CHAPTER II. ST. FRANCIS DE SALES AND MADAME DE CHANTAL. QUIETISM. RESULTS OF RELIGIOUS DI VISITATION. SAINT Francis de Sales was very popular in France, and especially in the provinces of Burgundy, where a fermentation of religious passions had continued in full force ever since the days of the League. The parliament of Dijon entreated him to come and preach there. He was received by his friend André Frémiot, who from being a counsellor in Parliament had become Archbishop of Bourges. He was the son of a president much esteemed at Dijon, and the brother of Madame de Chantal, consequently the great-uncle of Madame de Sévigné, who was the grand-daughter of the latter.* The biographers of St. Francis and Madame de Chantal, in order to give their first meeting an air of the romantic and marvellous, suppose, but with little probability on their side, that they were unacquainted; that one had scarcely heard the other spoken of; * See the biographers of Madame de Chantal (Fichet the Jesuit, Bishop Maupas) and especially her letters, unfortunately incomplete, 3 vols. 12mo. 1753. that they had seen each other only in their dreams or visions. In Lent, when the Saint preached at Dijon, he distinguished her among the crowd of ladies, and, on descending from the pulpit, exclaimed, "Who is then this young widow, who listened so attentively to the Word of God?" 66 My sister," replied the Archbishop," the Baroness de Chantal." She was then (1604) thirty-two years of age, and St. Francis thirty-seven; consequently, she was born in 1572, the year of St. Bartholomew. From her very infancy she was somewhat austere, passionate, and violent. When only six years old, a Protestant gentleman happening to give her some sugar-plums, she threw them into the fire, saying, "Sir, see how the heretics will burn in hell, for not believing what our Lord has said. If you gave the lie to the king, my papa would have you hung; what must the punishment be then for having so often contradicted our Lord!" With all her devotion and passion, she had an eye to real advantages. She had very ably conducted the household and fortune of her husband, and those of her father and father-in-law were managed by her with the same prudence. She took up her abode with the latter, who, otherwise, had not left his wealth to her young children. We read with a sort of enchantment the lively and charming letters by which the correspondence begins between St. Francis de Sales, and her whom he calls "his dear sister and daughter." Nothing can be more pure and chaste, but at the same time, why should we not say so, nothing more ardent. It is curious to observe the innocent art, the caresses, the tender and ingenious flattery with which he envelops these two families, the Frémiots and the Chantals; first, the father, the good old president Frémiot, who in his library begins to make pious lectures and dreams of salvation; next, the brother, the ex-chancellor, the archbishop of Bourges; he writes expressly for him a little treatise on the manner of preaching. He by no means neglects the father-inlaw, the rough old Baron de Chantal, an ancient relic of the wars of the League, and an object of the daughter-in-law's particular adoration. But he succeeds especially in captivating the young children; he shows his tenderness in a thousand ways, by a thousand pious caresses, such as the heart of a woman, and that woman a mother, had scarcely been able to suggest. He prays for them, and desires these infants to remember him in their prayers. Only one person in this household was difficult to be tamed, and this was Madame de Chantal's confessor. It is here, in this struggle between the director and the confessor, that we learn what address, what skilful manoeuvres and stratagems are to be found in the resources of an ardent will. This confessor was a devout personage, but of confined and shallow intellect, and small means. The Saint desires to become his friend, he submits to his superior wisdom the advice he is about to give. He skilfully comforts Madame de Chantal, who entertained some misgiving about her spiritual infidelity, and who, finding herself moving on an agreeable sloping path, was fearful she had left the rough road to salvation. He carefully entertains this scruple in order the better to do away with it; to her inquiry whether she ought to impart it to her confessor, he adroitly gives her to understand that it may be dispensed with. He declares then as a conqueror who has nothing to fear, that far from being, like the other, uneasy, jealous, and peevish, who required implicit obedience, he on the contrary imposes no obligations, but leaves her entirely free no obligation, save that of Christian friendship, whose tie is called by St. Paul "the bond of perfectness:" all other ties are temporal, even that of obedience; but that of charity increases with time; it is free from the scythe of death," Love is strong as death," saith the Song of Solomon. He says to her on another occasion with much ingenuousness and dignity: "I do not add one grain to the truth; I speak before God, who knows my heart and yours; every affection has a character that distinguishes it from the others; that which I feel for you, has a peculiar character, that gives me infinite consolation, and, to tell you all, is extremely profitable to me. I did not wish to say so much, but one word produces another, and then I know you will be careful." (Oct. 14. 1604.) From this moment, having her constantly before his eyes, he associates her not only with his religious thoughts, but, what astonishes us more, with his very acts as a priest. It is generally before or after mass that he writes to her; it is of her, of her children that he is thinking, says he, "at the moment of the communion." They do penance the same days, take the communion at the same moment, though separate; "he offers her to God, when he offers Him His Son!"* This singular man, whose serenity was never for a moment affected by such a union, was able very soon to perceive that the mind of Madame de Chantal was far from being as tranquil as his own. Her character was strong, and she felt deeply. The middle class of people, the citizens and lawyers, from whom she was descended, were endowed from their birth with a keener mind, and a greater spirit of sincerity and truth, than the elegant, noble, but enfeebled families of the sixteenth century. The last comers were fresh; you find them everywhere ardent and serious in literature, warfare, and religion; they impart to * "I give you and your widowed heart, and your children every day to our Lord, in offering Him His Son."—(Nov. 1. 1605.) "The Lord knows whether I have taken the sacrament without you, since my departure from your city.” (Nov. 21. 1604.)—Œuvres, vol. viii. pp. 311. 272, &c. |