The life of those who dwell in the secret place of the Most High may be called a Hidden Life, because the animating principle, the vital or operative element, is not so much in itself as in another. It is a life grafted into another life. It is the life of the soul, incorporated into the life of Christ; and in such a way, that, while it has a distinct vitality, it has so very much in the sense, in which the branch of a tree may be said to have a distinct vitality from the root.

Thursday, April 4, 2024

Smallpox & Sorrow

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.




Attacked by the smallpox. Treatment experienced from her stepmother. Death of her youngest son. Her feelings.



The first thing [God] did was to smite her beauty with that dreadful scourge of the human race, the small-pox. The summer 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 philosophic mind of Jenner in the discovery of its wonderful preventive. 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 hand of the Lord was thus upon her, her friends, not excluding those in all probability who had endeavored to lead her into the follies of fashionable life, exhibited great emotion. They came around her bedside, and almost forgetting that her life was in danger, deplored in feeling language the mysterious and fatal attack, which was thus made upon charms which had been so much celebrated.

 Alluding to the temptations 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 shocking 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 so 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, indeed, as it appeared to them ; but far from being sad, as it appeared to me. As I lay in my bed, suffering the total deprivation 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 every thing, as from God's hand; and I did not hesitate 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 myself in it. I was no longer what I was once. It was then that I saw that my heavenly Father had not been unfaithful in his work, but had ordered the sacrifice in all its reality. Some persons, thinking to do me a favor in my supposed affliction, sent me a sort of pomatum, which they said would have the effect to fill up the hollows of the small-pox, and to restore my complexion. I had myself seen wonderful effects from it when tried upon others; and the first impulse of my mind was to test its merits in my own case. But God, jealous of his work, would not suffer it. The inward voice spoke. There was something in my heart, which said, If I would have had thee fair, I would have left thee as thou wert."

"Fearful of offending God by setting myself against the designs of his Providence, I was obliged to lay aside the remedies which were brought me. I was under the necessity of going into the open air, which made the hollows of my face worse. As soon as I was able, I did not hesitate to go into the streets and places where I had been accustomed to go previously, in order that my humiliation might triumph in the very places where my unholy pride had been exalted.''

"During these afflictions the trials which I had experienced in connection with my husband's family, continued. At the commencement of my sickness, I was so much neglected by my mother-in-law, that I was on the point of dying for want of succor. Such was the state of my husband's health at this time, that I was necessarily left, in a great degree, to her care. At the commencement of my attack I needed the immediate aid of a physician; but she would not allow any physician but her own to prescribe for me; and yet she did not send for him for some time, although he was within a day's journey of us. He came at last, when I had providentially received some assistance from another source, and when he could be of but little service to me. In this extremity I opened not my mouth to request any human succor. I looked for life or death from the hand of God, without testifying the least uneasiness at so strange a course of conduct. The peace I enjoyed within, on account of that perfect resignation in which God kept me by his grace, was so great, that it made me forget myself, in the midst of such violent maladies and pressing dangers."

"And if it was thus in my sickness, it could not well be expected that my step-mother would exhibit any more favorable disposition after my recovery. She did not cease at all in her unkind efforts to alienate my husband's affections from me. And now, as God had smitten and taken away whatever there was of beauty in my countenance, he seemed to be more susceptible than ever of any unfavorable impressions, which others might endeavor to cause against me. In consequence of this, the persons who spoke 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, O 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 happiness."

But the work of God was not yet accomplished. If he had smitten and demolished one dear idol, there were others which remained. God had 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 feelings and in deep sorrow. The same causes which operated 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. Perhaps he had naturally more favorable dispositions. Certain it is, that, in the favorable opening of his young affections and intellect, he filled the measure of a mother's fondness and hopes. Her heart was fixed upon him. But God, who knew on which side danger lay, took her Jacob, and left her Esau. 

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 me 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 haih taken away. Blessed be his name."

During these successive trials, she recognized 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 rigors of God. 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. 

— from The Life of Madame Guyon (1877), Volume 1,  Chapter 10.


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