." In this divided state of mind, continually striving for a better religious state, and yet continually faltering and failing in the resolutions she had most seriously made, she received an invita- tion to make one in a fashionable party to visit St. Cloud. This beautiful village, situated on the banks of the Seine, at tlie distance of only six miles from Paris, was then, as it is now, the resort of fashionable society. Celebrated for its natural scenery, its park, and the magnificent palace and gardens of the Duke of Orleans, it was the chosen spot for the residences of many families of wealth and taste. It happened that other ladies, with whom she was well acquainted, were invited to the festival ; and it would seem that their solicitations were employed to induce her to go with them. She yielded to them, but not without condemning herself for doing it. " I went," she says, " through a spirit of weak compliance, and from the impulse of vanity. Everything connected with the entertainment which was given us, was magnificent. It was an occasion especially adapted to meet the wants and views of the votaries of worldly pleasure. The ladies who attended me, wise in worldly wisdom, but not in the things of religion, relished it. But as for me, it filled me with bitterness. I pleased others ; but I offended Him whom I ouglit most to have pleased. Rich were the tables that were spread, but I coidd cat nothing. The ffounds of festivity and joy arose on every side ; but it was not 70 Lll'E AN1» UKLHilOl S liXl'ERIENOli possible tor iiic to enjoy jmytliiug. Pleasure shone iu the looks of other visitants, but sorrow was written upon mine. Oh, what tears did this lalse step cost me 1 My Beloved was otiended. For above three lon^^ uiontbs He withdrew entirely the favours of His presence. I could see nothing but an angry God before me." One important lesson wliich she learned from these teiupta- tious and follies, — a lesson as important as any which the nature of the Christian life renders indisi)ensable, — was that of her entire dependence on divine grace. " I became," she says, " deeply assured of what the prophet hath said, 'Except the Lord keep the city, the laitchmcm wakefh hut in vain !' When I looked to Thee, my Lord ! thou wast my faithful keeper ; thou didst continually defend my heart against all kinds of enemies. But, alas ! when left to myself, I was all weakness. How easily did my enemies prevail over me ! Let others ascribe their victories to their own fidelity. As for myself, I shall never attribute them to anything else than Thy paternal care over me. I have too often experienced, to my cost, what I should be without Thee, to presume in the least on any wisdom or efiforts of my own. It is to Thee, God, my Deliverer, that I owe every- thing ! And it is a source of infinite satisfaction, that I am thus indebted to Thee." It is not surprising, that she now found it necessary to pause and reflect. From this time, she gave her mind to the great subject of holy living, with a deep and solemn earnestness, which she had never experienced before. She began to realize the tremendous import of those solemn words of the Saviour, (words which have an import that is not generally understood, though it is not possible that their meaning should always be hidden,) "No man can serve two masters; for either he luill hate the one and love the other; or else he ivill hold to the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and 3Iammon." There is but one way for the Christian to walk in. It is not possible that there should be any other. " A strait and naiirow way" it is true ; but still, properly speaking, not a difficult way. Undoubtedly it is difficult to a heart that is naturally averse to it, to enter into it ; and it is difficult to such a heart to become entirely naturalized to it. Sometimes the difficulty which is experienced within these limits, is very great. But when once the process is fairly begun, and the influence of OF MADAME GUYON. 71 old habits is broken, the difficulty which had been experienced, is, in a great degree, removed ; and it becomes true, as the Saviour has said, that His "yoke is easy, and His burden is light." But people do not understand this ; first, because, in a mul- titude of cases, they do not make the experiment at all, — they do not even enter into the way ; and secondly, because they do not persevere in the experiment when made, sufficiently long to render it a fair one. But whether difficult or not, whether the difficulty continues for a longer or shorter time, it is God's way, and therefore the only true and safe way. But why is it de- scribed as a strait and narrow way ? I answer, not because it is or can be difficult to one whose heart is right, but because it is a way in which every step is regulated by God's will. It is a way of one principle, and cannot, therefore, be otherwise than both strait and narrow. Any deviation from that will, how- ever slight it may be, is necessarily a step out of the way. It may be concisely described, therefore, as a way in God's will. And this truly is the way of life. It is not only the way ivliicli leads to life, as the Scriptures express it ; but it does of itself constitute a life, because he, ivho is in God's ivill, is in life, and life is in him. " This," says the Apostle John, " is the record, — That God hath given to us eternal life ; and this life is in his Son. He that hath the Son hath life ; and he that hath not the So7i of God hath not life." (1 John v. 11, 12.) CHAPTER X. Reference to her early views of her Christian state — Her surprise at the discovery of the remains of sin in herself — Seeks assistance and advice from others — Re- marks on the religious character of that age — Consults with Genevieve Granger, the Prioress of the Benedictines — Attends religious services at the Church of Notre Dame in Paris — On her way thither she has an extraordinary interview with a person unknown — His advice to her — Renewed consecration, in which she gives up all without reserve — Attacked by the small pox — Treatment experienced from her stepmother — Death of her youngest son — Her feelings — Her poetical writings — Justice of God amiable. In this season of temptation and penitence, of trial and of comparative despondency, she looked around for advice and 7J I, IKK ANl' KKI,l(iU)LS KXI'KKIKNCK iissistance. Not. tully inronuoil, as nhe herself expressly states, ill respect to the nature of the inward life, she felt peri)lexecl ami confounded at the knowledge of her own situation. In the lirst joy of her spiritual espousals, she seems to have looked upon hei-self, as is frequently the case at that period of religious experience, not only as a sinner forgiven for the sins which are past ; hut what is a very different thing, as a sinner saved from the commission of sin for the present, and in all future time. Looking at the subject in the excited state of her young love, when the turbulent emotions perplex the calm exercises of the judgment, she appears to have regarded the victory which God had given her, as one which would stand against all possible assaults ; the greatness of her triumph for to-day scarcely exceeding the strength of her confidence for to-morrow. She felt no sting in her conscience ; she bore no cloud on her brow. How surprised, then, was she to find, after a short period, and after a more close and thorough examination, that her best acts were mingled with imperfection and sin ; and that every day, as she was increasingly enlightened by the Holy Ghost, she seemed to discover more and more of motives to action, which might be described as sinful. After all her struggles and all her hopes, she found herself in the situation of being condemned to bear about a secret but terrible enemy in her own bosom. Under these circumstances, it was natural for her to look around for some religious person who might render her some assistance. Were others in the same situation ? Was it our destiny to be always sinning and always repenting ? Was there really no hope of deliverance from transgression till we might find it in the grave ? Such were some of the questions which arose in her mind. Who coidd tell her what to do, or how to do it ? This was not an age, so far as I can perceive, which was dis- tinguished for piety. I speak particidarly of France. Pious individuals undoubtedly there were, but piety was not its char- acteristic. The Spirit of God, operating in some hearts, carried on the great work of mental renovation. We cannot well for- get that it was in this age that the Port loyalists acquired a name which will long be celebrated. From time to time some gay yoimg people of Paris, or of the [)rovinces, sick of the OF MADAME GUYON. 73 vanities of the world, went into religious retirement, and were known no more, except by pious works and prayers. Others, like the celebrated M. Bouthillier de Ranee, possessed of talents that would have signalized almost any name, found their career of aspiring worldliness coming in conflict with the arrangements of Providence, and were ultimately led in the way, which at the time seemed full of sorrow and perplexity to adore the hand which secretly smote them. We cannot well forget, that the daughters of the great Colbert, the Sully of the age of Louis XIV., ladies alike distinguished by character and by position in society, set an illustrious example, in a corrupt period of the world, of sincere, decided, and unaffected piety. This was the age and this the country of Nicole and Arnauld, of Pascal and Racine. In the retirement of La Trappe, as well as in the cells of Port Royal, at St. Cyr, and, strange to say, within the terrible walls of the Bastille, prayers ascended from devout hearts.'-' And may we not say, with good reason, that, in every age and every coun- try, God has a people ; that, in periods of religious declension, as well as at other times, He has His followers, few though they may be, who are known, appreciated, and beloved by Him whose favour alone is life. But Madame Guyon did not find, in the situation in which she was placed, those helps from personal intercourse which would have been desirable. Christian friends of deep piety and of sound judgment were few in number. But there were some such to whom she had access ; — one of whom, in particular, Genevieve Granger, the devout and judicious Prioress of a com- munity of Benedictines established a short distance from the place of her residence, she often mentions. To this individual she had been introduced some years before by the Franciscan, whom Providence had employed as the special means of her conversion. The acquaintance thus formed was rendered the more natural and easy by the circumstance, that her husband's sisters were at this time, and had been for some time previous, under the care of the Prioress. To her, more freely and more * I refei- in this remark, among otlior iiKstaiiccs, to lliu case of Fallior Scgucimt, a priest of tlie Congregation of the Oratory, and to tliat of M. do St. Claude, a distinguished Port Koyalist, and a man of great piel.v, I'oth of wlioin were confined in the dungeons (if tlie r>asfi]li'. 71 I.IKK ANI> UKl.Uilor.S KXrCUIKNCF, i'ully than to any other, slie mailo kiu)\vn the temptations she hail experienoeil, anil the lUlls ol' which slie had hecii guilty. This j)ious woman, Avho, from a personal observation of her course, as well as from piivate conversation, understood Madame Cnyon's religious position, encouraged her nuich in her hopes and purposes of a new and amended life. IShe probably had some foresight of the position which Providence might call her to occupy, and of the influence she might exeit. Certain it is, that she felt it her duty to explain to her the great difficulty of uniting a conformity with the world, even to that limited extent in wliich she had found herself involved in it, with an entire fulfilment of Christian obligations. Her own personal ex])e- )-ience was calculated to add weight to her suggestions. Adopt- ing the principle, that it is possible for us, even amid the temptations of the present life, to live icliolhj to God, she was unwilling to see any one, especially such a person as Madaiue Guyon, adopting a standard of feeling and action which should fall anywhere below the mark of entire consecration, and of perfect faith and love. Madame Guyon, at this period of her personal history, began to have a more distinct and realizing perception of what is implied in a sanctified life. Some portions of her reading, as well as her personal experience, had been favourable to this result. In the Life of Madame de Chantal, which she had read with great interest, she found the doctrine of holiness, so far as it may be supposed to consist in a will subjected to God, and in a heart filled with love, illustrated in daily living and practice, as well as asserted as a doctrine. The writings of Francis de Sales are characterized, in distinction from many other devout writings of the period in which he lived, by insisting on continual walking with God, on the entire surrender of the human will to the divine, and on the existence of i)ure love. The wiitings of this devout and learned man seem to have been her constant compa- nions through life. The Imitation of Christ, genei'ally ascribed to Thomas a Kempis, is animated by the same spirit of high Christian attainment. All these waiters, in different ways and under different forms of expression, agree in strenuously teach- ing that the whole heart, the whole life, should be given to God ; and that in some true sense this entire surrender, not excluding, OF MADAME GUYON. 75 however, a constant sense of demerit and of dependence on God, and the constant need of the application of Christ's blood, is in reality not less practicable than it is obligatory. Her mind, therefore, had been prepared both by what she had read, and by what she had been inwardly taught, to receive promptly, and to confide strongly in, the suggestions and admo- nitions of the Benedictine Prioress ; and her confidence seems to have been very properly placed. We must judge, at the pre- sent time, of the character of Genevieve Granger, from the few facts which can be gathered from the writings of Madame Guyon. But these are enough to show, that she was a woman who com- bined strength of intellect with humble piety. The world did not know her, but she was not unknown to Him who made the world. She may be described, I think, as one of those who live in the world without the debasements of a worldly spirit, and of whom it can be said, in the language of Scripture, that " the secret of the Lord is with them that fear him" And it is well for those who are seeking religion, or who are inquiring the methods of progress in religion, to learn of those who have thus been taught. At this most interesting juncture in her religious experience, an incident occurred, somewhat remarkable, which made a deep impression on her mind. She went at a certain time to attend some religious services in the celebrated church of Notre Dame at Paris. As the weather was inviting, she did not take a car- riage as she usually did, but decided to walk, although her house was some miles distant. She was attended, however, by a footman, as she generally was at this period of her life, when- ever she went abroad. Just as they had passed one of the bridges erected over the river Seine, a person appeared at her side and entered into conversation ; — a man religiously solemn and instructive in his appearance and intercourse, but so poor and almost repulsive in his attire, that, at their first meeting, thinking him an object of charity, she oflered him alms. " This man spoke to me," she says, " in a wonderful manner, of God and divine things. His remarks on the Holy Trinity were more instructive and sublime than I had heard on any other occasion, or from any other person. But his conversation was chiefly personal. T know not how it was, but he seemed in H\ i.irK ANi> i{i:LK;ioUi3 kxteriencr some \v;iy tt) liiivo acquired !i leinarkable knowledge ol' my character. He professed to re<;ard me as a Christian, and si)oke espcx;ially of my Kive to God, and of my numerous charities to tlio poor ; and, wliile he recognised all that was good and Christian-like in me, ho felt it his duty to speak to me plainly of my faults. He told me that I was too fond of my })ersonal attractions ; and enumerated, one after another, the various faults and impcrfectious which characterized this period of my life. And then, assuming a higher tone of religious precept, he gave me to understand that God required not merely a heart of which it could only he said, it is forgiven, but a heart which could properly, and in some real sense, be designated as hoi// ; that it was not sufiScient to escape bell, but that he demanded also the subjection of the evils of our nature, and the utmost purity and height of Christian attainment. The circumstance of his wearing the dress of a mendicant, did not prevent his speaking like one having authority. There was something in him incapable of being concealed by the poverty of his outward appearance, which commanded my silence and profound respect. The Spirit of God bore witness to what he said. The words of this remarkable man, whom I never saw before, and whom I have never seen since, penetrated my very soul. Deeply affected and overcome by what he had said, I had no sooner reached the church than I fainted away." Previously to this period, Madame Guyon had learned the great lesson of recognising God in His providences ; and, under the influence of this indispensable knowledge, she could not doubt who it was that was speaking to her in the voice of His servants. Aroused by what she had experienced of her own weakness, and startled into solemn thought by these repeated warnings, she gave herself to the Lord anew. And here we may mark a distinct and very important crisis in the history of her spiritual being. Taught by sad experience, she saw the utter impossibility of combining the love of the world with the love of God. " From tliis day, this hour, if it be possible, I will be wholly the Lord's. The world shall have no portion in me." Such was the language of her heart, — such iier solemn determination. She formed her resolution after <"ountinff the cost, — a resolution which was made in God's OF MADAME GTJYON. 77 .strength, and not in her own ; which, in after hfe, was often smitten by the storm and tried in the fire ; but, from this time onward, so far as we know anything of her history, was never consumed, — was never broken. She gave herself to the Lord, not only to be His in the ordinary and mitigated sense of the terms, but to be His tuholly^ and to be His /or ever — to be His in body and in spirit — to be His in personal efforts and influence — to be His in all that she ^vas, and in all that it was possible for her to he. There was no reserve. Her consecration, made in the spirit of entire self-renounce- ment, was a consecration to God's will, and not to Iter oicm ; to be what Grod would have her to be, and not what her fallen nature would have her to be. Two years after tliis time, she placed her signature to a written Act of Covenant or Act of Consecration ; but the Act itself she made previously, made it noio, and made it irrevocahle. In its substance it was written in the heart, wherever else it might fail for a time to be re- corded, and was witnessed by the Holy Ghost. God accepted the offering of herself, which she thus made, because He knew it to be sincere. And, we may add, that He knew it to be sin- cere, because He himself, who is the Author of every good pur- pose, had inspired it. Desire, even religious desire, without a strong basis of sin- cerity, often stops short of affecting the will ; but, in religion especially, desire without will is practically of no value. But the error which is alluded to in this statement, did not attach to Madame Guyon at this time. She not only desired to be holy, but she resolved to be holy. Her will was in the thing, — the will, which constitutes in its action the unity of the whole mind's action, and which is the true and only certain exponent of the inward moral and religious condition. And it is here that we find the great difficulty in the position of many religious men at the present time. They profess to desire to be holy, and perhaps they do desire it. They pray for it as well as desire it. But, after all, it is too often the case that they are not willing to be liolij. They are not ready, by a consecrating act, resting on a deliberate and solenm puri)osc, to place themselves in a position, which thoy have every reason to think will, by God's grace, result in holiness. 'V\\'m may be re- 7S F.ll r. AND UELUIIOUS EXPERIICNCF, i^anloil, iKMhajis, as a nice distinction ; bnt when rightly under- stood, it seems to nic to lie deep and nnchangeable in the mind. In the cases to whieh we refer, tlie desire, whatever may be its strength, is not strong enongli to control the volition. The will, therefore, is not bronght into the true position. The will, con- sidered in relation to the other powers of the mind, constitutes the mintl's unity. The will is wanting. The man, therefore, is wanting. ]\Iany already dead to all claims of personal merit in the mat- ter of salvation, and thinking that they may now live on their own stock, and in the strength of their own vitality and power, do not understand, (alas, how few do understand it !) that they must not only die to their own merits, but must die to their own LIFE ; that they must not only die to Christ on the cross that they may heyin to have the true life ; but that they must die to Christ on the cross, that they may continue to have life. In other words, they nmst not only be so broken and humbled as to receive Christ as a Saviour from hell ; but must be willing also, renouncing all natural desire and all human strength, and all of man's wisdom and man's hope, and all self-will, to receive Him as a Saviour, moment by moment, from sin. And this (perhaps because they do not fully understand the necessity of it) they are not willinfi to do ; and therefore, although they have God's promise to help them, tliey will not purpose and resolve to do it. Their wills do not con-espond with what must be, with what God requires to be, and cannot do otherwise than require to be, just so far as He carries on and completes the work of sanctification in the soul ; namely, that God's own hand must lay the axe of inward crucifixion unspar- ingly at the root of the natural life ; that God in Christ, operat- ing in the person of the Holy Ghost, must be the principle of inward inspiration moment hy moment, the crucifier of every wrong desire and purpose, the Author of every right and holy purpose, the light and life of the soul. Bat upon this altar of sacrifice, terrible as it is to the natural mind, Madame Guyon did not hesitate to place herself, believ- ing that God would accomplish his own work in His own time and way. iShe invited the hand of the destroyer, that she might live asain from the ruins of that which should be slain. He OF MADAME GUYON, 79 who does not willingly afflict His children, but rather pities them as a Father, accepted the Avork which was thus committed to Him. It is sometimes the case that Grod subdues and extermi- nates that inordinate action of the mind, which is conveniently denominated the life of nature, by the inward teaching and operation of the Holy Ghost, independently, in a considerable degree, of the agency of any marked providences. Such cases, however, are rare. Much more freq[uently it is done by the ap- propriate application of His providences, in connexion with the inward influence. It was this comljined process, to which the subject of this Memoir, in the spirit of a heart that seeks its own destruction, submitted herself. She had given herself to God without re- serve ; and He did not long withhold or conceal the evidence of her acceptance. The one followed the other without delay and without misgiving. Knowing that her own resolutions, and her spirit of self-sacrifice, independently of His foresight and assist- ance, would be of no avail, He arranged a series of physical and moral adjustments, which resulted in blow after blow, till the pride of nature, which sometimes stands like a wall of adamant, was thoroughly broken. It was then, and not till then, that her soul entered into that state of purity and rest, which she has significantly denominated its state of " simplicity ;" a state in which the soul has but one motive, that of God's iviU, and but one source of happiness, that of God's glory. It is not merely a state of consecration to God's will ; but a state of union and rest m His will. The first thing He did was to smite her beauty with that dreadful scourge of the human race, the small-pox. The sum- mer was over ; her ear no longer listened to the waters of the Loire ; the festivities of St. Cloud and Paris had passed away. On the 4th of October, 1670, (she is particular to mark the month and the day,) the blow came upon her like lightning from heaven. This dreadful disease was not then shorn of its terrors by that merciful Providence which directed the philo- sophic mind of Jenner in the discovery of its wonderful preven- tive. And she was thus smitten when she was a little more than twenty-two years of age, — a period of life when beauty of person does not cease to be prized. When it was discovered that the 80 I. IKK ANi» i;i:i,uik)rs kxtkiukmce IkuuI ol' the lioril was tlius ujion her, lirr tVioiuls, not excliKliiig tliose in all piobabilitv who had endoavonrecl to lead her into the lollies of fashionable life, exhibited great emotion. They came aronnd her bedside, and almost forgetting that her life was in danger, deplored in feeling language the mysterious and faUvl attack, which was thus made upon charms which had been so much celebrated. Alluding to the temi)tations she had experienced, and to her temporary indulgence in the displays of fashionable life, she says, " before I fell under this disease I resembled those animals, destined for slaughter, which on certain days they adorn with greens and flowers, and bring in pomp into the city, before they kill them." She represents the disease as having been very severe. '"' My whole body," she says, " looked like that of a leper. All who saw me said they had never seen such a shock- ing spectacle. But the devastation without was counterbalanced by peace within. My soul was kept in a state of contentment, greater than can be expressed. Reminded continually of one of the causes of my religious trials and falls, I indulged the hope of regaining my inward liberty by the loss of that outward beauty which had been my grief This view of my condition rendered my soul so well satisfied and united to God, that it would not have exchanged its condition for that of the most happy prince in the world. " Every one thought I should be inconsolable. Several of my friends came around me, and gave utterance to their regret and sympathy in view of my sad condition. A sad condition, in- deed, as it appeared to them, but far from being sad as it ap- peared to me. As I lay in my bed, sufiering the total depriva- tion of that which had been a snare to my pride, I experienced a joy unspeakable. I praised God in profound silence. None ever heard any complaints from me, either of my pains or of the loss which I sustained. Thankfully I received everything, as from God's hand ; and I did not liesitate to say to those who expressed their regret and sympathy, that I rejoiced at that in which they found so much cause of lamentation. " When I had so far recovered as to be able to sit up in my bed, I ordered a mirror to be brought, and indulged my curiosity so far as to view mvself in it. I was no longer what I was OF MADAMK GUYON. ipnuitlu'r would exhibit any more favourable (lis])ositit'ns at'ifr my rooovery. She did not cease at all iu her uukiiul ell'orts to alienate my husband's atlections from me. And now, as God had smitten and takeu away whatever there was of beauty in my countenance, he seemed to be more suscei)tible tluui ever ot'any unfavourable impressions, which others might endea- vour to cause against me. In consequence of this, the persons who s})oke to him to my disadvantage, finding themselves more listened to than formerly, repeated their attacks upon me more frequently and more boldly. Others changed, but God did not change. Thou only, my God ! didst remain the same. Thou didst smite me without, but didst not cease to bless me within. In augmenting my exterior crosses, thou didst not cease to increase my inward graces and ha])piness." But the work of God was not yet accomplished. If He had smitten and demolished one dear idol, there were others which remained. God liad given her two sons. The eldest was in the sixth year, the youngest in the fourth year of his age. She loved them both ; but one was especially the son of her affections. The eldest she could not cease to love ; but she loved him with some alternations of feeling, and in deep sorrow. The same causes which opeiated to disturb and alienate her husband's affections, had their influence here. He had been designedly subjected to a process of training, which resulted in violations of filial duty, and in sad disregard of a mother's love. The second son was not thus injured. Perha])S he had naturally more favourable dispositions. Certain it is, that, in the favourable opening of his young affections and intellect, he filled the mea- sure of a mother's fondness and hopes. Her heart was fixed upon him. But God, who knew ou which side danger lay, took her Jacob, and left her E-au. He was seized with the same terrible disease, which had so nearly proved fatal to his mother. " This blow," she says, " struck me to the heart. I was overwhelmed ; but God gave nie strength in my weakness. I loved my young boy tenderly ; but though I was greatly afflicted at his death, I saw the hand of the Lord so clearly, that I shed no tears. I offered him up to God ; and said in the language of Job, ' The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken awav. Blessed be His name.'" OF MADAME GUYON. 83 During these successive trials, she recognised the hand that smote her, and blessed it. Her prayer was, that God, in the work of destruction, would take from her entirely the power of displeasing him. " Art thou not strong enough," she exclaimed, " to take from me this unholy duplicity of mind, and to make me one with thyself .^" She says that it was a consolation to her to experience the rigours of Grod. She loved God's justice. She rejoiced in His holy administration, however it might touch and wither all her worldly prospects. She felt that He was right as well as merciful, just as well as good ; and that both justice and mercy are to be praised. It is about this time that we find the first mention of her attempts at poetry. Poetry is the natural expression of strong feeling. She felt, and she wrote. It is possible that she had made attempts of this kind before ; but I find nothing said of it. Voltaire, who goes out of his appropriate sphere of judgment in discrediting her religious pretensions, speaks lightly also of her effusions in verse. It would require a more intimate know- ledge of French poetical diction than I profess to have, to give an opinion of her poetry, so far as the expt'ession is concerned. But I do not hesitate to say, with great confidence, that this portion of her writings, with some variations, undoubtedly, ex- hibits in a high degree the spirit of poetry. There is thought in it ; there is feeling. The highest kind of thought, the deepest feeling. The following poem, translated by Mr. Cowper, whom some critics, I think, would not place below Voltaire, either as a writer or judge of poetry, may be regarded as expressive, in some particulars, of her religious experience at this time ; and is pro- bably to be referred, in its origin, to this period of her life. It indicates a deep sense of her unvvorthiness, and a humble and approving resignation to God's will, under the heaviest inflictions of His providence, DIVINE JUSTICE AMIABLE. Thou hast no h'ghtnings, thou Just ! Or I their force should know ; And, if thou strike me Into clvst, My sold approves the hlmc. Tlie heart that vahics less its case, Tliau it adoies thy ways, tj4 I II'K AM> KI'.l.KiUirs KXI'l-.KIKSri-: III iliiiio iivi'iii;iiif; aiiijcr soi's A siibji'il I't' its inaist'. I'K'iisi-d 1 ci'dlil li(.', loiK-calfil aiul loht, In shades ofi-cMilrnl night ; Not to avoid thy wratli, thou kiiow'st, But lest I grieve thy siglit. Smite me, thou, whom 1 ]u-ov(ikc ! And I will love thee still. The well deserved and rightoous stroke Shall please uie, though it kill. Am I not worthy to sustain The worst thou canst devise? And dare 1 seek thy throne again, And meet thy sacred eyes? Far from afflicting, thou art kind. And in ui}- saddest hours, An unction of thy grace I iind Pervading all my powers. Alas ! Thou sparest me yet again, And when thy wrath' should move. Too ipntle to endure my pain, T/i07i sootlist me. irith ihy love. I have no punishuieiit to fear ; But, ah ! that smile from thee Imparts a pang fai' more severe 1'han woe itself would he. CHAPTER XL Faithfulness in trial — Spiritual consolations — General remarks on her experience during the year 1671 — Discharge of domestic and other duties — Trials in relation to her seasons of prayer — Of the faults of which she considered herself guilty at this period — Remarks on a regard for God's providences — Her first acquaintance, July 1671, with Francis La Combe — Some account of him — The impression made upon him by her conversations — Her growth in grace — The account she gives of her will, as subdued in its operations, but not wholly renovated in its nature. In all the trials which she was thus called to endure, in the afflictions of her own person, and in the loss of her favourite son, it may be said of her, as it was of Job, — who is naturally called to mind by the story of her sufferings, — that she " sinned not, OF MADAME GUYON. M nor charged God foolishly." So tar, at least, as tlie occurrences, which have now been mentioned, are concerned, the sincerity of the consecration which she had made of herself and of all her interests to God, had been tried ; and through the grace of God it had not been found luanting. It is possible, that the suggestion may arise in the minds of some, that God compensated her outward trials by giving an increase of inward consolation. And such was the case, un- doubtedly, just so far as he found it necessary and desirable. He never fails " to temper the icind to the shorn lamb." The hand which afflicted did not allow her to sink under the blow. And, accordingly, in giving some account of her feelings at this time, she speaks very fully of the supports and consola- tions .she received, although they were mingled with some alter- nations of feeling, and with some states of inward experience, which she did not then fully understand. " I had a great desire," she says, " for the most intimate com- mimion with God. For this object, my heurt went forth in continual prayer. He answered my supplication richly and deeply. The sensible emotion and joy which I experienced, were sometimes overwhelming. My heart was tilled with love as well as with joy ; with that love which seeks another's will, and which is ready to relinquish and sacrifice its own. " But this state of mind did not always continue. At other times my mind seemed to be dry, arid, ' unemotional ;' and not fully understanding the nature of His dealings with men, it S'^eraed to me at such times that God, being offended for some- thing, had left me. The pain of His absence (for such I sup- l)Osed it to be) was very great. Thinking it to be for some fault of mine that He had thus left me, I mourned deeply, — I was inconsolable. I did not then understand, that in the progress of the inward death, I must be crucified not only to the outward joys of sense, and to the pleasures of worldly vanity, but also, which is a more terrible and trying crucifixion, that I must die to the joys of God, in order that I might fully live to the will of God. If I had known that this was one of the states through which I must pass, in order to experience the full power of sanctifying grace, I should not have been troubled." She had not vet reached that state, (that is to say. jtoi'mnnontly and fully. 8r> I.IKK AND UKLKilOUS KX I'KKl KNM K although sho had at liiiios soiiu- foiK'hos ol' it,) which may bo tlcnouiiiiatoil tho rraycr of God's will. As we have already expressed it in another pasFuge, she was fully eonsecrated to the will of God, but had not fully found rest and union in the will of (lod. During the year 1G71, tlio liand of the Lord, considered in comparison with its former dealings, seems to have been staid. God had found her faithful ; and her soul, without having en- tered into the state of ])ernianeut rest anil union, experienced, amid all lu-r trials, a high degree of inward consolation and peace. She was ])atient and faithfid in the discharge of domes- tic duties, regular anil watchful in her seasons of private devo- tion, and prompt in performing the duties of kindness and benevolence to others. In intimating that her trials were dimi- nished, as compared with tliose of the preceding year, we do not mean to say that she was without trials ; but, whatever they were, she was greatly supported under them. And botli by the griefs she suffered, and by the duties slie discharged, and by the supports and consolations which were afforded her, the process of inward crucifixion was continually going on. There were some things, however, even in her course at this time, which she was afterwaids led to regard as faults. One thing she mentions in particular, she was more attached to the retirement, the exercises, and the pleasvu'es of devotion, than she was to the efforts, mingled as tliey oftentimes were with temp- tations and trials, of present and practical duty. As God had not fully taken up His abode in her heart, — which is the only appropriate and adequate corrective of dangers from this source, — she found Him, as Christians in that imperfect stage of Chris- tian experience generally do find Him, in particular seasons and places. And the consequence was, that she not only loved such seasons and places, and sought them very much, ])ut sometimes loved them, and sought them in such a way and to such a degree, as to interfere rcitJi the wants and hap^yiness of others. It is thus that self-will, the last inward enemy which is sub- dued, may find a place even in our most sacred things, bict never icithout injunj. The pi'inciple which she adopted, at a subsequent and more onlightpned period of hor <^*hristian expei'ience. was. that the OF MADAME GUYON. 87 tine place of Grod, when we speak of God's place anywhere out of the heart, is in His providences. It is true, indeed, that God's kingdom is in the heart. " The kingdom of God," says the Saviour, " is within you." But it is true, also, that He holds His kingdom there, and that He reigns there, in connexion witli His providences. And as these remarks are made in connexion with special times or seasons of devotion, it may properly be added, that the providences of God. inchide both time and place, in the widest sense. So flir from excluding times and places, such as are set apart for devotion or for other purposes, they recognise and establish them ; but, what is very important, they hold them also in strict subordination. These divine providences are in themselves, and emphatically so, the time of times and the place of places. And all other times and places, which are ap[)roved of God, exist by ai)pointmeut imder them. Undoubtedly, in an important sense of the terms, the reli- gious man's place is his closet. " Enter into thy closet," says the Saviour, " and pray to thy Father, who seeth in secret." The closet is an indispensable place to him. But whenever he goes there in violation of God's providences, it ceases to be a place of God's appointment, and he goes there without God. It should never be forgotten, therefore, that it is God himself who consecrates the phice, and makes it a profitable one. And accordingly we may lay it down as an important practical prin- ciple, that the times and places which are erected within the sphere of God's providences, and are in harmony with them, are right and well ; and that all other times and places are wrong. "All n)y crosses," she says, " would have seemed little, if I might have had liberty, in those seasons when I desired it, to be alone and to pray. But my mother-in-law and husband, who acted in concert in i-espect to my ndigious exercises^ as they did in regard to many other things, restricted me much. The subjection under which I was thus brought, was })ainful to me, exceedingly so. Accordingly, when it was understood that I had retired for a season of prayer, my husband would look on his watch, to see if I staid above half an hour. He tliought that half au hour was enough for that purpose. Tf t exceeded that time, he grew very imeasy. and coiiiplained. 8S I.IFK AND UKI,liilOi;s KXI'KUIKNCK " Soiuetiines I iisod a litllr aititiiH' lo I'll'ocl my purposes. 1 went to liitn, aiul askod liiin, sayiui; iu)tliiiig of any devotional exoicises, il" he would ,mant nic an hour, only one hour, to divert myself in some way, ov in any way, that might he pleasing to my own mind. If 1 had specified some known worldly amuse- ment, I should pu)l)ahly have ohtained my request. But, as he eould hanlly fail to see that I wanted the time for prayer, I did not succeed. He would have granted my request for other diversions ; but for j)rayer he would not. " I must confess that my imperfect religious knowledge and experience caused me much trouble. I often exceeded my half- hour ; ray husband was angry, and I was sad. But it was I n)ysclf, in part at least, who thus gave occasion for what I was made to sutFer. Was it not God, as well as my husband, who placed this restriction upon me ? I understood it afterwards, but did not understand it then. I ought to have looked upon my captivity as a part of God's providences and as an effect of His will. If I had sei)arated these things from the subordinate agent, and looked upon them in the true divine light, I might have been contented, I might have been happy. In time I understood these things. When months and years had passed away, God erected His temple fully in ray heart. He entered there, and I entered with Him. I learned to pray in that divine retreat ; and from that time I went no niore out." She thought, therefore, with some reason, that at this period of her life she might have failed, in some degree, in her duty to her husband and her family, in consequence of not fully under- standing the will of God as developed in His providences. And this view of things perhaps gives signiticancy to a remark, which her husband once made, that "she lo\cd God so much that she had no love lei't for him." It will help to illustrate the soui'ce of erior and trouble which we are now trying to explain, if we give one or two other I'acts, which involve the same princi})le. She had a beautiful garden. And in the time of fruits and flowers, she often walked there. But such was the intensity of her contemplati(jns on God, such " her inward attraction," as she expresses it, that her eye seemed to be closed, and she knew nothing, comparatively speaking, of the outward beautv which surrounded her. And when she went into the OF MADAME GUYON. 89 house, and her husband asked her how the fruits were, and how the flowers grew^, she knew but little about it. And it was not surprising that it gave him considerable offence. Again, it oftentimes happened that things were related in the family, which were not without interest, and which were enti- tled to consideration. The principle of curiosity was awake then, as it is now ; and mankind had its history then, as it has now. Others conversed and listened aud remembered ; but so entirely absorbed was her mind in another direction, that she was scarcely able to do eithei-. And when these topics subsequently came up for remark, although they were entitled to notice, even from a Christian, it was found that she knew nothing of them. This seemed to indicate a want of respect for the feelings of others, if not an obvious disregaid of duty. And as she viewed the subject subsequently, and in the light of a higher experience, it seemed to her that the course which she pursued was erroneous. The highest form (not that which appears to be so, but that which really is such) of Christian experience is always in har- mony with present duty. It admits no kind of feeling, and no degree of feeling, which is inconsistent with the requirements of our present situation, whatever it may be. The highest love to God does not require us to violate our duty to our neighbour, or even to our enemy. It neither requires us to violate our duty, nor does it do it in point of fact. When our religious experience stops in " emotionality," it is apt to do this ; when it but partially controls the desires, it is not always a safe guide ; but when, in connexion with its other conquests, it breaks down all self-will, and truly establishes the throne of God in the centre of the soul, it does all things right and well ; first, by estimating all things in themselves and their relations, just as they ought to be estimated, and then by corresponding to this just estimate by an equally just conduct. To this state she harl not as yet fully attained. It is during this period of her [)crsonal history tliat wo first hird mention made of Francis de la Combe. This somewhat distinguished individual is closely connected with her history. He was born at Thonon, a flourishing toAvn of Savoy, situated on the borders of the lakr> of Gcnovn 9<) Lll'K AND IvELUilOLS KXTKIUKNCE In early life lio was llio sulijorl <»t' loligious iiupicssioiis, and nttnclitvl Ininsolf to tl)e Banuibitos, one ot" the Orders in the Konian Catholic Chnrch. He was possessed of a liigh degree of natural lalont, improved by a finished education. He was tall and coninuinding in his })eraonal appearance, and naturally eloquent. Impressed with the importance of leligion, he seems to have given his whole heart to God's w^ork. He was fre- quently enqdoyed in religious missions, by tho.^e on whom the responsibility of such movements rested in the French Church, particularly in the year lt»79. and about that time, when he wjis sent to the iirovince of Chablais, in ISavoy, in which his native town, Thonon, was situated, he also laboured as a mis- sionary at Annecy, another town of Savoy, situated not far from the city of Chamhery. His laboui's were not exclusively of an active kind. He published a small treatise, entitled A Short Letter of Instruc- fi'on, in which he endeavours to i)oint out the principles of growtli and of the highest possible attainment in the Christian life. His ])rincipal published work was his Analysis of Mental Prayer, Orationis Mentalis Analysis; originally written in Latin, and afterwards translated into French. This work, which inculcates the necessity and the principles of experimental religion in its highest forms, was condemned by the authorities at Eonie as heretical, the 4th of September 1688. Some portions of his religious correspondence, also, which }x)ssess a high degiee of interest, have been preserved. His letters to Madame Guyon are to be found, some of them, in the collections of her writings, and others in the large collec- tion of the works of Bossuet. A letter of considerable interest, addressed to M. DAranthon, titular bishop of Geneva, is found in the life of that prelate. His personal activity and influence were such, combined with the influence of his wiitings, that Louis XIV., who was ex- tremely sensitive to any deviations from the establislied doc- trines of the Romish Church, shut him up in prison, first in the chateau of Lourde ; and he was subsequently transferred to the castle of Vincennes, near Paris, and at a later period was im- prisoned in the castle of Oleron, in the Isle of Oleron, a place celebrated for having given name to a portion of maritime law, OF MADAME GUYON. 91 but which derives some portion of its notoriety from the persons who have suffered within the dungeons of its prison. His im- })risonments, as I find it stated in one of the writers whom I have consulted, extended through twenty-seven years. His persecutors at last had some pity on him. Just before his death, when body and mind had both been prostrated by his sufferings, he was placed in the Hospital of Charenton. He died in 17li It was in June or July (^f 1671, that a letter was brought to Madame Guyon from her half-brother, Fatlier La Mothe. The bearer was La Combe, who was then young, but came highly recommended from La Mothe, who wished his sister to see him, and to regard and treat him as one of his most intimate friends. Madame Guyon says, that she was unwilling at this time to form new acquaintances : but desirous of corresponding to the request of her brother, she admitted him. The conversation turned chiefly upon religious subjects. With the clear insight of cliaracter which she possessed, she could not fail to become deeply interested in La Combe, as one on whom many religious interests might depend. But still she could not at that time fully decide whether she should regard him as truly a posses- sor of religion, or as merely a seeker after it. " I thought," she says, " that he either loved God, or was disposed to love Him ; a state of things which could not fail to interest me, as it was the great desire of my heart that everybody should experience this Divine love." As God had already made use of her as an instrument in the conversion of three ])ersons, members of the religions order to which be belonged, she indulged the hope that she might l)e made a benefit to him. And although she says she felt a reluctance to begin the ac- quaintance, she now felt a desire to continne it. La Combe left her, but he was not satisfied. Providence had brought him in contact with a mind to which either grace or nature, or both in combination, had given power over other minds. He desired, therefore, to see more and to hear more. And, accordingly, on the basis of the acquaintance which had thus begun, he repeated the visit after a short time. Madame Guyon remarks that La Combe, who seems to have been a man not only of intelligenoe but of vivacity and generosity of fcfllng. 92 l.IFK AMI KI'.LKilOUS KX I'KUIRNOK \v!is voiv ;uH'('i)tjil)le to lior luishand. On this second visit, ho ^(Mivorsotl with her husl)an(l lively. Dniini^ the iiitervieWj ho Nvas taken soniewliat unwell ; and with the view of recovering and letVesliing himself in the open air, he went out and walked in the <;arden. Soon aftei', ]\Ta(hiine (Tuyon, at the particuLir request of her hushand, went out ibr the j)ur[H)se of seeing him, and of rendering any assistance which might he needed. She availed herself of the ojiportuuity wliich w^as thus afforded, to explain to him what she denomiuates the interior or inward way, " la vote de I'inUrieiir ;" a way which is inward because it rests upon God, in distinction from the way which is outward, and which lests upon man. He was prepared to receive her remarks, because he inwardly felt the need of that form of experience which was involved in them, and because he per- ceived from her countenance, her conversation, and her life, that she possessed that of Avhich he felt himself to be desti- tute. La Combe always admitted afterwards, that this conversation formed a crisis in his life. Her words, attended by Divine power, sank deep into his soul. It was then and there that he formed the purpose, with Divine assistance, to be wholly the Lord's. " God was pleased," says Madame Guyon, " to make use of such an unworthy instrument as myself, in the communi- cation of His grace. He has since owned to me, that he went away at that time changed into quite another man. I ever afterwards felt an interest in him ; i'oi' 1 could not doubt that he would be a servant of the Lord. But I was far from fore- seeing, that I should ever go to the place of his residence." Whatever mistakes she may have conmiitted in this period, it is evident that she was growing in grace. The world had lost, in an increased degree, its powei'. Her inward nature had become more conformed to the requisitions of the Gospel law. We have evidence of this in various ways. Among other things, speaking of Paris, which had formerly been to her a place of temptation and injury, she remarks, in connexion with a visit which she was obliged to make there, " Paris was a place now no longer to be dreaded as in times [)ast. It is true, tlierc were the same outward attractions, the same thronging multi- tudes ; but> thv, crowds of p(>o])le served only to draw me into OF MADAME tJUYON. 93 deeper religious recollection. The noise of the streets only augmented my inward prayer." She adds, " under the pressure of the daily troubles and afflictions which befell me, I was enaljled, by Divine grace, to keep my will, my God ! subservient to thine. I could say practically, ' Not my will, but thine be done.' When two well- tuned lutes are in peiiect concert, that which is not touched renders the same sound as that which is touched. There is the same spirit in botb, the same sound — one pure harmony. It was thus that my will seemed to be in harmony with God's will. " This Avas the result of grace. Grace conquered nature : but it was nature in its ojjerations, rather than in its essence. My will was subdued in its operations in particular cases, so that I could praise the Lord for entire acquiescence ; but there still reuiained in it a secret tendency, when a fiivourable oppor- tunity should present, to bi-eak out of that harmony, and to put itself in revolt. I have since found, in the strange conditions 1 have been obliged to pass through, how much I had to suffer before the will became fully broken down, annihilated, as it were, not only in its selfish operations but in its selfish ten- dencies, and changed in its very nature. How many persons there are who think their wills are quite lost when they are far from it. In hard temptations anl trials, they would find that a will submissive is not a will lost ; a will not rebellious, is not a will annihilated. Who is there who does not wish something for himself; — wealth, honour, pleasure, conveniency, liberty, something ? And he who thinks his mind loose from all these objects, because he possesses them, would soon perceive his attachment to them, if he were once called upon to undergo the process of being wholly deprived of them. On particular occa- sions, therefore, although the will might be kept right in its operations, so as to be in harmony with the Divine will, he would still feel the sharp struggle coming out of the will's life ; and his consciousness would testify, that he is rendered vic- torious, moment by moment, only by Divine grace." 94 LIFE AN1> UKLlUIorS liXrHIUKNCK Oil APT Eli XII. iiaiileiits of 1G72 — Presentiment of her father's death — A message reaches her 60on after with the news of his hist sickness — His death — Remarks — Affectionate enlogiiim on her daughter — ller sickness and death — Reference to tlie renewed and entire consecration which she had made of herself in the year 1670 — This act of consecration reduced to writing, and signed fpr the first time, July 22, 1672 — Instrumentality of Genevieve Granger in this transaction — Form of this conse- crating act or spiritual marriage covenant — Remarks — Dangers connected with a journey taken at this time — Reflections upon it. Thus passed the year 1C71. I am particular in the periods of time, for, by connecting the dealings of God and the progress of the inward life with specific times and situations, the mental operation is aided, and we can hardly fail to have a clearer idea of the incidents whicli are narrated. Another year had now opened upon her, and found her renewedly consecrated to God, and growing wiser and holier through the discipline of bitter experience. Her trials had been somewhat less in this year than in the preceding, but still not wholly suspended ; and as God designed that she siiould be wholly his, there were other trials in prospect which were designed to aid in this important result. It is not always easy to explain the impressions which exist within us. It is very possible that some remarkable impressions or presentiments may be explained on natural principles, but there are others of which it might not be easy to give a satisfac- tory account in that manner. I have been led to this remark from an incident which I notice in her history. On a morning of July, in 1G72, she awoke very early with such an impression on her mind. " At four o'clock in the morning," she says, " I awoke suddenly with a strong impression or presentiment that my father was dead ; and though at that time my soul had been in very great contentment, yet such was my love for him, that the impression I had of his death affected my heart with sorrow, and my body with weakness." I do not mention this incident, because I think it very im- portant. It was not a mere transitory impression, but a pre- sentiment so sudden, so deeply imprinted, so controlling, as to OF MADAME GUYON. 95 take entire possessiuu of the mind. She was no deeply affected by the conviction of which she was made the subject in this remarkable manner, that she says she could hardly speak. She had been residing some days at a monastery, the Prioress of which was a personal friend, some leagues from her usual place of residence. She had gone there for religious purposes, and she left her father residing at her house. On the afternoon of the same day in which she experienced the strong presentiment or impression, a man ari'ived at the monastery in great haste. He brought a lettei" from her husband, in which he informed her of her father's dangerous illness. Piompted by affection, as well as by duty, she immediately set out to visit him, but on arriving at her residence she found him dead. To her father she was tenderly attached ; and it would seem, from what we learn of him, that she had reason to be so, " His virtues," she says, " were so generally known that it is unneces- sary to speak of them. I pass them in silence, or only with the simple remark, that as he passed through the scenes and trials of his closing days, he exhibited great reliance on God. His patience and faith were Avonderful," It was thus that another tie to the earth was sundered ; and the freedom of the soul, which is liable to be contracted and shackled even by the do- mestic affections, when they are but partially sanctified, grew wider and stronger from the bonds that were broken. Another affliction was near at hand. He who gives himself to God to experience under His hand the transformations of sanctifying grace, must be willing to give up all objects, how- ever dear they may be, which he does not hold in strict subordi- nation to the claims of divine love, and which he does not love IN and FOK God alone. The sanctification of the heart, in the strict and full sense of the term, is inconsistent with a divided and wandering affection. A misplaced love, whether it be wrong in its degree or its object, is as really, though apparently not as odiously, sinful, as a misplaced hatred. She had. a daughter, an only daughter, — young, it is true, only three years of age, or but a little more than three years of age, — and yet, in her own language, " as dearly beloved as site was truly lovely." " This little daughter," says the mother, " had great beauty of person ; and the giaces of the bod\', wdiich 96 LIFK AM) UKl.KilDl'S K\ I'EKI KNCK ilistingnishctl Iut, weii' oquallctl by those ul" tlie ininil ; so that a person must have been insensible both to beauty and to merit not to have loved her. Young as she was, she had a perception of religious things, and seems to have loved God in an extraor- dinary manner. Often I found hei- in some retired phice, in some corner, praying. It was her habit, whenever she saw me at prayer, to come and join with me ; and if, at any time, she discovered that 1 had been praying without her, feeling that something was wrong, or that something was lost, she would weep bitterly, and exclaim in her sorrow, ' Ah, mother, you pray, but I do not pray.' When we were alone, if she saw my eyes closed, as would naturally be the case in my seasons of inward recollection, she would whisper, ' Are you asleep ?' and then would cry out, ' Ah, no ! You are praying to our dear Jesus ;' and dropping on her knees before me, she w^ould begin to pray too. " So strongly did she express her desire and her determina- tion to give herself to the Lord, and to be one with Him in spirit, that it gave occasion for reproof on the part of her grand- mother. But still she could not be prevailed upon to alter her expressions. tShe was very dutiful — many were her endearments — and she was innocent and modest as a little angel. Her father doated on her. To her mother she was endeared much more by the qualities of her heart than by those of her beautiful person. I looked upon her as my great, and almost my only consolation on earth ; for she had as nmch affection for me as her surviving brother, who had been subjected to the most unhappy influences, had aversion and contempt. She died of an unseasonable bleeding. But what shall 1 say, — she died by the hands of Him who was pleased to strip me of all," Both her father and daughter died in July 1672, In the latter part of the year 1670, more than a year and a half previous to the period of which we are now speaking, she had anew given herself to God, in great sincerity, and, as it seemed to her, without any reserve. In all the trials to which He had seen fit to subject her, no whisper of complaint, no word of murmur, had ever escaped her lips. But it is worthy of notice, that she had not as yet committed hei- religious purposes to the formality of a written record. At least we have no OF MADAME GUYON. 97 mention of any such thing. It was a mental purpose, a simple transaction between her soul and God, of which God alone was the witness. It was possible, however, that she might forget, that she might be faithless. There were yet many and heavy trials before her. Her pious and deeply experienced friend, Genevieve Granger, Prioress of the Benedictines, had never ceased to take an interest in her spiritual progress. She did not cease to sympathize in the various trials which Madame Guyon had been called to pass through, to pray for her, and to advise her. Among other things, she wished to add new solemnity and interest to the matter of her consecration, — a consecration made on principles of an entire and permanent surrender of herself to God, which have already been explained. In carrying her object into effect, she selected, as a day especially appropriate to her purpose, the 22d of July, the month in which Madame Guyon had experi- enced the heavy afflictions of which we have just spoken, although it was not selected on that account. It ivas on that day and moyifh, four years before, after years of inquiry and struggle, that she had first believed on the Lord Jesus Christ in such a manner as to bring into her soul the sense of forgiveness, and to fill it with inward peace. It was, there- fore, a day to be remembered witli gratitude ; as we find that it was remembered through her whole life. Genevieve Granger, in the course of that friendly correspondence which had existed between them for some years, sent word to her, that she wished her to notice the approaching anniversary of tliat day in a spe- cial manner, by acts of worship and by alms. She wished her also to examine, and if she approved of it, to sign what might perhaps be called a marriage covenant with the Saviour, which she had herself drawn up, in very concise terms, for Madame Guyon's use. Perhaps she had in mind that interesting passage of the Scriptures, " The marriage of the Lamb is come ; and his wife hath made herself ready ; and to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white ; for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints." (Rev. xix. 7, 8.) These suggestions, coming from a source which she had been accus- tomed greatly to respect, could not fail to l)e attended to. And especially so, as they corresponded entirely with her own views o 98 Lll'K AN1> KKLUIlors KXTKlUKNCfc: and feelings. The act or covenant of (Jonsecration, drawn up in acconliince with those expressions of Scriptiu'e which speak of the Church lus the bride or spouse of God, with her signature apj^KJutled, was as follows : / henceforth talcc Jesus Christ to be mine. I promise to receive Him as a hushand to rue. And I (jive myself to Him, umcortltij though I am, to be His spouse. I ask of Him, in this maii'iage of spirit ivith spirit, that I may be of the same mind with Hint., — meek, 2W7'e, nothing in myself, and united in God's icill. And, pledged as I am to be His, I accept, as a part of my marriage portion, the temptations and sorrows, the crosses and the contempt which fell to Him. Jeanne M. B. de la Mothe Guyon. Sealed ivith her ring. This transaction, simple in appearance but carried through with sincere and earnest solemnity of spirit, was much blessed to her. She felt that there was a sanctity in the relation which had thus been voluntarily established, which it would have been the highest impiety, as it would have caused the deepest sorrow, ever knowingly to violate. She had an inward and deeper sense of consecration, both of body and spirit, such as she had not expe- rienced at any time before. God himself has condescended to say, speaking of those who constitute His true people, " I am MARRIED to them." — Jer. iii. 14. In examining the record of her life, I find an incident men- tioned without date ; but from the connexion in which it appears, I refer it to this period. " My husband," she says, " and I took a little journey together, in which both my resignation and humility were exercised ; yet without difficulty or constraint, so powerful was the influence of divine grace. We all of us came near perishing in a river, which we found it necessary to pass. The carriage, in passing through the water, sank in the moving sand at the bottom, which rendered our position very dangerous. Others, who were with us, threw themselves out of the carriage in excessive fright. But I found my thoughts so much taken up with God, that I had no distinct sense of the danger to which we were really exjiosed. God, to whom my mind was inwardly drawn, delivered me from the i)erils to which v^^e were exposed, OF MADAME GUYON. 9y with scarcely a thought on my part of avoiding thein. It in true, that the thought of being drowned passed across my mind, but it caused no other sensation or reflection in me than this — that I felt quite contented and willing that it should be so, if it were my heavenly Father's choice. " It may be said, and perhaps with some reason, that I was rash in not exhibiting more anxiety, and in not making greater effort to escape. But I am obliged to add, in justification of myself, that it is better to perish, trusting calmly in God's pro- vidence, than to make our escape from danger, trusting in our- selves. But what do I say ? Wlien ice trust in God, it is im- possible to 2^erish. At least it is so in the spiritual sense. Trust itself is salvation. It is my pleasure, my happiness, to be in- debted to Grod for everything. In this state of mind, I cannot fail to be content in the trials which he sees fit to send upon me. In the spirit of acquiescence in God's will, I would rather endure them all my life long, than put an end to them in a dependence on myself." CHAPTER XIII. Birth of a son — Her religious state at this period, 1673 — Death of Genevieve Granger — Their intimacy with each other — Remarks on this affliction — General remarks on worldly attachments and supports — Her second visit to the city of Orleans — In- terview and conversation with a Jesuit — Remarks upon it — Comments on undue spiritual earnestness or spiritual impetuosity— Writes to a person of distinction and merit for his advice — Withdraws her request — Result, and remarks upon this incident — Marks of distinction between the wholly and the partially sanctified mind — Lawsuit — Her conduct in connexion with it — Remarks. One of the incidents of the year 1673, to which these series of events now bring us, was the birth of her fourth child, a son, whom Providence had given her in the place of the too much idolized boy, whom she had lost two years before. This sou, who seems to have proved himself worthy of her affections, grew up to manhood. But the grace of God enabled her to love him with that pure and chastened affection which holds everything in subordination to the divine will. At the time of the birth, and during the early period of the life of this child, she speaks of herself as being the subject of 100 I.IFK AND UK.LUilOUS KXPHUIENCK urent inward support aiul coiisolatidii. Her feelings raay perhaps he oxpressoil in the hi n,<;u: 112,0 of tlie Psahnist, — hmgnago which, in various nu;os ot" tlie world, has Ibuiul a response in many ])ious bosoms, " Blessed bo the Lord, because He hath heard the voice of niv supphoations. The Lord is my strength and my shield, il/// heart fnisfcd in Tlim, and I am helped ; therefore my heart greatb/ rejoices ; and with nv/ fiony will I praise Him." (Ps. xxviii. G, 7.) But this season of consolation was succeeded by a trial unex- pected and severe, in the sickness and death of her religious friend and confidant, Genevieve Granger. To this intelligent and pious woman she had often gone for advice and suppoit, when her way seemed dark, and when her heart was sorrowful. Many were the hours which she had passed with her in religious conversation ; and perhaps in some cases she looked to her more, and relied on her more, than was entirely consistent with a sim- ple and unwavering dependence on God alone for Avisdom and strength. At this period, and for some years previous, she re- garded her, in her trials and her want of experience, as almost indispensable. It increased her affliction, that she was not present in her last sickness and at her death. She was at the time at a place called St. Reine. Near the close of the life of the Prioress, some one spoke to her in relation to Madame Guyon, to awaken her from a lethargy into which she had fallen. Her mind rallied at a name so dear, and she made the single remark, " I have always loved her in God and for God." These were her last words. She died soon after. " When I received this news," says Madame Guyon, " I must confess, that it was one of the most afflicting strokes which I had ever experienced. I could not help the thought, that, if I had been with her at the time of her death, I might have spoken to her, and might have received her last instructions. She had been a great hel[) to me. In some of my afflictions, it is true, I could not see hei'. Efforts were made to prevent it. This was especially the case for a few months before her death. But still, such was our sympathy of spirit, that the remembrance — the thought of what she might have said or done — was a support to me. The Lf)rd was merciful, even in this renewed and heavy OF MADAME GUYON. 101 affliction. He had taught me inwardly, before her death, that my attachment to her, and my dependence on her, were so great, that it would be profitable for me to be deprived of her." But the necessity of this event, considered in its religious bearings, did not prevent its being keenly painful to nature. Those who experience the crucifixion of nature, in the full extent of those terms, will find it necessary to die to all human attachments, — so far, at least, as they imply a reliance and confidence in the creature, which interferes in the least degree with entire reliance upon God. For wise reasons, therefore, God saw fit to take from her this prop. " Oh, adorable conduct of my God !" she exclaims. *' There must be no guide, no prop for the person whom thou art leading into the regions of darkness and death. There must be no con- ductor, no support to the man whom thou art determined to de- stroy by the entire destruction of the natural life." Everything upon which the soul rests, out of God ^ must be smitten, whether reputation, or property, or health, or symmetry of person, or friends, or father, or mother, or wife, or husband, or children. He ivJio loses his life, shall find it. Well does she add, " We are found by being lost ; we are saved by being destroyed ; we are built up by being first demolished. Man erects his inward temple with much industry and care ; and he is obliged to do it with such materials as he has. All this structure and super- structure, whatever it may be and to whatever extent it may be carried, is a new modelling and building up of the old Adam. But all this is removed, and cannot be otherwise than removed and destroyed, when God comes into the soul, and builds a new and divine temple, — a temple not made with hands, and of materials which endnre for ever. Oh, secrets of the incompre- hensible wisdom of God, unknown to any besides Himself and to those whom He has especially taught, — yet man, who has just begun his existence, wants to penetiate and set bounds to it ! Who is it, that hath known the mind of the Lord, or who hath been His counsellor ? It is a wisdom only to be known through death to self which is the same thing as death to every- thing that sets itself up in opposition to the true light." In the latter part of tlie year 1763, she visited Orleans a second time, at the marriage of her brother. While there, she 102 LIFE AND UKI, KUDUS EXTKUIKNCE bocjimo acquaintoJ with a .losuit, who oxhibited some interest ill her religious experience. Slie corresponded to this desire with nineh vivacity and very inlly. The effort gave a liigh de*;ree of sensible satisfaction, in distinction from that satisfac- tion which results solely i'rom the discharge of duty. She began to sec, that, in the progress of religion, it is not only necessary to do the right thing, but to do it in the right spirit. The source of her sorrow was, that she found on rejection that she had spoken from the life of nature, and not wholly from a single eye to God's glory. " I was too forward," she says, " and free in speaking to him of spiritual things, thinking I was doing well ; but I experienced an inward condemnation for it afterwards. The conversation, in itself considered, might not have been objectionable ; but the manner of it, or rather the inward spirit of it, was to some degree wrong. And I was so sensible that the spirit of nature, in distinction from the spirit of grace, dictated in part what I said, and was so afflicted at it, that I was kept, with divine aid, from falling into the like fault again. How often do we mis- take nature for grace ! Sanctification does not necessarily imply a want of earnestness. Far from it. A holy soul, feeling the importance of holiness as no other one can, cannot be otherwise than earnest. But that holy earnestness which comes wholly from God, is entirely inconsistent with the presence and opera- tion of all those influences, whatever they may be, which are separate from God." There is much truth in these views, which we find here and elsewhere in her writings. There is undoubtedly such a thing as spiritual forwardness, (perhaps we may call it religious impe- tuosity,) which is eminently religious in appearance, but which is sometimes much less truly and purely religious than it seems to be. This state of mind is not, generally speaking, destitute of the religious element ; but it is constituted of the religious element, impelled and influenced, in a greater or less degree, hi/ the natural element. Another incident, which seems to me to indicate her progress in inward sanctification, may properly be introduced here. " One day," she says, " laden with sorrow, and not knowing what to do, T wished to liaA'e some conversation with an indivi- OF MADAME GUYON. 103 dual of distinction and merit, who often came into our vicinity, and was ret^arded as a person deeply religious. I wrote him a letter, in which I requested the favour of a personal interview, for the purpose of receiving from him some instruction and advice. But reflecting on the subject, after I had written the letter, it seemed to me that I had done wrong. The Spirit of God seemed to utter itself in my heart, and to say, ' What ! dost thou seek for ease ? Art thou unwilling to bear the Lord's hand, which is thus imposed upon you ? Is it necessary to be so hasty in throwing off the yoke, grievous though it be ?' " In this state of mind, I wrote another letter to the indivi- dual whom I have mentioned, in which I withdrew my request, stating to him that my first letter had been written, I had reason to fear, without a suitable regard to God's providence and will, and partly, at least, from the fearful or selfish suggestions of the life of nature ; and as he knew what it was to be faithful to God, I hoped he would not disapprove of my acting with this Christian simplicity. I supposed, from the high reputation which he enjoyed as a Christian, that he would have appreciated my motives, and have received this second communication in the Christian spirit in which I hoped it was written. " But, to my surprise, he did not. On the contrary, he re- sented it highly. And I think we may well inquire, what explanation shall we give of this sort of Christianity ? Tliat this person was religious, in the imperfect or mitigated sense of the term, I doubt not. He seems to have been regarded as eminently religious ; but it is still true, that his religion, what- ever may have been the degree of it, was mixed up, pervaded and animated, more or less, on different occasions, with the life and activities of nature. Certain it is, that the life of nature, or that life which has self and not God for its basis, was not wholly slain within him. He could not say, under all circum- stances, ' It is well. Thy will be done !' " In connexion with the conduct of this individual, she makes some profitable remarks. Referring to the important results which characterize the experience of what she a[)propriately terms inward death, she says, that the soul, which comes out of it in the brightness of the new sijiritual resurrection, " is pmified from its selfishness, like gold in fhe furnace, and findii itself 104 I.IFK AND KKMUIOUS EXPKUIKNCE clothed ill those dispositions and divine Bt^ites which ishone in the nature and lite of Jesns Christ. Formerly, although it had submitted itself to (iod in the matter of its salvation through Christ, it was still proud of its own wisdom, and inordinately attached to its own will ; but now, in the crucifixion of nature and in the life of sanctitication, it seeks all its wisdom from God, rendere obedience with the simplicity of a little child, and re- cognises no will but God's will. Formerly, selfishly jealous of what it considered its rights, it was ready to take fire on many occasions which presented themselves, however unimportant they might be ; but now, when it comes in conflict with others, it yields readily and without reluctance. It does not yield, after a great effort and with pain, as if under a process of discipline, but naturally and easily. Formerly, even when it could justly be said to be religious to some extent, it was puffed up at times with more or less of vanity and self-conceit, but now, it loves a low place, poverty of spirit, meekness, humiliation. Formei'ly, although it loved others, it loved itself more, and placed itself above them ; but now, rejoicing equally in the happiness of others, it possesses a boundless charity for its neighbour, bearing with his faults and weaknesses, and winning him by love. The rage of the wolf, which still remained in some degree, and some- times shewed itself, is changed into the meekness of the lamb." Such are the accurate terms in which she discriminates be- tween the Christian life in its ordinary appearance of partial sanctitication, and the same life when it becomes a " new Christ," by experiencing a more full and complete regeneration into the purity, simplicity, and beauty of the divine image. About this time, a matter occurred which illustrates her char- acter in other respects. A certain person, whose name is not given, prompted either by malice or by avarice, attempted, by false pretences, to extort a large sum of money from her hus- band. The claim, which had the appearance of being one of long standing, was for two hundred thousand livres, which the claimant pretended was due to him from Madame Guyon and her brother conjointly. The claimant was supported in his un- just demand, by the poweifid influence of the king's eldest brother, the Duke of Orleans. They tampered with her brother, who was so young aiiil incxpfrienced as not to understand the OF MADAME GUYON. 105 merits of the case, in such a manner as to obtain his signature to certain important papers which were to be used in the trial. They had given him to understand, that, if they succeeded in the establishment of their claim, he should not pay anything. Madame Guyon felt that a great wrong was about to be done. Her husband, perplexed by the apparent intricacy of the affair, or perhaps terrified by the influence of the Duke of Orleans, was unwilling to contend. And it furnished occasion, without any good reason, for new dissatisfaction with his wife, and for new marks of ill treatment. When the day of trial came, after her usual religious duties, in which we may well suppose that she commended this trying business to divine direction, she says that she felt it her duty to take the unusual course of going personally to the judges, and making her representations of the case before them. " I was wonderfully assisted," she says, "' to understand and explain the turns and artifices of this business. The judge whom I first visited, was so surprised to see the affair so different from what he thought it before, that he himself exhorted me to see the other judges, and especially the Intendant, or presiding judge, who was just then going to the Court, and was quite mis- informed about the matter. God enabled me to manifest the truth in so clear a light, and gave such power to my words, that the Intendant thanked me for having so seasonably come to un- deceive and set him to rights in the affair. He assured me, that if I had not taken this course, the cause would have been lost. And as they saw the falsehood of every statement, they would not only have refused the plaintiff his claim, but would have condemned him to pay the costs of the suit, if it had not been for the position of the Duke of Orleans, who was so far led astray by the plaintiff, as to lend his name and influence to the prosecution. In order to save the honour of the prince, it was decided that we should pay to the plaintifi" fifty crowns ; so that his claim of two hundred thousand livres was satisfied by the payment of one hundred and fifty. Thus moderately and speedily ended an afiair, which at one time appeared very weighty and alarming. My husband was exceedingly pleased at what I had done." We mention this prosecution, and the circumstances attend- 106 l.IFt: AND KK[,I«;iOUS EXPERIENCK iiii;' it, Mot nuMvly as an iiu-ident which may ])roperly be regarded as const it lit iiiijj a portion of her life, but as ilhistrative of cliar- acter. IiuK'pciulently of the grace of God, which gave to her character its crowning excellence, we have in some incidents of this kind an evidence of what she was by nature, — of her clear- ness of perception, her firmness of j)urpose, and her eloquence. IShe had a mind that was formed by the God who made it to influence other minds. It was only necessary to see her and to hear her, in oiiler to feel her ascendency, — not an ascendency which was derived from position, but an ascendency which car- ried its title in itself ; — not an ascendency that was assumed, but an ascendency given. CHAPTEK XIV. 1674 — Commencement of her state of privation or desolation — Her account of it — Method of proceeding, in correctly estimating this part of her life — Analysis and explanation of the state into which she had fallen — Joy not religion, but merely an incident to it — Her remarks on the subject — Advice of Monsieiir Bertot in relation to her state — Unfavourable results — Advice of another distinguished individual — Unkind treatment which she experienced from him — Correspondence with a Jesuit — Remarks. In the beginning of the year 1674, Madame Guyon entered into what she terms her state of i^'^'ivation or desolaiion. It continued, with but slight variations, for something more than six years. Her experience at this time was in some respects peculiar, so much so as to require explanations at some length, both to make it understood in itself, and to make it in some degree profitable to others. " I seemed to myself cast down," she says, " as it were, from a throne of enjoyment, like Nebuchadnezzar, to live among beasts, — a very trying and deplorable state, when regarded independently of its relations, and yet exceedingly profitable to me in the end, in consequence of the use which Divine Wisdom made of it. Considered in comparison with ray former state of enjoyment, it was a state of emptiness, dark- ness, and sorrow, and went far beyond any trials I had ever yet met with." OF MADAME GUYON. 107 The piivatiou or desolation which she speaks of, particu- larly in its incipient state, was not a privation of desire, of hope, and of holy purpose, — but of sensible consolations. The Christian life, in the highest sense of the term, is a life of faith. This is generally admitted and understood ; but it does not appear to be equally well understood, that to live by emotions, to draw our activity and our hope from sensible joys, is to live by sight rather than by faith. Joy is not life, but merely an incident of life. God designed to make her His own, in the highest and fullest sense ; He wished her to possess the true life, the life unmingled with any element which is not true ; in other words, a life which flows directly and unceasingly from the divine nature. And in order to do this, it became with Him, if we may so express it, a matter of necessity, that He should take from her every possible inward support, separate and distinct from that of unmixed, naked faith. " We walk hj faith" says the Apostle, " and not by sight." — 2 Cor. v. 6, 7. And again, " The life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me." — Gal. ii. 20. Accordingly, He so ordered it in His providences, that those inward consolations, which had hitherto supported her so much in her trials, should be taken away ; except those which are based upon the exercise of pure or simple belief in the divine word and character. The joys which arise from this source, although they may temporarily be perplexed and diminished by counteracting influences, arise by a necessary and unchangeable law, and can never fail to exist. But a large portion of her inward consola- tions, as is generally the case at this period of religious expe- rience, arose from other causes and in other ways, connected in some respects and to some extent, it is probable, with the faith she possessed, but not directly based upon it. All this God saw fit to take away. And not making the proper distinctions in the case, and estimating her situation more by what she had lost than by what she retained, it seemed to her, that all peace, that all consolation, whatever cause or source it might arise from, was gone. So far as joy was concerned, her heart was desolate. And this was not all. In this state of things, she comnntted the great mistake of looking upon the absence of joy as evidence 108 LU-E ANU UEl.KiloUS EXI'KUIKNOK of the absence of the divine favour. After mentiouiiig that she was left witliout frieiuls and other sources of consohition, she mills, " to eoinplete my distress, 7 scented to be left without God Himself who alone could support nie iu such a distressing state." That is to say, iinding that her joys were gone, which had been as a sort of sunlight to her soul, she drew the conclusion, that God was gone. The mistake was an easy and perhaps a natural one, but it was none the less a mistake ; a mistake vital in its principle and terrible in its consequences. Since the time she had consecrated herself to the Lord to be wholly His, in the full and absolute sense of the terms, God had been pursuing a course adapted to secure her whole heart to Himself. He had tried her sometimes in one direction and sometimes in another, and through grace had found her faithful. But during all these trials it will be noticed that she was sustained, with the excep- tion of a few short intervals, by inward consolations. There was, generally speaking, a high state of pleasant and frequently of joyous emotionality. So that, instead of living upon " every word which proceeds from God's mouth," in other words, instead of living upon God's will, which, more appropriately than any- thing else, may be called angel's food, and which, whatever may be thought to tlie contrary, is and can be the only true bread of life, she was living upon her consolations. Strange it is, that we find it so difficult to perceive, that the joys of God are not God Himself. It is true, undoubtedly, that we may enjoy the will of God in the joys of God ; that is to say, while we may take a degree of satisfaction in the consolations themselves, we may rejoice in them chiefly and especially as indicative of the divine will. But in the earlier periods of Christian e.Kperience, we are much more apt to rejoice in our joys, than to rejoice in the God of our Joys. The time had come, in which God saw it necessary to take away this prop on which she was resting, in some degree at least, with- out knowing it. She could love God's will, trying though it often was to her natural sensibilities, when it was sweetened with consolations. But she was now called to endure another and a deeper trial. The question now proposed to her was, whether she could love God's will, when standing, as it were, alone, when developing OF MADAME GUYON. 109 itself as the agent and minister of divine providences which were to be received, endured, and rejoiced in, in all their bitterness, simply because they were from God ? This was a question, which, under the circumstances of the case, could not well be tested, except in connexion with that state of inward aridity, to which we have referred ; a state, which, in itself considered, cannot properly be designated as painful and still less as condemnatory, but which is sometimes described as a lifeless or dead state ; that is to say, dead, not in the sense of being without religion, but dead in respect to a par- ticular kind or class of emotions ; a state which is without life in the sense of its being unemotional. In other words, joyous emotions have either ceased to exist, or their natural results are overruled by influences originating in feelings of a different char- acter. God's hand is in this result ; and it is well that it should be so. As men may make a god of their own intellect, by being proud of their intellect ; or may make a god of their own will, by being proud of their will ; so they may make a god of their joyous emotions, by taking a wrongly placed pleasure in them. And just so far as this is the case, it is proper for God, in the exercise of His gracious administration, to take away such emo- tions. He turns their channels back ; He smites our earthly delights, and opens the sources of providential sorrow, and over- whelms them, and they disappear. And in doing this, He does not take away men's religion, but rather takes away an idol ; or if that term be too strong. He certainly takes away that, what- ever we may name it, which perplexes and injures religion. We hope we shall not be understood as denying or doubting the existence of true Christian joy. Certain it is, that there are true joys, joys which God approves, /o^/s of faith, as well as other joys. And we may add, I think, with great confidence, that these joys exist by a necessary law. He who has faith has the joys of faith ; and what is more, he cannot help having them. And not only this, he may justly regard them as an evidence or sign of a good religious state. And as such a sign he may re- joice in his joys, as well as in the object of his joys, if he will be careful to do it cautiously and wisely. I repeat, that we may properly and safely make the joys of faith a distinct subject of contemplation, and may rejoice in them to some extent, as a sign 110 l.Ili: AN1> HKLIGIOUS EXPERIENCE uf that, wli.itcvi'r it is, which is tiic loiiiKlatiitii or basis ol' tliein, — naiiioly, the thinj:: si^iiitioil or substance. But whenever by an inward proei'ss, whicli not un{Ve(]uently exists, although it is cHlHeult to explain it, we rejoice in the joys of faith in themselves, and not as a si(jn, instead of rejoicing in the objects of faith, such as Cu)d, (lod's inherent goodness and holiness, God's pro- mise, and the like, caring in reality nothing about God and His api)robation, but only about the ha2jpin€ss He gives, thus placing the gifts before the Giver, our experience is entirely upon a wrong track, and will result soon, if it continue thus, in the de- struction of faith itself. In the case of Madame Guyon, it is very true, that the joys of faith, sometimes more and sometimes less, remained with her amid all her trials. But the joy which she took in her joy, in distinction from the joy which she took in the God of her joy, and also all other joys which were not founded in faith, and which she rested in instead of God, who is the great object of faith, were taken away. And so great was the change, although ordered in the greatest mercy on the part of God, that she seemed to be like one smitten, cast out, and hopelessly desolate ; like Nebuchad- nezzar, as she expresses it, who was suddenly deprived of his power and his glory, and dwelt among the beasts of the field. Sad condition, as it seemed to her ; and in some respects, un- doubtedly, it was very trying. Especially when she regarded it as an evidence, as she did, that she had committed some aggra- vated sins, although she did not understand what they were, and that God was displeased with her on account of them. Having lost her consolations, she supposed, as we have already intimated, that she had lost all. Not being happy, or at least not being so happy as she had been, she concluded that she was not a Chris- tian, or at least not so much a Christian as she had been. And this im[)ression reacted upon her own mind, and rendered her more unhappy still, and tended to increase the sad conviction, that she had in some manner grievously offended God. She herself subsequently understood this. " I have learned," she says, in words to this effect, " from this season of deprivation, that the prayer of the heart, the earnest desire and pui-pose of the soul, to be and to do what the Lord would have us, — when, in consequence of not being attended with excited and joyous OF MADAME GUYON. Ill emotion, it appears most dry and barren, — is nevertheless not ineffectual in its results, and is not to be regarded as a prayer ofifered in vain. And all persons would assent to this, it* they would only remember, that God, in answering such a prayer, gives us what is best for us, though not what in our ignorance we most relish or wish for. If people were but convinced of this great truth, far from complaining all their life long, they would regard the situation in which God sees fit to place them, as best suited to them, and would employ it faithfully in aiding the process of inward crucifixion. And hence the afflictive in- cidents attending upon such a situation, in causing us inward death, would procure the true life. It is a great truth, wonderful as it is undeniable, that all our happiness, temporal, spiritual, and eternal, consists in one thing, namely, in resigning ourselves to God, and in leaving ourselves with Him, to do with us and in us just as he pleases. " When we arrive at this state of entire and unrestricted dependence on God's Spirit and providence, we shall then fully realize, that what we experience is just what we need, and that if God is truly good. He could not do otherwise than He does. All that is wanting is, to leave ourselves faithfully in God's hands, submitting always and fully to all his operations, whether painful or otherwise. The soul must submit itself to be con- ducted, from moment to moment, by the divine hand ; and to be annihilated, as it were, by the strokes of His providence without complaining, or desiring anything besides what it now has. If it would only take this course faithfully, God woidd be unto it, not only eternal Life, but eternal Truth. We should be guided into the truth, so far as it might be necessary for us, although we might not fully understand the method of its being done. " But the misfortune," she adds, " is, that people wish to direct God, instead of resigning themselves to he directed by Him. They wish to take the lead, and to follow in a way of their own selection, instead of submissively and passively follow- ing where God sees fit to conduct them. And hence it is, that many souls, who are called to the enjoyment of God Himself, and not merely to the gifts of God, spend all their lives in pur- suing and in feeding on little consolations ; resting in them as 112 LIFE AN1> HKLIOIOUS KXPERIENCE 111 tlieii- phu'c oi' ilcli^hts, and uuikiii«; tlicir Hpiritual lite to consist in them." Those ronmrks were written many years after the period of her life to wliieli our attention is now particnlarly directed ; written, it would seem, to her surviving children, after she had been the subject of persecution and of imprisonment for the Gospel's sake. And this exjilains what immediately follows. " For you, my d(>ar children," she adds, " if my chains and my imiirisonment any way afflict yon, I pray that they may serve to engage yon to seek nothing but God for Himself alone, and never to desire to possess Him bnt by the death of your whole selves. Never, as the children of God, seek to be anything in your own ways and life ; but rather to enter into the most pro- found nothingness." But at this time, all seemed to her to be gone. And what had a tendency to confirm her the more in these desponding views, was the course taken by some, in whose opinions in re- spect to her religious state, she naturally placed a considerable degree of confidence, I refer, in part, to the mistaken but well meant course of Monsieur Bertot, a man of learning and piety, whom, in accordance with the practice of her Church, and at the suggestion of her friend, Genevieve Granger, she had some time before selected as her spiritual Director. It was proper, therefore, that she should consult him. She went to Paris for this purpose. But embarrassed by the peculiarity of her situa- tion, he seems to have mistaken almost entirely its true nature. His advice was, that she should begin anew her religious efforts by practising those incipient methods of religious reading and prayer, which were calculated to make a religious impression, just as if she had either not known what religion was, or did not now possess it. This advice she was not disposed to receive, because there was something in her which seemed to tell her, that it was mis- taken ad^^ce, and was not applicable to her case. The conse- quence was, that Bertot, who was a conscientious man, thinking that some other person might he more judicious, or more suc- cessful, as her spiritual counsellor, wrote to her that he wished to resign the office which he sustained as her Director. This course, on the part of one in whom she had so much confidence, OF MADAME GUYON. 113 made a deep and unfavourable impression on the mind of Madame Guyon. She says, " I had no doubt that God had revealed to him, that I had become a transgressor ; and that he regarded the state of inward aridity and desolation into whicli I had fallen, as a certain mark of my reprobation." She mentions another individual, who, if we may judge from some intimations, was probably one of the Jansenists ; a party which at that time possessed much influence in France, and, as it well deserved to be, has since been historically celebrated, " He was a man," she says, " who held a high position in the Church ; polite in his manners, obliging in his temper, and who had a good share of talent." Pleased with Madame Guyon, and desirous to bring her into harmony with himself on some points of religious doctrine in which they seem to have differed, he often visited her house. This intimacy was after a time broken off, and he added himself to the number of those, who at this time formed and expressed unfavourable opinions in regard to her state. " The inability," she says, " I was now in, in consequence of my discouragements and depression, of doing those exterior acts of charity I had done before, served this person with a pretext to publish that it was owing to him, and under his influence and advice that I had formerly done them. Willing to ascribe to himself the merit of what God alone by His grace had en- abled me to do, he went so far as to make a distinct allusion to me in his sermons, as one wdio had once been a bright pattern in religious things to others, but now had lost my interest in them, and had become a scandal. I myself have been present at such times, and what he said, noticed and understood as it was by others, was enough to weigh me down with confusion. I received what he said, however, with submission and patience, believing as I did that God was offended with me, and that I abundantly merited much worse treatment. " Confused, like a criminal, that dares not lift up his eyes, T looked upon the virtue of others with respect. I could see more or less of goodness in those around me, but in the obscurity and sorrow of my mind I could seem to see nothing good, nothing favourable in myself When others spoke a word of kindness, and especially if they happened to praise me, it gave a severe H IN lAVi: AND Ki:i,u;K»r^ KxrintiKNcK shock to my H'cliiii^s, jiiul 1 suiil in inysell', they little know uiy miseries ; they little know tiie state from which I have fallen. Aiul, on the contrary, when any spoke in terms of reproof and condenmation, 1 agreed to it as right and just, " It is true, that nature wanted to free herself from this abject condition, but could not tind out any way. If I made an ellbrt, if I trieil to make an outward ap})earance of righteous- ness by the practice of some good thing, my heart in secret rebidced me as guilty of hypocrisy, in Avanting to ai)pear what I was not. And God, who thought it best that 1 should suffer, did not permit anything of this kind to succeed. Oh, how ex- cellent are the crosses of providence. All other crosses are of no value. " I was often very ill and in danger of death ; and darkness brooded upon the future as well as upon the present ; so that I knew not how to prepare myself for that change, which some- times seemed near at hand. Some of my pious friends wrote to me, requesting an explanation of some things, which the gentleman, whom I have mentioned, spread abroad concerning me ; but I had no heart to justify myself, and did not under- take to do it, although I knew myself innocent of unfavourable things which were said. One day being in great desolation and distress, I opened the New Testament, and chanced to meet with these words, which for a little time gave me some relief, — M// grace is sufficient for thee ; for my strength is made perfect in 2ucakness." Even the pious Franciscan, whom God had employed as an instrument in effecting her great moral and religious change, was perplexed about her case, and was incapable of giving her any profitable advice. With this individual she had kept up an occasional correspondence at his request. In her inward deprivation and sorrow, she received a letter which tended to increase the discouragement she already experienced, and to add keenness to her pangs. Another individual, a member of the religious association of the Jesuits, who had formerly held her piety in high estimation, " wrote to me," she says, " in a similar strain." " No doubt," she adds, in the spirit of that invaluable habit which she had of referring all things to God, " it was by the divine permission. OF MADAME GUYON. 1 15 tliiit they thus contributed to complete my desolation. Dis- covering in their letters kind feelings, I thanked them in my reply to their communications, for the Christian and friendly interest which they had taken in me, and commended myself to their prayers. It was painful to be thus unfavourably estimated by those who had the reputation of being people of piety ; but there was a greater pain, which, on the principle of contrast, made this pain appear to be less. I refer to the deep sorrow I had experienced in connexion with the thought of having dis- pleased God." These facts, illustrative of the opinions of others in relation to her spiritual state, shew us, how little dependence we can safely place on mere human judgments. On the principle on which these persons judged Madame Guyon, what would have been thought of hundreds and thousands of Christians, the most eminent for their devotedness to God, who have been inwardly and outwardly afflicted ? What would have been thought of the Saviour himself, persecuted, buffeted, amazed, weeping, and dying on the cross ? We ought not to forget, that here on earth Christianity is on the battle-field of its trials, — trials which are often doubtful in their issue, — and not in the victo- rious repose of the New Jerusalem, It may conquer, it is true ; and it may " enter into rest ;" but this does not imply, that the enemy will not renew the contest, and that the rest will not be disturbed. We conquer in our armour ; and here on earth at least, we must rest, so far as rest is given us, loitli our armour on. CHAPTER XV. Events of the year 1676 — Sickness of her husband — His traits of character — Affecting incident resulting in their mutual reconciliation — His pious dispositions near the close of his life — His death — Occupied in the settlement of her estate — Chosen as judge or arbiter in a lawsuit — Result — Reference to her inward dispo- sitions — Separation from her mother-in-law — Remarks. This state of things continued for nearly two years. Years do not pass, nor even days, without their character and their incidents ; sometimes bright with joy, but not less frequently stained and dark with sorrow. I l(> I.IKK AND KFJ.UilOlS KXrKltlKNt'K The iihysical inliniiitios of her husbaiul inoreased ; and it seemed to be obvious, that the end of his life was rapidly ap- proaeiiing. lie seems to have been a man of considerable powers of intellect, of enerp;y of character, and of strong passions. He was too high-spirited and proud, not to be jealous of his own rights, and of his personal position and influence. He both loved and hated strongly ; but both his love and his hatred were characterized by sudden alternations of feeling, which can be explained, in part, in connexion with that trait of quick- sighted jealousy, which has been mentioned. His feelings towards his wife were of a mixed character. She says of him expressly, notwithstanding the trials she experienced at his hand, " he loved me much. When I loas sick he tvas inconsol- able." And she adds, making an exception undoubtedly of certain individuals, who had insidiously obtained a control over him, " whenever he heard of other persons having made un- favourable remarks in relation to me, he felt it keenly, and expressed himself in terms of exceeding indignation. And I have great confidence, if it had not been for the unpropitious influence of his mother and the maid-servant, we should have been very happy in each other. Faults he had undoubtedly. And most men, I suppose, have some defects of character, some imdue passions ; and it is the duty of a reasonable woman to bear them peaceably, without irritating them by unkind or un- suitable opposition." That he loved her, therefore, there can be no doubt. But his affection, marked and passionate, was modified by a sense of intellectual inferiority, as compared with his wife in that respect, which was humbling to his pride. This, probably, was one source of irritation. Add to this the disparity of their age, and the benevolence of heart which characterized the one, and the habits of parsimony and acquisition, bordering perhaps upon avarice, which seemed to characterize the other. Again, the one was religious, a seeker of religion when she married, and soon afterwards a possessor of it. The other was without reli- gion in experience, although he seems always to have had some respect for it. The one loved God, the other loved the world. It is not surprising, therefore, that his mother, a woman of art OF MADAME GUYON. 117 and energy, availing herself of these sources of distrust and repugnance, should have been successful in diminishing his affection for his wife, and for some short periods of time, in totally perverting it. When left to himself, he acknowledged and felt his wife's ascendency. His pride in her, when it was permitted to take that direction, added strength to his affection ; and at such times he gave no ground of complaint by withholding the testi- monies of confidence and love. But exposed as he was to powerful influences, constantly operating upon that spirit of jealousy which seems to have been a strong characteristic, he was at times less true to duty and affection than he would otherwise have been. And on some occasions, driven to a sort of madness of exasperation, originating from the sources of influence which have been mentioned, combined with the goad- ings of physical suffering, he was unjust and cruel in a high degree. But it is some satisfaction to know, that he had per- ception enough left, and love enough left, to estimate and acknowledge the wrong in his better moments. It was at such a time, and in such a spirit, that he made some conciliatory remarks to- her some years before, in his journey to St. Reine. " He appeared very desirous," she says, " of having me to attend him, and was not willing to have any other besides me. And he made the remark, referring to those who had afflicted me, if they were not in the habit of speaking against you, I should be more satisfied and easy, and you would be more happy." As the clouds were gathering over him, and the sun of his life seemed about to be setting, Madame Guyon felt that she could no longer consistently or rightly submit to an interference even on the part of one, who sustained the relation of his mother, which had been attended with such uidiappy results. She asserted her rights with dignity and decision, as she might have done without any failure of propriety at a much earlier period. Feeling that at this solenm crisis there should be a full reconciliation between herself and her husband, and that what remained of life to them should be spent in a different manner, uninfluenced and un marred by others, she approached the matter of their differences, not merely in the spirit of a woman and a wife, but in that also of a Christian. 1 is I.ll'K ANH UKl.KaUl'S KXl'KKIKNCK ''I took soino t'lvoiiniblc oi)i)ortunitv," she says, "and draw- ing near his hod, 1 kiioelcil down ; and admitting in what I said to him, tliat I probably had done things which had dis- ])loasod him, 1 assured him, however, that I had not wronged liini in any case deliberately and intentionally. And, for what- ever I had done amiss, under whatever circumstances, I now begged his pardon. He liad just awoke from a sound sleep. Strong emotion appeared deeply marked upon his countenance, as I uttered these words. He said to me, ' It is I who have done wrong rather than yourself It is I who beg your pardon. I did not deser\'e you.' " He seems from this time to have had his eye fully open to the arts which had been practised upon him. He felt that he, who assumes the responsibility of coming between husband and wife, and of disturbing their happiness by alienating their affec- tions, does an evil not more terrible in its results, than it is malicious and morally reprehensible in its character. It was her privilege to watch at his bedside during the remainder of his days ; to wipe away the drops of anguish from his brow ; and to speak words of Christian consolation to his dying heart. And she did tliis, when her own soul was inwardly tried by the deepest fears and sorrows. It is hardly necessary to say, that this kindness of attention, and these instructions and advice, must have been no small privilege to a man in his situation. It is true, that she advanced much afterwards in the knowledge of the Scriptures and in Chiistian experience ; but even at this time, and with all the perplexities and sorrows which weighed down her own mind, there can be no doubt, that her sympathy, her advice, and her prayers were of unspeakable value. On a dying couch, when it is emphatically true that we live not by bread alone, but by spiritual nourishment, by the Word, and by the consolations of the Holy Ghost, such a friend and adviser may justly be re- garded as a special gift of Heaven. For twenty-four days immediately i)receding his death, she scarcely left his bedside. The alleviation of physical suffering was not the only result of her watchings and labours. God was pleased to bless them also to his spiritual good. In his last days, — itnportant days to him, — when all earthly prospects grew dark, OF MADAME GUYON. 119 the light of religion began to open its dawning in the soul. In the mild radiance of that light, feeble though it was, because it was in its beginning, he died. He was resigned and patient in his sickness ; and died, so far as could be judged, in the exercise of trnly Christian dispositions, after having received the sacra- mental element in a humble and edifying manner. His death took place on the morning of the 21st of July 1676. " I was not present," she says, " when he ex])ired. Out of tenderness to me, he had requested me to retire." It was thus that her own person had been smitten ; and that within a few years she had seen her beloved son and daughter taken from her, and her father and her husband also, after short intervals of time, laid in the grave. And she was a woman whose heart, from its first young beat to its dying throb, gushed out with sensibiHty. This was one of the marked traits of her char- acter, which existed naturally almost in excess. No daughter loved her parents more tenderly than she did ; no mother pos- sessed more depth and sacredness of maternal affection ; no wife appreciated more fully the sacred nature and the value of the conjugal relation. But of those who sustained these invaluable relations, how many were gone ! Like summer flowers, or like leaves of autumn, they had flillen on her right hand and left. She stood alone ; smitten within as well as without ; and with- out a single friend to console her. But did she repine ? Did she indulge in a murmuring spirit ? In all this we do not hesitate to repeat again, that it could be said of her, as it was said of the ancient Patriarch, who was tried by a long series of outward and inward afflictions, " in all this she sinned not, nor charged God foolishly" Or if these expressions should be regarded by any as too strong, they can be applied, in some approximated sense at least. So far from complaining and rebelling, she knew well the hand of the Lord ; and her soul did not hesitate a moment to bow in submission before it. It was not the sullenness of despair, which yields because it cannot do otherwise ; but the calmness of Christian submission and hope. She could say with the Psalmist, in allu- sion to the tics of earth which had been separated, however i)ain- ful the process was to the natural aftections, " Lord, truly I am thy servant; lam thy servant, and the son of thy handmaid; 120 J.UK AM> KKLK.Uit S EXI'KUIENCE tliou hast loosciud mil hands ; I will offer to thee the sacrijice of thank\s(/irin(j, and icill call upon the name of the Lord." (Ps. cxvi. IG, 17.) This was the passa niii.icioiis kxi'Ki;ii;nch jiroiKM'ty. Ami iu)t being able to settle it, they chose, ratlier tliiin to bring it bel'oiv tlie courts, to refer it to him. As he was acquaintetl witli most of these persons, and hatl a parlicuhir esteem for some of them, he took charge of the business, altliough not very a[)i>ropriate to his situation and liis mental liabits. There were no less than twenty-two persons more or less con- cerned in this allair, which rendered it one of considerable deli- cacy and per})lexity. Either for want of time, or distrusting his ability to settle the dispute alone, he employed some per- sons skilled in the law, to assist him in the examination of the {>apers, which were laid before him, and to aid him in forming a just opinion. It was at this stage of the business that he died. " After his death," she says, " I sent for the persons who were concerned, and proposed to return them their papers. They were troubled, anticipated the greatest evils, and perhaps the ruin of some of their number, if a settlement of the difficulties could not be had. In this state of things they proposed to me to take the place of my deceased husband, and to act as judge between them. A proposition, apparently so impracticable and absurd, could not have been entertained for a moment, had it not been for the urgency and the real necessities of the parties concerned. This gave to the proposition the aspect of a Chris- tian duty. I laid it before the Lord; and relying on His strength and wisdom, felt it my duty to try. I found it neces- sary to give my mind fully to the business, which I had thus, as it seemed to me with the divine approbation, voluntarily assumed. And accordingly, laying aside all other business, I shut myself up in my closet about thirty days, not going out at all except to ray meals and to religious worship. All this time was necessary in order to understand the merits of the case. I at length completed the examination, formed my final opinion upon the subject, and drew it up in writing. The parties were summoned together ; and without reading it or knowing what ray decision was, they accepted it and signed it. I afterwards learned that they were so well pleased with what I had done, that they not only commended it much, but published it abroad everywhere. The hand of the Lord was in it. It was God who gave me wisdom. So ignorant was I then, and so ignorant am OF MADAME GUYON. 123 I now, of affairs of this nature, that when I hear persons con- versing about them, it appears to me like Arabic." At this period, and during a number of succeeding years, her life, considered in its outward relations, was retired, domestic, and in many respects quiet. The time had not come which was destined to open to her the path of more public duty. Inwardly she was still desolate. In what sense this remark is to be under- stood we have already explained. She was without that expe- rience of inward joy which had once supported her. She was desolate to the eye of sense only, and not to the eye of faith. But this she did not as yet understand. To her the desolation appeared complete. Her sorrow was unappeasable. But though it seemed to her that God had left her, she acknowledged fully the rectitude of all His dealings, and felt that she could not leave Him. She followed Him in tears like the Syrophenician woman. After the death of her husband she made some attempts to- wards a reconciliation with her mother-in-law. On the following Christmas day, in particular, she approached her, and said to her with much affection, " My mother, on this day was the King of Peace born. He came into the world to bring peace to us. I beg peace of you in His name," But her stern heart was un- moved. Or, if it were otherwise, she would not let it appear. The question then arose whether she should leave her. A num- ber of persons in whom she placed confidence advised her ear- nestly to do it, believing as they did that she had already suffered enough from that source. She had doubts about it. She was fearful of offending God by desiring to throw off a cross, heavy though it was, which it seemed to her that Divine Wisdom im- posed upon her. Undoubtedly she was correct. But the same Providence, which imposed this cross upon her, in its own time removed it. In the winter of 1677, the winter following the death of her husband, and a few weeks after the conversa- tion to which we have just now referred, her mother-in-law gave her notice, in express terms, that they could no lomjer live together. " This," says Madame Guyon, " was fairly giving me my dis- charge. My scruples were now removed. I took measures to retire from the house whore we had resided together, as quietly I-JI LIFT, AND UKLhiUHS K\ri;KlK.N('l': as possible, as 1 iliil noL wish to give occasion lor sunuises and evil remarks. Diirinj:; tlie period of my widowhood thus far, I had not made any visits, excei)t such as were of pure necessity ami charity. 1 did not wish to speak of my troubles to others, or to make thein known in any way. God had taught me to go to llim alone. Tlicre is nolhhuj lultich makes nature die so deeply and so qnieldy, as tojind and to seek no eartldy support^ no earthly eonsolation. I went out, therefore, from ray mother- in-law in silence. In winter, in the cold of mid winter, wlien it was dillicult to obtain suitable accommodations elsewhere, I went out to seek another habitation, with my three surviving children, and my little daughter's nurse," We leave her mother-in-law here. The Scripture says in language, which has a true and mighty meaning to the holy heart, " Jiuhje not, that ye he not judged." There is a God above us, who is not ignoi'ant of those weaknesses, temptations, and sorrows, existing in every heart, which are known to Him only. Until we have the attribute of omniscience, which is requisite for a perfectly just judgment, let us never condemn others, however defective their characters may be, without leav- ing a large place for pity and forgiveness. Such, I think, were obviously the feelings of Madame Guyon in relation to this unhappy matter. For more than twelve years her mother-in- law had embittered her domestic life. But she did not fail to recognise the hand of the Lord in it. She was led to see, that God, who accomplishes His purposes by instruments, made use of the jealousy and fierceness of her mother's temper to humble and purify her own lofty spirit. God educed her good out of another's evil. It was a mystery which she could adore and love, although she could not fully understand it. She went out, therefore, in silence ; with tears, but without rebukes. OF MADAME GUYON. 125 CHAPTER XVI. Iler outward charities — Incident illustrative of Lor benevolence — Her interest in the education of her children — Attempts to improve her own education — Study of the Latin language — Continuance of her sad state of inward desolation — Her temptations — Writes to La Combe — Keceives a favourable answer — July 22, 1680, the day of her deliverance and of the triumph of sanctifying grace, after nearly seven years of inward privation — Reference to her work, entitled the Tor- rents — Eemarks — Poem illustrative of her state, translated by Cowper. Established once more in her own residence, with her little family around her, she lived a life more retired than ever. " I went," she says, " after no fine sights or recreations. When others went, I staid at home. I wanted to see and know nothino; but Jesus Christ. My closet, where I could contemplate divine things, was my only diversion. The Queen of France was at one time in my neighbourhood ; but my mind was so taken up with other things, that she had not attraction enough to draw me out with the multitude to see her." But retirement from the world is not necessarily retirement from duty. In her widowhood and seclusion, she did not cease to sympathize with the poor and the afflicted. Her own heart was desolate ; but it was not in personal afflictions to make her forget that others also had their sorrows. As she turned her mind upon her own situation, and as she looked upon her fother- less children, she remembered the widow and the orphan. Still she had less energy in works of outward benevolence than at some former periods. But this was not owing to a change of principle or a want of pity ; but is to be ascribed partly to ifeebleness of health, and partly to a state of inward desolation. Her strength, not only her physical vigour hut her energy of purpose, was in some degree broken ; but the true life, which burns without being consumed, still remained in it. One day a domestic told her that there was a poor soldier lying in the public road, sick, and a})parcntly unable to help himself. She gave orders that he should be brought in. He was one of those wrecks of humanity, ragged, unclean, and de- based, who appear to be without home and without friends, and whom no one pities but that God who watches all men, and in- I.2G I.IKK ANl' KKLUilOVS KX I'KKII'.XCK Spires })i(y in (lie hearts of tliosi' wlio are like llimsell'. For fifteen duvs she watched over him, w ilh all the care and assi- dnity of a mother or sister ; perlorniiii<; olliees whieh must have heen re})ugnant to a person of her retineracnt of feelings and manners. This was his last earthly habitation. He died at her honse. At this [)eriod she felt herself called to give some special at- tention to the edncation of her children. On the snhject of early education, and especially on the influence of mothers in the forming of the intellectual and moral habits of children, she had bestowed much thought. To a reflecting mind like hers, this important subject would be very likely to suggest itself; esi)ecially when she recollected, as she often did, the loss and injury which she herself had experienced in early life, from some degree of inattention in this respect. At that time the subject of early education, especially in its relation to those of her own sex, was comparatively new ; a subject, which since her time, beginning with the valuable and interesting work of Fenelon on Female Education has been discussed, analyzed, and applied with the most successful results. In her Autobiogi-aphy, she has given some views on the treatment of children, particularly of daughters, views characterized by close observation and sound judgment. She embraced the opportunity, which Providence now seemed to afford her, to revise and extend the elements of her own edu- cation. Light literature, including romances and poetry, ad- dressed chiefly to the natural, in distinction from the religious tastes, she had laid aside years before. Her reading was limited, for the most part, to the Bible, and works designed to elucidate the Bible, and man's character, his continual need of divine grace, and his growth in the religious life. Many works on these subjects, which from her position in the Roman Catholic Church she w^ould be inclined to consult, were originally written in the Latin language ; a language to this day the sole reposi- tory of many valuable works of this kind. Under these circum- stances she commenced and prosecuted the study of the Latin, without perhaps distinctly foreseeing of how much benefit .it would be to her in her future inquiries and waitings. But here, as everywhere else, God, who guides us in a way we know not, OF MADAME UUYON. 127 was preparing her, in what she was called to do, as well as in what she was called to suffer, to accomplish His own will. During the three years immediately preceding the death of her husband, and something more than the three years imme- diately subsequent to it, namely, from 1673 to 1680, she endured without cessation, but with some variations in the degree of severity, the pains of inward and of outward crucifixion. One source of the suffering which she experienced, in this season of •privation or desolation, as she terms it, was, that notwithstand- ing the consecration of herself to God, she experienced heavy and direct temptations to commit sin. We may well imagine how terrible at times must have been her mental conflicts. Her language (impossible, it is true, in its application, but still strongly expressive of her feelings) was, that she \Yould rather endure the sorrows of eternal banishment from God's presence, than knowingly sin against Him. " Under these circumstances," she says, " I felt the truth of what thou hast said, my God, tliat tliou judgest our 7'ight- eousness ! Oh, how pure, how holy art Thou ! Who can compre- hend it ? I was led to see, one after another, the secret ties which bound me to earth ; and which God, after He had brought them to my notice, was successively cutting asunder. All inor- dinate interest which I had taken in created things, (that is to say, all interest in them out of God, and out of their true rela- tions and true degree,) was gradually taken away. It was thus that the process of inward crucifixion, often severely trying me, went steadily on. " holy Jesus !" she exclaims, in looking back upon what she then passed through, " I loas that lost sheep of Israel tvhom thou didst come to save. Thou didst come to save her, ivho could find no salvation out of thee. Oh, ye stout and righteous men ! Speak as much, and as proudly as you please, of the value and excellence of what you have done for God's glory. As for me, I glory only in my infirmities, since they have merited for me such a Saviour." " Loaded with miseries of all sorts," she proceeds to remark in connexion with her inward experience at this time, " weighed down with the burden of continual crosses, I at last gave up hope. The darkness of an eternal night settled ui)on my soul. I"_\s I, hi: ani> ui:i,iis KxrKiuKNt'io Lookiiii; upon iiiysclt' as a \irtiin (Iciomeil for (lostniction, I had not the Icjist expectation oi' cuwvj^'wvj^ out of the distressing state in wliieh I found niysolf. As in the case of the Saviour in the extroniity of His sulfcrings, (Jod seemed to have forsaken nie. r.ut thanks 1)0 to His grace, my heart bowed in entire and holy suliiuission. Lost as I was, or rather as I seemed to myself to lie, 1 could not cease to love. '' Believing, as I did, in the strange position of my mind, that I could never again be acceptable to God, and never be received by ]lim, I distinctly and fully recognised His justice and good- ness, and could not repress the longing desire I had to do some- thing, or to suffer something, to promote His glory. I could praise the name of the Lord out of the depths, to which no lower deep seemed possible." Such is the import of the terms in which slie expresses herself. Finding no satisfiictory relief from others, she wrote to Francis do la Combe. The special occasion of her writing at this time was this: — One of the male domestics in her family, becoming interested in religions subjects, was desirous of connecting him- self with the religious fraternity called the Barnabites. He na- turally consulted Madame Guyon on the subject; and she was advised by her half-brother. La Mothe, to write to La Combe, who, as Superior of the Barnabites at Thonon, in Savoj', could undoubtedly give them all the requisite information and advice. " I had always retained for him a secret respect and esteem as one who was truly devoted to God, and I Avas pleased with this opportunity of recommending myself to his prayers. I gave him an account of my depression and sorrow of mind, and of what I then supposed to be the case, that God no longer took l)leasure in me, but had separated himself from me." La Combe, whom we shall hereafter designate as Father La Combe, w^as a man of ability as well as of personal inward expe- rience. He took a view of her case entirely different from that taken by others whom she had consulted. His experience ena- bled him at once to make a distinction between sorrow and sin ; and to reject the opinion she had formed, that the griefs she experienced were an evidence of her having offended God. On the contrary, he took the ground, that she ought to regard these afflictions as an evidence of the goodness and mercy of God, who OF MADAME GUYON. 129 was thus painfully but kindly removing the earthly props on which her spirit had leaned. This view, which was so entirely different from the opinions entertained at this time by herself, could not fail to give her some encouragement, although she was not as yet able fully to receive it. The correspondence with Father La Combe, kept up at inter- vals for many years, commenced early in the year 1G80. About the middle of July of that year she wrote to him a second time. In this letter she made the particular request, that, if he received it before the 22d of July, a day memorable in her religious his- tory, he would make her the subject of special supplication. The letter arrived, although the place of its destination was quite distant, the day before the time specified. And the person to whom it was addressed had too much piety and too deep a sense of his obligations to the author of it, to suffer a request, offered in such a humble and sorrowing spirit, to pass unheeded. It was a day of prayer both with him and with her. It was a day also of the hearing of prayer. The sceptre of mercy was extended. On that favoured day, after nearly seven years of inward and outward desolation, the cloud which had rested so dark and deeply passed away, and the light of eternal glory settled upon her soul. She was led for the first time to see, under the intimations of the Holy Spirit, that all things were just the reverse of what she had supposed them to be, — that affliction is mercy in disguise, that we possess by first being deprived, that death precedes life, that destruction in the spiritual experience turns to renovation, that out of the sorrows and silence of inward crucifixion, and from no other source, must grow the jubilees of everlasting bliss. Grod was given back ; and all things ivith Him. All sights and sounds, all beauties of heaven and of earth, the trees and flowers below, and the stars of lieaven in their places, and social pleasures and earthly friendships, whatever the intellect could perceive or the heart could relish, — she could enjoy them all, in their appro- priate ]jlace and degree, because, in her victoiy over self, she was enabled to place and appreciate them in their true and divine relation, — all in God, and God in all. It was thus that the Lord turned her captivity, as he did that of his servant Job, and made the end better and more glorious than the beginning. I laO 1.1 FK ASn KKl.ICIors KXIM'.KIFACK " It was on tlio 2"A1 oi' July 1G8U, that liai)py day," she says, " that my soul was iloHvcreil from all its pains. From the time of the lirst letter iVoin Father La Combe, 1 began to recover a new Hie. 1 wius then, iiulecil, only like a dead person raised up, who is in the beginning of his restoration, and is raised up to a life of hope rather than of actual possession ; but on this day I wiis restored, as it were, to perfect life, and set wholly at liberty. I was no longer depressed, no longer borne down under the bur- den of sorrow. I had thought God lost, and lost for ever ; but I found Him again. And lie returned to me with unspeakable magnificence and purity. " In a wonderful manner, difficult to explain, all that which had been taken from me, was not only restored, but restored with increase and with new advantages. In Thee, my God, I found it all, and more than all ! The peace which I now possessed was all holy, heavenly, inexpressible. What I had possessed some years before, in the period of my spiritual enjoyment, was consolation, peace — the gift of God rather than the Giver ; but now, I was brought into such harmony with the will of God, whether that will was consoling or otherwise, that I might now be said to possess not merely consolation, but the God of conso- lation ; not merely peace, but the God of j^cace. " The Apostle Paul tells us, that ' the sufferings of the present life are not to be compared with the glory that is prepared for us.' How true is this remark, even of the present life ! One day of this happiness, which consisted in simple rest or harmony with God's will, whatever that will might be, was sufficient to counterbalance years of suffering. This true peace of mind was worth all that I had undergone, although it was then only in its dawning. " Sometimes, it is true, a sad suggestion presented itself. The thought sometimes occurred, which could not but be painful for the moment, that the life of nature might, in some way, reinstate itself. So that there was a wakeful spirit within me. I watched; and was enabled, by divine grace, to meet and repel the ap- proaches of evil in that direction. In this renovated state, so different from what I had experienced for some years before, I felt no disposition to attribute anything to myself Certainly it was not I, myself, who had fastened my soul to the Cross, and OF MADAME GUYOK. 131. iiuiler the operations of a providence, just but iuexorable, had drained, if I may so express it, the blood of the Hfe of nature to its last drop. I did not understand it then ; but I understood it noio. It was the Lord that did it. It was God that destroyed rae, that He might give me the true life." In one of her books on religious experience, entitled the " Torrents," in which she endeavours to describe the progress of the soul towards God, illustrating the subject by torrents taking their rise in hills and mountain tops, and rolling onward towards the ocean, she has given her views of the process of in- ward crucifixion, derived from her own experience. It should, in fact, be regarded as a statement of what she herself passed through ; and ought to be read, as it seems to me, in connexion with, and as illustrative of what she has said, on the same sub- ject, in her Life. And this reference to the " Torrents" leads me to remark again — that, in giving her views on particular subjects, I have not limited myself to her remarks made at a particular time, but have taken the liberty, in order to give her precise views, to combine together statements made at different times and at different places of her works. And it is in accordance with these views that I think we may properly introduce here one of her poems. At what particular time it was written, cannot now be ascertained. But whatever was the time of its origin, it evidently has reference, in its senti- ments, to the period and the experience to which we have just attended. THE DEALINGS OF GOD, OR THE DIVINE LOVE IN BRINGING THE SOUL TO A STATE OF ABSOLUTE ACQUIESCENCE. 'TwAs my purpose, on r. day, To embark and sail away. As 1 climbed the vessel's side, Love was sporting in the tide ; " Come," He said, — " ascend — make haste, I;aunch into the boundless waste." Many mariners were there. Having each his separate care ; They, that rowed us, held their eyes Fixed upon the stariy skies ; 132 LIl'K AND KKLkiKtL'S EXPERIENCE OthiTs stocivil or tunicil the sails To roct'ivo tlio Khifling gnlcs. Love, will) power divine supplied, fc^uddciily my roiinij^jc tried ; In a inomont it was niglit. Ship and skies were out of sight ; Ou tlio briny wave I lay, Floating rushes all my stay. Did I with resentment burn At this unexpected turn? Did 1 wish myself on shore, Never to forsake it more ? No — " My soul," I cried, " be still; If I must be lost, Iicill.'^ Next He hastened to convey Both my frail supports away ; Seized my rushes ; bade the waves Yawn into a thousand graves. Down I went, and sank as lead, Ocean closing o'er my head. Still, however, hfe was safe ; And I saw Him turn and laugh : " Friend," He cried, " adieu ! lie low, ^^'lnle the wintry storms shall blow ; When the spring has calmed the main, You shall rise, and float again." Soon I saw Him with dismay Spread His plumes, and soar away ; Now I mark His rapid flight ; Now He leaves my aching sight : He is gone whom I adore, 'Tis in vain to seek Him more. How I trembled then and feared, When my Love had disappeared ! " "Wilt thou leave me thus," I cried, " Whelmed beneath the rolling tide ?" Vain attempt to reach His ear ! Love was gone, and would not hear. Ah ! return and love me still ; See me subject to thy will ; Frown with wrath, or smile with grace, Only let me see thy face ! Evil I have none to fear ; All is good, if Thou art near. OF MADAME GUYON, 133 Yet He leaves me, — cruel fate ! Leaves me in my lost estate ; Have I sinned ? Oh, say whei'ein ? Tell me, and forgive my sin ! King, and Lord, whom I adore, Shall I see thy face no more ? Be not angry — T resign Henceforth all my will to thine. I consent that Thou depart, Though thine absence breaks my heart. Go then, and for ever, too ; All is right that Thou wilt do. This was just what Love intended ; He was now no more offended ; Soon as I became a child, Love returned to me and smiled. Never strife shall more heiide 'Twixt the Bridegroom and His bride. CHAPTEE XVII. Remarks on sanctification as compared with justification — On the importance of striving after sanctification — On the state of Madame Guyon at this time — Her work, entitled the Torrents — Some sentiments given from it as descriptive of her own experience — Singular illustration, by which she shews the difference between common Chnstians and others — Of the depth of the experience which is implied in true sanctification — On the question whether all must endure the same amount of suffering in experiencing sanctification — Her poem on the joy of the cross. Theologians very properly make a distinction between justi- fication and sanctification. The two great moral and religious elements, namely, entire self-renunciation and entire faith in God through Jesus Christ, are involved in both of these religious experiences, and give to them a close relationship ; without, however, confounding tliem and making them one. They are related to each other, without ceasing to be separate. Justification, while it does not exclude the present, has special reference to the past. Sanctification, which is subsequent to justification in the order of nature, has exclusive reference to the present and future. Justification inquires. How shall the sin, whicli is past, be forgiven ? Sanctification inquires, How shall we be kept from sin at the present time and in time to KU IJli: ANh KKLHilOlH KXI'KUIKNt'E come ? Jiistilioatiun, in its R>sult upon iiuliviihials, removes the coiKlemimtory power or ^uilt i)t" sin ; while iscuictilicatiou removes the power of sin itselt". No man can be a Christian who in not justified. But no in- telligent Christian can rest satisfied with justitication alone. " He hungers and thirsts after righteousness." tie, who pro- fesses to be a Christian, and yet has not this hungering and thirsting after a heart that is sanctified, has no good reason to believe that he has ever known the blessedness of a heart that is justified. " By their fruits," Siiys the Saviour, "ye shall know them." Sanctification is the fruit. A sanctified heart is only another expression for a holy heart. A holy heart may be described, I think, as a heart from which selfishness is excluded, and which loves God with all its power of love. From this time onward, Madame Guyon, who had been cut oif from every other resource, and had learned the great lesson of living by faith alone, professed to love God with such love. Whether we call this state of exjxsrience pure love or perfect love, whether we denominate it sanctification or assurance of faith, is perhaps not very essential. Certain it is, that it seemed to her, without professing or presuming to be beyond the possi- bility of mistake, that she loved her heavenly Father, in accord- ance with what the Saviour requires of us, with her whole power of loving. And accordingly she could no longer hesitate to apply to herself some of the strongest expressions, descriptive of the inward life, which are found in the Scriptures. She could say, witli the Apostle, " I live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me ; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me." (Gal. ii. 20.) She understood, as she never did before, the import of what the same Apostle says in the eighth chapter of Romans. " There is now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the spirit ; for the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death." (Rom. viii. 1, 2, 38, 39.) She, who a short time before believed herself outcast and lost for ever, had now the faith and the courage — a courage based upon faith and adorned with the deepest humility — to appro- OF MADAME GUYON. 135 priate the beautiful conclusion of the same chapter ; '' lam per- suaded^ that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall he able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." The Torrents is obviously a work drawn chiefly from her own experience. In the latter part of it, she describes the state of her mind at this period, without, however, making any distinct re- ference to herself, except that she occasionally speaks in the first person, as if forgetting for a moment the style of narration which she had adopted. This is the import of some of her remarks. " Great was the change which I had now experienced ; but still in my exterior life, that part of my life which came under the observation of others, I appeared to them quite simple, un- obtrusive, and common. And the reason was, that my soul was not only brought into harmony with itself and with God, but with God's providences. In the exercise of faith and love, I endured and performed whatever came in God's providence, in submission, in thankfulness, and silence. I was now in God and God in me ; and where God is, there is as much simplicity as power. And what I did was done in such simplicity and childlikeness of spirit, that the world did not observe anything which was much calculated to attract notice. " I had a deep peace, a peace which seemed to pervade the whole soul. A peace which resulted from the fact, tliat all my desires were fulfilled in God. I desired nothing ; feared no- thing ; willed nothing. I feared nothing ; that is to say, I feared nothing, considered in its ultimate results and relations, because my strong faith placed God at the head of all perplexi- ties and all events. I desired nothing but Avhat I now had, because I had a full belief, that in my present state of mind the results of eacli moment, considered in relation to myself, consti- tuted the fulfilment of the divine purposes. I willed nothing ; meaning in the statement that I had no will of my own. As a sanctified heart is always in harmony with the divine provi- dences, I had no will but the divine will, of which such provi- dences are the true and appropriate expression. How could such a soul have other than a dec]) peace, — a jieace which was xwi limited to the uncertainties of the emotional [>art of oui' 13G LU'K AM) UKl.HilOl S K\ I'KUIKNCK nature, but wliich jierviulcil ami Mossed the whole uiiiui ! No- thing seeuKd to (.liniinish it; nothing troubled it. '* I ilo not mean to say that 1 was in a state in which I eould not be atllieted. My physical system, my senses, had not lost the power of sull'ering. My natural sensibilities were suscep- tible oi being pained. Oftentimes 1 suffered much. But in- teriorly, in the centre of the soul, if I may so express it, there was divine and supreme peace. The lower soul, or the soul considered in its connexion wMth the objects immediately around it, might at times be troubled and afllicted ; but the higher or central sonl, or the soul considered in its relation to God and the divine will, was entirely calm, trustful, and happy. The trouble at the circumference, originating in part from a disor- dered physical constitution, did not affect and disturb the divine peace of the centre. " One characteristic of this higlier degree of experience was a sense of inward purity. My mind had such a oneness w^ith God, such a unity with the divine nature, that nothing seemed to have power to soil it and to diminish its purity. It experienced the truth of that declaration of Scripture, that to the pure all things are pure. The pollution which surrounds, has no power upon it ; as the dark and impure mud does not defile the sunbeams that shine upon it, which rather appear blighter and purer from the contrast. The soul, bright with the brightness which comes from (;rod, seems to have no knowledge of any darkness or evil in itself " But, though I was so much blessed, I was not conscious of any merit, nor tempted by any suggestions of merit in myself. Indeed, I seemed to be so united with God, so made one with the centre and sum of all good, that my thoughts did not easily turn upon myself as a distinct object of reflection ; and, con- sequently, it would not have been an easy thing for me to attach to myself the ideas of desert or merit. If I had done virtuously and meritoriously by a laborious effort^ the idea of merit would more naturally and readily have suggested itself, and I might have been tempted to indulge thoughts of that kind. But now that God had become the inward operator, and every movement was a movement originating, as it were, in a divine inspiration, nnd as a holv life had become as natural to me as the life of OF MADAME GUYON. 137 nature formerly had been, I could not well attribute to my- self, and certainly had no disposition to attribute to myself, what evidently belonged to Grod. To Him, and to Him only, to His goodness and His grace, I attributed all worthiness, all praise. " It was one of the characteristics of my experience at this time, that I could not move myself, or bring myself into action, from the principle of self, because self was gone. I stood silent and unmoved in the midst of God's providences, until the time of movement came, which was indicated by these providences. Then I decided, when God called me to decide, and with God to help me to decide. " From this time, I found myself in the enjoyment of what may be termed liberty. My mind experienced a remarkable facility in doing and suffering everything which presented itself in the order of God's providence. God's order became its law. In fulfilling this law, it experienced no inward repugnance, but fulfilled its own highest wishes, and therefore could not but be conscious of the hig];iest inward liberty. When the soul loses the limit of selfishness, — a limit which fixes the soul in itself, — it has no limit but in God, who is without limits. What limit, then, can be placed to the length and breadth of its freedom ? " I regard the deprivations and the sufferings of Job, and his subsequent restoration to prosperity and to the manifestations of the divine favour, as a history which illustrates, as if in a mirror, the process of inward death and inward lesurrection which is experienced by those who arrive at the state of full interior transformation. God first took away everything, and then restored everything, as it were, an hundred fold. And so in the inward life. Our worldly possessions, our property, our influence, our reputation, our health, are taken away, if God sees it necessary ; he then smites our domestic and other affec- tions, which have persons for their objects rather than things, either by smiting and withering the affections in themselves, or in the objects to which they are attached. He then proceeds to crucify the su1)ject of the divine operation, to any attachment to and any reliance on his outward works as a ground of merit and acceptance. In its death to everything where self reigns instead of God, the mind dies also to any sense of its own inward cxer- i;^S I.ll'l", AND UK.LUilOlS KXrKUlKNl'K cisos luul virfuos, so fur as thoy arc a f^rouml of sclf-gmtulation ami oi' interior (.'oniplaccncy. Nor does this process stoi), till the life of nature, which consists in inordinate attachments, is entirely externiinatod. But the soul cannot live without a life oi' some kind. There are but two, and can be but two principles of moral life in the universe ; one, which makes our- selves, or the most limited private good, the centre ; the other, which makes God, who may be called the Universal Good, the centre. And by that necessary law which says, where there is life there must be a principle of life, when one of these prin- ciples dies, the other emerges from its state of abeyance and inactivity, and takes the place of that which has passed away. So that when self dies in the soul, God lives ; when self is anni- hilated, God is enthroned. " In this state of mind I did not practise the virtues as virtues. That is to say, I did not make them distinct objects of contem- plation, and endeavour to practise them, as a person generally does in the beginnings of the Christian life, by a separate and constrained effort. I seemed to practise them naturally, almost instinctively. The effort, if I had made one, would have been to do otherwise. It was my life to do them. Charity, sincerity, truth, humility, submission, and every other virtue, seemed to be involved in my present state of mind, and to make a part of it ; being, each in its appropriate place, an element of life." Christians in a higher state of religious experience, those especially w'ho are in a state of assured faith and love, may be compared to fountains which flow out of themselves. In the language of the Saviour, the water which is in them, is a " well of water springing zip to everlasting life." It is true, that, like the waters of Siloa, which came from the sides of Mount Sion, and which were pleasing to God and to His people, they gene- rally flow softly; but it is equally true, that they flow abun- dantly and constantly. Nor is it a small thing, that they do not flow in artificial channels, which men's hands have cut for them, but in those which God has appointed ; " at their own sweet will," as some one has expressed it, and yet in reality without any will of their own. And bearing life to others, as well as having life in themselves, the trees grow and flowers V)loom on their liaiiks ; and when the weary traveller comes OF MADAME GUYON. 139 there, he finds the cooling shade above, as well as the refreshing draught beneath. The work of sanctification, wherever it exists, is a work which enters deeply into our nature. Neither reason, nor experience, nor Scripture, authorizes us to speak of it, when it truly exists, as a superficial work ; that is to say, a work near the surface and easy to be done. It is not the application of something which alters and polishes the outside merely. It is not, properly speaking, a remodelling and improvement of the old nature, so much as a renovation. There are some things, which go under the name of sanctifi- cation, to which that term is not strictly applicable. The man, of whom the Saviour speaks in the Gospel, could say, very truly, " I fast ticice in tlie week ; I give tithes of all I possess ;" but it is very clear, that he vv'as not a man who was approved and accepted. Many persons who have subjected themselves to the greatest outward austerities, have complained that they did not experience that communion and acceptance with God, which they had anticipated as the result of their assiduous methods of physical restraint and culture. There are some persons, who, in addition to the rectification of the outward nature, have had a degree and kind of inward experience which is truly remarkable. It is not an experience, Avliich, properly speaking, can be described as sanctification ; but is sometimes taken for it. These persons have been much exercised on the subject of a holy life ; they have experienced much anxiety in regard to it ; and in consequence of the new views they have had, and the inward victories they have ob- tained, have been the subjects of a high degree of joy. Some- times the joy, owing in part, I suppose, to some peculiarities of mental character, is sudden, intense, overwhelming. They sup- pose themselves wholly and for ever conquerors. Not being in a situation fully to analyze their feelings, it is not wonderful that they make mistakes, and ascribe wholly to grace what is partly due to nature ; attributing to religion what belongs to physical or selfish excitement. Experience often shews, that the f-anctification which they profess under such circumstances, has not those elements of kindness, of forbearance and meekness, of permanent faith and «if inward subjection and nothingness, 1 \0 I.ITK AND KKLIGIOUS KXl'KKIKXCE which aiv nocossarv to chiimctorizc it as true. In other worJf!, it is IV sanctiticatioii which is evidently liniiteil and iniperrect, Wausc it wivs not able to reach and subdue that terrible refuge and fortress of evil, the nad/ral ivill. If these views are correct, they tend to diminish very much the danger sometimes supposed to attend this subject, which, in a few words, is this. If we allow the possibility of sanctifica- tion in the present life, we shall, from time to time, find persons who will profess this blessing, without possessing it ; a mistake which cannot well exist without being more or less injurious. The same danger attends the doctrine, that we may possess religion in any degree whatever short of sanctification. A man may profess religion without possessing it, and the mistake may be very injurious. And in all cases whatever, where the pro- fession is not accordant Avith the reality, those evils cannot fail to follow which are naturally attendant upon error. But if sanctification is such a work as we have represented it to be, so thoroughly explorative and renovating, and if it be generally understood to be what it really is, people will be cau- tious in making the profession. At least, if the profession is falsely made, the error will easily be detected. He, to whom the grace of sanctification can be truly ascribed, is one with Christ, and has Christ's dispositions ; a man meek, contented, benevolent, and devoutly acquiescent in whatever bears the stamp of providence ; a man w^io goes hither and thither on errands of wisdom and mercy, without tumult and noise ; doing good to others without asking or expecting return ; in his spirit, where the Holy Ghost dwells, divinely peaceful, because he is in harmony with God, and consequently in harmony with all things of which God is the life. Such a man, on his lips, his countenance, his actions, his life, has a divine seal. There is one question, which naturally arises here. Is it absolutely necessary to undergo all which Madame Guyon passed through, in order to experience these results ? I think that this question may properly be answered in the negative. Some resist the operation of God, because they are afraid of God ; some, because in the process of the inward operation they do not understand what he is doing and to what he is tending ; and still more because they love tlie world and the things of the OF MADAME GUYON. 141 world, more than they love God and the things of God. Re- sistance on the part of the creature, whatever cause it may arise from, implies and requires aggressive acts of trial, of infliction, and of reproof, on the part of Him whose right it is to rule. And the greater the resistance, the greater must be the bloAv which aims to subdue it. Those who resist much, will suffer much. " Some persons are not brought to this state of freedom from the world and of union with God, without passing throngli exceeding afflictions, both external and internal. And this happens partly through ignorance, and partly and more gene- rally through SELF-WILL. They are slow to learn what is to be done, and equally reluctant to submit to its being done. God desires and intends that they shall be His ; but the hour of their inward redemption not being fully come, they still love the world. They attach their affections first to one object and then to another. They would perhaps be pleased to have God for their portion ; but they must have something besides God. In other words, they vainly imagine that they would like to have God and their idols at the same time. And there they remain for a time, fixed, obstinate, inflexible. But God loves them. Therefore, as they will not learn by kindness, they must learn by terror. The sword of Providence and the Spirit is applied successively to every tie that binds them to the world. Their property, their health, their friends, all fall before it. The inward fabric of hopes and joys, where self-love was nourished and pride had its nest, is levelled to the dust. They are smitten within and without ; burned with fire ; overwhelmed .with the waters ; peeled and scathed and blasted to the very extremity of endurance ; till they learn in this dreadful Baptism the inconsistency of the attempted worship of God and Mammon at the same time, and are led to see, that God is and ought to be the true and only Sovereign." But souls in whom grace is triumphant, are not beyond or above the cross. Such grace enables us to bear the cross, but it does not deliver us from it. Christ was holy ; but He did not on that account cease to be a sufterer. It was by suffering that His divine graces were tried. Madame Guyon was willing to follow in the steps of the Saviour whom she loved, and to be as He w^as. Christ had crowned her ; and perhaps it was a 142 I.IIK AMI liKMlJIOl'S KXI'KKIKN'CK crown oi' (luinis. lUit lie Jliinsclf had \vi)rn it ; aiul that was onongli to make it inlinitely tloar to lior licart. Spiritualli/, slie hail oiiteird into rcsf. But the rest of earth oiiglit not to bo contounileil with the rest of heaven. If it is tlic same in its nature, it is ililVerent in its locality. The one sleeps amid roses, and is wrapjied in siuishine ; the other has a dwelling-place with clouds and ten)pests for its canopy, with thorns and briars for its covering. IShe welcomed, therefore, the cross still, now and in all time to come, till her head should be laid in the grave. The following poem expresses some of her sentiments on this subject. THE JOY OF THE CROSS. Long plunged in sorrow, I resign My soul to that dear hand of thine, Without reserve or fear ; That hand shall wipe my streaming eyes ; Or into smiles of glad surprise Transform the falling tear. My sole possession is thy love ; In earth beneath, or heaven above, I have no other store ; And though with fervent suit I pray, And importune Thee, night and day, I ask thee nothing more. My rapid hoiirs pursne the course, Prescribed them by love's sweetest force, And by thy sovereign will, AVithout a wish to escape my doom ; Though still a sufferer from the womb. And doomed to suffer still. By thy command, where'er I stray, Sorrow attends me all my way, A never-failing friend ; And, if my sufferings may augment Thy praise, behold me well content, Let Sorrow still attend ! It cost me no regret, that she Who followed Christ, should follow me ; And though, where'er she goes. Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet, I love her, and extract a sweet From all her bitter woes. or MADAME GUYON. 143 Adieu ! ye vain delights of earth, Insipid sports, and childish mirth, I taste no sweets in you ; Unhnown delifjlits are in the cross, All joy beside to me is dross; And Jesus thought so too. The Cross I Oh, ravishment and bliss — How grateful e'en its anguish is ; Its bitterness how sweet ! There every sense, and all the mind. In all her faculties refined, Taste happiness complete. Souls, once enabled to disdain Base, sublunary joys, maintain Their dignity secure ; The fever of desire is passed, And love has all its genuine taste, Is delicate and pure. Self-love no grace in Sorrow sees, Consults her own peculiar ease : 'Tis all the bliss she knows ; But nobler aims true Love employ. In self-denial is her joy, In suffering her repose. Sorrow and Love go side by side ; Nor height nor depth can e'er divide Their heaven- appointed bands; Those dear associates still are one, Nor till the race of life is run. Disjoin their wedded hands. Jesus, avenger of our fall. Thou faithful lover, above all The cross have ever borne ! O tell me, — life is in thy voice, — How much afflictions were thy choice, And sloth and ease thy scorn ! Thy choice and mine shall he the same, Inspirer of that holy flame, Which must for ever blaze ! To take the cross and follow Thee, Where love and duty lead, shall be My portion and my praise. 144 LIFK ASM) UKI-UnOl'S KXPEHIKNi;!': CHAPTER XYIII. 'IVinporary uiu'iM'tjiinly in ro^:u-»l to lior riitiiro course of action — Iliul tlionglits of entering into ii Nunnery — Decides not to tako this course — Some reasons for tliis decision — Proposals of marriage — AH such proiuisitions and views decided against — Hemains still uncertain what course to take — Has a short season of compara- tive retirement and peace — Kxtract from one of her Poems. In this new ami encouniging state of lier feelings, the qnes- tioii now pressed, What course should she take during the re- mainder of her life ? When the probabilities of a course of action were so balanced that she knew not what to do, it seems to have been a principle with her to remain patiently in her present position, and not to do anything. She believed, and she had some sui)port for her belief in the Scriptures, that inaction, or rather a suspension of action, until Providence indi- cates the course to be taken, with some degree of clearness, is the only true and safe action. At such times, Providence re- quires no other kind of action than that o^ ivaiting. And this action is far from being unimportant, because it implies a resigned and submissive spirit, — a rejection of all unholy motives and impulses, — a sincere desire to know the truth, — and a recognition of God's readiness to impart it. In- deed, to make men wait submissively and patiently until He gees fit to permit and authorize their action in subordination to His own time and manner of action, is a part, and a mercifid and important part, of God's discipline of His children here on earth. The first plan which suggested itself to her mind, was to ar- range her affairs and to go into a nunnery. There, in retirement and silence, it seemed to her, as she looked at the subject on its first being presented to her consideration, that she might serve God and benefit her fellow-creatures, without the hazards to which she had formerly been exposed. Many were the names cherished in her own personal recollections, many were the names celebrated in history, of those, worn out with the cares and sor- rows of the world, who had thus sought God and that peace of God which passes understanding, in places of religious seclusion. She thought of Genevieve riranger, her associate and adviser in OF MADAME GUYON. 145 religion ; she thought of her own sainted sister, who first watched over and instructed her in the Ursuline seminary ; the Marys and the Catharines of other times, the De Chantals and the St. Theresas, came to recollection. But she had already learned, that God moves in His providences. And it required no great reach of thought to conclude, that those who go to the convent, or any other place, without being led there by the wisdom and signature of an overruling providence, will fail to find God, whatever may be the professed object of their search, either as the guide or the end of their journey. She had religion enough to know, that there was another and a higher question first to be answered. And that question was, What is God's will ? Look- ing at this proposed course in the light of the divine will, and, in order to know that will, considering it in its connexion with what she owed to her family and the world, she decided against it. The situation of her children, in particular, had weight in this decision. The two youngest were of an age which seemed to demand an oversight from her, if not especially her personal attention. She intimates, that her husband's death did not leave her entirely at liberty to pursue what course she might choose. She was still the head of a family, and could not disregard the claims and duties of that responsible relation. " I was still re- stricted in my movements," she says, " in having two children given me in so short a time before my husband's death. If it had been otherwise, if I had been left with my eldest son alone, I should probably have placed him at some college, and have gone myself into the Convent of the Benedictines. But the situation of my younger children precluded all tlioughts of tliis kind. God had other designs upon me." Among other things presented for her consideration, was the question of a second marriage. Proposals were made to her by three difi'erent persons. At the middle age of life, possessed of great wealth, with a high reputation for intelligence and refined culture, and entitled to move in the leading circles of society, the question was one which brought itself home to her situation, her sympathies, and her prospects of usefulness. Carrying this matter, as she did everything else, to God, she came to the con- clusion that she was called to another sphere of responsibility and duty. The question, independently of the individuals who K IU\ MKK ANI» KIM.KilOl'S KXl'KIUKNCK S(»n>;ht hor, was dfciiloil i»n j^cneriil piiiK-iploH. She says, '' Tlierc \v;vs one ot" these pers^ms, in particular, whose high hirtli and amiable exterior qualities, might, under other circumstances, have had an inlluenoe on my inclinations. But I was resolved to bo (Joil's alone." Thus bidiling adieu to the world, without shutting herself out of the world, she awaited the course of events. Her present j)osition, however, pleasant in many respects, and her present tield of labour, comparatively limited, did not satisfy her. That is to say, she had an inward conviction, without being discon- tented or anxious, that the purposes of God wei'e not fulfilled in it. She seemed to see a hand in the clouds, which beckoned her away ; but she knew not whither. There seemed to be a voice in her spii'it, a voice uttered secretly but authoritatively, which said, that there were other duties and other crosses before her. Providence had not unfolded its intentions. But she knew that the sign of God would be written on her awakened spirit in His own good time. ]\Ieanwhile she enjoyed a short season of comparative retire- ment and rest. It was now the summer of 1G80. " Oh, my Lord," she says, " what happiness did I not largely taste, in my solitude and with my little family, where nothing interrupted my tranquillity. Living near Paris, but out of its limits, I en- joyed the advantages of the country as well as of the city. My younger children were of an age which did not require from me much personal care and attention, especially as I was assisted in taking care of them by persons well qualified for that office. Disburdened of the sorrows which had so long borne me down, and availing myself of these propitious circumstances, I often' retired into a forest near my residence ; and many were the hours and days of religious communion and happiness which I passed there." In the simple and affecting language of one of her poems, — " Here sweetly forgetting and wholly forgot By the world and its turhulent throng, The birds and the streams lend me many a note, 'J'hat aids meditation and song. Ye desolate scenes, to your solitude led. My life I in praises employ, OF MADAME GUYON. 147 Aud scarce know the source of the tears that 1 slicd, Whetlier springing from sorrow or joy. Though awfully silent, aud shaggy, and rude, I am charmed with the peace ye afford ; Your shades are a temple where none will intrude, The ahode of my lover and Lord. Ah ! send me not back to the race of mankind. Perversely by folly beguiled ; For where in the crowds I have left shall 1 find The spirit and heart of a child ? Here let me, though fixed in a desert, be free, A little one, whom they despise ; Though lost to the world, if in union with Thee, I am holy, and happy, and wise." CHAPTER XIX. 1680 — Remarkable incident iu a church at Paris — Effect of it on her mind — Con- sulted by a person on the subject of going on a mission to Siam — Asks his opinion on her proposed plan of going on a mission to the neighbourhood of Geneva — His advice — Visit of Bishop D'Aranthon at Paris — Consults him on the subject — De- cides to leave Paris for Gex, a town not far from Geneva — Her charities during the scarcity in the winter of 1680 — Her efforts for the spiritual good of others — Preparations for departure — Trials of mind — Her remarks upon them and upon the opinions formed of her by others. It is to this period, either the summer or early in the autumn 1680, that we refer the following incident. " I was obliged," she says, " to go to Paris about some business. Having entered into a church that was very dark, I went up to the first confessor I found there. I did not know him. I had never seen him be- fore, and have never seen him since. I made a simple and short confession ; but with the confessor himself, aside from the reli- gious act in which he had aided me, I did not enter into conver- sation. And accordingly, he surprised me much in saying of his own accord, ' I know not who you are, whether maid, wife, or widow ; but I feel a sti'ong inward emotion to exhort you to do what the Lord has made known to you that He requires of you. I have nothing else to say.' " I answered him. Father, I am a widow, who have little US I.IFF. AN1> IJKI.Uilors i:XPi;uiEN('K I'liililron. What else ooiiUl Hod ioi|uiri' ol" inc, but to take duo I'lUi' ot' thcin in thoir cducatidii ? lie roiilied, ' 1 know nothing about this. Vou know if (Jod nianilosts to you that He requires somethinj;- of vou, there is notl)in<; in the world which oui:;ht to hinder you from iK)ini;' His will. One iiihkI leave one's ehildren to do this.'" This remark, coming in this unexpected manner, touched her in a point of great interest. The conviction, originating under other and higher than earthly influences, had gradually formed itself in her mind, that she must leave her present residence, and labour somewhere at a distance, she knew not where. Bat how could she leave her children ? This question caused her some perplexity ; but she was not long in perceiving, that it is easier to the holy mind to leave one's children, however strong their claim upon the affections, than to leave any path of duty which God's providence clearly points out. The words which she had heard under circumstances so singular, reminded her of the words of the Saviour, uttered and recorded for all times and all occasions: " He that Joveth father or mother more titan me, is not icoiihy of me ; and he that lovet'li son or daughter more than Twe, is not icorthy of me." (Matt. x. 37, 38.) In her deliberations, she had nearly concluded, though with some doubts, that she was called to religious lal)ours in that part of France and Savoy which borders on the Republic of Geneva, and perhaps in Geneva itself. If, in the present state of her affairs, she coukl not very conveniently, or consistently, go on a strictly foreign mission, and devote herself to labours among the unchristianized heathen, (one of the plans which, there is some reason to think, suggested itself at this period to her mind,) she would, by labouring in the distant and rude towns and provinces which lay at the foot of the Alps, sustain a position of benevolent action hardly less trying in itself, or less beneficial in its conse- quences. While deliberating on this subject, she was visited by a religious friend from a distance, who came to her house, in pai't, to consult her on a design of going on a religious mission to Siam. With some reluctance, the cause of which is not ex- plained, he opened the subject. As he was a man, whose age and infirmities seemed to disqualify him for so difficult and dis- tant an enterprise, she did not hesitate to discourage him. OF MADAME GUYON. 149 But said she to her friend, " I have reason to think, that God has sent you here not merely to get an opinion in regard to Tjour mission, hut to give an opinion in regard to mine. I need your assistance, and must lay your services under contribution. I desire you to give me your advice." Her religious friend kept the subject under consideration for some days ; and having added prayer to deliberation, lie at last gave an opinion favourable to her plans, subject only to this condition, that she should first submit the matter to Bishop D'Aranthon, who bore the title of Bishop of Geneva, although he resided at the city of Anneci, twenty miles south of Geneva, and under whose directions she would naturally l)e placed in going into that part of France. It was the opinion of this person, that if D'Aranthon approved, she should go ; but if not, as he was in a situation especially fitted to judge of it, she should give up the design. To this view of the subject she readily assented. It seemed so important to ascertain fully the views of Bishop D'Aranthon, and such was the interest felt by this person himself, that he offered to go jjersonally to the city of Anneci, and lay the subject before him. Madame Guyon hesitated somewhat, because, al- though he was full of religious fervour, and wished to spend his last days in attempting to convert the Siamese, he was phy- sically unfitted, at his period of life, to endure much hardship. While they were thus considering, two travellers, both of them religious persons, called with no object apparently but that of resting, and stated that Bishop D'Aranthon was then in Paris. He had been there some weeks ; but living much retired, she had not heard it. DAranthon was a humble, sincere man. As Protestants, we would naturally consider him to be in some errors ; but he had the great merit of being sincere. The people, over whose reli- gious interests he presided, were for the most part a poor people, engaged in agricultural pursuits, and simple in their thoughts and manners. They dwelt partly in Savoy and paitly in France ; in sterile but romantic regions, situated at the foot of the Al[)ino ranges. Sympathizing with a people, whose lot could be miti- gated and rendered happy only by the influences of religion, he loved them, and laboured most sincerely and faithfully. And it was a great satisfaction to him to find any poison, especially I.'.O 1.11'K ANli KKI,U;i()US KXl-KKIKXCK such a unman as Mailaiuo (Juyon, willing' to co-opcVatc with liini in spivailing anionj; thoni the knowloilii^o of Jesus Christ. In I'aris, IMailaino Giiyon visited him without delay, and she speaks of hut one visit to him. The author of the Life of D'Ar- anthon says, that there were a lunuber of interviews. This was probably the case. The good l)ishop received her fraiddy and kindly. She stjited her situation ; the experience she had passed through ; and her fixed purpose to devote herself to the service of God. l^ut how and where, she knew not ; exce^jt that the concurrence of providences, combined with something within her, seemed to indicate, that she might, perhaps, labour profitably in the distant part of France, and the contiguous portion of Savoy, which was included within his diocese. It had occurred to her also, as a thing which might be proper to be done, to employ the siibstance which God had given her, in forming a charitable establishment for the resort of those who might be found truly willing to serve God, and who might need such aid. " The Bisln>p," slie says, " approved my design." Under these circumstances, with no desire but that of accom- plishing God's will, she was enabled, in the spirit of consecration and of piayor, to bring this matter, which had occupied much of her thoughts, to a decision. She determined, in concurrence with D'Aranthon, and also Father La Combe, whom, in conse- quence of his residing in that part of the country, she thought it i^roper to consult by letter, to leave the neighbourhood of Paris, as soon as her affairs could be adjusted, and reside at Gex, until Providence should indicate some other field of labour. (tcx is in the extreme east of France, within the modern depart- ment of Ain, distant only twelve miles from Geneva, It is a town of some note, situated at the foot of Mount St. Claude, i>ne of the summits which constitute the celebrated Alpine range, called the Jura mountains. As, however, the arrangements for so long a journey, and so complete a change could not be fully made, until late in the autunm, it was determined to postpone her dci)arture till the spiing or summer of the next year. Meanwhile, however, she was not idle. In addition to the cares and labours incident to her removal, she declined no labour, which the warmest Chris- tian charity and fidelity required h^r to undertake for others. OF MADAME GUTON. 151 In the winter of 1680, which was very long and severe, there was a scarcity in France. Amid the dense population of Paris and its suburbs, it might perhaps be denominated a famine. Aroused by the cries of distress, Madame Guyon made every effort to relieve the many persons who stood in need. For a considerable time she distributed some hundreds of loaves of bread at her house every week, besides charities of a more pri- vate nature. In addition, she made arrangements for a number of poor bo3's and girls, and kept them at work. God enabled her to do it. God not only gave her strength and means to do it, but she adds, that He " gave such blessings to my alms, that I did not find that my family lost anything by it." " True charity," she remarks further, " instead of wasting or lessening the substance of the donor, blesses, increases, and multiplies it profusely. If men fully understood and believed this, how much that is now uselessly dissipated, would be given to the poor, which would scarcely bless those who might receive it more than those who might give." During the time intervening between her decision to leave Paris and her departure, she was assiduous also, although in a somewhat private manner, for the spiritual good of others. She mentions a number of individuals, and one whole family in par- ticular, whom she thinks she was the means of greatly benefit- ing in this respect. It is unnecessary, perhaps, to repeat her statements, as the cases were similar to many others to which she alludes in the course of her history ; but they shew, that the sentiment of benevolence, the principle of doing good, had taken strong and permanent possession of her mind. True Christi- anity, although it disclaims action in its own strength and its own way, is, I should say, operative. The righteous shall say unto the Saviour at the last day, " Lord, when saw we thee an hungered and fed thee ? or thirsty, and gave thee drink .? When saw we thee a sti-anger, and took thee in .^ or naked, and clothed thee ? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee .^ And the King shall answer and say unto them : Verily I say imto you, Inasmuch as ye have done if unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." As her dcpartuiv approached, she made every preparation Ift'j: l.ll'K ANI> IvI'.l.ltllOl'S KXl'KKlKNCi: proper ami neoossary. Some important arran<2;eincnts were to he iiuulo as to her property, of whieli she ref;;arded herself aa inerelv the stewardess ; aiul while, therefore, she could not em- ploy it in personal j:;;ratitications on the one hand, she coidd not wholly neglect it on the other. These arranoements she does not clearly specify ; hnt the}^ were nndouhtedly such as would commend themselves to Christian truth and henevolence. In making them she did not forget the needy. She made such provision as seemed to be desiral)le, for those friends and rela- tives, as well as others, whom Providence had made especially dependent on her. Her two sons she placed in the care of per- .sons who would be likely to see everything done, which could reasonably be expected to be done, for their morals and educa- tion. Her little daughter it was her intention to take with her. But she experienced, at this juncture, some trials, both inward and outward. Clear as the coiu'se which she had proposed to }iursue was to her own mind, and strongly as it was approved by many religious persons in whom she had confidence, there were others to whom it a{)peared objectionable. " One day," she says, " when I was thinking over my plans, I found myself looking at them in the human light rather than in God's light, and I found myself tempted and staggered. The thought arose, jnrhaps I am mistaken. At this moment an Ecclesiastic came in, who was in the habit of visiting at my house, and said to me very prora[)tly, that the undertaking was rash and ill-advised. I confess that 1 had some feelings of discouragement. " But going to my Bible, to see what light I could find there, I opened at the forty- first chapter of Isaiah, fourteenth verse, as follows : ' Fear not, thou worm Jacob, and ye men of Israel. I will help you, saith the Lord, and thy Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.' And opening a little farther on, at the forty-third chapter, I read as follows : ' When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through the livers, they shall not overflow thee. When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burnt ; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee ; for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.' As I thus read, my heart was strengthened. My doubts fled away. Relying on God, what occasion had I to fear ? I resolved to go, although I might appear a fool in the eyes of others ; re- OF MADAME GUYON. 153 gardless of the censures of those, who know not what it is to be a servant of God, and to receive and obey his orders." Her trial in regard to her children was very considerable ; but she was enabled, through grace, entirely to surmount it. She loved theiQ ; " especially," she says, " my youngest son. I saw him inclined to good, and everything seemed to favour the ho[)es I had conceived of him. I was not insensible to the risk of leaving him to another's education. My daughter I designed to take with me, though she was at this time ill of a very tedi- ous fever. Providence was pleased, however, so to order it, that she recovered her health in season to take the journey with me. The ties with which Grod held me closely united to Himself, were infinitely stronger than those of flesh and blood. The laws of my sacred marriage, in which I had given myself to the Lord, to be His in the most sacred and intimate relations, obliged me to give up all, to follow my spouse whithersoever it was his pleasure to call me after Him. Though from time to time I had doubts and trials of mind, before I went upon this religious mission, I ought to say, that after my departure, I never doubted of its being God's will that I should go. "And though men, who judge of things only according to the success which follows them, have taken occasion, from my sub- sequent disgraces and sufferings, to judge of my calling, and to run it down as error, illusion, and imagination, it is that very persecution, and the multitude of strange crosses it has drawn upon me, {of ivliich this {mprisonmeiit ichicJi I now suffer is one,-^-) which have confirmed me in the certainty of its trnth and validity. Nay, I am more than ever convinced, that the resignation which I have made of everything, is in pure obe- dience to the Divine icill. The Gospel eiOfectually, in this point, shews itself to be true, which has promised to those that shall leave all for the love of God, ' an hundred-fold in this life, and j)ersecutions also.' " And have not I infinitely more than an hundred-fold, in so entire a possession as Thou, my God, hast taken of me ; in that unshaken firmness which thou givest me in my sufterings ; in that perfect tranquillity in the midst of a furious tempest, which * She wrote tliis when confined as a prisoner in Ihe r'onvent of St. Marie, in Paris. 154 I, IFF, AND IvKLltilOrs i:X PF.Kl HNt'K assaiilUs mo lui cvorv side ; in that unspeakable joy, enlarged- ness, and liberty, wliieli 1 onjov, at the very time of an ini- ])risoniuent which is rigorous and severe ? I have no desire that my imitrisonnient should end before the right time. I love my chains. Everything is equal to me, as I have no will of my own, but purely the love and will of Ilim who possesses me. My souses indecil have not any relish for such things ; but my heart is separated from them, and borne over them ; and my perseverance is not of myself, but of Him who is my life ; so that I can say with the Apostle, 'It is no more I that live, but Jesus Christ that liveth in me! And if His life is in me, so my life is in Him. It is He in whom Hive, and move, ttnd have my being." CHAPTER XX. .Tilly 1681, loaves Paris — Maimer of leaving and reasons of it — Her companions — References to her little cliilil, who makes crosses and fastens them to her mother's garments, and then weaves a crown for her — Stops at the town of Corbeil — Meets tliere the Franciscan, who had formerly been instrnmental in her conversion — Conversation with him — Sails for Melun — Meditations (m her situation — Refer- ences to her poetry — Poem illustrative of her situation and feelings. She left Paris, as nearly as can now be ascertained, early in July 1681. Considerable opposition to her designs manifested itself in some quarters, which rendered it possible, at least, that cflforts might be secretly and perhaps violently made to prevent her departure. Her half-brother, La Mothe, who seems to have felt that he had some claims, or at least some expectations, on her property, had influence in high places, especially with the Archbishop of Paris, who had influence with the king. This influence he might employ against her. That was not a period when much regard was paid to the liberty of the subject. Not unfrequently persons, and sometimes those who had given but little occasion for being so treated, were seized suddenly and sent to the prison of Vincennes, or the Bastile, by orders secretly and maliciously obtained. Madame Guyon knew this ; and at a later period she had experience of it. ^ho thnnght it host, therefore, not to place OF MADAME GUYON. 155 herself in a situation where any attempt of this kind could be made upon her. Accordingly she departed privately from Paris, in a boat on the river Seine ; a method of conveyance which would be likely to escape notice and to elude pursuit. She departed from Paris with her little daughter five years of age, — herself a widow, — attended only by a devout woman, whom she calls Sister Gamier, and two female domestics ; one of whom, I suppose, was the maid-servant, to whom God gave so much of her spirit, and who shared for many years her labours and im- prisonments. She went forth with a definite object ; but still she might say in some sense, that she went forth " not knowing whither she went." She was now in the thirty-fourth year of her age, and had been trained to the Christian warfare by a discipline, inward as well as outward, which eminently fitted her both for duty and trial. Home and friends she might be said to know no more ; she became a representative of what she aptly calls the "apostolic life," with the world for her country, and all mankind for her brethren. From this time also we may number what she calls her " years of banishment." Wanderings, perse- cutions, imprisonments, exile, were her portion. Alone upon the waters, she adored and rejoiced in God in silence. Still there was something within her, which whispered intimations of sadness to her heart. Her situation seemed to resemble that of the Apostle Paul, when he went up, for the last time, to Jerusalem. " I go bound," he says, " in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there ; save that the Holy Ghost witnesses in every city, saying, that bonds and affl,ictions abide me." Her little daughter, afterwards the Coiuitcis of Vaux, and by a second marriage the Duchess of Sully, then a little child, sat in the boat, and em- ployed herself in cutting the leaves and twigs which she had gathered on the river banks, or as they had floated by on the water, into the shape of crosses. In this way she made a great number ; and then, apparently unconscious of what she was doing, she went and fastened many of them to the garments of her mother. Her mother, at first, did not particularly notice what she was doing; but directing her attention to it soon afterwnnis, slic found herself almost literally coven.'d witli crosses, I.'ii". I. UK. AND i{i:i.i»;i(trs Kxi-KiuKXct: wliiili lier little (lau^litcr liiul thus nuulo. Jlavinj' lioiiio the crass in times past, ami seeing but little prospect of a different result in future, she conki not help looking on the act of her chiKl as a si>rt of symbol and foreshadowing of what she would be called to endure. And this seems to have been the view of JSister Gamier, who remarked to Madame Guyon, " The doings of this child a})pear to be mysterious." And turning to the child, she said, " My jn-etty child, give me some crosses too." " No," she said ; " they are all for my dear mother." But she gave her one to stop her iniportunit3\ But what was the surprise of Madame Guyon, when she saw her daughter a little afterwards weaving together a crown of leaves and river flowers. When she had completed it, she came and insisted on placing the ciown upon her head ; saying, " After the cross you shall he croivned." This ])crfectcd the symbol. First the trial, and then the reward ; the night of affliction succeeded by the dawning and the noon-day of joy. First the Cross, and then the Crown. This gave the transaction, though the doing of a little child, the character of a sign of Providence. And though " bonds and afflictions" awaited her, she could add, with the Apostle, " none of these things move me ; neither count I my life dear unto me, so that I might finish my course ivith joy." Their boat stopped at Corbeil ; a pleasant town of some size, seventeen miles from Paris. Her stay was short. But she met there the pious Franciscan, whose conversation had been so much blessed to her in the early part of her i-ehgious history. She had kept up a correspondence with him for many years ; and had long looked upon him as one of the most experienced and valuable of her religious friends. Their interview recalled many pleasant recollections, and was calculated to fill their hearts with gratitude. She related the dealings of God, which had resulted in her present design. She was now on her way to seek out and to labour with the rude inhabitants in the extreme eastern part of France. The Franciscan, now advanced in years and mature in judgment, approved her plans, and invoked the divine blessing upon them. Once more upon the Seine, she saw with pleasure the impulse of oar and sail. The tree grew upon the banks ; the flower OF MADAME GUYON. 157 bent its stalk to the waters ; the breeze wafted odours ; tlie birds sung in the branches. But there was nothing which she coukl dissociate from God ; in all she heard God's voice ; in all she saw God's glory. She saw the husbandman as he went to his home, his cottage beneath the trees on the river's bank ; and she could not help thinking, in the secret of her heart, that earth had no home for her. But though a pilgrim, she was not alone ; though homeless, she had a habitation not made with hands. The state of her mind, as it existed at this period, is found delineated in her poems, as well as in her autobiography. No person but a Christian of confirmed and thorough piety could have written the following beautiful stanzas, evidently drawn from her own experience. Poetry is the heart expressed ; or, at all events, tliere is no poetry where there is no heart. The poetry of Madame Guyon, whatever defects may attach to it, has the merit of expressing precisely what she ivas, and what ^\\efelt. These stanzas are emphatically the sentiments of the day and the hour ; the spirit and voice of the world's wanderer and the world's Ijenefactor, GOD EVERYWHERE TO THE SOUL THAT LOVES HIM. Oh Thou, by long experience tried, Near whom no grief can long abide ; My Lord ! how full of sweet content, I pass my years of banishment. All scenes alike engaging prove, To souls impressed with sacred love ; Where'er they dwell, they dwell in Tlieo, In heaven, in earth, or on the sea. To me remains nor place nor time ; My country is in every clime ; I can be calm and free from care On any shore, since God is there. While place we seek, orpAace we shun, The soul finds hajjjnness in none; But with a God to guide our loay, ' Tis equal joy to go or stay. Could I be cast where Thou art not, That were indeed a dreadful lot ; l'»S Ml r. AN'l' UKMiilDlS KXPKltlKNllO lltit royions in>iu' ivmolc 1 rail, Si'ciiro of liniliii}; Gml in all. My count r II, Loril, iirt Thou tiknif ; No otliir can I cliiiin or own ; The point where all my wishus meet, M_v hiw, my love ; life's only sweet. 1 holil by nothing hero bolow ; Apjwint my journey, and I go ; ThouLcli piercetl by scorn, opprest by priile, 1 feel the good, — feel nought beside. No frowns of men can hurtful prove To souls on fire with heavenly love ; Though men and devils both condemn, No gloomy days arise for them. Ah then ! to His embrace repair ; My soul, thou art no stranger there ; Tliere love divine shall bo thy guard, And peace and safety tliy reward. CHAPTER XXL Arrives at Lyons — Remarks — Proceeds from Lyons to Anueci, the residence of Bishop D'Arantlion — Her remarks on this journey — Religious services at the tomb of St. Francis de Sales— Arrives at Gex, 23d of July 1C81— Death of her Director, M. Bertot — Appointment of La Combe in his place — Her inward religious state — Benevolent efforts — New views of the nature of her mission — Sanctification by faith — Visit to Gex — Her personal labours with La Combe — Favourable results. The boat stopped at Melun, a pleasant town, twenty-five miles south-east of Paris. Immediately she took passage with her companions, — with the exception of Sister Gamier, who stopped at Melun, — in one of the public conveyances, that travelled be- tween ]\Ielun and Lyons. Lyons, formerly the second city of France for beauty, commerce, and opulence, is situated at the confluence of the Rhone and Soane, two hundred and twenty miles south-east of Paris. Distinguished as it was for its public structures, besides other objects of interest, she spent no longer time in it than was necessary to recover a little from the ex- haustion of her journey. She could not indulge curiosity, in- nocent as it is generally supposed to be in its action, except OF MADAME GUYUN. 159 in subordination to the claims of religious duty and of God's glory. From Lyons she took the most direct and expeditious route to Anneci, in Savoy, the residence of Bishop D'Aranthon, with whom she had recently formed an acquaintance at Paris. Speak- ing of this journey, she says, " It was very fatiguing. The toils of the day were followed by almost sleepless nights. My daugh- ter, a very tender child and only five years of age, got scarcely any sleep, perhaps three hours a night. And yet we both bore so great a flitigue without falling sick by the way. My daughter shewed no uneasiness, and made no complaint. At other times half this fatigue, or even the want of rest which I endured, would have thrown me into a tit of sickness. Grod only knows both the sacrifices which He induced me to make, and the joy of my heart in offering up everything to Him. Had I been possessed of kingdoms and empires, I should have offered them all up with the greatest joy, in order to give Him the highest marks and evidences of love. " As we passed from town to town, I made it my practice, when we arrived at the public inn, to go into the nearest church, and spend my time in acts of devotion, till summoned to my meals. And when ti'avelling, I did not cease to pray inwardly and commune with God, although those with me did not per- ceive, or at least comprehend it. My communion with God, and my strong faith in Him, had a tendency to sustain my spirits and render me cheerful. Disengaged from the world, and de- voted exclusively to God's work and will, I found myself uttering the pleasure of my heart aloud in songs of praise. We passed through some dangerous places, especially between Lyons and Chamberri. And at one time our carriage broke down. But God wonderfully preserved us. He seemed to be to us a pillar of fire hy night, and a i^llar of cloud by day." She arrived at Anneci on the 21st of July 168L Next day, some religious services, which had special reference to her arrival, were performed by the bishop at the tomb of St. Francis de Sales. Tlie memory of this truly pious man and distinguished writer was exceedingly dear to her. So much had she read his writings, and so deeply studied and imbibed his views and temper, tliat she seemed to feel a special union with him, and to hold, as it 100 l.ll'K AN'1> KKl.UilOUS KXl'KKIENCK woi'i', willi liis (lopailcil spirit, ** the holy intercourse ol" frieiul with iVioiul ; miiti'il with him in Christ, iuul with Christ in God, who binds all His people, both the dead and the living, in one iuiniortal tie." The i?2d of July was a day which, since the year 1GG8, when she iirst knew the blessedness of believing, she had never })er- initted to pass without special observance. On this day, nine years before, she had given herself to God in the most solemn manner, with the foriiiality of a written act. It is to this act she refers when she says, " It was there, at the tomb of St. Fran- cis de Sales, that I renewed my spiritual marriage with my Re- deemer ; as I did every year on this day." In the renewal of her vows, and in dwelling on the sacredness of what she terms her spiritual nuptials, she was refreshed by the recollection of the striking passage in the Prophet Ilosea, " And I will betroth thee unto me for ever ; yea, I tvill betroth thee unto me in right- eousness, and in judgment, and in loving-kindness, and, in mer- cies, I will even betroth thee unto me in faithfulness ; and thou shalt hioiv the Lord." On the 23d of July, she continued her journey, making a short stop in Geneva at the house of the French consul, where religious services were performed. She speaks of it as having been a day of much spiritual consolation. " It seemed to me," she says, " as if God united Himself to me in a powerful and special manner." Near the close of the day, she passed again within France, which she had left in going to Anneci and Geneva ; and, making her way along the base of the Juia mountains, reached Gex. She took up her residence at the house of the Sisters of Charity, who received her very kindly. The death of M. Bertot might properly have been mentioned before, whom, as her authorized Director, Madame Guyon had consulted for many years, and in whom she placed great confi- dence. He seems to have been a man of learning and piety, characterized by a high degree of caution. She says he was retired and difficult of access ; and not at all inclined to think favourably of any religious experience, which partook much of the marvellous and extraordinary. Nevertheless, on being con- sulted by her in relation to her mission to the east of France, he gave his approval of it. A short time after she saw him on this OF MADAME GUYON. 161 subject, he was taken ill, and died. His works, containing some letters of Madame Guyon on spiritual subjects, were published after his death. By going to Gex, she came under the spiritual care of Bishop D'Aranthon ; and one of the first acts of the bishop, after her airival at Gex, was to assign to her a Director in Bertot's place. The person selected was Father La Combe. The selection, al- though made, it is quite possible, without any consultation with Madame Guyon, nevertheless met her views and wishes. Bertot's views and experience were not altogether accordant with hers. Madame Guyon speaks of the early part of her residence at Gex as characterized by sweet and happy peace of mind and the most intimate communion with God. Many times she awoke at midnight, with such a presence of God in her soul, that she could no longer sleep, but arose and spent hours in prayer and praise and divine communion. On one occasion her exercises were connected with the passage of Scripture, " Lo, I come to do thy will, God ;" which was brought to her mind very forcibly, and so applied to her own situation and feelings as to cause the most devout and pleasing reflections. " It was accompanied," she says, " with the most pure, penetrating, and powerful com- munication of grace that I had ever experienced." " And here I may remark," she adds, " that, although my soul was truly renovated, so much so in the exercise of its pure and holy love, as to know nothing but God alone, yet it Avas not in that strength and immutability of renovation in which it has since been." That is to say, it was subject, from time to time, to severe temptations ; it was sometimes assailed, and perhaps shaken, by the storms to which it was exposed. She was now on a field of labour remote from the noise and the temptations of cities, to which she had looked forward with great interest. She had come without any prescribed course of action. But this was not of great importance. He who has the heart of a true missionary, will find something which can be done benevolently and religiously, wherever he goes ; and tliat, too, without the formalities and aids of antecedent arrangements. God opens the way to those that love Him. In connexion with other religious persons, she endeavoured to do good to the poor, the ignorant, and suffering, especially in giving religious instruction. UVJ I, IKK .\NI> UKl.ltUors KXl'KUIKNOK Full ik'tnils uC her lulxMirs she does imt give, but merely alludes to them ineidenlally and biielly. One plan of benevolent oper- ation whieli she enleitained, shews her dispositions. She was skilleil in makini; ointments and applying them to wounds, and thought ?he might bo very beneficial to those who were afflicted in that way, especially the poor. And she contemplated devoting hei-self wholly to benevolent moiisures of this kind. This plan, however, was not carried into effect ; and it was obviously her expcct4\tion to lal)Our very much as she had laboured in times past ; i)i'aying, instructing, visiting the sick, and giving to the needy ; with the simple difference, that now her labours were to be performed in a different situation and among a different class of people. Her labours and charities were such, that they at- tracted the special attention of Bishop D'Aranthon, who wrote her a polite letter, expressive of his gratitude. But it was not long before a new voice began to utter itself in her heart. Some might, perhaps, designate it as the voice of nature ; but there is much more reason for regarding it as the voice of God, who speaks in the thoughts and decisions of the sanctified heart. And the thought, or the voice, which God puts within us, is often at variance with mere human wisdom. In more than one sense can it be said, that " God's thoughts are not as our thoughts." He not unfrequently loads His people in a way which they know not. In God's view the time of the thing is as essential as the thing itself. It was His purpose, from this time onward, to lead her by faith and not by sight, and therefore, in all cases, to hide the object from her outward vision, till faith had accomplished its appropriate work in her heart. And accordingly, in sending her from Paris to the foot of the Jura mountains, among a poor and unknown people, He imposed a mission upon her which she did not know, and which He did not design that she should know, — a burden which she understood afterwards, but not iioio. The voice inwardly, in the form of a new and imperious con- viction, began to speak. Something within her seemed to say, that this was not the special and great work which God had called her to perform. Her mind was perplexed, and she was at a loss what course to take. At this time Father La Combe came to Gex. His usual residence was at Thonon, about twenty- OF MADAME GUYON, 163 four miles from Gex, on the other side of the Leman or Genevan lake, where he had charge of a congregation of the Order of the Barnabites. She mentioned her perplexity to La Combe. He advised her to set apart a season of special supplication for the purpose of ascertaining more definitely what the will of the Lord might be. But on endeavouring to carry this advice into effect, she thought it best to leave the subject to the decisions of Pro- vidence. God never has failed, and never will fail to make known His will, in His own time and way, to those who have true and un- reserved hearts to do His will. In fact, His will exists in His present Providences ; they are the letters in which it is written. And the heart that perfectly corresponds to God's providences, perfectly corresponds to His will. It was God's will that she should go, not knoiving ivMiher she ivent. A cloud rested upon her path. The seal of her mission loas not yet broken. What could she do then but wait, adore, and be silent. And this was her answer, practically at least, to La Combe, — a man much less advanced than herself " God," she thought in her heart, " wUl not fail to indicate to me what course I should take, when, on the one hand. He finds me ready to do His commands, and when on the other He is ready to make His commands known. I leave, therefore, everything with Him, and with the mighty mind of His providences. Thy will be done." The work which the Lord had assigned her, was wholly dif- ferent from what she had anticipated. God often works thus. It is often the case, that He forms a sentiment in the bosom, and causes it to be uttered, of which he who is the instrument of its utterance, does not know the full import. Thus at the foot of the Alps, when she thought her great business was to make ointments, and cut linen, and bind up wounds, and tend the sick, and teach poor children the alphabet and the catechism, (important vocations to those whom Provi- dence calls to them,) she uttered a word from her burdened heart, in her simplicity, without knowing or thinking how widely it would affect the interests of humanity, or through how many distant ages it would be re-echoed. And that word was, Sanctification by Faith. Both the thiuK and the manner of the thing struck those who h-,4 i.ii'K AM' i;i.i.i(;i(>rs kxtkuiknok heard luT witli astDnislinu'iit. San ctifi cation itscH" was repug- nant ; anil sani'tiliratioii \)\ Jo/'l/i incx|ilical)k\ Jn the Pro- testant Chuivh, it would have been hardly tolerable; but in the Ivonian I'atholie I'hureh, which is characterized, nuicli more than the rrotestunt, by what may be termed ceremonial observances, the toleration of a sentiment which ascribes the highest results of inward experience fo fnith alo)ir, was imiiossible. So that, in- stead of being regarded as a humble and devout Catholic, as she supposed herself to be, she found herself suddenly denounced as a heretic. Ihit the A\'ord was in her heart, formed there by in- finite wisdom ; and in obedience to that deep and sanctified conviction which constitutes the soul's inward voice, she uttered it ; uttered it now, and uttered it always, " though bonds and imiirisonments awaited her." She used discretion, however ; but not hypocrisy. She did not esteem it advisable to propose the highest results of the religious life to those who had hardly made a beginning, and who had not, as yet, experienced the blessing of justiti cation. But when she met with those who believed in Christ as a Saviour from the penalty of a violated law, she seemed to be impelled by a sort of religious instinct, originating in her own blessed experience, to recommend Him also as a Saviour from present transgression, as a Saviour who can and does communicate His own spirit of truth, meekness, gentleness, purity, and holiness of heart to those who, in the spirit of entire self-renunciation, look to Him believingly for these great blessings. She said what was in her, in God's time, without variation and without fear, scarcely knowing what she did. Her friend the Franciscan had made some suggestions on the course which she might find it expedient to pursue. He seems to have understood the state of things at Gex, especially among that class of persons entitled the New Catholics, with whom it was thought probable that she might be called particularly to labour. " He mentioned," she says, " a number of things about them, in order to shew me that my views on religious experience, and that my experience itself, were quite different from what I should be likely to find among them. He gave me to under- stand, that I must be very cautious m letting them know that I walked in the imoard path ; that is to say, in a life which is OF MADAME GUYON. 165 inward, and which rests upon/c«Y7i ; assuring me, if I were not so, that I could reasonably expect nothing but persecutions from them." But it was difficult for her to understand and receive this advice. The way of God had become so clear to her, that she did not readily perceive how others, in the foolishness of the natural heart, might stumble at it. And if they did stumble at it, was it not the way of God still ? And ought it not to be proclaimed as such ? At any rate, with a will renounced, she had neither the inclination nor the power to make any stipula- tions with worldly prudence. " It is in vain," she remarks, in connexion with this conversation, " to contrive to hide ourselves from the blow, when God sees it best for us to suffer, and espe- cially when our wills are utterly resigned to Him, and totally passed into His. Saviour, how didst thou submit to the blow, yea, how didst thou smite, as it were, upon thyself, in submis- sion to thy Father's holy will ! I am thine, solemnly devoted to the one thing of being like thee, of being conformed to thee. Thou didst suffer ; and I will suffer wnth thee. I refuse no- thing. If it be thy will, my own hand shall strike the wound into my own bosom." She said, on proper occasions, what she had to say without concealment. It was now evident that God, for this very pur- pose, had sent her there. God sent her abroad, that she might preach the more effectually at home. He i)laced her at the cir- cumference, that beginning, not " at Jerusalem," but at the furthest place from Jerusalem, she might operate back from the circumference to the centre. The woman's voice that uttered itself in self-devoted banishment, at the foot of the Jura moun- tains, was heard in due time in the high places of Paris. When she had spoken, her eyes were opened in relation to her position. Some believed and rejoiced ; some disbelieved and reproached her, and were angry. Truly enough, without specifically in- tending it, and yet in God's will, she had commenced the " apostolic life," by proclaiming the Gospel in the highest form of its results ; and either now or in prospect, with sorrows and with persecutions attending her. At this juncture, of tliose, whose learning and position in society rendered their concurrence particularly im[)ortant, one IbO 1.1 n: ANi> KELK'.iors KxriauKNCK iiulividiial only stooil l)y lier, both in sentiment iuul iiction, — Father La Combe. Trovidence favoured and supported her here, lie was her spiritual Director; he understood her prin- ciples and experience ; he had something, although as yet lingering far behind her, of the same thorough inward life. On his return from Gex to Thonon, he invited her to go witli him. This invitation she accepted, as the excursion would be favour- able to her enfeebled health, and would be entirely within the limits of what she considered the present sphere of her labours. They decideil to take the nearest way across the Leman lake. Boats were continually crossing, which oft'ered them a passage. Embarked in her little vessel, it may uot be out of place to re- mark, that she was now on the wave of those waters, and in the bosom of those mountains, which philosophers and poets have delighted to behold, and have loved to celebrate. " Clear, placid Lenian ! thy contrasted lake, With the wide world I dwelt iu, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring." It was in sight of the place where she now was, that Gibbon and Voltaire subsequently resided and wrote. These very waters, and the cliffs and cottages and snow-crowned summits that hung over them, have since inspired the genius of Rousseau and B}ron. With deep feeling they admired these wonderful works ; she, with no less admiration of the works, admired them still more, as the mighty mirror of the God who made them. They drew their inspiration from the mountains, which, though formed of adamant, must sooner or later crumble and pass away ; she drew her inspiration from the God of the mountains, who endures for ever. Before they reached the eastern side of the lake, one of those sudden and fierce storms arose, to which this body of water is subject. The dark clouds wrapped them ; their little boat dashed violently upon the waves ; the boatmen were in conster- nation. But to her the storm brought no terror. Faith, which places God in the centre, — God, who is Love under all circum- stances, in the storm as well as in the sunshine, — had equalized all. Calmly she awaited the result. God protected the little company, and they arrived safely at their place of destination. OF MADAME GUYON. 167 Twelve days she staid at Thonon, at the Ursuline Convent. A portion of the time she spent in retirement, separate from the world, but not alone. God was with her. But she never forgot the mission which she now felt was committed to her, — namely, the proclamation, to all who bear the name of Christ, of Holiness based upon Faith, as their present privilege and possession. It was to accomplish her for this work that God had not only established her position in society, and had given her vast powers of thought, but, what was still more necessary, had sub- jected her inmost nature to the terrible discipline of His provi- dences, and to the flaming scrutiny of His Holy Spirit. When God, in His providences, gave the command, she spoke now, and always. At this time her mind was very much taken up with the spiritual condition of La Combe. Nominally, La Combe was her Director. But really the spiritual direction was with the one to whom God had actually given the deepest experience and the largest measures of His grace. It was well, however, that the relation in which they stood to each other, gave them frequent opportunities of conversation, which they might not otherwise have enjoyed. He was prepared to listen to her, independently of other considerations, because she had been the instrument, many years before, of his advancement in religion, if not of his first religious experience. She saw that he had much ; but she felt that he ought to have more. His religious state, as she has delineated it, was precisely this. Intellectually he received the doctrine of sanctification, as something to be experienced now. On this point he did not doubt; and he seems to have aimed sincerely at the inward realization of what he believed and felt he ought to possess. His prayers, his resolutions, his efforts, attended by divine grace, were not in vain. He received much, but he had not received all. His experience failed, in having too large a share of the apparitional and emotional. He attached an undue value to sights and sounds, and to emotions of mere joy, considered as the exclusive, or the principal evidences of religion. It was obviously very hard for him to walk in the narrow way of faith alone. " Father La Combo," she says, " having walked a lo)ig time 108 I.IFK ANI> laCl.ltaoL'S KXI'KUIKNCE by ttstiimtnica, us lie called thorn, that is to t^ay, by sensible marks and signs, could not easily remove himself from that way i>f living, and enter upon a better one. In the su})i)ort of his religious hopes ho was too nmcli disposed, as it seemed to me, to seek for those things which satisfy human sense and human reason. Hard was it for him to walk in the poor and low and despised way oi' entire self-renunciation and of simple faith. I felt for him ; I laboured with him. No one can tell what it cost me, before he was formed according to the will of God. It was hard lor him to die entirely to self. I did not grieve when I saw him suffer. I had such a desire for his spiritual progress and perfection, that I could willingly have wished him all the crosses and afllictions imaginable, that might have conduced to this great and blessed end. He lay like a heavy burden upon my spirit. I had no resource but to carry it to the Lord, who had placed it upon me. To Him I made ray complaint, who graciously encouraged me, both on this subject and on that entire dependence on Himself which He gave me, which was such, that I was like a new-born infant." Her efforts were not in vain. He who inspired them blessed them. La Combe renounced all, that he might receive all. He wanted no other signs or tokens of his acceptance, than the declai-ation of God's words, that all who give themselves to Him to do His will in faith, are safe. He could not but foresee, that doctrinal views so different from those which were generally entertained, and inward exi)erience so variant from that which characterized the mass of Christians, must occasion remark, and would probably excite permanent and deep opposition. But whatever might be before him, he had grace and strength suffi- cient to leave all in the Lord's hands. Recognising in Madame Guyon the instrument, under God, of his own spiritual renovation and progress, he entertained for her tho.se sentiments of respect and of Christian affection, which both her natural and Christian character seemed justly to claim. From this time onward, their history is, to some extent, linked together. Their views of Christian experience were the same, and they had a common object. Believing that the Gospel had power to purify and perfect, as well as to save from the infliction of punishment, they did what they could to realize this great OF MADAME GUYON. 1C9 result, and to make their fellow-beings hohj. In their common trials, as well as in their common labours, they sympathized with each other, and endeavoured to strengthen the latter, and to alleviate the former, by a written correspondence carried on for many years. Tliey met with rebukes, with opposition, with imprisonments. But God, who had given them the promise, was with them to the end. CHAPTER XXII. Accoiiut of the hermit of Thoiion, called Anselm — Her return from Thonoii to Gex — Thrown from a horse and injured — Labours at Gex — Illustration of them in the case of a poor woman, whom she was the means of spiritually benefiting — Sermon of La Combe on Holiness — La Combe called to account, on the ground of 2)reaching heretical doctrine — Views and measures of Bishop D'Aranthon — Proposes to Madame Guyon to give up her property and become prioress of a Religious House at Gex — Her refusal — Remarkable conversation between D'Aran- thon and La Combe, in relation to Madame Giiyon's course — Remarks upon D'Aranthon's course and upon his character — He gi'adually takes ground in opposition to Madame Guyon. " At Thonon," she says, " I found a hermit, whom the people called Anselm. He was a person of the most extraordinary sanctity that had appeared for some time. He was from the city of Geneva ; and God had wonderfully drawn him from thence, at twelve years of age. With the permission of the cardinal, who was at that time Archbishop of Aix, in Provence, he had taken the habit of hermit of St. Augustine, at the age of nineteen. This man and another person lived together in a little hermitage, which they had prepared for themselves, where they saw nobody but such as came to visit them in their solitary place. He had lived twelve years in this hermitage. He seldom ate anything but pulse, prepared with salt and sometimes with oil ; with the exception that three times a week he made his meals of bread and water. He wore for a shirt a coarse hair cloth, and lodged on the bare ground. He was a man of great piety, living in a continual state of prayer, and in the greatest humility. He had been the instrument, in God's hands, of many remarkal)le things. " This good hermit, whn had been acquainted with Fatlicr 170 l.U't: AND HKI,l(.ilOl!y KXI'KHIKNCE La Coinbc tor aomc time, and wlio litul learned soineLliiii<^ of me, seemetl to Imvo a clear perception of the designs of God in relation to us. God had showed him, as he assured us, that we were both destined, in his providence, for the guidance and aid of souls ; but that this mission of God would not be fulfilled in us, without our experiencing at the same time various and strange crosses." At the expiration of twelve days she returned from Thonon to Gex, by the way of Geneva, — a longer route, but avoiding the exposures of an open boat on the lake. The French consul projiosed to her to complete the remainder of her journey, only ten miles, on horseback, and offered one of his own horses. *' I had some diflicnlty," she remarks, " in accepting this proposal, as I was not much acquainted Avith riding on horseback. The consul assuring me, however, that the horse was very gentle, and that there was no dangei', I ventured to mount him. There was a sort of smith standing by, who looked at me with a wild, haggard look. This man, just as I had got fairly seated upon the animal, took it into his head to strike him with a heavy blow upon the back, which made him start very suddenly. The result was, that I was thrown upon the ground violently, falling upon my temple, and injuring two of my teeth and the cheek- bone. I was so much stunned and hurt, that I could not pro- ceed immediately ; but after resting awhile and recovering my- self, I took another horse, and with a rider beside me, to render any necessary assistance, I proceeded on my way," At Gex she continued to labour, as God gave her opportunity. There was a poor woman who came to Gex from the neighbour- ing country, who seems to have been a religious woman, in the common acceptation of the term, and even eminently so. " She was one," says Madame Guyon, " on whom the Lord had con- ferred very singular graces. She was in such high religious reputation in the place from which she came, that she passed there for a saint. Our Lord brought her to me, in order that she might understand and see the difference between that reli- gion, which consists in the possession of spiritual endowments and gifts, and that which consists in the possession of the Giver." This woman, with whom she thought she might profitably OF MADAME GUYON, 171 labour, passed through the same struggle, and experienced the same blessing which others experienced ; no longer a great Christian by being great, but by being little ; no longer great in her own eyes because she had experienced much, but great in the eyes of God, because she had become nothing in herself. Of this propitious result God was pleased to make Madame Guyon the instrument. And this case illustrates the nature of a portion of her labours at this time. She endeavoured to esta- blish and instil permanent principles of practical Christianity, believing, as she did, that true Christianity, considered in its renovating and sanctifying relations, does not consist in having God's gifts merely, but chiefly and especially in having God Himself in the soul by a perfect union with His will. She felt herself particularly called upon to point out this difference, be- tween emotional experience, which feeds upon what is given, both good and bad, and volitio7ial experience, which feeds upon what is, namely, upon God's will alone ; or, what is the same thing, upon " every ivord icliich p)roceedetli out of His mouth." And on the basis of this distinction, she sometimes intimates, that the doctrines of sanctification, or of inward holy living, may be reduced, for the most part, to the two great principles of self-renunciation on the one hand, and of perfect union with the divine will on the other. He who has nothing in himself, has all in God. About this time Father La Combe was called to preach on some public occasion. The new doctrine, as it was termed, was not altogether a secret. Public curiosity had become excited. He chose for his text the passage in Psalm xlv. 13, — " The king's daughter is all glorious within ; her clothing is of wrought gold." There is no doubt, that by the king he understood Christ ; by the king's daughter, the Church. His doctrine was, what- ever might be true in regard to men's original depravity, that those who are truly given to Christ, and arc in full har- mony with him, are delivered from it ; that is to say, are " all glorious within." Like Christ, they love God with a love free from selfishness, with 'pure love. Like Christ, they are come to do the will of the Father. Christ is formed in them. They not onlv have faith in Christ, and faith in (^od throush Christ, 172 1-1 FK AN1> KKl, Hi lolls KXI'EIUKNCK but, jiti (lio ivsiilt ut" this t'ailh, they liavo Christ's disposition. They iiro now in a situation to say of themselves individually, in the lanu;iiai:;o of the Apostle Paul, " I live ; and yet not I ; but Christ fivcth in vie." So that they arc one with Christ, and through Christ arc one with (Jod ; and being in this divine unity, and continually drawing strength from a divine source, they rellect the divine image. Ho did not maintain that all Christians are necessarily the snlijocts of this advanced state of Christian experience, but endea- voured to sliew that this is a i^ossiblc state ; that, however in- tense human depravity may be, the grace of God has power to overcome it ; that the example of Christ, the full and rich pro- mises, and even the commands, give encouragement to elfort, and confidence in ultimate victory. And without making allusions to himself, or to the remarkable woman whose experience and instructions had revived the doctrine of present sanctification, now almost forgotten, although not unknown to the pious of former times, he could not hesitate to maintain that there have been, that there 77iay be, and that there are, truly holy hearts in this depraved world. On this basis, and in Christ's name, he preached holiness, not merely as a thing to be proclaimed, but to be experienced, — not merely as a theme of pulpit declama- tion, but as a matter of personal realization. Great was the consternation when it was found that men were not merely required to be holy, but, what is practically a different thing, were expected to be holy. The requisition was admitted ; but the belief of its practical possibility, and the expectation of the fulfilment of that possibility, which would imply a close scrutiny into the irregular lives of many, were rejected as visionary, and condemned as heretical. La Combe, accordingly, although he was a man whose learning and elo- quence entitled him to no small degree of consideration, was called to account. There was an ecclesiastic present, of considerable standing and great influence with Bishop D'Aranthon. Tliis man not only declared that the sermon was full of errors, but, conscious perhaps of some irregularities, which the doctrine of practical holiness might not easily tolerate, he toolc the position tliat it was preached against liimself personally. He drew up eight OF MADAME GUYON. 173 propositions, expressive, as he alleged, of sentiments which ought not to pass unnoticed. Madame Guyon asserts, that he inserted in these propositions statements or sentiments which La Combe had not advanced, and that he adjusted them, in their relation to each other, as maliciously as possible. He sent them to one of his friends at Rome, that their heretical character might be ascertained by the proper ecclesiastical authorities, and the author might feel, in due season, the discriminating and repressive hand of the Inquisition. No formal condemnation, however, was pronounced. Probably the authorities at Rome, watchful as they generally are in the matter of heretical tendencies, did not consider the movements of an ecclesiastic as yet almost unknown, and re- siding in a remote and obscure place, as threatening any very great evils, even if considerably divergent from the strict line of Roman Catholic orthodoxy. La Combe escaped this time. Bishop D'Aranthon had the sagacity to perceive, whatever might be true of La Combe, that the responsibility of this move- ment, which both excited his curiosity and alarmed his fears, rested chiefly upon Madame Guyon. He did not hesitate to express his sincere regard for her talents and virtues ; but he could not conceal from himself the fact, that her piety and in- tellectual ascendency rendered her opinions the more dangerous, if they were not true. He determined, tlrerefore, it would seem, after considerable consultation with some of his ecclesiastics, that she should not continue to labour within his diocese, unless she could be led to do it in a different way and on diiferent principles. He had invited her, or rather had approved of her coming, as an executor of charities, and not as a teacher of dog- matics. And although she justly thought that God had assigned lier a new and higher mission, which she herself had not antici- pated, he deemed it the part both of safety and of duty to interpose his ecclesiastical authority. But he adopted a novel plan, more ingenious than it was wise. He proposed to her to give her property, or that portion which still remained within her control, to one of the Religious Houses at Gex, and to become herself the prioress of it. Desir- ous of preventing her departure, he reasoned very naturally, that her position as prioress of a religious community, would 174 I. IKK .\NI> KKI.KilOl'S KXI'KUIKNOK give scope to lu'i- lorlilo and active powers oi' tlioiighl and piety, without t'liruisliing opportunity to dilliiso her exertions and in- fluence beyond its limits, and thus <;ood would be realized, without what he considered the existing; dangers. 'J'he propo- sition does not appear to have been in all respects impracticable. She probably would have had no difKculty in disjiosing of that portion of her property which had not been settled on her chil- dren, and which still stood in her own name, for some religious purpose ; — indeed, she repeatedly declared her readiness to do it ; — but the inward voice, the voice of God in the soul, declared imperatively, that the new and higlicr mission, to which God had called her, could not be fultilled by such a course. She did not see the way open, and based her refusal upon two proposi- tions ; FIRST, that she could not consistently and regularly be- come prioress, because she had not passed through the regular period prescribed to noviciates ; and, second, because by remain- ing permanently at Gex, she would incur the hazard and the sin of opposing and defeating the obvious designs of God in re- gard to her. The good man had his heart too much set upon his design to receive this unfavourable decision with entire equanimity. In this position of affairs. Father La Combe left Thonon, and visited Anneci, the place of D'Aranthon's residence. He found the bishop somewhat dissatisfied and afflicted ; and the follow- ing conversation took place between them. D'Aranthon. — You must absolutely engage this lady to give her property to the Religious House at Gex, and must get her consent to become the prioress of it. La Comhe. — You know, sir, what Madame Guyon has told you of the dealings of God with her, and of what she lias con- sidered her religious vocation, both when you saw her at Paris, and also since she has been in this region. She has given her- self up to do God's will. For this one thing, she has quitted all other things ; and I do not believe that she will accept your propositions, if she has any fear that by so doing she will put it out of her power to accomplish the designs of God in regard to her. She has offered to stay with the sisters at the Religions House at Gex, as a boarder. If they are willing to keep her as such, she will remain with them ; if not, she is resolved to retire, OF MADAME GUY ON. 175 temporarily, into some convent, till God shall dispose of her otherwise. D'Aranthon. — I know all that ; but I likewise know that she is so very obedient to you as her spiritual adviser and director, that, if you lay your commands upon her, she will assuredly comply with them. La Combe. — That is the very reason, sir, why I hesitate. Where great confidence is reposed, we should be very carefid how we abuse it. I shall not compel Madame Guyon, on the ground of the confidence she has reposed in me, or of the spi- ritual authority which I possess over her, — coming as she does from a distant place, — after having made such sacrifices of her property as she has, to give up the whole of the remainder of it to a Eeligious House, which is not yet fully established, and which, if it ever should be, cannot be of any great use under the existing circumstances. lyAranthon. — I do not accept your view of the subject. Your reasons, permit me to say, are without application and without value. If you do not make her do what I have said, I shall sus- pend and degrade you. La Comhe. — Be it so, sir. I cannot do what I believe to be wrong. I am ready not only to suffer suspension, but even death itself, rather than do anything against my conscience. La Combe could not but perceive, that these things indicated anything rather than harmony and safety. Not knowing but some sudden measures might be taken, which would prejudice her security, he immediately sent Madame Guyon some account of this interview, by express. But it was all well with her. She continued calmly in her work, visiting the sick, relieving the poor, and instructing the ignorant ; and especially inculcating on all the necessity of a heart wliolhj given to God. And in doing this, she began to touch upon a subject, which is rather of a delicate nature in the Church of which she was a member. She thought it necessary, with all possible discretion and kindness, to distinguish between the religion of forms and the religion of reality, between outward religion and inward religion, between genuflexions and signs of the cross made upon the exterior of the person, on the one hand, and prostrations and crucifixions of that which is interior, on the other. This seemed to her very 170 1,11'K AND UKLUJIOUS ICXI'KIUKNC'K iinportnnt, although slio mhnittocl that lonus and corcmonios were gooil, ami to some extent necessary, in their place. In doing this, in whicli undoubtedly she had the guidance of a higher wisdom than man's wisdom, she took a course which was never forgotten nor forgiven. But this was not all. She had learned the value of the Bible. In the eleventh or twelfth year of her age, as a pupil in the Dominican convent at Montargis, she one day found a Bible in the room assigned her. By whose instrimientality it was thus providentially left there, she never knew. " I spent," she says, " whole days in reading it ; giving no attention to other books or other sid))ects from morning to night. And having great powei-s of recollection, I committed to memory the historical parts entirely." From that time the Bible was dear to her. Her constant references to the Scriptures would be a decisive proof of this, even if we had not the additional and remarkable evi- dence, that she afterwards wrote and published, in the French language, twenty volumes of practical and spiritual commentary on the Sacred writings. She felt it her duty, therefore, in op- position to the prevalent views among her own people at that time, to recommend and to urge the reading of the Bible. She regarded this as essential. This was another and great ground of offence. Previous to this time. Bishop D'Aranthon, with a kindness creditable to him as a man and a Christian, had visited Madame G-uyon. She speaks of this visit in the following terms : " Soon after my arrival at Gex, Biishop D'Aranthon came to see us. I spoke to him of the religion of the heart. He was so clearly convinced, and so much affected, that he could not forbear ex- pressing his feelings. He opened his heart to me on what God required from him. He confessed to me his own deviations and infidelity. Every time, when I spoke to him on these subjects during his visit at Gex, he entered into what I said, and ac- knowledged it to be the truth ; as indeed it was the S]iirit of truth who inspired me to speak to him, without whom I should be only a mere simpleton. But the effect of what I said was done away in a considerable degree by others. As soon as per- sons who sought for pre-eminence, and could not suffer any good but what came from themselves, spoke to him, he was so weak OF MADAME GUYON. 177 as to let himself be imposed upon with impressions against the truth. This foible, with others, has hindered him from doing all the good which otherwise he might have done in his diocese." D'Aranthon, judging from the full accounts of him, seems to have been a good man ; sincere, benevolent, laborious. He encouraged the coming of Madame Guyon into his diocese ; and he received her with kindness and respect. When she conversed with him on the importance of possessing a heart truly redeemed and sanctified through the blood of Christ, with an air of sim- plicity and of piety the truth of which could not be mistaken, and yet with remarkfCble grace and eloquence, the good bishop could not but feel, that her conversation, woman though she was, made him a wiser and a better man. But he was wanting, as Madame Guyon intimates, in one valuable and even necessary trait in persons in responsible situations, that of fixedness of ■pmyose. Some were jealous of woman's influence ; others loved sin more than they feared woman, and would have felt no uneasi- ness at Madame Guyon's eloquence, if not employed in denoun- cing their own baseness ; and others very sincerely believed that her doctrines were more nearly allied to the heresies of Protes- tantism, than to Roman Catholic orthodoxy. These different persons had an effect upon D'Aranthon, who gradually, but apparently with reluctance, assumed the attitude of opposition. He returned from Gex to Anneci. The course subsequently taken by La Combe, and especially his sermon on practical holiness, already mentioned, increased his fears. It naturally confirmed him in this state, when he learned that the new doc- trine, involving as it did the free and common use of the Bible, and the value of ecclesiastical observances and ceremonies, was extending itself. In this state of mind he made the proposi- tions already mentioned, thinking that her time would be so occuj)ied with the duties of her position as to prevent the efforts which she would otherwise make in the dissemination of her doctrines ; and that if not, her poverty would render her de- y)endent, and they could thus exact that compliance from her weakness, which they had no expectation of extorting tVom her moral principle. M ITS I.IKK AND HKl.kilDLS KXl'KUIKNCK But tliis singular course, dielatcd in jiait by a regard for ^Miidame (iuyon, and by a desire to lUlain her at Gex, entirely failed. From tliis time D'Arauthon, if lie eouUl not strictly ho regarded as an enemy, ceased to he a friend. And thus sho was left in a distant land, without any one on whom she coidd rely for ade([uate protection, exposed to various trials, whiclj were calculated severely to test her patience and faith. Her doctrine was denoimced as heretical ; her character was as- persed ; anil she was exposed to personal inconveniences and dangers, even at the hour of miilnight, which were the result of a ferocity not more brutal than it was cowardly. We have some notices of her inward experience at this time, '' In God I found," she says, " with increase everything which I had lost. In my long state of special trial and deprivation, my seven years' crucifixion, my intellect, as well as my heart, seemed to be broken. But when God gave back to me that love which I had supposed to be lost, although I had never ceased to love Him, He restored the powers of perception and thought also. That intellect, which I once thought I had lost in a strange stupidity, was restored to me with inconceivable advantages. I was astonished at myself, I found there was nothing which it was not fit for, or in wliicli it did not succeed. The understand- ing, as well as the heart, seemed to have received an increased capacity from God ; so much so, that others noticed it, and spoke of its greatly increased power. It seemed to me that I experienced something of the state which the Apostles were in, after they had received the Holy Ghost, I knew, I compre- hended, I was enabled to do, intellectually as well as physically, everything which was I'equisite, 1 had every sort of good thing, and no want of anything, I remembered that fine passage, which is found in the apocryphal book called the Wisdom of Solomon, Speaking of Wisdom, the writer, in the seventh chapter, says, ' I prayed, and understanding was given me ; I called upon God, and the spirit of Wisdom came to me. I loved her above health and beauty, and chose to have her instead of light ; for the light that cometh from her never goetli out. All good things together came to. me ivith her, and innumerable riches in her hands.' Wisdom came to me in Christ, When Jesus Christ, the Eternal Wisdom, is formed in the soul, after OF JIADAME GUYOX. 179 the deatli of the first Adam, it finds in Him all g'ood tliins;?} communicated to it." It is possible that the expressions which have just been quoted may be misunderstood. We are not to understand from tliem that God, in all cases, or even generally, accompanies the reno- vation and sanctification of the heart with a greatly increased expansion and power of the intellect. It is true, that religion is good for the intellect ; it helps the intellect ; clearing the mists of passion and removing the incumbrances of prejudice, and giving an increased degree of clearness and energy, both of pei- ception and combination. We do not suppose that there is anything more than this in ordinary cases ; and this, although it is what might naturally be expected, is a great blessing. In the case of Madame Guyon, it should be remarked, that her powers were rapid and vast beyond ordinary examples ; and having been prostrated so many years, they appeared at the time of her restoration the more rapid and more vast and wonderful by the contrast. Add to this that clearness and energy, which the renovation of the heart, by being formed into Christ's image, always gives, and I think we have an adequate explanation of the strong terms in which she expresses herself. CHAPTER XXIir. Ap))roacliing trials — Consolations from Scripture — A dream — Some of the causes of tlie opposition wliich existed asrainst licr — She frustrates tlie wicked designs of an ecclesiastic upon an unprotected girl — The opposition and ill treatment which arose from this source — A party formed against her at Gex — In consequence of the persecutions of this party, she leaves Gex, after having resided there ahont ciglit months — Crosses the Genevan or Leman T^ake to Thonon — A poem. It was now fully evident, that trials, which would be likely to be very severe, awaited Madame Guyon. The sacrifices she had made and the benevolence of her mission, were no security against them. Such was the view which she herself took of the state of things. " I saw," she says, " that crosses in abundance were likely to fall to my lot. The sky gradually thickened ; the storm gathered darkness on every side. But I found support and consolation in God and His Word. A passage in the twelfth 180 i.iiK ANi> ur.i.uiioi's i:\im:kii;n('I': cliaptor of IK'bivws was ]>aitk'ularly blessed to mc. ' Let us ri;u with j>atieneo the raee that is set bcfbre us, looking unto Jesu^J, the author ami linisher of our I'aith, who, for the joy that was set belbre lliui, endured the cross, despisiui^ the shame, and is set down at the rit;ht hand of the throne of Goil. For consider Him, ir/io end in-cd such co)ifradiclion of sinners ar/fu'nsfjfiin.'iei,/, h'st ye he uraricd and fainf in your minds.' Ali'ected with a sense of my situation, 1 had no sooner read this consoling pas- sage, than r prostrated myself, for a long time, with my face on the iloor. 1 oifevod myself to God, to leceive at His hand all the strokes which His providence might see fit to inflict, I said lo Him, Thou didst not spare thine own beloved Son. It was ihy holy one, thy loved one, that thou didst account worthy to sufler. And in such as most fully bear His image, thou dost still find those who are most fitted to bear the heaviest burden of Itio cross." Even her dreams, which by a natural law of the mind's action repeat, although they sometimes greatly diversify, our waking perceptions and thoughts, seemed mysteriously to confirm her foreboding of sorrows to come ; — sorrows, which would not bo likely to be limited to herself, but threatened all who sympathised in her doctrines and in her holiness of life. " I saw," she says, " in a sacred and mysterious dream, (for such I may very well describe it.) Father La Combe fastened to an enormous cross, deprived of clothing, in tlie manner in which they paint our Saviour. I saw around him, while hanging and suffering in this manner, a frightful crowd ; which had the effect to cover me with confusion, and threw back upon myself the ignominy of a punishment, which at first seemed designed for him alone. So that, although he appeared to suffer the most pain, it fell to my lot to bear the heaviest reproaches. I have since beheld the intimations of this dream fully accomplished." The uni)opularity of her doctrine rendered her personally less acceptable in some quarters than she had been. Her refusal to give up the remains of her property to the Pieligious Honsc in Gex was another source of trouble. The alienation of Bishop D'Aranthon, which could not long be kept secret, had its influ- ence. But still it was her faithfulness in proclaiming salvation by the cross of Christ, and her fixedness of purpose in practically OF MADAME GUYON. 181 Opposing wickedness wherever she found it, which arrayed against her the greatest number, and those the most virnlent and un- compromising. A single instance will ilhistrate and confirm this remark. There was an ecclesiastic residing at Gex, prominent alike by position and personal influence. He endeavoured to form an in- timacy with a beautiful female resident at the Religious House, of which Madame Guyon was at this time a temporary inmate. Her greater knowdedge of the world enabled Madame Guyon to see, much more distinctly than the unprotected and unsuspicious maid herself, the dangers to which she w^as exposed. Animated by sentiments of humanity, as well as of Christian charity, she not only warned the girl of the dangerous artifices which beset her, but endeavoured to instruct her in the principles of religion, and to lead her to a knowledge of Jesus Christ. The girl was distinguished for powers of mind, as well as f u- beauty of person, and gave her most vigorous thoughts to the great subject, which was thus presented to her. " God so blessed my efforts," says Madame Guyon, " that this interesting maid, under the guidance of the great inward Teacher, became truly pious ; giving herself to God apparently with her whole heart." Naturally she became reserved and guarded to- w^ards the ecclesiastic mentioned. This man, not ignorant that he was thus frustrated by the new spirit of piety which had arisen at Gex, became from this time the bitter enemy of Madame Guyon, and of all who sympathized with her. He formed a little party and put himself at the head of it, the sole object of which w'as, whatever might have been the motives of some concerned in it, to render Madame Guyon's situation as uncomfortable as possible, and ultimately to drive her from Gex. Beginning, after the manner of those with whom the end sanc- tifies the means, with secret insinuations unfavourable to her character, he pursued his object in various ways, with a perse- verance worthy of a better cause. " This ecclesiastic," she says, " began to talk privately of me in a manner calculated to bring me into contempt. I was not ignorant of what he was doing ; but having, by divine grace, learned the great lesson of pitying and forgiving my enemies, I let everything pass unnoticed and in silence. IK'J LU'E AND liKl.lUlOUS K.M'KinKNCE " Jt Wits at tins time tliat tlicic taiiie a certain iViar to seo the |toi>oii ot" whom I am sjti'akiui:;. The iViar, wiio knew that Father La Cninhe apjiroved ut my views and practices, anil who mortally hated that Father, on aei'onnt of his j^reater regularity and ri'liuious principK", ci)nd)ined his etlorts with those ot" the uther, tor the |iurpit>e ot" diiving me tVom the Keligious House in which 1 resiiled, anil thus leave them to manage there in their own way, without any opposing inllnences. All the means which they could devise, they practised for that purpose. They succeeiled, after a time, in gaining over to their party one of the sistei's of the House, who acted in the capacity of house-steward ; anil soon afterwards they gained the prioress." As a part of the plan which had heen adopteil, her situation wiis rendered as uncomfortahle and unpleasant as possible. It is painful to add, that the house-steward and the prioress, who had been the eye-witnesses of her benevolence and piety, were [>artici pants in this course. " I was disposed," she says, " to do all the good I could, })hysically as well as mentally ; but heing of a delicate frame, 1 had but little strength. I had employed two maid-servants to aid me and my daughter, but finding that the Religious House or Community, in which I resided, had need of them, the one for a cook, aud the other to attend the door and for other purposes, I consented that they should have their services. In doing this, I naturally supposed that they would occasionally allow me their aid, especially as I had given them all the funds which I then had in possession, and had thus put it out of my power to employ other persons. But under the new intluences and designs, which had sprung up, I was not allowed to realize this reasonable expectation. I was compelled to do my sweeping and washing and other domestic offices, which I had a right to expect, in part, at least, from them, and which my habits and physical strength rendered, if not unsuitable, at least inconvenient and })ainfal." Another part of the system of vexation to which she was sub- jected, consisted in attacks upon her room at m"ght. By some sort of contrivance, which of course was known oidy to those who weie in the secret, frightful images were made to appear in her room or at the windows. Frightful sounds were uttered. The &a;dies of the room were broken. But though she was thus OF MADAME GUYON. 183 fiubjected to inconvenience and disturbance, she says that thtj calm peace of her sonl was wholly unbroken. Among other things, the ecclesiastic at the head of these move- ments, caused all tlie letters sent to her from friends abroad, and also the letters which she sent to them, to be intercepted. He had at one time twenty-two intercepted letters lying on his table. His object was, she says, " to have it in his power to make what impressions he pleased, no matter how unfavour- able, on the minds of ethers, and to do it in such a manner that I should neither be able to know it, nor to defend myself, nor to send my friends any account of the manner in which I was treated." She had ties which bound her to Gex. She had made im- pressions which could not easily be obliterated. The good girl whom she rescued from the artifices of the ecclesiastic, she says, " grew moi-e and more fervent, by the practice of prayer, in the dedication of herself to the Lord, and more and more tender in her sympathy with me." And this was only one instance among many. But still she thought the providences of God indicated, that the tin^e had come when she should leave the place. And whenever she decided in God's light what she ought to do, she of course realized her decision in action, at the earliest practicable moment. It seemed to her, after a deliberate and prayerful consideration, that at Thonon, where she could more easily re- ceive advice and assistance from La Combe, she might suffer less, and at the same time do more good. And in a few days more, she embarked again in a little boat, with hei* two maid- servants and her young daughter. Probably this was early in the spring of 1682. She had resided at Gex something more than half a year. This was the second time she liad crossed the Leman Lake. There were no storms that day. If there were no storms without, neither was there storm nor trouble within. The calm lake, decorated in its vernal beauty, was nature's happy image of her own pure and peaceful mind. Without complaint, believing that God was glorified in what she had done and in what she had suffered, she went forth once more, a pilgrim and a stranger, to seek other associates, to meet other trials, antl t<^ eow seed for God in other places. The following poem, l)reathing the same devout spirit which IS4 1 iri: AN1> l{i:i.H;iuLb KXl'KUIKNfK i'lmractorizt.'s tlio ollu'is that liuvi' ItotMi (jnotiHl, (lescrihes lier loi'liii^ at tliis tinu'. TIIK (.•IIUISTIAN's llOl'K.S AND CONSOLATIONS CONTRASTED WITH TIIK world's unbelief AND RUIN. " My hoart is cnsy, niid my burden light ; I smile, tlioiipli nail, wlicii God is in my sight. The more my woes in secret I deplore, 1 taste thy goodness, and I love thee more. " There, while a solemn stillness reigns around, Faith, love, and hope, within my soul abound; And while the world 8Uj)posc me lost in care, The joys of angels unperceived I share. " Thy creatures wrong thee, thou Sovereign Good ! Tltou art not loved, because not understood ; This grieves me most, that vain pursuits beguile Ungrateful men, regardless of thy smile. '' Frail beauty and false honour are adored ; While Thee they scorn and trifle tvith thy word ; Pass, unconcerned, a Saviour's sorroius by. And hunt their ruin with a zeal to die." CHAPTEK XXIV. Arrives at Thonon in the spring of 1682 — Interview with Father La Combe — He leaves Thonon for Aost and Rome — Her remarks to him at the time of his departure — Her confidence that God would justify her from the aspersions cast upon her — Cases of religious inquiry — Endeavours to teach those who came to her in the way of faith — Some characteristics of a soul that lives by faith — References to her daughter — Visited at Thonon by Bishop d'Aranthon — Renewal of the proposition that she should become Prioress at Gex — Final decision against it — Her position in the Roman Catholic Church — References to persons who liave attempted a reform in that Church, while remaining members of it — Attacks upon the character of La Combe in his absence — General attention to religion at Thonon — Her manner of treating inquirers — Her views of sanctifica- tion — The pious laundress^ — Opposition made by priests and others — Burning of books — Rem arks . In the spiini>; of 1G82 i^he reached Thonon. It is a consi- derable place, sixteen miles north-east of Geneva, situated on the eastern side of the lake, near the mouth of the Drance. It OF MADAME GUYON. 185 is tlie capital of Cliablais, one of the provinces of tlie Duchy of Savoy. Having reached this phice she became resident, as a boarder, in the Ursuline Convent, witli her little family. The day after her arrival. Father La Combe left Thonon for the city of Aost, some sixty or seventy miles distant. Learn- ing the arrival of Madame Griiyon, which seeras to have been unexpected, he visited her before lie left. He expressed his sympathy in the trials she was called to endure ; and said that he was sorry to leave her in a strange country, persecuted as she was by every one, without any persons to advise and aid her. And the more so, as it was his intention to proceed from x\ost, whence he was called on business of a religious nature to Rome. And it Avas possible that he might be detained at Eome by those who had authority over him, for some time. Undoubtedly this was a disappointment to Madame Guyon. She did not wish anything which came to her in God's provi- dence, to be otherwise than it was. She says, " I replied to him, ' My Father, your departure gives me no pain. When God aids me through His creatures, I am thanliful for it. But I value their instrumentality and aid, only as they are subordinate to God's glory, and come in God's order. When God sees fit to withdraw the consolations and aids of His people, I am satisfied to do without them. And much as I should value your pre- sence in this season of trial, I am very well content never to see you again, if such is God's will.'" Well satisfied to find her in such a frame of mind, he took his leave and departed. It was not the practice of Madame Guyon to he in haste to justify herself. Tliis course, so different from that which is commonly pursued, v.hich might perhaps appear questionable, she adopted on religious principle. At Gex her doctrines had been attacked ; her peace assailed by i)ersonal rudenesses and violence ; and what must have been deeply afflicting to a woman constituted as she was, secret insinuations, unfavourable to her moral character, were circulated with unjust and unfeeling- industry. But she left all with God. She believed that inno- cence and truth will always find, in God's time and way, a protector. Never will He fail to speak for those, never will He fail to act for those, who can be described as the innocent and the upright, if they will only ))ut their trust in Him in this thing lJ KKl.Uilul S KM'KUlIiNCK ;is ill otliers. 'I'lie truly liuly heart will always say, Lot God's will be acconiplisln'il upon nic, as well as accomplished /or me. It' it ho (.od's will that I should snlFer rebuke, niisre[)reseiita- tiou, aud caluuuiy, let mo not desire the removal of the yoke of sulTering which His hand has imposed upon me, imtil He Him- self shall desire it. I had rather suffer from His hand, than bo without sutfering through any other instrumentality than His. This seems to have been the Saviour's state of mind. This was liers. She left Jur vindication with God ; and she found Him faithful It seems to have been her intentit)n to s[)end a few weeks after her arrival at Thonon in retirement. Needing rest, both l)hy- sically and mentally, she felt it was ])roper for her to do so. Accordingly, she had a small room, a})propriated to her own private use, where, with her Bible before her, she passed many bonis in acquiring spiritual knowledge and in divine com- munion. But theie was this thing remarkable in relation to her ; wherever she went, after the time of that deeper experi- ence which we have mentioned, the Holy Ghost seemed to attend her. The divine nature, something at least which had more of heaven than earth in it, breathed in her voice, em- bodied itself in her manners, and shone in the devout serenity of her countenance. So that it was not necessary for her to set up formally as a preacher ; and it is very obvious that she had no inclination to do so. Her life and presence, bearing as it did a divine signature, constituted a divine announcement. Her sermon was her life ; and her eloquent lips only made the application of it. And the consequence was, that wherever she went, she found those whom she calls her children ; that is to say, persons under convictions of sin, and seeking her advice and aiil in the way of life. They came to her continually that she might break to them the living bread. " My inward resignation and (piiet," she says, " was very great. For a few days I remained ahjne and undisturbed, in my small and solitary room. I had full leisure to commune with God and to enjoy Him. But after a short time a good sister, who desired conversation on religious subjects, frequently interrupted me. I entered into conversation, and answered OF MADAME GUYON. 187 ever}'thiDg she desired, not only from a regard and love for the girl herself, but from a fixed principle I had of strictly conform- ing to whatever God's providence seemed to require of me. And I would remark here, that, although this season of solitary communion with God was very precious to me, I was obliged to interrupt it, whenever His providence required. As soon as any of tliose, who sought salvation through Christ, my little children, if I may call them such, came and knocked at my door, God required me to admit the interruption. In this v^^ay he shewed me that it is not actions, in themselves considered, whicli please him, but the inward spirit with which they are done ; and especially the constant ready obedience to every discovery of His will, even in the minutest things, and with such a suppleness or flexibility of mind as not to adhere to any- thing, but to turn and move in any and every direction where He shall call. " I endeavoured to instruct the good sisters, who came to me from time to time, in the best way I could. Some of them could perhaps ba regarded as truly religious ; but after an im- perfect manner. It was my object to instruct them in the way of living by simple faith, in distinction from the way of living ceremonialhj ; and thus to lead them to rest upon God alone through Christ. I remarked to them, that the way of living by faith was much more glorious to God, and much more advan- tageous to the soul, than any other method of living ; and that they must not only cease to rely much upon outward ceremonies ; but must not rely too much upon sights and sounds, in what- ever way they might come to the soul ; nor upon mere intellec- tual illuminations and gifts, nor upon strong temporary emotions and impulses, which cause the suul to rest upon something out of God and to live to self. There is a mixed way of living, partly by faith, and partly Ijy works ; and also the simple and true way of living, namely, by faith alone, which is the true parent not only of other states of the mind, but of works also. " There are not many souls that reach this state ; and still fewer that reach it at once. Nature cries out against the [iro- cess of invvanl crucifixion, and the greater number stop short. Oh, if souls had courage enough to resign themselves to the work of purification, without having any weak or foolish [)ity on ISS I, IKK AM> HKI.lClOl^Si K\ I'KUIK.NCK tlu'iiisolvos, what u nol»li>, nipiil, and happy progress would they make ! Hut, i::eiierally speaking, tneii have ti)0 little faith, too little eiuirage, to leave the shore, which is something tangible and solid, and has the support of sense, and to go otit npon the sen, whieh has the supports of faith only. They advance, per- haps, some little distance ; hut when the wind blows and the cloud lowers, and the sea is tossed to and fro, then they are de- jected, they cast anchor, and often wholly desist from the pro- secution of the voyage. " Oh thou, who alone dost conduct holy souls, and who canst teach ways so hidden and so lost to human sight, ways so con- trary to the usual mixed and imiterfect way of devotion — whicli has its virtues, but which poisons itself by feeding upon its vir- tues, instead of feeding upon God by union with God's will — bring to thyself souls innunieraljle, which may love Thee in the utmost purity. Every other love, however vehement and ardent^ is nut the jnire love, but a love mixed with selfishness. Such holy souls are the delight of God, ' who deliyhts to he loith the children of men ;' that is to sa}', with souls childlike and inno- cent, such as are set free from pride, ascribing to themselves — in themselves considered and separate from God — only nothing- ness and sin. " Such souls, which are no longer rebellious, but are broken to the yoke^ are one ivith God, and are one with Him to such a degree, that they not only look at Him only, but they look at everything else in Him. Beautifully expressive of a sj)irit quiet and united with God, is that passage of Jeremiah where it is said, ' He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he hath borne God's yoke iqjon him.' (Lam. iii. 28.) " How perfectly contented is such a soul ! Neither knowing anything nor doing anything, neither desiring to know anything nor desiring to do anything, except the thing to which God calls it. Its contentment — independent as it is of exterior events — excludes all anxiety, and is without limitation. Such a soul is more satisfied in its trials, its humiliation, and the opposition of all creatures, when these things take place by the order of Pro- vidence, than it would be with the highest success and triumph by its own choice. Oh, if I could expi-ess what I conceive of this state ! But I can onlv stammer about it." OF MADAME GUYON. 189 In this pait of ber Autobiography we find, from time to time, some brief references to her daughter. Separated as she was at a great distance from her other children, this child was a source of great consolation to her. Finding her situation at Gex not favourable to her child's health, she had previously sent her for a short time to Thonon. Her feeling allusions to this beloved daughter shew, that her union with God did not diminish her interest in humanity ; and that the natural affections, when properly subordinated, are not inconsistent with the highest re- ligious affections. " In great peace of mind," she says, " I lived in the House of the Ursulines with my little daughter. As we now resided among those who spoke a different dialect, my daughter soon forgot, in a considerable degree, the use of the French language. She played with the little girls that came down from the neighbouring mountains ; but while she con- tracted something of their elasticity and freeness, she lost some- thing in the delicacy and agreeableness of her manners. She was sometimes fretful ; but as a general thing her disposition, as it ever had been, was exceedingly good. Her good sense and her turns of wit, for one of her age, were surprising. God watched over her." Madame Guyon had been at Thonon but a short titne, when Bishop D'Aranthon came there on some business. They met each other once more, and had much conversation. The Bishop introduced the subject of his former pi'opositions, and pressed her very much to return to Gex, and to take the \)\iice of prioress. She says, " I gave him my reasons against it, such as have already been mentioned. I then appealed to him as a bishop, desiring him to take care, and to regard nothing but God in what he should say to me. He was struck with a kind of confusion, and then said to me, ' Since you speak to me in this nianner, I cannot advise you to it. We are not at liberty to go contrary to what appears to be our religious calling. All I can say now, after what has passed between us, is, that 1 de- sire you to render to the House of Gex all the assistance which you properly can.' This I promised him to do ; and as soon as I received a remittance from Paris, I sent them a hundred ])is- toles, with the design of doing it annually as long as 1 sliouhl remain in his diocese." lyO I.IIK .\N1> KKLKiKUS KN rKKl KNCK WIk'M 111' K'I't lior. li(> I'litonnl into ciMiversation with otliiM' jK'fsons on tlio snltjoct ; lie yi(>l(K'(l to llicii' iniliKMice, re-onteivd into liis former clis}>ositii)nSj anil U(lo]iteil .sontinienis llio oppo- site of thoso lie had just expressed. He accord in<];ly sent her word attain, iiotwithslandiii-;' tiie result ol' their nx'ent interview, that it was his convietion tiiat she ought to eu<2;a<2;e herself at Ciex ; and that, so far as his inlluencc or authority could pro- perly be exercised in the case, he required her to do it. " 1 le- turned for answer," she says, " that 1 had reason to regard him Jit the present time as under human influence, and as speaking OS a man ; and that I felt it my duty to follow the counsel he had given nie, when he seemed to rae to he under a purer and higher influence, and to speak as from God." The separation now became more marked and complete. And from this time on-ward, Madame Guyon understood, more dis- tinctly and fully than at any former period, the position which she held in the Catholic Church, She was in the Church, but not v:ifh it ; in it mform, but not with it in spirit. Her asso- ciations with it were strong ; her attachment to it was great ; but discerning very clearly as slie did the distinction between inward religion and outward religion, b-etween that which ad- heres to the ceremony and that which renovates the heart, she mourned over the declensions and desolations around her. She felt, however, that while she pointed out the s[)eculative and practical errors which existed, provided she did it with a proper spirit, and sustained herself by Cath(.ilic autliorities, she had a right to claim and maintain her position in the Catholic Church, until she should be formally excluded from it. She was very much in the position of certain pious persons who, without ceasing to be members, have laboured from time to time in that Church, with the design of restoring the doctrine of faith and the spirit of practical piety ; and wdio are known historically, in reference to the period at which most of them appeared, as the Reformers before the Ileformation. It is due to the truth to say, that there have been in the Roman Catholic Church, from time to time, pious men and women, who have laboured sincerely and oftentimes effectually for the true life of love and faith in the soul. If they have loved their system much, and have felt sad at the idea of schism, they OF MADAME GL'YOX. 191 have loved salvation and piety more. Sometimes their lahours have been received and recognised ; and they have been spoken of as the models of piety, withont the irnpntation of heresy ; bnt more frequently their motives have been impeached ; tlieir efforts have been opposed ; and in some instances exile and im- prisonment have been the consequence. Some appeared before the Protestant Reformation, and some have appeared since. To those who are acquainted with ecclesiastical history, it will indicate the class of persons to whom we refer, if we mention the Dominican monk, John of Vincenza, who laboured as far back as 1250 ; Thauler, the celebrated i)reacher of Strasburgh, who is mentioned with high respect and commendation by Luther; Gerard Groot, and Fiorentius Radewin, leaders and teachers in the society or sect in the Catholic Church, called the Brethren of the Life in Common ; John of the Cross, whose waitings, although not schismatical in reference to the doctrines and forms of Catholicism, breathe a deeply devout and enlight- ened spirit. To these we might add the names of Ruysbroke, Canfield, Thomas a Kempis, whose Imitation of Christ is so universally read, Boudon, John de Castanifa, the reputed author of the Spiritual Combat, Michael de Molinos, who died in pri- son, (while Francis de Sales, who seems to me to have taught essentially the same experimental doctrines, was canonized,) Fenelon, and I know not how many others. The position of many of these peisons in the Catholic Church seems to me to illustrate that of Madame Guyon. Of their piety it is hardly necessary to say that there can be no reason- able doubt. They weie persons of faith and true simplicity of heart, who wished, although they found themselves amid various embarrassments, to do all possible good in the situation in which Providence had placed them. They did not and could not be- lieve, that an outward form, however scriptural and however important it might be, could effectually avail themselves or others, when separate from an appropriate state of heart. They distinctly saw the dangers which were likely to follow from an indifference to this view, and especially from an adoption of the opposite opinion. It was not sufficient, in their view, to teach men to make the sign of tiie cross, and to practise genuflections, nor to do other 192 Mi-K AMI ivi:i.u;iors kxi-kkiknck tliinL:;.s wliicli in tlKMiisolvos CDUsidt'ieil ;uv imivly cercinouial, ftlthouij;h Ihov ivoofjjiiiseil tliose practices as a part of a system to wliich tlu'v wore luiicli atladied in most respects. They ))reaclie(l the doctrine of a new heart ; they required, in the name of llim for who/u they bohlly spoke, " repentance towards God and faith in tlie \io\\\ Jesus Christ." And such beiiig their views, and such their ])ractice, if tliey cannot be regarded as schismatics or separatists. 1 think tliey may justly be described as reformers. Such was the ]>ositi()ii of Madame Guyon. To this jjosition God called her in His jtrovidence ; a position of great usefulness, but one which could not well escape a large share of trial and sorrow. La Combe had no sooner departed than the party at Thonon, opposed to what they regarded as a new movement in the Chiu'ch, began to assail his character. Madame Guyon had her feelings greatly tried by the extravagant stories, as to his character and conduct, which were told her. But these statements were so obviously dictated by prejudice and passion, and were so variant in many particulars from what she knew to be the truth, that they confirmed rather than diminished her favourable opinions of him. She did not, however, say much upon the subject ; simply remarking, — " Perhaps I may never see him again ; but I shall ever be glad to do him justice. It is not he who hinders me from engaging at Gex, as some of the remarks which are made seem to imply. The reason and the only reason of my refusing to comply with the propositions which have been made to me, is the inward conviction, of which I cannot divest myself, that God does not call me to it." Some said to her, — " But it is the opinion of the Bishop that you should go there. Ought he not to judge in the case ? Who could knov/ what the will of God is on such a question better than the Bishop ?" To this suggestion it was not in her nature or her principles, to give any other than a respectful attention. But such was the clearness of her spiritual perception, such the inward signature wiiich God and His providences had written upon her heart, tliat she could not do otherwise tliaii she did ; although it undoubtedly violated some of the prepossessions of her people in favour of episcopal advice and authority. She intimates in this connexion, that suggestions of this kind, though sometimes painfid, gave hei- no permanent uneasiness. As she OF MADAME GUYON. 193 had given up all to God, in an act of permanent and unreserved consecration, she believed that God, in accordance with His pro- mise, would give her all that wisdom which was necessary to guide her in the right and safe way. This matter, therefore, was permanently decided ; and she gave her attention anew and undividedly to the work before her. Neither the absence of La Combe, nor the disaffection of the Bishop, nor the open opposition of subordinate ecclesiastics, nor the fact that she was a woman, acting under the natural and providential disabilities of woman's character and position, prevented her from being an instrument in God's hands of en- lightening many souls, and of leading them experimentally to the knowledge of the truth. In the spirit of unremitting labour where God called her to labour, she did what she could ; and the good seed, small though it might seem to be to human eye, became an hundred-fold, because God blessed it. Her presence, preceded as it had been by her reputation for piety and for a knowledge of the inward state, was the signal for a great spi- ritual movement in Thonon, such as had not been known before for many years. There was something in souls who had sought heaven by works alone, and on the compensatory principle of so much happiness given for so much labour and suffering antece- dently gone through, which whispered to them that God in His providence had sent them a messenger who might aid them in the knowledge of a better way. The slightest hope of such an improvement was like light from above. The consequence was that her room was continually visited, in a few weeks after her arrival at Thonon, by persons seeking instruction in the way of life. She divided them into three classes ; those without religion ; those who gave evidence of religion, but who had no faith for anything above the mixed method of life, the way of mingled sin and holiness ; and those who, under the special operation of God's Spirit, were hungering and thirsting after entire righteousness. When those came to her who were without religion, and who perhaps had been endeavouring to extract heaven from the merit attached to their supposed good works, she endeavoured to convince them of the folly of their coinse, by shewing them tlie intricacies of the human heart, the depths of sin, and the N 194 MFi: ANI> KKLUIlol'S KXI'KUI KNCK impossilillity of rtccoptanoo witli (Jod, oxco])t tliroiigli tlic appli- cation oftlio atoning- Mootl of (Jhrist, received through faith. When those came wlio had some little hope of an interest in the Saviour, some degree and ])ower of life though fechlo, she pjive them directions suited with great skill to their case, cal- culated to resolve conscientious perplexities, to strengthen courage, and to help their advancement. Entire victory was so much beyond their present ideas and hopes, that, to propose it now, in their present state of weakness and vacillancy, might have operated as a discouragement, and have done more hurt than good. When those came who desired to be wholly the Lord's, who, in the language of Scripture, were Imngering and thirsting that they might bear the fulness of the divine image, she endeavoured to impart to them those higher and deeper instructions which they seemed to be able to understand and to bear. She did not hesitate to say at once, on all occasions where God's providence called her to say it, that the entire sanctilica- tion of the heart through faith, as it seemed to her, is the Christian's privilege and dut3^ But it is proper to say, how- ever, that she laid " the axe to the root of the tree." She thought it necessary, in the first place, that they should under- stand what sanctification is. On this point, taught by her own inward experience, she felt it very desirable that there should be no mistake. She felt it her duty to say to them, that, accord- ing to her view of the subject, a rectified intellectual perception is not sanctification. Nor, if we add to such perception, strong emotions and stop there, do we attain to it. Nor, if wo go still deeper, and add to both what is still more important, good desires, good and right affections, and stop there, can we account ourselves as wholly the Lord's. Holiness, which is but another name for sanctification, goes even further than this. It requires the strong fortress of the Will. The will, which embodies in itself both the head and the heart, the perceptions, the emo- tions, and the desires, and is in fact the sum and representation of the whole, must be given to the Lord. Without it all the rest goes for nothing. And it was upon this point that she was in the habit of trying those who professed to be seeking the entire sanctification OF MADAME GUYON. 195 of the heart. The searching question was, — were they willing to be NOTHING ? That is to say, nothing in themselves, in order that the Lord might be All in All. Was the natural prin- ciple of movement gone ? Could they say that they moved simply as they were moved upon by the Holy Ghost ? If so, then the life of nature was slain ; their souls had become the temple of the Living God. God's will, the substitute for their own wills, had become to them a new life. One of the cases which she relates illustrates, in some degree, what has now been said. Among other persons who sought her acquaintance at this interesting time, was a woman who was not only religions, but, according to the ordinary rules of judg- ing, eminently religious. She had grace, perhaps we may say great grace ; but not to the exclusion of the life of nature. In connexion with her interviews with this person, she says, " I saw clearly that it is not great gifts which sanctify, unless they are accompanied ivith a 'profound humility. No one can be regarded as wholly alive to God, and thus as sanctified, or as a true saint of God, who is not ivholly dead to self. This woman, in connexion with her great intellectual lights, and her strong emotions, and the true faith which she really possessed to some degree, regarded herself as a truly holy person ; but the develop- ments of her subsequent life, originating as they obviously did in the remains of self, shewed that she was very far from the state which she professed. " my God," she adds, " how true it is, that we may have of thy gifts, and yet may be very full of ourselves ! How very narrow is the way, how strait is the gate, which leads to the true life in God ! How little must one become, by being stripped of all the various attachments which the world places about him, so that he shall have no desire and no will of his own, before he is small enough to go through this narrow place." There was another class who came with different views and motives. They not only watched her general conduct ; but under religious pretences, they made their appearance at her religious conversations, which seem to have been open to all, with the object, as she expresses it, " of watching my words, and of criticising them." The religious life, like all other life, has its appropriate outward expressions and signs. And such 196 l.ll'E AND UF.LIGIOIS KXPICKIKNCK was hor iloop insijjjlit into religious character, derived partly iVotn her own varied personal experience, that she distinguished with great ease, and with high prohability, the objects and the chnmctei's of those who visited her. To those who came for the purpose of extracting something from her expressions which they could criticise and conderati, or for any other sinister object, she had nothing to say. The Lord, who enabled her to under- stnud their characters, disappointed their evil intentions by withhoKling the message, which under other circumstances she so abundantly received and communicated. " Even when I thought to try to speak to them," she says, " I felt that I could not, and that God would not have me do it, Tiiey went away not only disappointed but dissatisfied. They alluded scornfully to my silence, which they regarded as stupidity ; and some of them were so angry as to characterize as fools those who had come to see me. " On one occasion, when persons of this description had just left me, an individual came, with some appearance of anxiety and hurry, and said, ' It was my design to have put you on your guard, anil to apprize you that it might not be advisable to speak to those persons ; but I found myself imable to get hither in season to do it. They were sent, with no friendly purpose, by certain individuals ; and their object was to find something in your remarks which they could turn to your dis- advantage.' I answered this person, ' Our Lord has been before you in your charitable purpose ; for, such was my state of mind, that I was not able to say one word to them.'" She did not appear as a preacher. Her efforts were private ; and were entirely consistent with that sense of decorum which adorns the female character. They consisted of private prayer and conversation with individuals ; sometimes of mutual con- versations or conferences, held with the inconsiderable number of persons who might be assembled in a small room. To these methods she added, with great effect, that of written corre- spondence. The instrumentality was humble, but the impression was great. The Lord blessed her ; and for a time, soon after her arrival at Thonon, she had favour with the great body of persons there, who availed themselves of all suitable oppor- tunities to see her and to hear her words. OF MADAME GUYON. 197 Amid this general approbation and even applause, " the Lord/' she says, " gave me to understand that the ' apostolic state,' (that is to say, the state in which persons find themselves specifically and especially devoted to the spiritual good of others,) if it be entered into in purity of spirit and without reserve, will always be attended, in the present state of the world, with severe trials. I remembered the words of the multitude, which preceded the Saviour at the time of His triumphant entry into Jerusalem — ' Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord;' and the words of the same changeable multitude a few days afterwards, when they exclaimed, ' Aicay tvith him, crucify him, crucify him.' Deeply were both forms of expression im- pressed upon my mind ; and I could not fail to recognise in them the intimations of what would be likely to be my own experi- ence. And while I was thus meditating on what the Saviour experienced, and from whom He experienced it, and was making the application of it to my own case, one of my female friends came in, and spoke to me particularly of the general esteem which the people had for me. I replied to her, ' Observe lohat I noiv tell you, that you will hear curses out of the same mouths, ichich at present pronounce blessings.'" She expressly informs us, that God at this time wrought on a great number of souls at Thonon, through her instrumentality. *' Great was my consolation," she says, " never greater did I experience in my whole life, than I did to see in the town uf Thonon, a place of no great extent, so many souls earnestly seeking God. Some of thes^e seemed not merely to have re- pented of their sins, but to have given their whole hearts tu God, and to have experienced the highest spiritual blessings. They were not only Christians, but Christians of whom it could be said, that Christ lived in them. Among them were a number of young girls of twelve or thirteen years of age. It was inter- esting to see how deeply the Spirit of God had wrouglit in them. Being poor, they industriously followed their work all the day long ; but having acquired a fixed habit of devotion, they sanc- tified their labours with silent prayer, and with inward com- munion. Sometimes they would so arrange their daily labour, that a number oi' them could carry on their work at the saine place ; and then they would select one of their number, who 198 Lll'K AND KKI.Uaoi'S KXrEUlENCK read to tlioiii wliilo tlio ulhcis piusued their tiisk. They were so humble, so innocent, and sincere, that one could not see theiu without being reminded of the innocence and purity of primitive Christianity." Among those who were the subjects of this great work, she mentions particuhirly a poor woman, a hiundrcss, " Tliis poor woman," she says, '' was the mother of live children. But her poverty, and the cares of her family, were not the only source of trouble. She had a husband distempered both in mind and in body. He seemed to have nothing left mentally but his angry dispositions, and nothing left physically but just strength enough in his unparalyzed arm to beat his suffering wife. Yet this poor woman, now become, under God's grace, rich in faith, bore all with the meekness and patience of an angel. By her per- sonal labours she supported both her five children and her husband. Her poverty was extreme ; her suffering from other causes great ; but amid her trials and distractions, she kept constimtly recollected in God ; and her tranquillity of spirit was unbi'okcn. When she prayed, there was something wonderful in it. " Among others there was a shojikeeper, and another man whose business it was to make locks. Both became deeply reli- gious ; and as was natural, they became intimate friends with each other. Learning the situation of the poor laundress, they agreed to visit her in turn, and to render her some assistance by reading to her from religious books. But they were surprised to learn, that she was already instructed by the Lord Himself in all they read to her. God, they found, had taught her inwardly by the Holy Ghost, before He had sent, in His providence, the outward aid of boolcs and of pious friends to confirm His inward communications. So much was this the case, that they were willing to receive instruction from her. Her words seemed divine." This woman, whose piety had become the subject of conver- sation to some extent, attracted the notice of certain persons who had some name and authority in the Church. They visited her ; and, as it was well understood that her method of worship was somewhat out of Churcli order, they reproved her, and told her it was very bold in her to practise prayer in the manner she OF MADAME GUYON. 199 did. They said it was the business of priests to pray, and not of women. They commanded her to leave off prayer, at least in the methods in which she practised it, and threatened her if she did not. The woman was ignorant, except so far as she had learned something from the Bible, and as God had inwardly taught her. God gave her words in reply. She said, that what she did was in conformity with Christ's instructions. She referred them to the passage of Scripture, in the thirteenth chapter of Mark, where Christ instructed His disciples to pray ; noticing particularly the remark which is added, and which she regarded as a degree of authority applicable in her case, namely, " what I say unto you I say unto all." This passage, she said, authorized all to pray, without specifying priests or friars, or giving them any privilege in this respect above others. She told them, moreover, that she was a poor and suffering woman, and that prayer helped her ; and that, in truth, with- out the consolations of religion, of which prayer is the appro- priate and natural expression, she could not support her trials. She referred also to her former life. She had formerly been without religion, and was a wicked person. Since she had known religion, and had held communion with God in prayer, she had loved Him, and she thought she could say she loved Him with her whole soul. To leave off prayer were to lose her spiritual life. Therefore she could not do it. She also directed their attention to other persons, who had recently come into a state similar to her own. Take twenty persons, she said, who are religious, and observe their life. Take twenty other persons who do not practise prayer and know nothing of the religion of the heart, and make the same observation. And judge then, whether you have any good reason for condemning this work of God, " Such words as these," says Madame Guyon, " from such a woman, one would think, might have fully convinced them. But instead of that, they only served to iiiitate them the more." They threatened her with a withdrawal of the privileges of the Church, unless she promised to desist from her course ; that is to say, unless she promised not only to renounce the reading of tlie Bible, and the practice of inward and outward piayei', but to renounce Christ Himself Her answer was, that she had no '100 LI IK AND KKLIiUDl'S EXFKUIENCE choice ill the niattci-. Tlu" ilecision was already made. Christ was ^Mjistcr, ami she imist loUow Him. They put their threats into execiiti(Ui to some extent. But .she remained stedfast. 'i'hese thinj^s «;() to eontirm what has already been said, tliat JMadame Guyon might proi»erly be reckoned among those, who, without leaving the llonian Catholic Church, were Reformer.^ in it. The persons who represented the dominant part of the orthodox Church in 'i'honon, endeavoured to influence other pious ])ersons in a similar manner. But finding their efforts in a great measure ineflectual, they next took the course of ordering all the books without exception, which treated of the inward religious life, to be brought to them ; and they burned them with their own hands in the public square of the place. '• With this performance," says Madame Guyon, " they were greatly elated." A part of a lettei-, found in the published life of Bishop D'Aranthon, throws some light upon the existing state of things. The writer says, " We have burnt five of the books on these subjects. We have not much expectation of getting possession of many others. And the reason is, that the men and women who read tliem, have their piivate meetings or assemblies with each other, and have resolved at these meetings that they will burn the books themselves, rather than let them fall into our hands." Madame Guyon gives us further to understand, that some of the persons engaged in these things, were apparently religious ; but religious in the common mixed way, partly human and partly divine, partly irom earth and partly from heaven. Con- sequently, so much of their actions as was not from God was from that which is the opposite of God, namely, Satan. And this was particularly the case in their treatment of the pious girls who have been mentioned. These girls, being poor and obliged to work continually, formed little neighbourhood asso- ciations ; prosecuting in this way their work together, and those who were strong helping the weak. The eldest one j^resided at these little meetings ; and the one who was best qualified for that task was appointed reader. They employed themselves in spinning, weaving ribbons, and other feminine occupations. Prayer and religious love made all pleasant. 8uch assemblies OF MADAME GUYON. 201 are not uncommon among Protestants, But the prevalent reli- gious party at Thonon considered them inconsistent with the Catholic methods. And, accordingly, they separated these poor but happy girls from eacli other, deprived them, as a punish- ment, of their usual church privileges, and drove some of them from the place. It is painful to speak of these things. I do not suppose that aspersions, cruelties, persecutions, are limited altogether to Ro- man Catholics, Some will say, that conduct of this kind is the natural result of that interest in religious institutions which is implied in true faith. This may, perhaps, be true in a certain sense. But add more faith ; and then the evil will not be likely to result. A little faith makes us love the cause of religion ; but it leaves us in fear ; which would not be the case if we had more faith. We tremble for the Ark of God, as if not God, but some son of Obededom, or other weak and human agent, were the keeper of it. Faith and fear are the opposites of each other, both mentally and theologically. When priests, whether Catholic or others, have opposed and persecuted those who differed from them in opinion or who undertook some reform, I would not in all cases, nor generally, attribute it to their self-interest, and to the fact, or the supposed fact, of " their craft being in danger." Self-interest, especially among those who have felt the influences of religion, is not the only principle of human action. Persecu- tions have been practised by those, who verily thought they were doing God service. And these good people of Thonon, (un- doubtedly some of them were good people,) opposed and injured those who were God's people equally with themselves, and per- haps much more than themselves, like those disciples of Christ, who, in their prematiu'e zeal, were for calling down fire from heaven to destroy their adversaries, simply because they did not know what manner of spirit they were of They had confounded the Church with the ceremonies of the Chui'ch ; and when Madame Guyon felt it her duty to indicate the difference between the substance and the shadow, between the spirit and the letter, touching the ceremonial it is true, but still with the gentleness of a woman's hand, then the good Catholics, to whom the ceremonial was undoubtedly very deai', were all in arms. Their con.sternation was real, not affected. 21)2 LIKE AN1> KI:1,1(.;KHIS KXriCUIKNCE Tlioy lorgiil tliiit (Jod is able to take care ol' the Clmicli wilhouL employing Sjitun's instruinoiitality. Iloiice their injustice ; hence their cruelty ; not because they had faith, but because they had not more liiith ; not because they loved llie Church, but because they had forgotten, in too great a degree, the mighty power and the pleilgeil promise of the God of the Church. Of those who do evil, Christ, who is the true light, has said, Father^ forgive them, for tJicy know not what they do. Of those wlio do good, but are persecuted for it, the same Christ has said, in language which gives courage to the fainting heart. Blessed arc they ivho are persecuted for riyhtcousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. CHAPTEK XXV. Conversion of a physician — Further instances of persecution — Some of those who had been opposcrs become subjects of the work of God — Some staking instances of the care of Providence in relation to her — Visit to Lausanne — Establishment of a Hospital at Thonon — Removal from the House of the Ursulincs to a small cottage a few miles distant from the lake — Eeturn of La Combe — Her opposcrs make their appeal to Bishop D'Aranthon — He requires Madame Guyon and La Combe to leave his diocese — Rude and fierce attacks made upon her in her soli- tary residence — Decides to leave Thonon — Her leelings at this time — La Combe — His letter to D'Aranthon — Remarks of Madame Guyonon some fonns of reli- gious experience — Ou living by the moment. She mentions a number of incidents, some of them of con- siderable mterest, w-liich took place in connexion with this revival of God's work. " One day," she remarks, " I was sick. A physician of some eminence in his profession, hearing that I was ill, called in to see me, and gave me medicines proper for my disorder. I embraced the opportunity of entering into con- versation with him on the subject of religion. He acknowledged that he had known something of the power of religion, but that the religious life had been stifled in him by the multitude of his occupations. I endeavoured to make him comprehend, that the love of God is not inconsistent with the duties of humanity ; and that therefore the employments, which God in His provi- dence assigns us, arc no excuse for irreligion, or for any state of mind short of a strong and consistent piety. He received what OF MADAME GUYON. 203 I said. The conversation was greatly blessed to him. And he became afterwards a decided Christian." She relates of those persons, who made the opposition to tliis divine woi-k, that, among their other acts of cruelty, they seized upon a person of considerable distinction and merit, and beat him with rods in the open street. The crime which was charged against him was, that, instead of confining himself to the com- mon forms of prayer, he prayed extemporaneously in the even- ings. The man was a priest, of the Congregation of the Oratory. It was alleged also, that he was in the practice of uttering a short, fervent prayer, in the same manner, on Sabbath days, which had the effect gradually and insensibly to lead others to the use and practice of the like. Speaking of the persons who thus violently, and in a public manner, beat this good man, and of others who were in the like hostile dispositions and practices, she says, " they greatly troubled and afflicted all the good souls, who had sincerely dedicated themselves to God ; disturbing them to a degree which it is difficult to conceive ; burning all their books which treated of inward submission and of the prayer of the heart, in distinction from mere outward and formal prayer ; refusing absolution to such as were in the practice of it, and driving them by their threats into consternation and almost into despair." But this state of things, which had the appearance of crush- ing religion, gave occasion for a remarkable exhibition of God's power and grace. Even some of these men, those of them who were obviously without religion, led to reflect upon their own characters by the sad lesson of the violence which they them- selves had exhibited, became, after a short time, humbled in heart. Through Divine grace they not only ceased from their evil works, but became experimentally and practically new crea- tures in Christ Jesus. " And then," she says, " the Lord made use of them to establish religion and the life of prayer in I know not how many places. They carried books, which treated of the inward life, into those very places where they had formerly burned them. In things of this nature it was not difficult for me, in the exercise of faith, to see the presence and the wonder- ful goodness and power of the Lord." This was now the fixed law of her mind, " flod in evcri/ thinri." 204 I.IIK AND KKl.KJlOr.S K.\ I'KIUIONOE In biimll tilings us well us in great, in natnral as well as reli- gious, she recognised His liaud. Some little incidents of a private and domestic nature, illustrate her trust in Him. " Goil," she says, " took care of all my concerns. 1 saw his providence incessiintly extended to the very smallest things. I had sent to Paris for some papers. IMonths i)assed, but the papers did not come. Looking at it in the human light, the disappointment and the loss were great. But I left it wholly with the Lord. Whether I received them or not, I could not separate the result from God's will ; and that will was equally dear to me in either case. After some months I received a letter from an ecclesiastic at Paris, stating that the papers were in his possession, and that he would soon come to see me and bring them. " At another time I had sent to Paris for a considerable num- ber of articles necessary for my daughter. They were sent, but did not arrive. The report was, that they had reached the borders of the Leman lake, were put on board a boat, and were lost. I could learn no further tidings about them. But I left it wholly with the Lord, in entire quietness of spirit. Having done all that was suitable if they were found, it loas ivell ; if they were lost, it was equally well. At the end of three mouths, they were brought to me, having been found in the house of a poor man, who had not opened them, and did not know who brought them to his house. " On another occasion I sent to Paris for money to meet my expenses for a year. I received it in a bill of exchange on some person in Geneva. A person was sent from Thonon to Geneva to receive the avails of the bill in specie. The money was de- posited in two bags, and placed on the man's horse. The man rather carelessly, for some reason connected with his own con- venience, gave the horse to be led by a boy a little distance. As the boy went along, directing his way through the market of Geneva, the money fell off witliout being noticed by him. " At that very moment, I arrived myself, approaching the mar- ket place on the other side. Having alighted from the convey- ance in which I came, I proceeded a few steps, and the first thing I noticed was my bag of money. There was a great multitude of people in the place ; but the bag was not perceived OF MADAME GUYON. 205 by them ; or if it was, it was left untouched. Many such things have attended me, which to avoid prohxity I pass by. These may suffice to shew the continual protection of God towards me." Meanwhile the work of God continued. Sinners were con- versed with ; those who were religious prayed ; those without religion began to believe and were saved. When opportunity offered, Madame Guyon, whose efforts were unwearied, extended her labours into the neighbouring villages. On one occasion she made an excursion by water to Lausanne, situated on the Genevan lake, about fourteen miles from Thonon, and nearly opposite to it. " In our return," she says, " we experienced a severe tempest. We were in a dangerous place, when it came upon us, and nar- rowdy escaped being swallowed in the waves. God was pleased to protect us. A few days afterwards a small vessel foundered nearly in the same place, with thirty-three pei'sons in it." About this time Father La Combe, who had returned from Kome, formed the plan of establishing an Hospital at Thonon. As subordinate to the general plan, the ladies of Thonon formed a society, the oliject of wdiich was, after the practice which pre- vailed in France, to aid the families of the sick at the hospital, as well as the sick themselves. There had been no institution of that kind before in that part of the country. " Willingly," says Madame Guyon, " did I enter into this plan. AVith no other funds than what Providence might please to furnish, and some useless chambers, which tbe gentlemen of the town gave us, we began our effort. We dedicated the place to the holy child Jesus. God enabled me to furnish the first beds obtained. Several other persons soon joined us in this benevolent effort. In a short time we were not only enabled to j)lace in the build- ing twelve beds, but found three very pious persons, who gave thcmselve?^, without salaiy, to the service of the hospital. " I assumed the office of furnishing it with the requisite me- dicines, which were freely given to such poor as had need of them. The good ladies associated in this undertaking, were so hearty in it, that through their care and charity the hospital was in every respect veiy well maintained and served. They joined together also in providing for the sick wdio cordd not go 206 l.IKK ANI> KKl.UilorS KXPKltlKNCK to tlu- liosjtital ; ;ukI J j;;ivo them sonu' little iv^iilatioiis, sucli as I luul soon iulo}>tod in Franco, which they made the rules of their associations, and which they continued to keo]) up with tenderness and love." Madame (Juyon arrived at Thonon about April 1G82, where she remained a little more than two years. During the latter part of this period she experienced a severe sickness, of which she has given some account, which held her for some time. After her recovery she found herself so infirm, that slie thought it necessary to change her residence, and to obtain one whicli, by being a little more remote from the water, would be more favourable to her. The house which she obtained in the s^jring or sununcr of 1684, was in a more healthy position, some miles distant from the lake. It was inconvenient, except in its posi- tion ; but it was the only one in that neighbourhood unoccupied, which she could obtain. " It had a look," she says, " of the greatest poverty, and had no chimney except in the kitchen, through which one was obliged to pass to go to the chamber, I gave up the largest chamber to my daughter, and the maid who took care of her. The chamber reserved to myself, was a very small one ; and I ascended to it by a ladder. Having no furniture of my own except some beds, quite plain and homely, I bought a few cheap chairs, and such articles of earthen and wooden ware as were necessary. I fancied everything better on wood than on plate. Never did I enjoy a greater content, than in this hovel. It seemed to me entirely conformable to the littleness and simplicity w^hich characterize the true life in Christ." The change did not diminish her influence. It could not well be diminished,, while the conviction remained so prevalent as it did, that she was a woman taught of God. At Thonon her ad- versaries, who were in the wrong position of fighting against God, had been foiled at every point. And what seemed to ren- der their case the more hopeless, Father La Combe, whose talents and piety gave him a prominent position, had returned after a long absence from Kome, without being condemned for his alleged heresies. At this juncture of affairs the adversaries of the reli- cion of the heart, in distinction from that which is formal and ceremonial, and especially of that higher and sanctifying expe- OF MADAME GUYON. 207 rience, which she generally denominated imre love, adopted a new, and as the result shewed, a more effective mode of attack. They complained to Bishop D'Aranthon, and represented that the Chm'ch, especially in her prescribed forms and ceremonies, was in danger. The fact that La Combe had united his influence to that of Madame Gruyon, had given the new spiritualism a consequence which demanded attention. They said, that if he did not take some repressive measures as bishop, he could not be considered as doing his duty to the Church. Already the evils of novel opinions, or of actual schism, had been experienced in Spain. Already the Spiritual Guide of Michael de Molinos had announced doctrines in Italy, which were justly considered as alKed to those of Protestantism. How then was it possible, that, under the existing state of things, he should remain unde- cided or inactive ? Such considerations in a mind easily influenced, aided by his sincere and strong attachment to the Church as it then was, aroused D'Aranthon to decisive action. He not only required all priests and others under his authority to oppose the progress of the new views, but insisted, that both Madame Guyon and La Combe should leave his diocese. Madame Guyon wrote to him, bat without efiect. Eeferring to some benevolent efibrts she had made, she says, " All these things, which cost but little, and owed all their suc- cess to the blessing that God gave them, drew upon me and my friends new persecutions. Every day my opposers invented some new slander. No kind of stratagem, or malicious device in their power, did they omit. They came to surprise and ensnare me in my words ; but God guarded me so well, that they discovered, in so doing, only their own malevolence. The dissatisfliction of Bishop D'Aranthon with me was obviously greater than ever, especially when he saw that my efibrts, of a benevolent and re- ligious nature, which undoubtedly he sincerely disapproved in some respects, rendered me beloved by others. He said peevishly, that ' I won over everybody to my party.' Another remark im- plied, that he could be patient with my doctrines if they were confined to myself, and were not spread abroad. And finally, he openly declared, that ' he would no longer submit to have me in his diocese,' although I was not conscious of having done any- i08 I.IKK AND HKLKilDUS KXl'KKIKNCK tliiiii; in it l)iit ixood, or rather Ui)d hml iloucgood by iiie. And what roiulerod my jiositioii the more trying, he extended his un- kiml treatment to my irit'iids. The jjrioress of the Ursnlines, witli wht>m T liad resick'tl a eonsideralile part of my time at Tlionon, received a hirj^e share of it." Wlien it is nnderstood, that those who are in power and anthority, have eome to the eonehision, with wliatever justice, or whatever want of justice, to crush those who are weaker, there are never wanting persons to aid in carrying the decision into effect ; not oidy men from whom better things conld be expected, but especially rude men, men of contracted minds and of selfish hearts, who resort to measures which enlightened and benevolent men conld not approve. This sort of rude and ungenerous op- position was employed against Madame Guyon. Slie resided at some distance from the more settled parts of the country, with her little daughter and one or two female domestics ; but other- wise wholly unprotected.. She says, " I was greatly contented in my small and rude residence. Hoping to remain there for some time, I had laid in such provisions as were necessary for me ; but Satan, the great instigator of evil, did not long permit me to remain in such sweet peace. " It would be difficult for me to enumerate all the acts of unkindness and cruelty which were practised towards me. The little garden near my cottage, I had put in order. Persons came at night and tore it all up, broke down the arbour, and overturned everything in it ; so that it appeared as if it had been ravaged by a body of soldiers. My windows were broken. They were dashed through with stones, whicli fell at my own feet. All the night long persons were around the house, making a great noise, threatening to break it in, and uttering personal abuse. I have learned since who put these persons upon their wicked work. " It was at this time that notice reached me, that I must go out of the diocese. The good which God had enabled me to do, was condemned more than the greatest crimes. Crimes were tolerated ; but the work of God, resulting in the conversion and sanctification of souls, could not be endured. All this while I had no uneasiness of mind. My soul found rest in God ; I never repented that I had left all to do what seemed to me to be His will. I believed that God had a design in evejything which OF SIADAME GUYON. 209 took place ; and I left all in His handSj both the sorrow and the joy." Under these circumstances, it is obvions that she could no longer remain. " I saw," she says, " that there was nothing for me to do here, so long as the bishop should be against me. I did what I could to gain his good will ; but it was impossible to do it on any other terms than the engagement which he demanded of me, and which I knew it to be my duty not to make." The union of priests, bishop, and people against her, she regarded as an obvious indication of Providence, that, in the language of Scripture, she must " shake off the dust of her feet against them," and go to another city. And what were the feelings under which she was thus com- pelled, for a second time, to leave her field of labour, and to go again, she knew not whither ? " My soul," she says, " leaving all to God, continued to rest in a quiet and peaceable habitation. thou, the gi-eat, the sole object of my love ! If there were no other reward for the little services which we are able to perform than this calm and fixed state, above the vicissitudes of the world, would it not be enough 7 The senses, indeed, are sometimes ready to start aside, and to run off like truants ; but every trouble flies before the soul which is entirely subjected to God. " By speaking of a fixed state, I do not mean one ivMch can never decline or fall, that being only in heaven. I call it fixed and permanent, in comparison with the states which have pre- ceded it, which, being in the mixed life, and without an entire and exclusive devotedncss to God, are full of vicissitudes and variations. S'.ich a soul, one which is wholly the Lord's, may be troubled ; but the sufferings which it is called to endure, affect only the outside, without reaching and disturbing the centre. Neither men nor devils, though they discharge all their fury against it, can permanently harm a soul that is free from selfish- ness, and is in union with the divine will. No sufferings what- ever could ever affect it, neither more nor less, neither within nor without, luei'e it not permitted for wise purposes from, above" The pressure was a})plied with equal skill and power to La Combe also. Such were the ecclesiastical relations between him and the bishop, that the wish of the latter, and still more his •Jill I, IKK ANl> KKI.miOlS KXl'KKII'.NCK iiijum-lioii, that ho hhouKl (U'piui iVinu \\\v d'uicoso, rciulcrod it inconslstcMit, ami pi'rlia])s impossiblo lor liim to remain. The only char<;e allei:;oil ai^aiiist him, so i'ar as we can ])ere('ive, was, tliat lie wius assoeiatetl with j\ladame Cliiyon, in the dill'usion of !i sj)irituality, which was both novel and heretical, namely, the life oi' CJod in the sonl, both in the form of justification and of t^anctilication, ftasfaiiicil hi/ /(dlh ((/one rw i/s priinar// clement. Madame Guyon wrote to the bishop it seems, without elfect. Tia Combe also wrote to him, as he was about leavinji;. The letter, which is lonp;, is given in full in the bishop's life. The following is an abridgment of it, containing those parts of it which would be most likely to be interesting. TO BISHOP d'aHANTHON. " In accordance with your desire, sir, I am about to leave your diocese. Not merely because your wish has been so strongly expressed, that it naturally has the effect of an injunction, but because God, the Eternal wisdom, has indicated, in the arrange- ments of his providence, that the time of my dei)aiture has arrived. I recognise the instrumentality ; but I do not forget Him who operates through the instrument. It was by God's order tliat I came. It is by God's order that 1 depart. " You have known my views on the subject of Sanctiiication ; for I took an oppoitunity to communicate them to you in private. And prompted, as I supposed, by a sense of duty, I expressed a strong wish, that they might be blessed to yourself personally. This was the beginning of a course of treatment, which, without giving utterance to the spirit of com[)laint, I may justly charac- terize as unusual and hard. I will not now underbdie to justify myself against the persecutions which I have experienced. I may, perhaps, be excused for saying, however, that my adversaries have professed to sit in judgment upon what they have never stutlied, and what they did not understand. Unacquainted as they really were with what they undertook to condenm, they obtained, neveitheless, an access to the ear of the bisho]), whicli was refused t(^ us. If this extraordinary procedure resulted in injury and suffering, we have this consolation, which silences every murmur, that God in His wisdom permitted it. '* Pardon, respected sir, the feelings of a poor ecclesiastic, who OF MADAME C4UY0X. l.>|| thinks he has known something of the power of the inward Hfe, if in leaving the scene of his labours, in a cause so dear as that of true holiness of heart, he drops a tear of regret at the desola- tion which he witnesses. Sad and terrible will be the account, which must at last be rendered for the opposition which has been raised against a cause, for which Christ shed His blood. A cause dear to God, who in His goodness had sent from France to our poor Savoy, a lady whose example and instructions could hardly have failed to extend in every direction the love of holiness. " But she and others, who have laboured in the same cause, are about to leave these regions ; and they will carry to other places those doctrines of the interior life, which have been ban- ished from the churches over which yoii preside. Of what value is the Church, and of what value are labours for the Chuich, without the inward life, without the religion of the heart ? B}^ what uuhappiness is it, respected sir, that you, who have laboured for your diocese so much, and in many respects so successfully, have permitted this crown of your labours to be taken from you ? I speak in kindness and sincerity. Why have the advocates of experimental religion been banished ? Why have you smitten me with an ecclesiastical interdiction, — me, who have been at- tached to your interests, submissive to your orders, and jealous for your authority ? But it is useless to ask, as it would be un- availing to explain. My conscience bears me testimony, that I would have given more than one life if I had possessed it, for you ; for the good of your own soul, and for the good of those under your charge. This has been my prayer, and many years have I earnestly offered it, that you, and that others through you, nnight know the full power of God's inward grace. In the bonds of the gospel I go hence to other lands. Times and places change, but the deep prayer of my heart, wdiich I trust will yet be answered, remains unaltered. " Francis de la CoMiiE." There are various religious remarks of Madame Guyon, made from time to time in connexion with these events, which seem to me profitable. On one occasion, speaking of a religious friend, whose character was defective in some respects, she says, '' for- merlv it was with frreat difficultv that I could bear her manners. lM-J 1 III". ANl> i:i LUilOUS KXri.lMKNCK charaotorizeJ as thov wore by an iiiircstraiiioil vivacity. 15ut since God lias i;ivcn mo grace to repird everythin<^, and to love cvorytliini^ in its rvhition io IliiiisclJ] I find a {>;rcat facility in ltcarin<; sndi detects and fauUs ol'niy neighbour. The principle of itenevolcnt sympathy has become strong, so that I feel for all, and have a readiness to please and oblige every one, and such a com- pjission for their calamities and distresses as I never had before. " I make, however, a distinction. I more easily bear the de- fects of those, who are beginners in the Christian life, and are yet weak in the faith, than of those who are more advanced and are stronger. Towards the first I feel my heart enlarged with tenilerness ; I speak to them words of consolation. Towards the latter I feel more tirnmess of ])urpoRe. When I see defects in advanced souls, I cannot, without much inward suffering, forbear reproving them. The more any soul is favoured with eminent grace, the more easily is it united to me ; the more violent, also, is the weight and suffering I feel for it, if it slip or turn aside ever so little. Such have been the dealings of the Lord with myself, that I seem to discern with great clearness both the strength and weakness of its principles ; so that perceiving where it fails and what it wants, I feel myself bound in religious duty to declare it. I do not mean to say, that I find myself wanting in kindness or condescension to souls of this description ; but duty, which in a sanctified mind acts almost with the certainty of an instinct, requires more of strictness, and less of mitigation and forbearance, than in respect to others. " In my ir.tercourse with others I find this also in my expe- rience. I can converse much with the weak ; but I am not inclined to converse much with the strong. With those, who are in the beginnings of the religious life, and who need instruc- tion, the principle of holy love, acting under the direction of Providence, leads me to converse on sucli topics, and for so long a time as seems to be necessary. I feel that I am doing good. But conversation, for the sake of conversation, with those who are so advanced that they do not need it, and when the provi- dence of God does not especially call to it, is repugnant to me. Thehuman inclination, which corrupts everytliing,is apt to mingle with it. The same things \vhich would be right and profitable, when God, by the intimations of His Holy Spirit, draws us to OF MADAME GUYON. 213 them, become quite otherwise when we enter into them of our- selves. This appears to me so clear, that I prefer being a whole day with the worst persons, in obedience to God, to being one hour with the best onh' from choice and a human inclination." She observes, " that a man is far from experiencing the full grace of God, who desires martyrdom, but is restless under the yoke of divine providence, which places martyrdom beyond his reach, and requires him to gloiify God in the humblest and most retired avocations of life. The true desire, the right desire, is tbat which comes in the divine order ; and the divine order can never be known and appreciated, except in connexion with a knowledge of the developments of the present moment. At one time the Apostle Paul made tents in God's order ; at another time, he preached eloquently on Mars' Hill, at Athens, in the same divine order ; but in both cases he glorified God equally. If we are right in motive, and right in place, exercising all the requisite faith in God at the same time, all will be well." Acting on her principles, she thought that the providence of God, which had hitherto rendered her afflicted and wandering life a wonder to herself, called her once more to depart. The following stanza from one of her poems, may be regarded as expressive of her feelings at this time. " Father adored ! Thy holy will be done ; Low at thy feet I lie ; Thy loving chastisement I would not sliun, Nor from thine anger fly. My heart is weak, hut weaned from all beside, And to thy will resigned, whate'er betide.'' CHAPTEK XXVI. Season of retirement — Commences -writing her larger Treatises on religious expe- rience — Her work, entitled Spiritual Torrents — Feelings with which she com- menced this work — Origin of its name — The progress of the soul compared to torrents descending from the mountains — Abstract of some of its doctrines — De- grees of faith — Inward crucifixion — The New Life, or the state of the soul, when it has been subjected fully to the process of inward crutifi.Yion — Remarks upon the style of tliis work. It was in the year 1683, during her residence at Thonon,that Madame Guyon first began to add to her other efforts attempts 214 I. IKK .\NI» liKl.ltllDlS ICXl'KltlKNCK at formal Tivatisos on llu' subject of religious experience. Worn ilow'n with the fntii;iies of contiiniul ouiiversiitioii, .she gave out that slio stood in need of retirement, and woukl not see com- pany for a number i>f days. It was with some difficulty that ])eople would consent to leave her in repose even for a short time. In this season of religious retirement, she had very full and joyous commmiion with God. " It was then," she says, *' that 1 let myself be consumed with love all the day long." ilndeavouring to ascertain in what way she could most glorify ilim, who was the sole object of her love, it occurred to her, that in those ])eriods when physical debility would not allow labours of a ditfcrent kind, she might do something more with her pen. The suggestion caused her not only serious deliberation, but some trial of mind. But as soon as she became satisfied that it was God's will, she no longer hesitated, though she felt in some respects uncpialilied ior an undertaking so important. It was under these circumstances, that she commenced her religious work, entitled the Spiuitual Torrents. " When I first took up my pen for this purpose," she says, " I knew not the first word I should write. The subject was daik and mysterious before me. But when I began, it gradually opened to my mind ; suitable considerations presented themselves readily and abundantly. Feeling relieved and strengthened in relation to the duty, which Providence had thus imposed upon me, I was enabled to write an entire treatise on the principle of Faith, consideied in its inward and sanctifying action. I illus- tiated some of the leading ideas of the work, which describes the progress of the soul from the commencement of its inward life to its union with God, by a reference to streams or torrents flowing from mountain tops, with greater or less rapidity, and with greater or less directness, and mingling at last in the ocean." This allusion to streams or torrents, and the illustrations she employs, gives name to the work. The comparison is suggested, ])artly by its owu appropiiateness, and partly by a passage in Amos V. 24, — " But let judgment run down as waters, cmd n't/Jdeousncss as a miglity stream." In the French and Latin versions the words Torrkns and Torrent are used. " Let righteousness roll down as a mifjhty forrenl." Some of the princii^les of this woik, wiitton with great vigour OF JIADAME GUYON; 215 of imagination and of language, although deficient in some de- gree in logical development, are as follows : 1. Souls, coming as they do from God, who is the great ocean of life that gives all and receives all, have an instinctive and strong tendency, when that element of moral and religious life, which they have lost by the Fall, is restored to them by divine grace, to return again and mingle in eternal union with that divine source from which they came. 2. And this tendency to re-union depends upon nature, as well as upon origin. God, from whom the soul came, and in whose likeness it is made, is holy. Holiness loves holiness. It cannot be otherwise. And just in proportion as the fallen soul is restored by divine grace and made holy, precisely in that de- gree, and on the ground of a likeness of nature, is there a ten- dency to unite with God, who is all holy. And the tendency is mutual ; existing on tlie part of God, as well as on the part of the creature. 3. But the instinct of returu, which exists in the soul so soon as it is truly the subject of the divine operation, and resumes anything of the divine nature, is different in different persons. This is illustrated by streams or torrents, that come down from the mountains. From the ocean they came ; — to the ocean they are returning. Righteousness shall flow on as a mighty stream. But all streams do not flow alike. 4. Some torrents, like one class of regenerated souls, are feeble in their beginning. They acquire strength ; but they do it gradually and slowly. Sometimes they meet with an impedi- ment, a rock or some other obstacle, which obstructs their pro- gress for a time, and makes them no better than a standing pool. When they have escaped from this impediment, they still retain their former characteristics ; and wind onward circuitously and slowly. They are not altogether without life, and without utility. Here aud tliere their banks are green ; and a few scattered flowers drink refreshment from their waters. After a while they depart from sight ; perhaps their inconsiderable waters are diasi})ated and drunk up in the wide expanse of some arid plain. Perhaps they pass on and are lost in some other larger river, or are mingled and lost in the bosom of some lake. They do not reach the ocean. -10 i.ii-K AND HKi.iciors K.Nri:i;iKN( i; T). Oilier tonviits, ivnivsoiitiiiL;; aiiotlicr class, seem to start tVoMi a I'lillor t'ouiitain, and iiiori' rapidly to acquire increase. As liiev atlvanco onward towards the mm, tlioy oxjiand into rivers. j\luny arc the vessels. lari;er and s i:aller, whi.li tlioy bear ; rich is the niorcluuulise whirli lloat-; npon them ; but freighted with goods Inith frcnn heaven and tVoni earth, they seein to jOjrow sluggish in their own opulence. The impulse which bears them on to the great deej), slumbers. And, winding here and there, they empty tliemselvcs at last into some bay, or sound, or other arm of the sea, and there arc lost, (». All have a tendency to the sea ; but with much variety I'f impulse and progress. And, accordingly, she goes on to state, that there are other torrents which represent another class, namely, those who Jmnger and thirst after righteousness, who cannot and will not be satisfied, till their souls are brought into the most intimate nnion with God. If these torrents are turned from their course by any obstacle, they resume it as soon as pos- sible, and by the nearest possible direction. If they meet with obstacles so extensive as to stop them entirely, they do not be- come inert and stagnant, but they get strength moment by moment, accumulating wave upon wave, till they pass trium- phantly over them. They bear their treasures ; but they will not stop. They nourish the flowers upon their banlcs, but tliey le.ive them to shine in their beauty and fragrance, and pass on. They are not satisfied, till they reach and mingle with the great ocean. There they are made one with the water of waters ; they become a part of it ; vast navies float upon its bosom ; the world's commerce passes over it. She makes a distinction between a will perfectly harmonious, and a will merely submissive. A will entirely harmonious car- ries with it the heart as well as the conscience. The will of an obedient servant, who does what he is bound to do, is submis- sive. The will of tlie affectionate son, who not only does what he is bound to do, but loves to do it, is not only submissive but is harmonious, is not only concordant, but is one. So that when IMadame Guyon insists so much as she does on a perfect union with the divine will as the highest result of Christian experience, she means somctliing more than that union of the will, which OF MADAME GUYON. 217 consists in a mei'e cessation from rebellion ; she means an union lohicli carries the heart with it. And then the question comes, How is this harmony to be brought about ; a harmony, which places the centre of all human wills in the centre of the Eternal Will ? And the answer is, just in proportion as we dislodge the human life from its own centre, which is Self, it has a tendency, by the law of its own nature, to seek the True Centre, which is God. But what is it for the human life to be loosened and dislodged from its own centre ? It is to recognise, in everything which is ap- propriate and necessary to it, its entire dependence on God, and to be willing to receive every such thing in God's way, in God's time, and on God's conditions. And in the first place it must renounce salvation from itself, in order that it may receive sal- vation from God through Christ. And then, in the exercise of the same self-renunciation in which it receives forgiveness for past sins, it must be willing to receive also its strength, its wis- dom, its moral and religious good, what may be called its cloAly sjyirittial bread, from God, living upon the Divine Fountain which flows unceasingly to those who are willing to receive life from the Divine Life, through the operation of the Holy Ghost dwelling in the soul. And it is here that the struggle begins ; it is here that the struggle is continued. ^ATien men begin to see that they are lost out of God, and when God implants within them the in- stinct of return, and they begin to put forth their hands and to struggle in the right direction, they then begin to feel, and not till then, the strength of the chains which bind them. The first struggle is to renounce all fondness and all claim for agency and merit in the matter of their salvation from the penalty of their j)ast sins. So that the first crucifixion of self begins at the cross of Chri.^t. Terrible is the struggle oftentimes at this point. God can never yield, because, being the Eternal Truth, and having till truth, especially all moral truth, embodied as it were, and re- alized, and made a true life in Himself, He never can violate the truth. It is an eternal truth, or if it be preferred, it is an eternal hiw in morals, — the opposite of which is an eternal falsehood, be- cause it never was and ncvc!- cm be the law, — that, where there 218 I.II'K AN1> KKI.hllors KXTKIJIKNCK i^^ ciiiiu", tlu'iv inusl ho sutl'eiiiig And siilloiiiii;- which atleiuls upon ciinu'. anil is (ho iiecessari/ result of crime, is not inercly siitloriiii;, hut is lotrihiition, is j>imin?imenf. This relation of crime uiul puuislunout (J oil can never ulter, unless, by an arbitrary act, lie can change right into wrong and wrong into right, which would be inconsistent with the very idea of God. God, there- fore, in the jierson of His Son, not only knowing but realizing in Himself the inunntability of the reipiisitions of the law, took the penalty of its violation on Himself, in order that man, who had incurred the penalty by sin, might be forgiven. And it was not merely an exhibited or apparent suffering, which God, " mani- fested in the flesh," endured ; not a mere spectacle ; but a real snfleiing. God, therefore, because He cannot possibly meet him on any other ground or in any other place, unless he meets him {IS a righteous judge, meets man in the cross of Christ ; — He meets him on Calvary and not on Sinai. And the first act of submission, the first act in which man recognises God as the Givei- of the true life, is, and must he there. But this is only the beginning of the work. The purchase of forgiveness in Christ is the purchase of a neio life ; and all ad- ditional blessings flow through him. Man is not only to be detached from his own centre in the matter of forgiveness ; but is to be detached from the same centre, which is Self, in every- thing else. As every good thing really comes from God ; so every good thing must be received and recognised as coming from him in the exercise of faith. And it is here that we see the necessity of inward crucifixion, and the principles on which it must be conducted. The soul must be detached from every- thing, on which it rests out of God. Tiiere are two great principles on which this result depends ; that by which, in the language of Madame Guyon, we become nulltiiKj in ourselves, and give ourselves to God entirely ; and the other is, that we fully believe in God as accepting the ofFer- inir which we have thus made. And it is here often that we find the exercise and trial of our faith. Strt)ng faith is requi- site. Relying simply upon the promise, which is given and ))ledged to all those who are fully consecrated, we are to receive God as our God and portion, for the present and the future, in all that He now is, and in all that He can be to us in time to OF MADAME GUYON. 21 [) come ; in the plan of salvation, in the administration of His pro- vidences, and in the " daily bread" of His grace, dispensed to us moment by moment. And He becomes to us in this way, not only all that He is in fact, but all that we can desire Him to he; because, relying on His promises as virtually the substance or realization of that which is hoped for, we find our desires already fulhlled by anticipation ; although His present administration in respect to us may be, in some respects, mysterious and trying. The soul, therefore, which is represented by the torrent, that rushes onward to the ocean as its resting-place, and is not satis- fied with anything short of or out of the ocean, lays itself as it were, in the first place, on the altar of sacrifice. Its language is, " I am thine. 31ake me ivhaf, ivith thine assistance, I desire and purpose to he." God, in accepting the gift, accomplishes upon it that for which it was given. At this point Madame Guyon begins to describe accurately and minutely, the further progress of inward crucifixion in its details. She does not rely upon the statements of other experi- mental Avriters, but draws chiefly from what she herself had passed through, and had witnessed in other cases. And what is particularly worthy of notice, is, that she shews, in souls that are prepared for it by divine grace, how the prin- ciple of Faith develops itself step by step, and in higher and higher degrees, in precise accordance with the process of inward crucifixion. Just in proportion as the suul is smidered from the ties which bound it inordinately to the earth, just in that pro- portion, it increases in the strength of its faith, and rises into harmony with God. In tact, sundered from the world, which was its previous source of life, it could not live without faith in that which is separated from the world. It is on the basis of this general. view, that she describes the progress of the inward life, not merely by degrees of crucifixion, but cliiefly and espe- cially by degrees of faith. The soul, in the first degree of laith, has a true life in God, but not a full or perfect life. The soul, in this degree, loves God, but it adheres too strongly and takes too nuich delight in the (jifts of God (meaning here the external gifts, such as the conveniences of life and the pleasures of society and frien(lshi[),) cnrisideied r^s■ seiwraie from (rod, Himself It recognises and J-JO l.IKK AND UKI.ICIOIS KX I'KUIKNCK liu-os, in i^^'iieral, llu> jMoviiloncos of God ; but when tlicy ap- l)ro:u'h very iiciir and liot'onio ])ersonally very atHictive, it is apt to sliew soniothini; of restU'ssnoss and uusubniission. Combined witb a disposition to do tlie will of (Jod, tliero is too nuicii of " t'lnj^i'csseuicni," or undue eagerness to do it, and not enough of that liuniility and quietness of spirit, which waits for his time of doing it. It performs religious duties, and loves to perform tliem ; but it has a choice as to time and place, so fixed and strong, as sometimes to be out of harmony with providential arrangements, and to interfere with other duties. In the second and other higher degrees of faith, as she de- scribes the mind's sjiiritual progress, the soul, in undergoing the process of inward crucili.x'ion, becomes detaclied from these faults and sins. But there still remain others. The soul, for instance, in this stage of its progress, rests more or less upon a human arm ; — human opinions, which are adverse to its course, cause it trouble ; human approbation and human applause sometimes give it strength, wdiich Avould be better if it came directly from God. But God, operating by outward processes in carrying on the work of inward crucifixion, takes away one proj) after an- other, smiting the arm of humanity which takes the place of the divine arm, till the soul (which it cannot do, without an increase of faith corresponding to the facts and process of such inward crucifixion,) rests solidly upon the great Centre, and upon that centre alone. Such are some of the doctrines of this interesting work. The terms in which she describes the successive and deeply trying steps of a thorough inward crucifixion, remind one strongly of her own personal history. She describes in a great degree, though not exclusively, from herself. And this, while it contri- butes to the interest of the work, constitutes in reality one of its defects, considered as a work to be read and followed by others. It would not be entirely safe to take the experience of any one individual in all its particulars, as the precise mode of the divine operation in all other cases. It may be proper to add further, that she was constitutionally imaginative. Conse- quently viewing things in a clear and strong light, she expresses herself more strongly than a person with less imagination would be likely to do. Her expressions, therefore, especially when OF MADAME GUYON. 221 compared with what she says, from time to time, ia other phices, ma}'' sometimes justly be received in a modified sense. The work may justly be considered, however, whatever criticisms it may be proper to make upon it, as a very valuable and remarkable contribution to the documents of religious experi- ence, especially in the highest forms in which it seems to be realized in this life. CHAPTER XXVII. Leaves Thonon for Turin in the summer of 1684 — Mount Cenis — Her feelings at this time — Persons that accompanied her — Circumstances which led her to go to Turin — Marchioness of Prunai — Her journey through the Pass of Mount Cenis, and her reception and labours at Turin — Religious feelings — Efforts by written coiTespondence — Letter of advice to a young preacher — Of Dreams — The Dream of the sacred island. She decided, for various reasons, to attempt to reach Turin, the capital of Piedmont, situated one hundred and thirty-five miles south-east from Geneva, and a little more from Thonon. Its site is on a vast plain at the foot of the Alps, on the Italian side, and at the confluence of the rivers Doria and Po. The route would be, I suppose, from Thonon to Chambery, through Geneva and Anneci, and from Chambery through Mont- meillant, to the celebrated Alpine pass of Mount Cenis, and thence to Susa and Turin. Mount Cenis was not passable then, as it has since been render- ed by the efforts of the French Government, for carriages ; but those who went ov^er it were obliged to go on foot or on mules, or were carried in litters borne by porters. A journey along frightful precipices, and over mountains i)iled to the clouds, accompanied too by the unpleasant reflection that those who were prosecuting it had no home, no resting place, must have been exceedingly trying to any one whose mind was not sus- tained by strong faith. " The words," she says, " which are found in the Gospel of Matthew, were deeply impressed upon my mind. ' The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, hut the Son of Man hath not ivhere to lay his head.' -•2-2 I.IIK AMI lii:i,ltil(»is KXI'KUIKXCK " 'I'liis I liavo siiK'o exitoiiiMiccHl in all its extent, having no sure aluHle. iu> reliijife aiiiDiig my iViends, who were asliained of me, jviul openly renouneed me at the time when there was a great anil general outcry against me ; nor among my relations, the most o( whom declared themselves my adversaries, and were my greatest persecutors ; while others looked on me with con- tempt and indignation. I\Iy state Itegan to be like that oi' Jol), when he was left of" all. Or ])erhaps I might s