” Let us see,” he said to them, ” why God allows those who serve Him to suffer. My daughters, we are each like a block of stone which is to be transformed into a statue. What must the sculptor do to carry out his design ? First of all he must take the hammer, and chip off all that he does not need. For this purpose he strikes the stone so violently that if you were watching him you would say he intended to break it to pieces. Then, when he has got rid of the rougher parts, he takes a smaller hammer, and afterwards a chisel, to begin the face with all the features. When that has taken form, he uses other and finer tools to bring it to that perfection which he has intended for his statue. Do you see, my daughters, God treats us just in this way. Look at any poor Sister of Charity, any poor Mission priest, when God drew them out of the corruption of the world they were still as rough and shapeless as un-hewn stone. Nevertheless, it was from them He intended to form something beautiful, and so He took His hammer in His hand and struck great blows upon them.”<\/p>\n
Disappointment, captivity, and failure had done their work on M. Vincent; he was ready to be treated by the lighter tools; the time had come for the features of the statue to disclose themselves beneath the hand of God; but it is clear that he was not aware that he had found at last the opportunity for his true development. At Clichy his work was congenial, and it was only under obedience that he left it; he was out of his element among magnifi\u00adcent and luxurious surroundings, and he does not seem to have possessed special aptitude for teaching and training children. The two boys placed under his care were de\u00adscribed by their aunt, Mme. de Meilleraye, as ” vrais d\u00e9mons,” <\/i>and there is not the faintest evidence that Vin\u00adcent de Paul obtained any influence over either of them. The younger did not survive his boyhood, and the only record of him that remains is his expressed desire to be a Cardinal, that he might take precedence of his brother; the eldest was a brave soldier, but he was not distinguished for piety. There was also Jean Fran\u00e7ois de Gondi, the most celebrated representative of his race, but he was not educated with’ his brothers. He was very much the youngest, and could not have shared with them; therefore it would be unjust to attribute the training of the future Cardinal de Retz to M. Vincent. The result of a strong influence in childhood, nevertheless, is often felt through life, and the notorious Cardinal was not a credit to the associations of his infancy.<\/p>\n
It becomes evident, then, that Vincent de Paul did not find his vocation in his office as tutor; he must have seen at once that he was not suited to his new position, and, though we have no reminiscences of that period, he would hardly have been human if he had not felt the chill of deep discouragement. Yet perhaps the understanding of voca\u00adtion which was afterwards so strong in him was then taking hold upon his mind. For him vocation\u2014a term that is constantly made synonymous with conscious apti\u00adtude and strong desire\u2014meant the fulfilment of God’s will, and as life advanced he tried to be true to it in complete simplicity. At that moment of upheaval it may have become real to him for the first time, and his feet at length were set on the right path. For he was not merely submissive; his acceptance was so complete that with every successive step his will seems to grow a little nearer to the Divine Will. It should be recognized that it was not by the spur of a fine and pure intention for the future, deliberately conceived, that he kept himself steadfast to his vocation, but by the continual withholding of inten\u00adtion, by a most faithful yielding of himself. His direct connection with de Gondi lasted for a period of ten years. It was in November, 1613, that M. Vincent left his labours at Clichy, and was established in his new capacity at the Ch\u00e2teau de Montmirail. His patron was one of those aristocrats of France over whom history casts a glamour hard to define and impossible to dispel. The Courts of Henri IV. and of his successors were un\u00adspeakably licentious. We know that coarseness of speech matched depravity of morals, and that the reality would inspire abhorrence, if by bridging the centuries it were possible faithfully to reconstruct it. But an impression of brilliancy is quite independent of all sober and reason\u00adable conviction. . Neither Gui Patin nor Tallemant des R\u00e9aux, nor any of the other witty scribblers who have perpetuated the ugliness that surrounded them, can rid us of the half-envious admiration we accord to their glittering contemporaries. In spite of everything, the French aris\u00adtocrat of that period remains superb, and that quality of superbness, of complete and unassailable self-assurance, has its own historic value. It was not only for posterity that they were impressive; in the eyes of the class below them\u2014that bourgeois class which was so much better en\u00addowed intellectually\u2014they were possessors of a magic with which no power that a man may acquire for himself can possibly compete.<\/p>\n And here it is well to prepare ourselves for the unques\u00adtionable fact that to accomplish those great and far-reaching schemes which were to revolutionize the social life of Paris Vincent de Paul contrived to use the magic of the noble. Possibly it was easier for him to use it by reason of the enormous width of the gulf that separated his natural position from that of his clients, and dispelled any misgiving on their part lest he should presume upon their bridging of it. The bourgeois priest, however spiritual, had more prejudices to overcome before he could attain to satisfactory terms with the aristocrat than had the peasant. But Vincent’s relations with other men were too unusual to be affected deeply by considerations of convention or of class. Even in those early times he was learning to be humble, and the exterior manifestation of his humility gave him from the first a special security of foothold. He went to the Ch\u00e2teau de Montmirail in the position of a dependent, but he so ordered his ways that it would have been impossible to cast a slight upon him. He would never appear among the great folk of the Ch\u00e2teau unless specially sent for; when his young charges were not in need of his services, ” it <\/i>demeurait dans cette grande Maison comme dans une <\/i>Chartreuse,” <\/i>says a con\u00adtemporary. He laid down as a maxim for his own guidance that among the many perils and temptations surrounding him, his sole protection was the choice of silence and retirement whenever choice was possible, and his room became to him as the cell of the Religious. This choice of retirement, however, was in no wise slothful; he was on the lookout for every duty that had relation to his office. His own position towards the many grades of servants in that huge establishment might suggest great possibilities of difficulty, but he was so self-forgetful that he ignored any such trammels, and he applied himself to the task of winning their confidence. When a great fes\u00adtival approached, he tried to assemble them and remind them of their privilege as Catholics and all that it entailed. Such an enterprise demanded courage. Under the most Catholic monarchs who ruled France while Vincent lived it did not, perhaps, present such insurmountable obstacles as would a similar effort with a Reformed Church in the twentieth century; but lackeys in all places and at all times have a tendency to scoff, and the peasant priest gave signal proof of entire self-abnegation when, in the new world on which he had just entered, he made this venture.<\/p>\n Here, again, it is quite clear that he was not consciously training himself for the future that did, in fact, lie before him. There was an after period of uncertainty and doubt which shows conclusively that he had no prevision of his career. And such experiences of his as seem to have been a preparation for his destined work were so utilized by reason of the extraordinary spiritual energy that was developing within him. To such a development no cir\u00adcumstances are a hindrance, but the Ch\u00e2teau de Mont\u00admirail did not offer any notable advantages.<\/p>\n Philippe Emmanuel de Gondi was not distinguished for special saintliness of life. He held the office of General of the Galleys, and from boyhood stood high in Court favour. It is true that his uncle, his brother, and afterwards his son, were Cardinals, and the episcopal throne in Paris was held in succession by four members of the de Gondi family; but, without detailed study of Church history in France, we may understand that preferment was possible without corresponding spiritual endowment, and, in fact, the de Gondi furnished examples of just such abuses in the Church as Vincent de Paul in later years made it his mission to attack. But if Philippe de Gondi was not the ideal patron for a man of Vincent’s calibre, his wife<\/span>2<\/sup><\/a><\/span> soon showed herself capable of appreciating the privilege de B\u00e9rulle had obtained for her and her children. She was still a young woman, but she had reached the fourteenth year of her wedded life, and, in spite of the temptations of her high position and great personal beauty, she seems to have kept herself unspotted by the world. She was by nature a dreamer, one of those beings whose purity of soul is admitted and admired, but who hold themselves so far aloof from ordinary experience that as a rule they accomplish nothing. The records of fact which concern her are quite sufficiently explicit to show the transforma\u00adtion which was wrought\u2014not suddenly, but in process of years\u2014by Vincent de Paul. Some months after his arrival at the Ch\u00e2teau de Montmirail, the birth of her youngest and most celebrated son, Jean Fran\u00e7ois, took place, and it was during her time of physical weakness that she discovered the degree to which Vincent was worthy of her confidence. The natural outcome of her growing trust was her choice of him as spiritual director, but she seems to have had sufficient discrimination to fore\u00adsee that he would not welcome such a suggestion, and to obtain his compliance she resorted to the intervention of de B\u00e9rulle. Vincent was thus coerced by a double claim of obedience, and he accepted the charge; but it is evident that he was never entirely reconciled to the delicate posi\u00adtion it entailed.<\/p>\n The fashion of professing sanctity did not come into vogue till some sixty years later, when Mme. de Maintenon reigned at Versailles, and the doings of the Ladies of S. Cyr furnished inexhaustible topics for the chatterers; but even in those early days of Marie de Medici’s regency, as in the wild times of the Valois, the instinct of the d\u00e9vote <\/i>(which is never eradicated in the French nature) declared itself in unexpected quarters. And at all times the d\u00e9vote <\/i>is difficult to deal with. When\u2014as in the Ch\u00e2teau de Montmirail\u2014we find a high-born lady, possessing every advantage that this world can give, living in comparative seclusion, with one of her dependents as confessor, we recognize elements of danger. Vincent’s own develop\u00adment had hardly reached the point that would teach him to be moderate with others. Already he ruled himself by a law of sacrifice before which ordinary human nature quails, and in his new penitent he had just the material out of which might have been made one of those astound\u00ading examples of conversion in high places with which F\u00e9nelon and Bossuet and the Directors of Port Royal edified their contemporaries. We may search in vain, however, for anything sensational in the record of his dealing with Mme. de Gondi. The charge which he accepted in fear and trembling he held in a spirit of com\u00adplete personal humility.<\/p>\n It is much to be deplored that there is no record of this period of M. Vincent’s life. His failure with the children was counterbalanced by success with their parents, but the gradual process by which that success was attained is hidden; his references to the years at Montmirail are very rare, and all they convey is the impression that he avoided any sort of self-assertion, and regarded the authority of his employers as of Divine appointment. Abelli gives us one incident, nevertheless, which proves his courage. It was the age of duelling; Richelieu was not yet in power, and no attempt to check the savage practice had been made. De Gondi was a notable duellist, but the influence of his wife or his years of association with M. Vincent had drawn him into practices of piety. With the childlike inconsistency that distinguished the Catholics of that period, he went to Mass on a morning when he proposed to fight. M. Vincent celebrated. When the other wor\u00adshippers had gone, M. de Gondi remained\u2014praying, per\u00adhaps, for success in the forthcoming contest. It was then that the duty of the priest became so clear to M. Vincent that his own natural diffidence was put to flight.<\/p>\n ” Monsieur,” he said, approaching the kneeling figure, ” will you let me say something\u2014with all humility. I have heard on good authority that you intend to fight a duel, but I tell you as a message from my Saviour, Whom you have just beheld, Whom you have been adoring, that unless you will renounce your intention His judgment will fall on you and on your family.”<\/p>\n He was the dependent admonishing the seigneur, the priest interfering in affairs of which he had no knowledge. In either aspect the attempt was dangerous, for the Church had grown loose in discipline, and the great nobles were imperious. Yet he succeeded. Probably the honour of M. de Gondi was unassailable, and he approached a duel in the spirit of the sportsman rather than in that of the bully, so that for him there was less difficulty in re\u00adfusing a contest than for many others; but he would not have listened to the suggestion of a priest in such a matter unless a foundation of respect for the priest as an indi\u00advidual and for the Church he was representing had been laid. M. Vincent desired that his life during those years at Montmirail should be hidden, and his desire has been fulfilled, but we know by his effect on those who were with him that he must have lived in the practice of personal holiness.<\/p>\n It was natural that Mme. de Gondi should wish to share with others the privilege that she valued so highly, but she had reason to regret her generous instinct. M. Vin\u00adcent was not fully occupied by his duties to his charges, for they had much to learn in the department of sport and swordsmanship, and therefore he had many hours of leisure. At first he remained in retirement, but the march of events forced him into prominence, and the deep respect with which he was regarded by Mme. de Gondi increased the difficulty of his position. One incident in particular that was to have great effect upon his after\u00adlife had immediate influence at this juncture; it is, indeed, as important to the development of his character as of his actions, for it seems to have come as the most searching test of his humility. It was in humility that he found himself wanting, and in agreement with S. Augustine he believed that this was the essential virtue of the spiritual life. The form of his temptation and his violent method of dealing with it shows us that he had reached a stage when his regard for the progress of his own soul was para\u00admount over every other consideration.<\/p>\n The momentous incident occurred in 1617. He had accompanied Mme. de Gondi to the Ch\u00e2teau de Folleville in Picardy, and, while there was summoned to the bed\u00adside of a peasant in a village on the estate. The sick man was respected by his neighbours and believed to be a faithful son of the Church, but when M. Vincent came to him and he knew that death was near, the bonds by which for years he had confined his conscience snapped, and the fear of hell possessed him. Vincent de Paul, in the ministrations that are part of the ordinary duties of a parish priest, was awakened to a new understanding of the possibilities of human nature. This Folleville peasant had not neglected the Sacraments, but he had misused them,; he had lied to God and to himself, and the deadly poison of this constant secret sacrilege had almost destroyed his soul. The depth of his repentance, how\u00adever, spurred him to an act which had results of immense importance. His shrinking from confession had involved him in the most fatalform of deceit, but having recognized his sin, he was not content with the shame of the confes\u00adsional. He desired that Mme. de Gondi, as representing his liege lord, might come to him, and to her he made open acknowledgment of his misdoing. Of the nature of his original crimes we know nothing, nor is there any record of his name. Having played his unconscious part in the development of future events, he died.<\/p>\n Mme. de Gondi and M. Vincent shared this experience, and it made a vivid impression on them both. It was not a matter of hearsay; they had each been personally concerned, and actual touch with such a spiritual tragedy as this suggested to the minds of both the possibility of a great spiritual need for which there was no provision. The imagination of the devout Catholic shrinks from con\u00adtemplating the fate of those who, by making a practice of untrue confession, deprive themselves of every means of grace. The idea that thousands of souls might be in such a plight was brought home to the minds of these two, to whom the Church’s Sacraments were so much more precious than life itself. It seems that M. Vincent received a sudden revelation of the spiritual conditions under which the peasantry of France were living, and that the course of his life was altered in consequence.<\/p>\n At the moment he took action. On January 25 he preached a sermon in the church at Folleville, on the reality and necessity of the Sacrament of Penance. While he meditated on his theme, Mme. de Gondi prayed that he might be inspired by the Holy Spirit. This was, in fact, the first of the Mission sermons, and its effect on those who heard it was so great as to suggest that M. Vincent had found the remedy for a wide-spread disease. Great schemes for the sanctifying of all the country folk on her vast and scattered estates filled the brain of Mme. de Gondi. Her enthusiasm knew no bounds, and it would seem that it reached beyond the schemes themselves, and was fixed on the personality on which, as she believed, success depended. M. Vincent found himself the object of an admiration which was no less intense because completely spiritual.<\/p>\n Simultaneously he was becoming conscious of the call of his real vocation. It had not taken definite shape; it may have appeared to him as the stirring of ambition, for we know absolutely nothing of the progress of his thoughts at that period, but it is clear that it made a claim on him which could not be satisfied without action. The action which he took was sensational. In the July following his first Mission Sermon, he left his post in the de Gondi household, and established himself at Ch\u00e2tillon, in the province of La Bresse. Mme. de Gondi took leave of him without any suspicion that he would be absent more than a few days. His excuse\u2014which was a true one\u2014that his personal affairs called him away deceived her completely, and he was settled in the parochial work of his new cure before the truth dawned on her. For two months she was expecting his return from day to day, and then in September a letter from her husband\u2014who was then in Provence—opened her eyes. The best record of the position is to be found in this letter, and others succeeding it, which Abelli has preserved :<\/p>\n ” I am in despair,” wrote M. de Gondi<\/span>3<\/sup><\/a><\/span>, “over a letter which M. Vincent has sent me, and which I enclose in the hope that you may find a means to avert such a misfortune as his loss would be to us. I am utterly astonished that he should have told you nothing of his resolve and that you had no warning. I beseech you to use any means to keep him with us, for if the reasons he gives be the real ones; they do not seem to me worthy of consideration. There are none of them so important as is my salvation and that of my children. I know that he will some day be able to aid us in this, and will help me in those resolu\u00adtions of which I have often spoken to you, and which I am now more than ever eager to make. I have not yet replied to him, and shall wait to do so till I hear from you. You must decide whether my sister, de Ragny\u2014who is not far from where he is\u2014would do good by interference. But I think the best hope is from M. de B\u00e9rulle. Tell him that even if M. Vincent has not the gift of teaching children, that he may have a man under him ; and that in any case I desire most ardently to get him back under my roof, that he may live there as he may choose; for, if he is with me, I myself shall some day live as a righteous man.”<\/p>\n By his eagerness and incoherence, M. de Gondi shows us what deep importance he attached to M. Vincent’s presence in his home; but to him, in the midst of a busy and active life, the shock of their sudden loss was not so overwhelming as to his wife. Of her we are told that for days she did nothing but weep, and could neither sleep nor eat. She had accustomed herself to accept M. Vincent’s decisions in the spirit of obedience, but it is plain that resentment very nearly mastered her. A confidential letter to an intimate friend discloses her mind to us :<\/p>\n ” I should never have thought it possible,” she wrote. ” M. Vincent has shown too great charity towards me to desert me like this. God be praised, however, I do not blame him\u2014far from it. I believe he has only acted under God’s special guidance and touched by His grace. But it is very strange, truly, that he should have gone away. I confess I can see no reason for it. He knows how greatly I need his direction and all the business on which I ought to consult him; the sufferings of soul and body which have been the result of losing him; the good which I am longing to do in our villages, but which can come to nothing without his help. In short, I am in a most pitiable state. You know how indignantly M. le G\u00e9n\u00e9ral has written, and that my children are losing ground daily; that all the good he was doing in my household and among the seven or eight thousand souls on the estate has come to an end. Yet are not these souls bought by the Blood of Our Lord as truly as are those in Bresse ? Are they not equally dear to Him ? I do not know how M. Vincent regards it, it is true; but to me these things seem so important that I shall spare no means to get him back again. He only desires the Glory of God, and I desire nothing that is against His Holy Will; but I do beseech Him to give him back to me. I pray the Holy Mother, and should pray even more vigorously, if my own personal need was not so intertwined with that of M. le G\u00e9n\u00e9ral, of my children, our household, and our tenants.”<\/p>\n The pendulum swings rapidly betwixt the mood of submission, which was an acquired virtue, and the impe\u00adrious wrath, which was the natural instinct of one of her class. Mme. de Gondi shows herself very human in this outpouring, and it is hard to understand how M. Vincent reconciled his conscience to a desertion that seems strangely unfeeling in its method. He had, without ques\u00adtion, received abundant kindness from his employers; they had made a visible effort to conform their way of life to his standards, and the extent of his influence could not have been hidden even from his own eyes. We cannot arrive at any explanation with complete certainty, for we have only outward facts by which to judge his conduct; but it is possible that M. Vincent reached the crisis of his life in that year of the first Mission, and that the stirring of his soul towards his real life-work brought him to that deep spiritual experience which is termed Conversion. If this was indeed the case, he was impelled to his sudden flight by a force that he could not resist; he had no choice. The Call of God had come to him to leave the familiar things among which he had prospered so notably and to sojourn among strangers, that he might test the standards of his life. It was imperative that he should obey, for his sense of vocation was synonymous with such obedience, and the great enterprise of the Missions \u2014 which he seemed to be evading \u2014 may have been dependent on the complete submission of his will.<\/p>\n Whether this is the true explanation of his action or not, his use of the years before and after the experiment at Ch\u00e2tillon seem to prove that his sensational escape was not the result of a sudden whim or a desire for novelty. The episode remains mysterious, but, con\u00adsidered in its practical aspect alone, it has immense im\u00adportance. It lasted less than six months, but it gave M. Vincent knowledge of the conditions of a provincial town which it would have been hard to acquire otherwise. It brought him into touch with a class of persons who were new to him, and\u2014as we shall see in connection with the foundation of the Confraternities of Charity\u2014it was while he was cur\u00e9 at Ch\u00e2tillon that he received a sugges\u00adtion from which sprung vast undertakings in the future.<\/p>\n The hope cherished by M. and Mme. de Gondi that de B\u00e9rulle’s authority would restore M. Vincent to them was a fallacious one. In fact, de B\u00e9rulle was the con\u00adfidante of M. Vincent’s intention, and procured for him the cure that made fulfilment of it possible ; and Ch\u00e2tillon was an admirable field for his energy. There were many priests attached to his church there, and they seem to have been lively persons addicted to field sports and the wearing of lay attire. His conception of the obligations of priesthood must have come as a surprise to them; but, if tradition may be trusted, his influence and example brought them back to duty. At this time only did M. Vincent win celebrity by effecting some of those sensational conversions of private individuals, which suggest Port Royal rather than S. Lazare. He found the society of a little town frivolous, undisciplined, and silly. He came with all the force of novelty as well as the fire of conviction, and some of those he touched were not again what they had been before he came to them. The popular fashion\u2014against which M. Olier at S. Sulpice afterwards made war\u2014of attending Mass in the most extravagant attire, and chattering behind a fluttering fan during its progress, was prevalent at Ch\u00e2tillon, but it was one for which M. Vincent had no tolerance. He tried the experiment of insisting upon outward seemliness. The power of the priest appeared almost to have lapsed through the habit of laxity in the confessional, but the inheritance of the faith, even in the most frivolous of Catholics, is an incalculable force. Where reverence for Divine worship was in question, M. Vincent became severe, and the result of his severity was a sensational reform, not only in the outward ap\u00adpearance, but in the private life of the chief ladies of the town. Philanthropy took the place of amusement, and some of them seem to have accomplished useful work, which was continued when the direct personal influence of M. Vincent had been withdrawn. There was the case, also, of a certain M. Beyrier, a young man in whose house M. Vincent hired a lodging. He was so celebrated for his riotous hospitality that the priest was urged not to countenance him ; but perhaps the fact that he had been brought up a Huguenot and had abjured those errors, even though he did not attain to the full practice of any other faith, gave him a special claim. M. Vincent re\u00admained under his roof in spite of the expostulations of the well-meaning, and in due course the young men of the town awoke to the unwelcome knowledge that the gayest of their playfellows was taking life seriously, and becoming a devout Catholic, as well as a good and sober citizen.<\/p>\n And, finally, to this short episode in M. Vincent’s career belongs the romantic story of the Comte de Rougemont the great seigneur of the district, who had been celebrated far and near for his wild Iife, and was one of the most notable of duellists. From the lurid and rather fantastic tradition regarding this gentleman’s youth, it would seem that he had not the least respect for any prin\u00adciple of mercy or of charity; as a type he presented as sharp a contrast to M. Vincent as is conceivable. That fact in itself may possibly have had an effect on him. The new parish priest, whose influence was stirring the town of Ch\u00e2tillon, was animated by aims and instincts that were altogether outside the experience of that mag\u00adnificent personage, Balthazar de Rougemont, Baron de Chandes. Out of curiosity, he joined the congregation that gathered to hear one of M. Vincent’s sermons; still, it may be, out of curiosity, he sought personal intercourse with the preacher, and the force of contrast between this man’s life and his own, the promise of magnificent useful\u00adness in the one and the certainty of evil effectiveness in the other, impressed and absorbed him. Little by little the man of peace conquered the duellist, the estates of Rougemont were sold\u2014with a recklessness characteristic of their owner\u2014and the proceeds were given for the support of works of charity; the festivities of the Ch\u00e2teau de Chandes where he made his abode ceased for ever, and the only guests were the needy. The most severe of the Hermits lof Port Royal could not have outdone him in rigour of renunciation. It is told of him\u2014and if the story is inaccurate in detail, it is true in spirit\u2014that when his conversion had gone far and he had learnt to deprive himself of all those desires and possessions which had been his by right, he made the discovery that his sword, the companion of his adventurous career, was very precious to him; and thereupon he drew it from its sheath and struck it against a rock until it fell in fragments. So great was the sacrifice that afterwards he had no difficulty in obeying any demand his conscience might make upon him; for him the joy of life was represented by his sword, and without it the only way was that Way of the Cross to which it seemed that Christ had summoned him. M. de Rougemont did not live to old age, but while life lasted he maintained the practices of asceticism and peni\u00adtence he had adopted.<\/p>\n Records of this kind are rare in biographies of Vincent de Paul because it was only at this stage that he had close connection with the class whose conversion appeals to the imagination. The poor and ordinary were the chosen objects of his spiritual energy, and these had no individual history. In his intercourse with the rich it was his part to guide those who were already the declared followers of Christ, rather than to retrieve those who for\u00adgot Him; and in his dealing with the priesthood it is likely that he was himself responsible for the careful con\u00adcealment of well-known names.<\/p>\n During these months of labour in new fields he seems to have shown no sign of compassion for the distress of Mme. de Gondi; but his silence did not check her in her efforts to win him back. She went to Paris and succeeded in enlisting M. de B\u00e9rulle in her cause. She devoted all her thoughts and energies to it, and all her projects of benefiting her tenants slipped into abeyance. Her state of mind is represented by the following letter which she wrote to M. Vincent :<\/p>\n ” I told you often of my fear of losing your help, and it was not a vain fear, because now I have indeed lost it; I could not bear the misery of it if it were not for a special grace of God of which I am unworthy. If it was only for a time I should not be so unhappy, but when I reflect on all my need of direction and advice, for dying and for living, my distress overwhelms me. Do you think either soul or body will be able to bear this trouble for very long ? I am not able to seek or to accept any help else\u00adwhere, for you know very well that it is only to very few that I can disclose the needs of my soul. M. de B\u00e9rulle has promised me to write to you, and I call on God and on the Blessed Virgin to restore you to us for the salvation not only of my family, but of so many others who need your charity. And once again I beseech you to extend this charity of yours towards us, for the sake of your love for Our Lord. I yield myself to His Will, even though I fear greatly that I shall not be able to continue to do so. If you still refuse me, I hold you responsible before God for all the evil that may come to me and for all the good I fail to do for lack of help. You expose me to the risk of being often deprived of the Sacraments because in my great distress there are so few who are able to help me. You know that M. le G\u00e9n\u00e9ral has just the same desire (with which God has mercifully inspired him). Do not forego the good that you might do in helping towards his conversion, for it might at some future time affect so many others. I know that my own life, being only an offence before God, there is no reason that it should not be endangered, but my soul needs preparation for death. Do you remember my terror in my last illness when I was in the country ? I am on the verge of even greater misery, and the dread of it alone does me so much harm that I fear\u2014unless something counterbalances it\u2014it may kill me.”<\/span>4<\/sup><\/a><\/span>\n There was no immediate result from this appeal, and it is extremely likely that it obtained no reply. M. Vincent held strongly to the view that no soul can depend on individual direction, that all help of this kind is fallacious unless it be recognized as derived from God and given or withheld according to His Will. It was on M. de B\u00e9rulle that Mme. de Gondi made an impression. We have no means of knowing the extent of his interference. In October M. Vincent began to show signs of wavering. He had worked hard, and would have been content to remain working hard in his retreat ; but probably, when the pressure of distractions that had preyed upon him was removed, he was able to see his life in truer proportion. As the weeks drew out and the appeals from those he had left behind grew more and more insistent, some mis\u00adgivings may have been mingled with his relief. He con\u00adsented to see M. de Fresne, secretary to M. de Gondi, and at his suggestion he went to Lyons to discuss his position with the Superior of the Oratory there. The hopes of Mme. de Gondi may well have risen at the first rumour that M. Vincent was ‘reconsidering his decision. The arguments for his return to her and to all the work she offered him were far more weighty than the claim of Ch\u00e2tillon on its new cur\u00e9. But the Superior at Lyons was prudent and discreet, and by his advice there was to be further time taken for reflection. As a result of their interview a letter was despatched informing M. de Gondi that before the year ended Vincent de Paul was coming to Paris to take counsel with certain devout persons there. The reply was prompt :<\/p>\n![\"sanders01\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/vincentians.com\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2014\/03\/sanders01.jpg?resize=609%2C1024\")
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