f God. As for me, I only glory in my
infirmities, since they have merited for me such a Saviour!

All my troubles, joined to the loss of my reputation, which yet was not
so great as I apprehended, (it being only among a party) rendered me so
unable to eat, that it seemed wonderful how I lived. In four days I did
not eat as much as would make one very moderate repast. I was obliged
to keep my bed through mere weakness, my body being no longer able to
support the burden laid upon it. If I had thought, known, or heard
tell, that there had ever been such a state as mine, it would have
exceedingly relieved me. My very pain appeared to me to be sin.
Spiritual books, when I tried to read them, all contributed only to
augment it. I saw in myself none of those states which they set down. I
did not so much as comprehend them. And when they treated the pains of
certain states, I was very far from attributing any of them to myself.
I said to myself, "These persons feel the pains of divine operations;
but as to me, I sin, and feel nothing but my own wicked state." I could
have wished to separate the sin from the confusion of sin, and provided
I had not offended God, all would have been easy to me.

A slight sketch of my last miseries, which I am glad to let you know,
because in their beginning I omitted many infidelities, having had too
much of an earnest attachment, vain complaisance, unprofitable and
tedious conversations, though self-love and nature made a sort of
necessity for them; but toward the latter part I could not have borne a
speech too human, nor the least thing of the kind.

CHAPTER 25

The first religious person that God made use of to draw me to Himself,
to whom (according to his desire) I had written from time to time,
wrote to me in the depth of my distress, desiring me to write to him no
more, signifying his disapprobation of what came from me, and that I
displeased God greatly. A father, a Jesuit, who had esteemed me much,
wrote to me in like manner. No doubt, it was by Thy permission, they
thus contributed to complete my desolation. I thanked them for their
charity, and commended myself to their prayers. It was then so
indifferent to me to be decried of everybody, even of the greatest
saints, that it added but little to my pain. The pain of displeasing
God, and the strong propensity I felt in myself to all sorts of faults,
caused me most lively and sensible pain.

I had been accustomed from the begi