portrait of Gaston Iean Baptiste de Renty 
Gaston jean baptist de Renty  
Seigr. de Ci●●● Baron de ●●nad●●s  
Mourut à Paris le 24 d'Avril del'An 1649. 〈◊〉 de sonàge.    

THE HOLY LIFE OF MON r. DE RENTY, A LATE NOBLEMAN OF FRANCE, And sometimes COUNCILLOR TO KING LEWIS the 13th.  
Written in French by John Baptist S. Jure.  
And Faithfully translated into English, By E. S. Gent.  
London, Printed for John Crook, at the Sign of the Ship in S. Paul's Churchyard, 1658.   

TO THE READER.  
Christian Reader:  
SUch nourishment as the reading of vain Romances, or the Lives of Secular-Love-Knights (though these only feigned) supply to the earthly principle in us, our carnal lusts and ambitions, set upon fading glories and beauties; the same do the Histories of Saints, and person; enamoured of heaven, administer to the other celestial principle in us, the H. Spirit, which (more or less) inhabits in every one, who is, more than in name, Christian: These books it is that set us all on fire, and suddenly transform us into the same holy inclinations we read in those Christian Hero's; so much would we love so much would we do, so much would we suffer; and if I may apply the Apostles words spoken of the Lord, unto his holy followers, We beholding, as in a glass, the glory of these Saints of the Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirits of the Lord; whilst both the sweet consolations which such have found in God's service (sweeter than honey, Psal. 19) allure us to a virtuous life; and their treading the way before us in the observance of the most difficult precepts of the Gospel, and in the enduring all the hardship (as our inexperience accounts it) of the Christian warfare, both shows us it faifible what God commands and invites us to follow their conquering travels. Yet notwithstanding the great effects such writings frequently produce, many aspersions and exceptions intervene, which to many Readers render them fruitless; whilst either we question the truth of the relation (as when the Historian, living some ages perhaps after such holy men, and no eye-witnesses of their actions, is supposed to compose his relations (much what) out of some uncertain traditions and hearsays; or being contemporary with them, yet such pieces having run thorough the hands of some ages not so pure, are imagined to be corrupted, and many falsities interposed and mingled with truth) Or, allowing the truth thereof, yet, they being the Histories of such as lived long ago, in times of a quite different complexion, and in some (as we fancy) more holy age (when the first fruits of God's spirit in the early times of the Gospel, were more vigorous, and his favours in cherishing the infancy of Christianity more eminent, and men's piety, by mutual examples, more inflamed, we think them no pattern for us, born in the worst and profanest times: Or yet further, if they be modern histories of our own days, yet they being ordinarily narrations of persons first cloistered and sequestered from the negotiations of secular affairs, or also of such, whom this world forsaken, before they applied themselves so intensively to the other, in their being born of mean parent age, or to small, ●r no temporal fortunes, we think them no fit pattern, at least, for our condition of life, when born to the management of a fair estate, the support of a noble family, and engaged, perhaps also, in the duties of a conjugal life.  
For these causes (dear Reader) I have employed some spare hours to present thee with the most pious and exemplary life of one who was not retired or cloistered person, but who practised the rules of perfection in a secular and married condition, with the ordinary worldly impediments of wife, children, and estate, dependent on his care, remaining all his days surrounded with the ordinary temptations that such a life affords, without being engaged therewith; walking in the midst of these flames, which set on fire so many hearts, without being singed at all, or touched by them; and holding this pitch, that cleaves so fast to others fingers, in his hands, without being defiled: one who abandoned secular inveiglements, not in the ordinary and easier way, by removing his person from them, but only by removing them from his thoughts: of whom I may say, as the Apostle of himself (the words a little inverted) That he was possessing much, and yet as having nothing; well known, and yet as unknown; not using this world and yet as using it; as living in the world, and yet dying to it; lastly, one who had no advantage for this, of any felicity of times beyond ourselves, who though for eminency of Christian graces and communication of divine favours, he may seem to contend with the ancient Saints, yet lived but the other day, and died not nine years ago, April 24. 1649. lived in a neighbour Country France; & spent a good part of his life in the chief City thereof, Paris, and there no obscure person, but by his birth of a very noble family (see cap. 1.) & in it the heir to a flourishing estate; and besides this, honoured with the dignity of being one of the King's privy Council; so that all his carriage and actions are easily discoverable, if any thing related here should be either feigned or amplified, and the penman thereof a religious man of note, is there yet living to bear the shame of publishing such lies, who divulged within some years after his death, this copy of his life, in the same place where he acted it.  
As for his Letters which the Author hath often inserted here, to discover to the world the interior of his soul (which cannot be known to others, but only from ourselves) know, that in most of these his humility (and that upon command) disclosed such things only to his Confessor, and that he only privately whispered in his ear, what is now divulged abroad, that he relates to his spiritual Father with much transport and ravishment (as who can possess such a treasure, and say nothing of it) the great power of the present Grace of God in him, much after the same manner, and with the same modesty, as one recovered of a great sickness, (for the state of Sin is a great Disease) rejoicingly would tell his Physician of the present good Habit, and Temper, and Health, of his body: That his otherwares much evidenced Sanctity, will sufficiently persuade his veracity in these relations.  
Lastly, That they are not his Letters entire, but only some pieces extracted out of them, as best suiting to the Authors purpose: His Letters, doubtless, containing also in them the Confessions of his Sins (which in his Confessors absence, he was necessitated to present for some time only by Letter) and many Complaints [of his Infirmities and Defects, with consults for a remedy thereof. But it became not the secrecy of a Confessor, nor the civility of a Friend, to discover all these; ne'er yet the Readers benefit, to know them: Since the Perfections of our Brethren, set before us, do nourish our Humility, suppress our Pride, and inviteour Imitation: But their faults divulged, advance our Self-Conceit, and breed Security: Though for this Honourable Person, you may presume no great faults or blemishes could dwell with so great Mortifications, so many good Works, such excessive Devotions, and his Exterior Holy Practices, do sufficiently testify a great purity of mind.  
Amongst which Practices, though perhaps some things may occur, that to some Readers may give offence (according to men's several Principles and Persuasion in Religion) yet, I thought it better (doing the business only of a Translator) to let them alone; than, by cutting them out, both to give occasion to those who allow such things, to blame the omission; and to those who disallow such things, to suspect them to be more, or of worse consequence, than they are: Especially, when these may serve to provoke you, whoever think yourselves more illuminated, to a Pious jealousy: Whilst you consider, that if he arrived to so high Christian Graces and Perfection, supposed by you to be darkened with some Errors, how much you ought sooner to attain the same, as enjoying more truth; and so proceed to employ yourself, not in scanning and disputing the things here disliked, but in imitating those approved: Lest perhaps Error be said to bring forth more Piety than Truth; and whilst you say you see, your Sin remain to you more unexcusable.   

THE AUTHORS ADVERTISEMENT TO THE READER.  
MY dear Reader, I am in a word or two to give you notice of three things, concerning the Contents of this Book. The first is, that whereas truth is the principal part of History, you may be confident that it is here exactly observed; because, whatsoever you shall find here, is almost all of it extracted out of the Originals, and the rest out of Authentic Copies there, where things were attested by such as were eye-witnesses, and persons beyond exception.  
The second is, that though we often make use of Monsieur de Renty his own Letters, as witnesses of what he was, yet ought ye not at all therefore to suspect the truth of what they relate: Because first, his eminent virtue hath rendered him most creditable in every thing he said, though it were of himself; besides, these his Letters are for the most part directed to his spiritual Guide, to whom he did with much confidence unbosom the things belonging to his conscience, and gave account, as he was obliged, of each thing that passed in the interior of his soul: And God, who best knows to choose the fittest means to bring his ends about, having designed the publishing of this life, whereby to leave to all faithful men a pattern of perfect a Christian, did so dispose of things, that this his Director dwelling for several years out of Paris, he was obliged to acquaint him by Letters with his interior dispositions, they becoming, by this means, much more perfectly discovered unto us, than any otherway they could. And lastly, we are indeed uncapable of knowing any thing of a man's interior, but by his own declaration; and that which we understandin Saints of this nature (which yet makes up the principal of their sanctity) comes by no other way than their discovering and opening it to some one, and he afterwards to the public: And therefore either Monsieur de Renty himself must have manifested the secrets of his heart, and revealed what was hidden in his soul, or he must have remained for ever locked up and unknown to us; although assuredly, neither thus hath all of him been by himself manifested or related.  
The third thing is, that being willing to obey the decree of our holy Father Urban the 8. dated the 1● of March, 1625. and that other, in explanation of the former, dated June 5. 1631. where it is ordered, that those that publish the lives of any person of great virtue, do declare and make protestations upon several heads. I therefore protest, that my intent and design in setting forth this work is, that the matter thereof should be no otherwise understood, than as grounded upon the testimony and faith of men, and not upon the Authority of H. Church; and that, by the name of Saint, which I several times attribute to Monsieur Renty, I mean only, that he was endued with virtue far exceeding the common sort, and do use this word only in that sense that S. Paul gives it to all the faithful, and not to put him in the number of Saints canonised, which to do, belongs only to the Holy Sea.   

A TABLE OF THE CHAPTERS AND SECTIONS.  

PART. I.  

CHAP. 1. HIs Birth, Infancy, and youth, page 1.  
Chap. 2. His marriage and course of life to the age of 27 years, page 10  
Chap. 3. His entire change and call to high perfection, page 17  
Chap. 4. His virtues in general, page 24  
Chap. 5. The source from whence those virtues flowed. page 30    

PART. II.  

Chap. 1. HIs Penances and Austerities, 37  
Chap. 2. His Poverty of spirit, 47 

Sect. 1. His outward Poverty. 48    
Chap. 3. His Humility, 54 

Sect. 1. His Humility of heart, 58  
Sect. 2. The pursuit of his Humility of heart, 67  
Sect. 3. His Humility in his words, 77  
Sect. 4. His Humility in his actions, 75  
Sect. 5. His love of a private and retired Life, 84    
Chap. 4. The disesteem he made of the world. 88  
Chap. 5. His partience, 94 

Sect. 1. A pursuit of the same subject, 100  
Sect. 2. His Domestic crosses, 107    
Chap. 6. His Mortification, 112    

PART. III.  

Chap. 1. HIs application to our Saviour Jesus Christ in regard of his neighbour, 121  
Chap. 2. His Charity to his Neighbours in general, 126 

Sect. 1. His charity to the poor, 133  
Sect. 2. His charity to poor sick men, 140  
Sect. 3. More concerning the same charity and the success thereof, 145  
Sect. 4. His zeal for the salvation of his neighbour, 150  
Sect. 5. More of the same subject, 154  
Sect. 6. A continuation of the same subject, 167  
Sect. 7. Certain other qualities of his zeal, 173  
Sect. 8. Two other qualities of his zeal, 179  
Sect. 9 The success which God gave to his zeal, 186  
Sect. 10. His grace in assisting particularly certain choice souls, 193  
Sect. 11. His great skill in Interior matters of the soul, 199    
Chap. 2. His outward behaviour and conversation, 209  
Chap. 3. The conduct of his business, 215  
Chap. 4. The excellent use he made of all things, and the application he made to the Infancy of our Saviour for that purpose, 228 

Sect. 1. A pursuit of the same subject, 235      

PART. iv  

Chap. 1. HIs Interior and his application to the Sacred Trinity, 244  
Chap. 2. His Faith, 250  
Chap. 3. His Hope, 255  
Chap. 4. His Love to God, 259  
Chap. 5. His great reverence and fear of God, which wrought in him a wonderful purity of Conscience, 271  
Chap. 6. His great reverence to Holy things, 276  
Chap. 7. His Devotion to the Holy Sacrament, 267  
Chap. 8. His Prayer and Contemplation, 292  
Chap. 9 The state of his Mystical Death and Annihilation, 312 

Sect. 1. More of the same subject. 317  
Sect. 2. Continuation of the same subject, 328    
Chap. 10. Of his Corporal Death, 335  
The Conclusion of the Work, how we ought to read the Lives of Saints, 346     

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THE HOLY LIFE OF Monr De RENTY, etc.  

PART. I.  

CHAP. 1. Of his Birth, Infancy and Youth.  
SO great and glorious were the virtues and good deeds of the late deceased Monr de Renty, that I can begin my discourse no otherwise than by ingenuously confessing my disabillity to set them out as they deserve; not even so much of them as appeared outwardly to the eyes of men, and much lefs the inward Treasure that lay hid in his Soul, though that be the principal; Yet notwithstanding undertake I must to write something thereof, as not able to deny the requests of many persons of Piety and quality, who well knowing that I had enjoyed the happiness of his acquaintance in a singular manner, for divers years together, even when he was in the very height of the glory of his Virtues; and that so great a Treasure, so much concerning the glory of God and the publicue good (as this excellent and perfect Christian life of his was) ought by no means to be buried in Oblivion, did judge me in a sort obliged to prevent so great a damage.  
Come we therefore to the business, for the greater Glory of God, who is admirable in his Saints, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, who replenished this rare man, with his Graces, and abundant communication of his Spirit; and let us do it in the strength of that Divine assistance, which as I stand in very great need of, so I humbly beg it with all my soul.  
Monsieur de Renty draws his Original from one of the most Noble Houses of Artois, which is that of R●nty, famous for its Antiquity, for its great Alliances (and in particular, to the House of Crowy, whence came the Dukes of Arscot, and Princes of S●may) for the Honourable Employment of its Ancestors, and their Noble Acts in Arms and Battles; and above all, for its Piety, a great testimony whereof was left in the year, 1570. by Wambert, called the good Count of Renty, and Hamburg his Lady, who were not contented only to found and richly endow within their Territories, an Abbey, under the name and protection of St. Denis (which had the blessing to have a Saint for Abbot; to wit, St: Bertulphe) but went on, increasing more and more (like the Morning light) in virtue and good works, and built besides that, three other Churches, one dedicated to St: Peter, another to St. Martin, and the third to St. Wast.  
Monsieur Renty, was the only Son of Charles de Renty, and Magdalen of Pastoureau, who also descended by her Mother from the same House of Renty. He was born at Beny in low Normandy, in the Diocese of Bajeaux, in the year of Grace, 16●● having the Poor to present him at the Fon●, God so ordering it by a particular Providence, that the Poor should be Godfathers to him, who afterwards during his life, should be a Solicitor, Protector, and Father of the Poor. He was at the Font named Gaston, and at Confirmation, John Baptist, being brought up where he was born, till he was between six or seven years of age, and then by the Lady his Mother, was he brought to Paris, and lived there with her about two years, till he was put into the College of Navarre, and from thence sent to Caen, to the College of the Jesuit Fathers, having with him for his conduct, a Tutor, being a Churchman, and besides him a Governor, who unhappily proved an Huguenote, and might in ●he sequel, have been notably prejudicial to him in corrupting his faith and manners. But God out of his singular and paternal care of him, as intending to make him one day a great instrument of his glory, and of the salvation of many souls, preserved him from the pernicious intents and endeavours of that dangerous man, and became himself his Governor, which occasioned him since then to say, that God from his infancy had been most gratio ● to him, and (as David saith of himself) had been hi● keeper from his mother's womb.  
As he had naturally a very good wit, piercing reach, and great judgement, so was he very notable and famous for his progress in his studies; from the which, notwithstanding he was taken at the age of seventeen, and put into an Academy (as they call their Schools of Gentile Exercises) at Paris; where he shown himself most dextrous and accomplished in all the Exercises there taught: but that which most of all pleased, and, as I may so say, charmed him, was the Mathematics, which he applied himself to with such diligence, that he deprived himself of all sorts of divertisemenis (which youth is given to) and therein attained to such proficiency, that he understood them perfectly, and composed therein some Books.  
But the time being now come, when God was minded to go closer to the work he had in hand, and to dispose this choice soul to the execution of those things, which he was designed for, it pleased him so to order it, that a Stationer, to whom Monsieur the Renty often repaired to buy such Books as he stood in need of (for satisfying the curiosity and ardent desire he had of knowledge in all Sciences, suitable to his condition) did one day present to him, the famous little Book of the Imitation of Christ, and desired him to read it; but he having as then, his mind taken up with other notions, made no account of it for that time. The Stationer having brought him another day some Books that he had need of, presented the same again to him, and with some earnestness, besought him to be pleased to read it: thereupon he yielded, and read it, and was thereby so enlightened and touched (as before him, a great multitude of persons of all sorts had been) that entertaining now no other thoughts or affections, he resolved to mind seriously his salvation, and give himself up to God; so that amongst the great fruits and signal victories obtained by that book, we may well reckon for one, this work of grace and change, wrought upon Monsieur de Renty, who also from that time forward, had that Book in so great love and esteem, that he always carried it about him, and made use thereof on all occasions.  
The gracious effect which the reading of this Book wrought in his soul, was so great, that it bread and enkindled in his heart, the thought and desire to quit the world, to consecrate himself entirely to the service of God, and to make himself a Carthusian, although he could not but see himself, to be an only Son, the Heir of a great Estate, and endowed with qualities and perfections, that did open to him a way to the splendours of the world: And as he was naturally resolute, firm, and constant, succoured by the Divine affistance (to whose will and pleasure, he gave up himself as an absolute Sacrifice) after he had duly examined and ordered his design, he put himself upon the execution, which passed in this manner:  
Being one day upon Nostre-Dame Bridge, with the Lady his Mother, he desired leave to go forth of the Coach, to buy something, which being granted, he stole presently out of her sight, and slipping with cunning and diligence from street to street, he gets out of Paris afoot, in the month of December, the year, 1630. and takes the way to our Lady of Ardilliers; and a few days after this escape, advertised his Father thereof by this following Letter:  
SIR,  
I Nothing doubt, but this alteration will bring with it some affliction to you; the first motions of Passion being not in the power of men, and indeed nature also inclining us, to bemoan the loss of what she loves: But since that there is something of God in this business, I most humbly beseech you to lay aside all passion out of your soul, and consider that in it which is on God's part. Thus it is, Sir, that after I had combated two years with myself, and resisted all the enspirations that God had given me during that time, I was at last constrained to break off so long a delay in the quitting of the world avowing, that I have not strength enough to undertake the working out my salvation, in a place, where is practised the contrary to what I would effect: this is too perilous a matter for afceble person, that hath a desire to march on sure ground; and therefore I have judged, that it would be more to the purpose, to strangle the evil in the birth, than to stay till it become greater and I not able afterwards to master it: For so unlike are the maxims of the world, to those of Jesus Christ, that I cannot at all believe, a soul that fears to offend him, can live long in it, and especially at the Court; but that she shall soon be forced to abandon it, when she shall see herself obliged to comply with the corruptions of the time; which would not beseem me now to talk of, since for a good while ago, my design hath been, rather to hid and bury in oblivion its fooleries, than to recall them into my memory. I am minded therefore to unwind myself out of this Labyrinth, although I know it will be said, that I might well enough enjoy the world, and and yet keep myself frow its enormities. I confess it, but let a man consider what comes after, a man must resolve then to be the table talk of the Rabble of our Masters of the Mode, that will give out, that one's a Bigot Pecisian, a sour Fellow, not fit for discourse and company, a very burden to the world, with a thousand such like say, whereof I have had already but too much experience. In effect, a pleasant thing it would be to see a young man of my inclinations enter the Court, and there act the Reformado, should you, Sir, but see it, would not you yourself, in good truth, be the first to laugh at me for my labour.  
I therefore humbly beseech you, to consider what a grief it would be to a Father, to see his Son in the Court and great Meetings, there only to be contemned, and set at nought: not but that for all this, a good Conscience counts it a great honour to suffer all these things for God's sake: but I believe it will make more for your contentment, that I retire myself; for at the Court a man must live as at the Court; and being not able to serve two Masters, I conclude with the Gospel, that he that serveth God, aught to follow and attend on God.  
I have always seen this practised in the world that when one hath a quarrel with another, that man's friend is so far from offering his service to his adversary, that he even shuns his company and conversation; in like manner, God and the world being in terms of hostility, I should believe it a great offence, not to do that for God, which I would be sure to do for a friend, which is but a mortal man: And seeing when we love a thing, we go not about to search out just the contrary to it; so the means to avoid sin, is to fly the occasions of it; and shall it be said, that for so wretched a thing as to make a little show, and to be talked of, a man should endanger the loss of his soul? No, no, and they that think so now, will be of another mind, when they must give an account to God, for what is past; than it will be, that they will know what it is to live well or ill, but than it will be too late; and therefore leaving the dead, to bury their dead, according to the small illuminations we have, let us labour to reform our life, and to do something for the love of God, who hath told us so expressly, and so often, that we must deny ourselves, for sake all and follow him: which thing, I believe, you would not be willing to gainsay.  
You are the cause of my demurring and retardment, and since the time of my daily praying for this retirement, I have had many thoughts of your affliction, which yet for all that, will soon be mitigated, when you shall consider, that God doth all for the b●st, and that it may be, he hath sent you this tribulation to produce out of it some good effects.  
I leave this to his secret dispensations, and beseech you to believe, that I am able to serve you, at least, as much in this new Profession, as in that which you had designed me to, God give me the grace to do it. I acquaint you not yet with the place where I am, fearing least now at first, your passion should cause you to come hither, but within a short time, when I shall know the state of things a little better, I will not fail to g●ve you notice. In the mean while, I shall uncessantly pray him, whom I am resolved to serve, to abide with you, and make you know, how passionately I am, Sir,  
Your most humble Son, and most obedient Servant. Gaston de Renty.  
Thus you have the Letter he sent to his Father, wherein we may read his Spirit, his Devotion, and the pure and solid Illuminations, that already shone in his Understanding.  
His Father extremely afflicted at his absence, sends abroad every way to seek him; and God, who gave him this desire, though not to take effect, would so have it, that he was found at Amboise, although in disguise, having changed a Gold-laced Suit, into a poor man's habit. He was brought back thence to his Father at Paris, who thought it not amiss, to carry him along with him to his Castle or Manor House of Beny, where he was put upon exercises suitable to his birth, wherein he gave proof of so much virtue, so much wisdom, and good conduct, that (although but nineteen year old) he was chosen by the Ballywick of Vire, to be a Member of the States of Normandy, then assembled at Rouen, (Monsieur de Languevill being Precedent) where he spoke so pertinently and prudently to business, that the three Estates remained not only satisfied therewith, but even also astonished.  
After these exercises of Nobility, he employed himself in the rebuilding of the Church of Beny, in such sort as we see it at this day; and being far from such divertisements as are used by Nobles of his age and condition, he risen ordinarily at four a clock, and then went softly (without waking the Groom of his Chamber) into his Closet, to say his prayers; and from thence at five a clock to the Church, and to his building, whence he returned not till about seven or eight a clock at night, causing some meat to be brought him thither, and continually busied with the workmen. We cannot doubt, but that such an act of a person of his quality and age, and with such fervour, was most acceptable to God, and acquired many great graces; seeing (in order to such) one heroic action doth more prepare a soul, and render it more capable, than a great number of small and common ones.   

CHAP. 2. His Marriage, and course of life, to the age of 27 years.  
ALthough the estate of a Religious Life (as faith teacheth, and the Church hath defined) is much more perfect than that of Marriage; yet as the perfection of a man, consists not in the estate he hath chosen, but in doing precisely and eminently the Divine will, in what condition soever his providence hath placed him: God, that he might not altogether deprive Monsieur de Renty of the glory and merit of a Religious Life, inspired him with the will, design and endeavours thereto; but yet having resolved to propound him to all married persons within the Church, as a perfect and complete pattern of all virtues, needful to the estate of Wedlock, it pleased him to call him to that condition, of which, he said, he had so much of assurance, that he nothing doubted thereof.  
At the age of 22 years, he espoused Elizabeth de Balsac of the house of Entragues, daughter of Monr de Dunes' Count of Gravilie, a Lady of great virtue, whose modesty hinders me to speak more of her, and will hinder me through the whole course of this History, from giving her, before men, part of that glory, which she hath deserved in many of the good works of her husband, hereby reserving for her, the greater glorybefore God.  
Such Marriages as are made in the fear of God, and reverence of the Sacrament, are always watered from Heaven with Spiritual Benedictions, and usually with Temporal also; among which as children are esteemed the principal, so was their marriage blessed with five, of which four that remain alive (two Sons, and two Daughters) make us hope that they will show themselves according to their capacities, worthy Inheritors, much more of the virtues of their Father, than of his wealth and possessions.  
In this estate he lived, till the 27th year of his age, with the modesty, wisdom and conduct, found in virtuous persons of his quality and condition of life, employing himself in pious and laudable exercises, and making of visits abroad, so far as Civility and Decorum required of him; wherein, his great prudence, amiable sweetness, rare modesty, mingled with well-besitting gayery and lightsomeness, with gentile and very witty passages of discourse, rendered him very acceptable, yea, and made him to be looked upon, loved, and caressed by the lare King Lewis the just, even to the raising up against him the envy of some, who, after the narrowly prying into him, could find nothing to object, save only that he was young. But he ever preferred before all things, the glory of God, and his own salvation, avoiding with great care, all occasions of sin, and heedfully shunning those Rocks, whereon those of his condition and age do usually split and miscarry, saying the office of our Lady, and sometimes that of the Dead, with other Vocal Prayers, and performing all other things requisite for his Salvation, which is indeed the business, for which God made us, and keeps us here on earth, and notwithstanding all this, which the greatest part of men, have lest in their thoughts.  
As by his birth, he was to wear a Sword; so now (that Nobles and Gentlemen may behold him as a mirror for their Instruction) must we draw him from home, and the exercises of Peace, and look upon him in Arms; and in that War; which (notwithstanding all our prayers for divers years) yet still continues, seeing we daily stir up and blow this fire with our Transgressions.  
And first of all for his skill: Monsieur de Renty understood perfectly all the parts and functions of the Discipline of War, by reason of his good wit, and particular study therein, which made him admired in the Counsels of War, and other Meetings, and that by the most ancient and experienced Captains, among whom was the Duke of Weymar, who was astonished, that so young a man, with so little experience (as his age could allow him) should be able to speak so knowing in things of such difficulty.  
For his Conduct: as God had given him naturally great prudence, and (notwithstanding all his activeness) a well settled judgement, so he exercised it very well, foreseeing and providing for such things as need required. In the War of Lorraine, commanding a party of Horse, of about Sixscore, of whom more than sixty were men of good birth, they arrived two hours within night at a Village, where they found the houses all empty; so that being forced to quarrer each one as he could find, Monsieur de Renty met happily by a singular providence of God over him, in his quarters, a poor old Woman, the only creature left in all the Village, as not able to fly away with the rest, being ready to die with hunger and sickness; he comforted this poor woman, and assisted her in this extremity both for soul and body; insomuch, that being sensible of her obligations to him, she enquired of him, whether he was of the Troops of the King, or of the Duke of Lorrains: To whom he, out of prudence, gave not a direct answer; but asked her, why she made that question? Because, saith she, if you be of the King's party, you must be gone presently, because the Cravats would come thither infallibly in few hours space, and cut them all in pieces: This advice he communicated to the rest of the Commanders with him, who all of them judged it fitting to horse suddenly, and be gone to the body of their Army. The thing proved very true, for three hours after they were gone, the Enemy came on purpose to charge them, which they might have done, without suffering one to escape, by reason of their great number, the time favourable, and themselves fresh, setting upon men harassed out, and tired with the pains of a long march. Thus God watcheth over them that fear him, and for their sakes, many others also: This lodging might have fallen to the lot of some one less deserving such a favour from God, and that would not have made use of it so prudently.  
For execution of business, he was not at all defective therein, having a body strong and robust, a spirit active, generous, and resolute, not fearing any danger.  
But for an Additament hereto, as it were the soul to the body, and light to beauty, we find in him the fear of God, Piety, and Uprightness, without which Nobility hath but a false glister, power is destructive, and War brings with it mischiefs horrible; and without number. Monsieur de Renty all the time of his being in the Armies, performed constantly his Prayers, and other Exercises of Devotion, when he came to his quarters, if there were a Church there: His first care was to visit it, and to do his devoir to our Lord; if there were any Religious House, he took up there his lodging, and (that he might not incommode them) for himself alone, when the Army stayed any time in a place, while many, and much elder than he, past away their time in Gaming, Drinking, Rybaldrie, Swearing, and other Disorders, he contained himself within the bounds of his usual wisdom, avoiding all these base and vicious actions, and entertaining himself in Exercises of Virtue and Honour.  
In every place where he had any power, he wholly employed it to keep off disorders: He forbade peremptorily his men the treating ill of their Hosts that entertained them, or giving them occasion of complaint; and he never took horse, but he made come before him, them with whom he quartered, to tell him themselves, if any had done them wrong; and if he found that any of his, had offended, he forthwith saw it remedied, and did them right. One day being mounted, and ready to departed, having made this enquiry of his Hostess, and she complaining, that one of his Servants had stolen a shirt, he caused them all forthwith to come before her, that she might find out the Thief; which being done, and one of them confessing, that he had it upon his back, he incontinently ordered, that he should be stripped of it before them all, and it restored to the woman, notwithstanding many persons of quality, thought it very harsh, and opposed the business: But he always kept himself firm to Justice, and said, he would by no means endure any Thiefs. If all that have commands, dealt in this sort, as they ought, people would not stand so much in dread of their Soldiers, as of the most cruel of Enemies; and God, who is the Lord of Hosts, would afford more blessing and success to their Arms.  
But as the passage most dangerous to Nobility of making Shipwreck of their Salvation, is falling out, and Duels, so God was pleased that his Servant should meet with this perilous occasion, to teach all Gentlemen, and those that wear a Sword, how they ought to behave themselves therein. Being in the Army, he he had a falling out with a punctilious Gentleman, which coming to the knowledge of the Chief Officers, he made it appear, that this Gentleman had no reason at all to be aggrieved at him; which thing they judged also to be very true: But the other party, not acquiescing in this determination, appealed ●o that judgement, which according to the unhappy Maxim of the World, his Sword, could yield him, and challenged Monsieur de Renty to Duel: who returned this answer to him that brought the challenge, that the Gentleman was in the wrong, and that he had given all satisfaction which in Justice he could desire: But this not contenting this untoward spirit, he persisted in his perilous design, to make him meet with his sword; to which, finding himself much pressed, he made an answer, which is so much the more considerable, in that he was so young, and had not as yet a reputation, but was to get it by Arms: The answer was this, that he was resolved not to do it, since God and the King had for bidden; otherwise, he would have him know, that all his satisfactions he had endeavoured to give him, came from no fear of him, but of God, and of his displeasure; and that he would go every day after his wont manner, whither the necessity of his affairs called him; and that if he did assault him, he would make him repent it. This quarrelsome man, seeing he could not provoke him to an open Duel, found one day the means to meet him, and so to make him draw his Sword, where, by the just judgement of God, this other came very ill off; for he and his second being hurt, and disarmed, got nothing for their rashness, but shame and sorrow? But then this true Christian Gentleman, instead of doing them more harm (as he might) led them to his Tent, caused Wine to be given them, their wounds to be dressed, and their Swords to be restored them. And joining to Charity and Generosity, both Humility and Modesty, as his greatest ornaments, he kept the thing ever after in secret, never opening his mouth concerning it to any, as some would have done (out of vainglory) and, which is more to be wondered at, he never afterwards spoke word thereof to his man, who was present, and served him for a second in this Assault; to whom also before the deed, when he see himself forced to a defence, he gave charge by no means to kill.  
This was not the only difference, but he had others also, with some of the Neighbours, or at least good cause to complain of them; to which business, he brought all that Prudence, Patience, and Charity could contribute, and always came off most happily; and he was wont to say to his Domestics, concerning his own differences, or theirs, that there was more of courage and generosity to bear any injury for the love of God, than to requite it with another; and to suffer, than to revenge, because the thing was far more difficult; that Bulls themselves had courage enough, but that it was a brutish courage; whereas that of ours, should be reasonable and Christian.   

CHAP. 3. His entire change and call to a high Perfection.  
MOnsieur de Renty having lived to the age of 27 years, it pleased God to touch him now more closely; to enlighten him more clearly, and to call him to that high Perfection, whereunto, by the faithful co-operation which he yielded to this call, we have seen him to arrive; that like a great Torch or Luminary, he hath spread his beams far and wide, to Paris, and in all places where he hath been. This came to pass at a Mission made by the Fathers of the Oratory, some six or seven Leagues from Paris, whither he went on foot, and where he made a general Confession, with all the care, that those take, who desire to do it exactly. And so great graces did he receive in this new call of his, that he marked this time, as the beginning of his entire Conversion to God, and perfect Consecration to his Service.  
In pursuit of this change, as he knew, that what good desire soever one hath to advance towards Perfection, the way that leads thither was hard and full of dangers; and therefore not to stray out of the way, and be lost, of necessity one must have a good guide: so God out of his singular Providence, for his Sanctification, provided him one, and such a one indeed, as his need required; and that was the Reverend Father de Condrien, General of the Oratory, a Personage of profound Science, of great Piety, and of high capacity for matters Interior, who had the conduct of him for some twelve years' space (to wit, as long as this Father lived) and that with great care, and affection extraordinary, as so excellent a subject deserved; who made, by his means, such a notable progress, that it caused him to say to a certain person, that Monsieur de Renty would one day be a great Saint.  
The way he took, in effect was this following; not to speak of his Penances and Austerities (which are the first combats of a person well converted, and called to great matters, of which we shall treat hereafter) he withdrew himself altogether from the Court; he bade adieu to all employments of Vanity and Ambition, to be taken up in those entirely, which might glorify God, and help his Neighbour, he renounced all visits of pure compliment, and unprofitable: He set his mind to the exercise of Prayer, and therefore said every day the Great Office, rising even in the night to say Matins, and after, made an hour of Meditation; insomuch that he continued every night two or three hours in prayer, and that in the greatest rigour of winter: Every day he made two examen of his conscience, with an exact search into his smallest faults; one in the morning before dinner, and the other at evening. He confessed twice a week, and communicated three or four times: He went one day in a week to visit and instruct the poor sick people of the great Hospital de Dieu. Another day, those of his own Parish; and a third, the Prisoners; and, in the rest, he used to meet at Assemblies of Piety.  
But in regard he had more care and zeal for his Children and Domestics (as he was obliged) and well knew to distniguish Commands from Counsels, and Obligations from Voluntary Devotions, he ordered, that every evening, by the sound of a bell, they should be assembled, to make together their Examen, to say the Litanies of our Lady, and other Prayers: Every Saturday he made them, in presence of his Lady, a Discourse upon the Gospel of the Sunday following, to imprint in them the Principles and Instructions of matters of their Salvation, from which, they reaped much edification and profit.  
But that which was highly exemplary, was the order he kept in his journeys; which was thus, There was as much regularity therein, as in a well reform Religious House: In the morning, before setting out, they heard Mass; as soon as in Coach, and beginning to go, the first thing done, was the saying the Itinerarium, which he never omitted, how short soever the journey was he made; next, was the singing of the Litanies of our Lord, than followed some Meditation; after that he said a part of the Divine Office, which being done; he entertained the company with some good discourse, and such as raised them up sweetly to God: Beholding the spacious extent of the Country, he would speak of the immensity of God; upon the presenting of any beautiful object to their eyes, as any Summer-house for delight, any Meadow enamelled with flowers, any River winding pleasantly about the land, he would discourse of the Beauty of God, or of Paradise, forming such acts of virtue upon it, as touched the very heart; approaching near to the place where they were to dine, he made the Examen, and being come thither (as also where he was to lodge at night) as soon as out of Coach, and before he entered the Inn, would he go to the Church, where if the door was shut, and no man found to open it, he kneeled down at the door, to render his devoir to the holy Sacrament; afterward, he enquired if there were any Hospital in the place, to the end he might go thither, and exercise his Charity.  
Being in his Irin, the first thing of all he did in his chamber, was to cast himself on his knees, and to worship God, to pray with great affection for all persons that entered that place, and for pardon of all disorders that had been there committed: When he saw any thing written upon the walls or chimney, that offended modesty, he defaced it, and in place thereof, writ words of Instruction in Piety, and the way to Happiness, and endeavoured always before departure, to give some good advice to the servants of the house, and to such poor of the place as he could meet with, that so by the example of our Lord, he might not pass through any place, without doing some good in it.  
After dinner, when up in Coach again, he made some recollection, and applied himself to his Interior, for some little time; then entertained some recreation, which was grave and modest; afterward, with the company, sang the Vespers; which done, he wished them to refresh themselves a little, and use some innocent divertisement, in which, to render it Christian and Holy, he interwove some touches of Piety: Often he caused them to sing with him the Articles of our belief in French; which to that end, he had caused to be set in Music: About four a clock, they sung the Compline, afterward he made by himself some mental Prayer, and being come to his Inn, his Exercises were the same with those of the morning; and this was the rule he observed in his journey. If that saying of the Jews be true, that a may man be known, in sickness, at the table, in play, and in a journey, we may easily judge by what hath been said already, how much must needs be the virtue of this great servant of God.  
As the end of Marriage is to have children, and of Christian Marriage to render them virtuous, in order to Eternal Happiness; so he took very great care, both by himself and others, to make his children such; and for that end, to engrave deeply in them the fear of God, to disaffect them from the esteem of the world, to let them know, that the Maxims of it are much contrary to the Spirit of Jesus Christ, and that true Nobility consists in virtue. Behold here his thoughts of this matter, as he wrote them to a certain Lady.  
For the Education of Infants, God, having distinguished their conditions, seems to teach us, that there ought to be a difference between the nurture of a Peasant, and that of a Gentleman; who being born to wear a Sword, must not, without doubt, be put into a Cloister for the fitting of him to it: but so great corruption is now among us, that all the principal Instructions that either we, or any we set over them, do give them, serve for nothing but to kindle a fire infernal of vanity in their hearts, where there is not but too much already, pushing youth on by Paganish examples, to put up and endure nothing, to aspire always to that which is most aloft, and for the climbing up thither, to make use of such means as are most approved by the world, although they be forbidden by God himself.  
But if they go not thus far; yet at least, do they not quite choke in the heart of a young Gentleman all Christian Principles? For example, you know how these Duels infect the minds of our youth: Now tell me, how many are there, who would be content, that their children being grown up, and challenged, should refuse to fight? and much less would be content, were they sure they should come off without harm, and get the better? but what will this come to at last, that we never make to them any discourse expressly tending to the cordemning of Duels, and showing the mischievous effects of them; which yet we ought to do so much the oftener, and that to the bottom, inasmuch as their inclination, the example, esteem and honour of the world, doth engage and incite them to these quarrels; if perhaps youth let fall any spark of this furious hot coal, which is naturally in us, some one will, it may be, in a kind of smile, and by the by, Oh that's not good! God forbidden such a thing: yes, but take notice, I pray you, whether you use no more earnestness than this to prevent your sons having crooked legs, and a misshapen body; you use no more earnestness than this, to have him well taught to dance and fence. Such were his Sentiments in this matter.  
As for his Domestics and Officers, that he had under him, he recommended to them in a special manner Justice, Charity, and Sweetness, to do good to all, and ill to none, as far as they were able; and to one of them who had been transported with choler, and committed some excess in a Churchyard, he wrote as followeth:  
I have heard with grief, what you have done, and although I cannot believe all the Circumstances that are told me, yet I daily meet with enough to make me know that your passion hath got the mastery; if I looked upon you only for myself, and proper interest, I should desire you might exterminate all those that would wrong me; but so the case stands, that both you and I must live like Christians, or assuredly be damned, if we have not this belief and desire, let's be Turks and Barbarians professed. Knew you but how much such actions are displeasing to God, what scandals and damage they bring to men, your heart would be changed forthwith, and God grant it may: my Goods, Blood, and Life, I offer to him, to obtain you this Grace, on which depends your Salvation; but I pray you as a brother, and command you as a Master, to repair the wrong you have done to God, to an Holy Place, and to your Neighbour; I had rather my house were ruined (for me) than you should fall again into such an extremity, I must regulate my thoughts and desires of preserving my estate, by my Conscience, and the love of God, who gave it me. I assure you, that our guidance in this world is difficult, considering the wickednesses of the times; and though one may sometime hinder the oppression of the we●k, & withstand injustice by courses extraordinary; yet where there is a mixture of our own interest, it behoves us to have recourse coordin●ry ways; as first, that of mildeness; secondly, that of Justice and Law; and if that prosper not, to employ our patience: Then is the time, that we ought to practise such a virtue; I make no great account of certain Devotions for fashion, but I respect the Maxims of the Gospel, which teach us no other way than this.   

CHAP. 4.  

SECT. 1. His Virtues in general.  
BEfore I speak of the Virtues of this man of God in particular, I must say something of them in general (as it were the Groundwork) and I have two things to say:  
The first, that among all the Persons of Piety that I have known, I have not seen any whose Virtues have been, in my opinion (all things considered) more solid, more strong, and more accomplished, than were his. I speak thus much of him, for that I have been intimately acquainted with him many years, even to his death: so that when I fancy and figure in my mind all the severals of his carriage, both interior and exterior: I cannot but conceive him, as a most eminent Idea and Pattern, and look upon him, as a Model of a Perfection Consummate; wherein, all they that have had any thing to do with him (who were not a few, by reason of his many employments for the good of his neighbour) will easily accord with me, and witness assuredly, that I say nothing too much.  
The second is, that we cannot better learn what we desire to know of him, than from himself, and that by an account which he gave to his second Director, a Religious of the Society of Jesus, who succeeded the Reverend Father de Condrien; and who had told him, it was necessary for him, to know his dispositions, and the course which he observed. Behold here then what the Original gives us, though somethings be left out, because they are set down in the Chapter aforegoing.  
I have delayed some days, after the command I had to set down the employing of my time, for the better discovering of some things therein; but I find nothing there of strict order, or which can well be set down in writing, because all consists in a kind of self abandoning, and following after the order of God, which causeth in a manner continually divers things, but all upon the same bottom  
For my outward and more Corporal part of my carriage, I usually rise at five a Clock [we must remember what goes before, that this was after he had spent part of the night in Prayer] at my awakening, I enter upon my bottom of Self-Annihilation, before the Majestic of God; I unite me to his Son, and Spirit, to render him my homages: Being risen, I take Holy water, I cast down myself, and adore the blessing of the Incarnation, which gives us access, and reconciles us to God: I deliver up myself to the Holy Infant Jesus, to be entered into his Spirit: I salute sometimes my good Angel, St. John Baptist, St. Teresa, with some other Saints, and afterward I recite the Angelus.  
He saith [sometimes] not that he failed out of oblivion or inconstancy, being extremely exact and faithful in the continuance of his Exercises of Devotion; but out of the force of an active application, and sometimes passive, that he had to God, which kept him from any other diversion.  
I cloth myself, which is soon done, and after pass to the Chapel, through a little Parlour, where over the Chimney. I have set an Image of the Holy Virgin, holding her Son, as the Lady of the House; I kiss the earth before her, and say, [Monstra te esse matrem, etc.] I devote myself to her service entirely, with the offering up of my Family, Wife, Children, Domestics; and I have practised this offering of them to her a long time, that by her means they all may be perfected for God; and rising up, I say to her, Mater incomparabilis or a pro nobis.  
After that I enter into the Chapel, where I cast myself down, and adore God abasing me before him, and making me the most little, most naked, most empty of myself, that I can; and I hold me there by faith, having recourse to his Son, and to his Holy Spirit, that whatsoever is his pleasure, may be done by me, and so I abide. If I have any Penance to do upon half an hour after six, I do it, and then I read two Chapters of the New Testament, barcheaded, and on my knees.  
At seven a clock, I go up to a Closet, where there are three Stations, the first to the Virgin, the second to St. Joseph, and the third to Teresa, to all which I render my little Devoirs; and afterwards, I give place to my affairs; but if there be no business urgent, I prostrate myself before God, till the time that I go to Mass, staying at the Church till half an hour after eleven, except on those days when we dine some poor people, for than I return at eleven.  
Before dinner, I make the Examen of the morning, and some Prayers for the Church, for the Propagation of Faith, and the Souls in Purgatory: after that, I say the Angelus: I dine at twelve, and in that while, have something read; half an hour after twelve, I spend an hour with them that have business with me, and that's the time I appoint for that purpose: Afterwards, I go forth, whither the order of God shall direct: Some days over ordered and assigned for certain Exercises, therest are reserved and unlimited from one week to another: Now if it fall out, that I have nothing to do, I pray in a Church, but happen what will, I endeavour not to fail to visit every afternoon, the Holy Sacrament, and to spend about evening, an hour in Devotion: About seven a clock, when I have made some vocal prayers, we go to supper, during which time, one reads the martyrology, and the life of the Saint for the day following: Supper being done, I talk to my children, and tell them something for their instruction: At nine a clock the bell rings to Prayer, which all my Family is to be present at; which done, each one retires, but I keep me in the Chapel in Meditation till ten; and then I go to my Chamber, recommending myself to my God (according to my Bottom of Self-Annthtlation) to the Holy Virgin, my good Angel, and other Saints: I take holy water, and lay me down in bed, where I say the de Profundis for the dead, and some other little Prayers, and so endeavour to repose. And so you have in some sort the order of the day as to my Exterior.  
But for the order of my Interior, I have not, as I may say, any; for since I left (it will be a year● the Holy Week next) my breviary, all my forms have left me, and now instead of serving me●●s means to go to God, they would become hindrance: I bear in me ordinarily (but with many infidelities so great in all this, that I am about to speak of, that I writ it not without regret, because I am nothing but vice and sin:) I bear, I say, in me ordinarily, an experimental verity, and a plenitude of the presence of the most Holy Trinity; or indeed, of some Mystery, which elevates me by a simple view to God, and with that, I do all that the Divine Providence enjoins me, regarding not any things for their greatness or littleness, but only the order of God, and the glory which they may render him.  
For the Examen; and things done in Community (which I mentioned before) I often cannot rest myself there: I perform indeed the Exterior, for the keeping of order; but I follow always my Interior, without making any change there; because, when a man hath God, there's no need to search him elsewhere, and when he holds us in one manner, it is not for us to take hold of him in another; and the soul knows well, what it is which bottoms it more clearly, what unites it, and what multiplies and distracts it.  
For the Interior therefore, I follow this Attractive, and for the Exterior, I see the Divine Will, which makes me to follow it, and which carrieth me to govern myself according to it, with the discernment of his Spirit, in all simplicity: and so I possess, by his grace, in all things, a great silence Interior, a profound Reverence, and solid Peace: I confess me, usually on Thursdays, according to the order that hath been given me, and communicate almost every day, as perceiving myself drawn thereto, as also to stand in great need of it. In a word, the Bottom which hath been showed me to stand on, is to render myself to God through Jesus Christ with such a purity, as hath in it operation, to worship God in Spirit and Truth, after a manner altogether stripped and naked, and of loving him with all my heart, with all my soul, and with all my power, and of seeing in all things, and adoring the conduct of God, and following it. And this only abiding in my soul, all other things in me are defaced and blotted out: I have nothing of sensible in me, unless now and then some transitory touches, but (if I may dare to say it) when I sound my will, I find it sometime so quick and flaming, that it would devour me, if the same Lord; who animates it (though unworthy) did not restrain it: I enter into an heat, and into a fire, and even to my finger's ends, feel that all within me speaks for its God, and stretcheth itself forth in length and breadth in his Immensity, that it may there dissolve, and there lose itself, to glorify him. I cannot express this thing as it is, I do not make a stand upon any thing that passeth in me, but fall always into my nothingness, where I find my act of purity towards God, as above.  
He concludes afterward in these terms:  
I beg your pardon, my Reverend Father, if this thing here be so ill ordered: I have set it down, as it hath happened to me, I should be very happy, if you could know all my miseries, for you would have them in great commiseration. This was the writing he gave to his Director.  
They that shall read it, will judge, without doubt (if they understand it well, and penetrate to the bottom, the sense of his words) that very great were the Virtues, and highly raised the perfection of this excellent servant of God; and by so much the more ought they to judge so, as they may assure themselves, that he hath not a jot exceeded in the report of the things which concern him; but rather that he hath diminished them; being by grace (and indeed by nature also) extremely reserved, and most considerare in whatsoever he said, and especially in speaking of himself.   

SECT. 2. The Source from whence these Virtues flowed.  
IF now we will examine the Principal of those Virtues and Perfections, and the Wellspring whence they issued, we shall find that it was, from the intimate Union which he had with the Lord Jesus Christ, whereunto he always above all things, gave up himself.  
His sage and illuminated Director, the Reverend Father de Condrien, knowing that the Union with Jesus Christ, is the foundation of our Predestination, Justification, and Sanctification, of all the grace and glory which we can ever have; that Jesus Christ being the way, whatsoever is out of this way, can be nothing else but wand'ring; that he being the Truth, whatsoever is nor conformable thereto, is nothing but lying; that he being the Life, whatsoever lives not by this life, nor is quickened by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, is not alive, but of necessity dead: he did therefore that, which ought always to be done with great care, by all Directors of souls, which was to make him to know the importance, and the necessity of this Unon, to fix him strongly and constantly to Jesus Christ, for the Government of his Interior and Exterior, to put him this Way, to bind him to this Truth, and to Unite him to this Life.  
Monsieur de Renty followed exactly this conduct, and therein made a great progress, which he went on in perfecting to his death, with marvellous improvements, so that as the last touches which the Painter gives to his Picture, are far different from those of the first rude draughts; or, as the Sun hath more of heat and light, as he advanceth higher in his career, and approacheth to Midday, than when he but newly riseth: In like manner, the applications, the ties, and the unions which this excellent man in his latter years had with Jesus Christ, and the actions which he either did for him, or received of him, were quite other from those at his beginning; for he was then wholly consummate in Jesus Christ, he had, as it were, passed into him, and he carried him, as it were, in a lively manner in his soul, in his thoughts, in his affections, in his desires, in his words, and in his works.  
Hence it was, that he had no other object before his eyes, but Jesus Christ, that he thought not but of him, that he loved nothing but him, that he spoke not but of him, that he wrought not but for him, and always after his sampler, that he read not but the New Testament, which he carried always with him, and endeavoured by all means possible to engrave the knowledge and love of it in all hearts.  
Writing to his Director, the year, 1646. concerning his dispositions, he sent him these words among other:  
To speak to you of my Interior, I feel myself not to will, but God, and in union with our Lord Jesus Christ, to yield him all my homages: This is the fullness of my heart, and I feel this well, when I sound it.  
He said this to him in another Letter:  
I am in great necessity of Jesus Christ, but I ought to tell you by an acknowledgement of the Mercy of God, by a certitude of this truth, that I feel that he is more ruling in me, than myself: I know for all that, that of myself I am but sin, but withal, I experiment my Lord in me, who is my strength, my life, my peace, and my All, I beseech him to become our plenitude.  
Moreover, in another thus:  
I find, myself, said he, much troubled what to send you, because all things become razed out of my mind as soon as passed, and I cannot retain within me anything, but God, and this in a kind of a hoodowinked blinded manner, with a naked faith, which faith making me know the evil bottom which is in myself, gives me notwithstanding great force and confidence by way of abandoning [and Self-Rejection] upon our Lord Jesus Christ in God. I have found this morning a possage in S. Paul, which I believe our Lord hath put into my hand to express myself by, seeing it is the very ●ruth of what I experiment: Fiduciam ●urem talem habemus per Christum, ad Deum; non quod sufficientes simus cogitare aliquid a nobis, quasi ex nobis; sed sufficientia nostra ex Deo est This boasting we have by Christ to God-wards; not as if we were sufficient to think any thing of ourselves, as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is of God.  
It is about a fortnight since these words were put upon my spirit, without any contribution on my part, or of any thing that might renew the Ideas of them, quaere venam aquarum viventium [seck the vein of living water] and just as they were expressed to me, my spirit (like as when one comes up a River, to its Springhead) was to seek Jesus Christ from the beginning of his Pilgrimage, to the point of his Glory; when set down in his Throne at the right hand of his Father, whence he sends his spirit to animate his Church, and enliven those that are his: I saw that there indeed was the Source, whence the springs of living waters do flow to us, and that thither we were to make our addresses.  
I could report here more such touches, with which his letters to his Director were besprinkled: but I believe I have given enough for the present, to evidence his disposition towards our Lord, and his union with him.  
When he wrote to other persons, he always insened something of our Lord, to excite them to bind themselves to him, and to propose him to themselves in all things, as a model of their actions.  
One while he writes thus,  
Let us forget all, to think of this faith which makes alliance between God and us through Jesus Christ, who is come to publish this truth, which he hath sealed with his blood, and which he will consummate in his glory, at that time when we shall appear to have been faithful in following his Spirit. Let us go after, and with Jesus Christ to God, for he is our way.  
Another while thus,  
'Tis a thing admirable, that it hath pleased God to feud us his Son, to the end that we may not look on him any more as our Creator only; but also through the alliance that we have with him, we may call him Father. He is therefore our Father from this time forward, and it is certain, that he considers us as his children in the person of his Son Incarnate: But the thing of importance, is a firm aniting of ourselves to this Son, contiruing that life of his upon earth; within this of ours, by the direction of his Spirit.  
Thus also in another Letter,  
Let Jesus Christ be in each of us our bond, our soul, our life as he is our pattern: Let's take a nearer view of this Holy Original, enter into his Principles, lay hold on his desires, execute his works, and let men know that we are Christians.  
Writing to another, he spoke thus,  
I adore and bless with all my heart, our Lord Jesus Christ, for that he opens you his heart, to possess wholly yours: he will make it to die, and will reduce it to a Holy Poverty, which shall cause you to taste the true Life, and complete Riches, and to avow that it is a great mercy to belong to Jesus Christ: I beseech him to bestow on you his most sanctifying graces, and that we may beth die well, and live well, by his Spirit: Let us enter into this Spirit, which will give us the Sentiments, and the Energy of the Children of God: All other presence and application to the Divine Majesty which is not by this union of the Soul to Jesus Christ is only of the creature towards the Creator, which carries indeed respect, but gives not the life and approaches of children towards God their Father, where being united to the Interior operations of Jesus Christ, we find there, the affections of true children; which we can● not have, but by being united to the true Son.  
Let us end with that, which a person, to whom he unbosomed himself, confidently in this matter, reports of him: This rare man, said he, appeared touched with a very tender and fervent love towards our Lord Jesus Christ: I have observed, that his Conversations and Discourses did shoot always at this mark, to imprint in souls the knowledge and love of our Lord with true solidity. In discourse with him, I had often from him these words:  
I avow that I have no gust in any thing, where I find not Jesus Christ; and for a soul that speaks not of him, or in which we cannot taste any effect of grace, flowing from his Spirit (which is the principal of operations, both inward and outward, that are solidly Christians) speak not to me at all of such a one: Can I, as I may so say, behold both miracles and wonders there, and yet not Jesus Christ, nor hear any talk of him, I count all but amusement of spirit, loss of time, and a very dangerous Precipice.  
And at several other times he said.  
Let us love Jesus Christ, let us unite ourselves to his Spirit and Grace, miserable sinner, as I am, who love him not, yet should I be much joyed at least, to see my defects supplied by others that love him fervently; but I am too unworthy to obtain a matter so great, and wherein myself do bear so small a part.  
Seeing then this faithful servant and follower of Christ Jesus had so strong an application, and intimate union with his Divine Lord (as 'tis easy to gather from what hath been spoken) we cannot but ascribe to this application and union, all his virtues, which we are going now to speak of in several; and to look upon them, as effects of this cause, streams of this Fountain, and branches of this Stem.     

PART. II. His Virtues in particular, and first, the Virtues which did perfect him in regard of himself.  

CHAP. 1. His Penances and Austerities.  
AS our flesh and senses are by their nature, and more by their corruption, very opposite to a Spiritual Life; and among the enemies of our weal and perfection, none more importunate or more violent than they: so God useth when he intends to elevate any to the accomplishment of virtue, and to make them Saints, to inspire in them, at the beginning of their conversion, a spirit of Penance, and mortification of their bodies: Monsieur de Renty being destined by God to this glory, and quickened by this Spirit, encounters his body with rigorous Austerities, thereby to reduce it to its duty, and hinder it from annoying him in his Interior Exercises.  
He gins therefore to fast every day, making but one meal, which he continued divers years, until he was enjoined otherwise, and to take more nourishment, to be the better able to undergo the great labours he undertook for his neighbour. Some days in the week, he wore an iron Girdle, set with a double rank of long prickles, and a bracelet of the same: on other days he disciplined himself rigorously, & at some times wore haircloath, having continually on his breast a brass Crucifix, reaching to the bottom of his stomach, the nails whereof being very sharp, entered into his flesh.  
When he went into the Country, and was come to his Inn, he would go into the Kitchen, to eat there, if it might be, among servants, and other mean persons: and that for two ends, both there to mortify his body, and to speak some good thing to those poor people: and when night constrained him to take his chamber, he dismissed his servants, to lie in other rooms, and himself past the night in a chair, or cast himself on a bed, in his , and boots, which was his custom till death.  
Being come to Amiens, where I was, and a Lady (one of the chief of the Town) having prepared a stately bed in a brave Chamber for him, in honour of his virtue and cuality, he was much troubled, and would not at all use it, but laid him down upon a bench, and the day after, as being much ashamed, complained to me of the Lady for it: so that to enjoy the blessing of lodging him at her house, she was fain to change his chamber and bed, and to accommodate him after his own mode; that is to say, where he might not be so much at his ease.  
His Mortification in diet was very great, eating little, and always of the worst, as not forgetting that our misery came not, but by eating of delicious fruit: Dining in company on a Fish-day, one of the guests that noted his actions, observed, that all he eat, was some Pears only, and that with so great modesty and recollection, that one might easily discern, that his mind was on God, and not upon his meat.  
When one of his friends, a man of piety, at Caen, entertained him one day at dinner with some little ceremony as a person of quality, he eaten very little, & became much mortified and ashamed, as he declared afterwards, that Christians should be Feasters; adding, that a little would suffice, and what a torment it was to him, to be where there was so mu●h cheer, as a thing quite contrary to the poverty of Christ; who notwithstanding should be to us for our rule: He would tell his friends, that a little bread, a little lard and butter, was sufficient.  
Hereupon, his friends acquainted with this grace of Mortification in him, took no more thought concerning his diet, knowing his best entertainment to be the meanest fare. The perfection of a Christian life, and the fulfilling of God's will, was to him (after the example of our Lord) as most exquisite and delicious meat and viands; and when any gave him opportunity, or left him to his liberty, to practise this Mortification, it pleased him exceedingly. Often at Paris, when some deed of charity had drawn him far from home, that he could not return to dinner, he would step in (all alone or unknown) to a small Victualling-house, or some Baker's shop, and make his dinner with a piece of bread, and a draught of water, and so very gay and cheerful, go on with his business.  
And what he pracrised for the mortifying of his gust, was in like manner done for his other senses, the sight, the hearing, the smell, and the touch. Being come to Pontois, on a very cold day in winter, and lodging at the Carmelite Nuns, he desired earnestly the Nun that was the Doorkeeper, to have no fire made, nor bed prepared for him; and after he had discoursed with some of them, he old the last, that he must go make some little visits (and that was to visit the Prisoners, the poor that were ashamed to beg, and to employ himself in some other deeds of charity, which he never forgot at any time, how little soever was his leisure) He returned about nine a clock at night, when the Nuns went to say Matins, and without taking any thing to eat, went into the Church to his prayers, which he continued till eleven a clock, and then retired into his chamber, not suffering a fire to be made for him, although by his own confession, the cold did incommode him very much.  
He constantly kept a vigilant eye over himself in every time, place, occasion, and even in the meanest things, for the mortifying of his body; daily putting it to some hardship, or at least hindering it from sense of pleasure: And to that end had found out some very notable and ingenious inventions; so bearing continually about him the mortification of the Lord Jesus in his body: that the life of Jesus might live and shine forth in it, well knowing, as the same Apostle elsewhere saith, That those that are Christ's, have crucified the flesh, with the affections and lust thereof:  
And to say the truth, the more a man is full of one thing, the less room there is for its contrary; the more one sinks into darkness, the further off from light; and, as we said above, there is nothing more opposite to the Spirit, than the flesh: so must we of necessity conclude, the more a man pampers his flesh, the more doth he indispose and estrange himself from the life of the Spirit.  
Thus this illuminated person dealt with his body, as with his enemy, out of the design he had to lead a life truly spiritual. Whatsoever might content and flatter his senses, was insupportable to him; whence it happened, that one day, there slipped from him this word to a confident, that God had given him a great hatred of himself: and this was advanced so far by his fervent and unsatiable desire of mortifying himself, that beside the moderation that his Director was obliged to lay upon him, a famous person of our days, the Carmelite Nun of the Covent of Beaulne, Sister Margaret of the Holy Sacrament, who lived and died in a fragrant odour of Sanctity, with whom he was most intimate in the bonds of grace, did out of divine light she had in that matter, much reprehend him for it; and gave him her advice in the business, whereunto, for the confidence he had in her (and that not without good cause) being willing to yield, he remitted something of his rigour, although not without complaint: which he testified to a person thus, in writing:  
I know not, said he, why one should strive to keep in so lazy a beast, that stands more in need of the spur than bridle.  
For all he was thus held in, he left not off the war which he made with his body, in each thing he could (but without transgressing the Orders he had received) till he thereby came to such a point of perfect Mortification, that his body became, as it were, dead, and insen●ble in all things; which now in a manner made no impression upon his senses; eating without gust (himself saying, that all meats were to him alike) seeing, as it were, without sight, so that after he had been along time in some Churches, most richly adorned with stately ornaments, and those before his eyes; when one asked, if they were not very fine? he answered plainly, that he had seen nothing: By reason of his Mortification, he had no pain nor trouble at all from those things, which make other men so fret and take on, who are alive to themselves, and enslaved to their bodies: neither was he only without pain, but (which as Ar●stotle saith, is the highest perfection of a virtue) he took great pleasure therein, which came not to him so much from abundance of sensible consolations (which may sweeten Austerities to an unmortified man) but from the ground and bottom of virtue entirely acquired and possessed.   

CHAP. 2. Of his Poverty.  

SECT. 1. Of his Poverty of spirit.  
ONe of the most great and admirable Virtues that shone in Monsieur de Renty, was this, that in the possession of riches, he was utterly disengaged from the love of them, and possessed in a most high degree (as we shall now declare) the first of the Beatitudes, which pronounceth, Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven; of grace in this world, and of glory in the other.  
A truth, which served him for a powerful attractive, to endeavour the gaining of this rich treasure: Whereof writing to a person of Piety, he thus said:  
I was the other day touched in reading the eight Beatudes; and upon this word Beatitude I took notice, that in effect there were no other Beatitudes but these; for if there had, our Lord would have taught them, and therefore those aught to be our whole study: But what shall I say? we ground not ourselves upon them, nor desire the grace to do it; but run after the Beatitudes of the world, and our own Concupiscience, quitting that which is clear, and given us by our head Christ Jesus, to be in a state of hurley-burley and confusion, and consequently of trouble, danger, and unhappiness.  
It was not to these kind of Beatitudes that he ran, but to those of the Gospel; and in particular to the first, concerning which, let's hear what one saith of him, a person very credible, and of his intimate acquaintance. I never sew m●n, said he, in so perfect a poverty of spirit, nor in so ardent a desire to feel the effects of it, as was he: And in the fervour of his desire, he said to me,  
Procure by your prayers, that we may change this form of life, when will you labour with God, that this may be? this habit, and this wealth, is to me most painful.  
I have talked since his death with a Father, to whom he had communicated his inclinations, to leave all; who told me, that one day he desired of him with many tears, and on his knees, his advice in the matter; and that he was never more surprised, than to see Monsieur de Renty at his feet, and in these sentiments of poverty: And I have heard him say, that the touch from God, to separate him from the creatures, and to make him quit the manner of living suitable to his birth, was so powerful over his soul, that if another touch from the same hand had not kept him back at the same time, he had abandoned all; and according to the example of S. Alexis, had gone to live a poor life, as he did: but that God, that imprinted this desire of poverty in him, did hinder the effecting of it, to keep him in the state wherein he had placed him; which was to him no small cross, because the desire torments and afflicts the soul in proportion to its vehemency, when it cannot arrive to the possession of the thing desired: But because he was absolutely conformable (as it was his duty in all things) to the will of God, he bore this cross, as contrary as it was to his affection, with great peace, and a perfect submission to what God had ordered.  
Another witness of like authority, gives him this testimony. He told me, said he, often, in the confidence we had together, that he was ashamed when he entered into his house, to see himself so well lodged in this world; and that it was one of his greatest afflictions to have so much wealth, and to be so much at ease, that he should be ravished to see himself reduced to bread and water, and to get the same by labour, and the sweat of his b●ows. Having one day asked him, how he could be so quiet amongst all the fa●idious accidents and incommodities that he suffered: He answered me, upon condition that I would keep it secret, that through God's mercy, he found himself in a disposition of peace, and state of indifferency in affliction, as well as in joy; and that he had no sentiments any more of fear or desire of any thing. And of this, myself hath seen the experience in some difficulties, where the better part of his estate ran a great hazard, without any appearance of the least commotion in him; and his words were:  
Seeing God hath given me the management of this estate, I will do to preserve it what shall behoove me, and then it is all one to me, what success shall follow.  
Another reports thus: He had the Evangelical poverty in its perfection, being entirely estranged in spirit and thought, in heart and affection from all the wealth of the world: and he told me, that he felt no greater cross, than to have riches; and that he should be extremely glad to be a beggar and unknown, if it had been the will of God. Hence it came, that he bore a kind of holy envy towards the poor, that he deemed them very happy; that in beholding them, he said sometimes with sighing (but with a sigh that one might see came from the bottom his heart) Ah! that I am not as they! that he honoured, loved, caressed, and kneeled before them, not only in humility, but in esteem of their estare, in its disposing us so much to the perfection of the new Law, and resemblance it hath with Jesus Christ.  
Being one day visiting the poor in the great Hospital of Caen, he was seen bare headed, and on his knees, upon the floor of the great Hall, beating in a Mortar some Drugs for the use of the poor sick people; such was the respect and honour that he bore to those, for whom he laboured, that it put him into that posture.  
But for an end, let us hear him tell us himself his sentiments upon this matter; and although he speak of himself, let's make no scruple to believe him, as being a person most worthy of credit. Behold therefore what he wrote to the Nun abovementioned:  
Sister Margaret of the Holy Sacrament: my most holy Sister, I have it in my heart, that the Holy Child Jesus [the Infancy of Jesus, was one of the Mysteries to which more particularly and profitably he applied himself, as we shall see in its due place] would have something of me, which he hath a desire I should beg of him, and dispose myself for the obtaining of it: And I avow to you, that the more there comes to me of the riches of this world, the more do I discover the malignity the eto affixed, and that they produce nothing but garboil and trouble, and afford not much means of doing good: My heart is most strongly carried to an effective stripping myself of all, and to follow him alone (seeing he is my way) as being the most poor and depressed amongst all his followers. But that I know, that it would be a presumption to believe myself capable of this estate, and a temptation to put myself upon it, being at present, related as I am, I ●ould pant and sigh thither ward very much: that which I will draw hence is this, that being ignorant of the coursels of God, I cannot tell how he will dispose of me for the future: and I offer myself up to whatsoever it shall please him, knowing, that with him, I can do every th●ng; as without him, I have neither the power nor will for any thing. My most dear Sister, I have great need of doing penance, and to be humbled, I am greatly ashamed of my condition, and of what I am; I have the commodity and abundance of all things of this world, but my family, and estate of things permits it not to be otherwise: and I see the Churches and the poor upon whom I would bestow it all, at least, as much as I may in justice part with, or else to be poor, as the poor are, so that I may be no more ashamed of being better provided than they.  
Thus you have his thoughts, which by God's permission are come to light, to make us see, what grace can do in a heart well disposed, and to what a pitch arrives this perfect Poverty of spirit.   

SECT. 2. His outward Poverty.  
THe high esteem and affection which this great servant of God had of the forsaking the goods of this world, being not able to contain itself within the Interior of his soul, appeared outward and visible in a thousand effects, and carried him on, to the poverty Exterior in all ways possible: for, not to speak of the great Alms he gave to the poor (far different from the course of many, who though full of riches, yet never think of using them according to God's rule) he divested himself of very many things, to be impoverished as much as he could: for he parted with some books, because richly bound; wore no cloa●hes, but plain, and close together; used no gloves, what season soever, or at least a rare thing it was to see him have any; in effect, he had his hands so employed in deeds of charity, that little leisure he had to keep them within gloves: He carried no silver about him, but for Alms, and good works, growing daily richer in this Exterior poverty, and effective diminishment of what he had. I have seen him at first in Coach with a Page and Lackey, afterwards in Coach with a Lackey without a Page, then without Coach on foot with a Lackey; and in fine, alone without Lackey; and in effect without himself.  
Speaking one day to a Confident of Evangelical poverty; he told him, that God had given him so ardent desires to possess it, that being not able (by reason of the bonds that withheld him) to abandon his goods, as he had often wished, for the better following of the most (not rich, but) poor Christ Jesus, made poor for us, he endeavoured to pass with as little as he could, and to cut off for his person, not only superfluous, and the very commodious, but also whatever was not precisely necessary: That walking alone in the Fields, his consolation was, to be there in liberty, to live as he pleased: But that after all, he was not able to find out a better cure for the fervour of his desires, than to despoil himself as much as he was able, of the property of all his goods, and to account himself no more than a Trustee and mere Steward in regard of his family, considering himself in the possession of them, no otherwise, than a poor man that received his necessaries from God by the hand of his wife.  
The forementioned person speaks of an Heroic action which this excellent man did; of which see here an account more at large in a Memorial, which I have under his own hand.  
I make a resolution in the presence of my God, to have care of Reparations, of Manufactures, of Highways and Causeys, with the goods that he hath given me to dispose of; and this so much the more, as he shall give me the grace, to make a total dismission and resignation to him of myself, and of what I have, at this next approaching Feast of his Nativity, and to put myself into such a condition, that he shall be the Proprietary and owner, and I the steward and servant only, to distribute the same, in readiness to yield it up at the least notice of his will: By his grace therefore, I acknowledge this day, that being from hence forward in a Plebeian and underling condition among Christians, I ought to apply myself to these businesses as far as there shall be need, and occasions permit; namely, to labour in them, even in the lowest employments that are, as to remove rubbish, to play the Mason, and the like; since by his grace I have skill in some of these Arts: And I ought to make as much account of these employments, as of those of assisting souls; not looking upon the things as they are in themselves, but on the will of God, and what he requires of me: I beseech the Lord from my heart to pardon me my failings herein, to this time: I make this present Memorial, upon the sight which he hath given me of them, this fifth of November, 1643. to serve me as a remembrancer of my Obligation.  
This was his resolution and promise: Now let us look upon the performance. He made a building at Citry, which was one of the Demesns he had in Bry; and the better to observe with what purity of Conscience, sublimity of thoughts, and disingagement of affection, he applied himself to it, I shall set down what I had in a Letter from him corncerning it, May 8. 1648.  
Blessed for ever be our great God, by Jesus Christ, and by all the righteous, that are filled with his Spirit. I believe the order of God requires of me outward labour, among many other workmen, seeing necessity thereto obligeth me (as Father of the Family) about a house, considerable for my children, which was like to fall, having not been inhabited for a long time. I avow to you, my heart doth much long after another Edifice, than that which is built with materials of stone: But I look upon this my work, as a part of God's justice, who destined the first man after the fall, and all his children to labour; and thereupon I revere it, and apply myself thereto with a good heart and courage, though with some Mortification, from the nature of this penance, that relates so little to the life of the Spirit. We know some of our ancient Popes, who were great Saints, condemned to keep Mules, and I that am a great sinner, and deserve hell, and so mercifully dealt with, that I am not sent, but to the stone Quarries, not into the banishment and penury of our first Christians, but into those grounds that go for my own. Oft in a day I think, that this Labour is unacceptable; and to what purpose, say I sometimes, so many houses, which we must leave so soon, and which themselves will come at last to nothing? I am humbled for the work, but not for the application of myself to it.  
In that of the 19th of July, thus he said, upon the same subject:  
The time that I live here in this place, I count very dear, regarding it as ordered by God, for the doing of a little part of the penance due to my great sins. If grace did not uphold me with this consideration, I should be much tormented, in a labour so ingrate, and so limited, as to build in the house of a secular, and bestow my time upon this work, which requires assiduity: But I have a feeling, that the order of God is in it, and by his motions I quit the state of Mary, to take that of Martha, accepting this humiliation with Self-annihilation, and with contemplation of the Divine Justice.  
That which makes me the more to know that there is of God's order in it, is this, That from time to time, both Holidays and Sundays, the mercies of the Lord are so great to me, that I resent more of retribution from him in one instant, than the patience and humiliation of a sinner could merit in all his life. He opens himself so to me, that my hardness is mollified, and makes me melt into tears; my eyes are so full of them, that very often I have much ado to keep them in, pierced as I am with love, with reverence, and with acknowledgement of the effects of his goodness, which he renews in me by his enlightening presence, and manifestation of his inexplicable conduct, which I cannot utter.  
I understand hereby, that we are to reckon among graces this, following the order of God, and not that of our own, by a singular and private spirit of pride, pretending the glory of God, that we may dispense with ourselves (though we perceive it not) from labouring in things mean and painful in our conditions, which notwithstanding our Lord blesseth, not according to the choice we make, but according to their agreement to his order: And our faithfulness draws not its worth from doing this or that, but from an exactness in doing that which he requireth of us, giving up ourselves wholly to his good pleasure. I see there is need of a great death to ourselves, and a great depth of Self-annihilation, to follow so purely the conduct of grace, and not to be for own forms, but those of God.  
In another of the 12. of August, thus he saith:  
I daily continue my toiling here, which takes up much of my time, and almost all; but I dare not look aside, but only abase and submit myself to the Divine Ordinance. It was a work very gross and mean, for Jesus Christ to converse with men, who had more of rudeness, than these stones I deal with, and more of opposition to his purity, than they have to my workmen's hands: And yet he suffered all, he bore all, and in fine, converted but a few: I beseech you, obtain for me a part in his obedience, and his patience to the orders of God his Father.  
And writing to one of his friends, he spoke to him in this sort:  
I am here in this Country, in the midst of four or five companies of workmen, to repair a Mansion House on the Demesn of my Family, which was ready to fall: What can our spirit act in this work, which following the Spirit of Faith, aught to be a Pilgrim and Stranger upon earth? without doubt it groans much, not at the order of God, but after its own Country, in the midst of its occupations, as things opposite to its liberty. We must do penance by labouring, it is so decreed by God, upon the first transgression.  
These were the Meditations which this excellent man had, while he was building, and which all Christians, who are made to settle, not on earth, but in Heaven, in an Eternal Mansion, aught to be enlivened with, when they are about the like works.    

CHAP. 3. His Humility.  
POverty followed the Austerities and Mortification of the body, as having much connexion with them; and Humility follows Poverty, yet considering withal, that (according to S. Austin) the poverty in spirit spoken of by our Lord in the first Beatitude, is nothing else but humility: in very deed, there is no people in the world more poor in spirit, than the truly humble, because they account themselves to be nothing, to have nothing, to be able to do nothing, and to be worth nothing, to be the refuse and off-scouring of the earth, and to have need of every thing, not assuming any praise to themselves for any thing whatsoever. Monsieur de Renty came to this pitch, and possessed this Virtue in a most Eminent degree.  
And in truth, if Humility (as the all Saints tell us) be the foundation of Virtue, God having a design to raise up in him a magnificent and sublime Palace for Virtues and Perfection, it was necessary the foundation should be laid very low, and his humility be very profound: He was rooted in this virtue so solidly, that it was a thing wonderful; and therein, performed a number of so remarkable actions, that those persons who lived many years with him, and singularly well knew him, have assured us, that it were impossible to relate them all.  
He had in an excessive esteem this important virtue, he loved it with all his heart, desired it with extreme ardour, prayed urgently, and conjured his friends to beg of God, and obtain it for him: And as we see the stone descend with violence, and the waters fall down impetuously; the same motion made he towards Humility, as to his centre.  
Out of this Sentiment, he wrote thus to one of his Confidents:  
Have pity on me, I am more unfaithful than any creature of the world: Upon my knees, I beg of you to believe it: If our Lord did not show me what I am, Lucifer would not be a little rich; but this benign Lord shows me daily, through his mercy, my Nothingness, it is thither his grace leads me.  
To another he wrote thus:  
All my resolution is in these words of David, Elegi abjectus esse in domo dei mei [I have chosen to be little and abject in the house of God.]  
To another also thus:  
I am carried to demand of God a life much humbled, suffering, and unknown to men: I find a great attraction thither.  
And I have a Paper written with his own hand, and all of it with his blood, which contain these words:  
I give you my Liberty, O my God, and beg of you that Nothing, which every Christian must arrive at, to rise purely towards you.  
Gaston Jean baptist.  
Dominus Jesus semetipsum exinanivit usque ad mortem crucis, propter quod et Deus exaltavit illum. This 3 of December, 1644. Amen.  
Our Lord Jesus emptied himself to death, even the death of the cross; wherefore God also hath exalted him.  
You see here his inclination and attractive, and not without good reason; for considering first, that he had propounded to himself our Lord as a pattern for his life, with a determinate resolution to follow him in whatsoever he could. And that secondly, Humility is the proper Virtue of Jesus Christ, as S. Bernard, after S. Paul, calls it: he therefore embraced this Humility with his whole affection, gave himself up to it with all his forces, and practised it in its urmost latitude, as we are going now to see, by that which follows:  
But before we behold him in the actions of this Virtue, let us listen to what he teaches, and the light he gives us concerning it.  
Humility; said he, he is the Basis which carries and upholds the whole work of God in us, it makes the creature so naked, and so separated from itself, that it leaves it not the power to make any cast of an eye upon itself, but renders it so taken up in the greatness of God, that it becomes lost, in reverence of him, in self-abasement and annihilation. This is the grace of Christians in their Pilgrimage, who divested and spoiled of all, esteem themselves but a Nothing, and very puff of being, which haiung nothing but what it received from God, hath no instinct or inclination, but for God: It's a brave humility to see nothing in ones self but Nothingness; and he that sees not there nothing, sees not there any thing at all. So the soul which sees nothing in itself, finds nothing in itself to bottom on; and by this means, always points towards God, like a needle touched with a Loadstone, that having been encumbered with all sorts of trash and trifles, and afterward disengaged of them, would forthwith turn towards her North, and thitherward remain always fixed, although the tempest of the sea and winds, should turn upside down the Vessel.  
Thus have we his disposition, and the aspect of ae soul truly humble, beholding nothing in itself, and God in his Majesty.  

SECT. 1. His Humbleness of Heart.  
HUmility may be divided into three sorts; The Humility of the heart, of the words, and of the works; And seeing the humility of the heart, is the principal and true one, of which alone, our Lord gave himself a sampler, and of which the two other are but the effects, if they be true: or otherwise they are but only shadows and phantasms of Humility; therefore we begin with that of the heart.  
And this we say consists, in the humility of the understanding, and of the thoughts, of the will, and of the affections, to be well acquainted, and know truly, what a man is of himself, and that he is mere Nothingness and sin; and in consequence of this knowledge, to take up most mean and low opinions of himself; to judge himself unworthy of all esteem and praise, to abase himself, and love his own abasement. A thing most excellently performed by this perfect follower of Jesus Christ.  
He had so low an opinion of himself, that it would be a difficult thing to unfold it; and although he had most rare qualities, natural and supernatural, yet he saw nothing in himself, but as we have said, the Nothingness, and the sin: And out of a true and sincere persuasion, he thought himself the most unworthy of all men; assuming that title in some of his Letters, but the name which usually he gave himself was, Sinner, and A great Sinner, which he repeated very often, and with a spirit truly humbled.  
That which I have noted in him for the space of six years, wherein I have had the honour of his acquaintance (said a person worthy of belief) was a most profound humility, which kept him in a perpetual self-abnegation before God and the creatures, but after such a manner, as I have never seen in any man whatsoever, although I have been acquainted with most holy souls: The greatness of God humbled him, even to an abyss or immeasurable depth;  
And is there (said he, one day to me) any thing great, in the presence of that Greatness? I see myself there so little, so little, and nothing.  
And afterwards being elevated to God in this Sentiment of littleness, he said:  
A mote in the Sun is very little, but yet I am far less in the presence of God, for I am not any thing.  
Afterwards humbling himself in another sense, he said,  
Alas, I am too much; I am a sinner, and Infidel, an Anathema through my crimes.  
And besides, he wrote to the same person thus:  
Methinks I break myself in pieces before God, as when I stamp an egg in pieces with my foot upon the ground, and I be spoken of, that I have so much as a name, is a strange thing.  
This so exceeding base opinion which he had of himself, made him say oftener than once, and ready to weep, that he was much astonished at the goodness of men, in suffering of him; and that he could not enough wonder, why every where they threw not dirt at him, and that all the creatures did not bandy against him. This same opinion had persuaded him, that it was much boldness in him to speak, and that men shown great mercy toward him in enduring his conversation, which he believed was very burdensome.  
I have seen him very often (saith a person of piety, that well knew him) humble himself even to the centre of the earth, while he spoke to me of God, saying, it was not for a man of his condition to speak of him, but that he ought rather to contain himself in silence: And so, he spoke not of God, without some particular inducement that our Lord gave him, either for the necessity of his neighbour, or for some other good which God would draw thence for his glory; keeping a distance from this discourse out of humility, as if he had not known how to speak two words of him. In a Letter to another, he said:  
Let us live as we are in truth; what place can we hold before God and his Saints, but that of Nothing? with amazement, that we are endured, being a Nothing of all good, and a compound of all evil.  
This humility of heart, was general in him, because he practised it in each thing, there being not the least thing that served him not for an abasement. He abased himself much, in the consideration of the feebleness of our nature; whereof he wrote to me one day this sentiment:  
It concerns me to tell you one thing before I end, which keeps me in a marvellous disesteem of myself, and makes me resent, how little confidence there is to be had in man: it is this, that when S. Peter and the Apostles make the greatest profession of their fidelity to our Lord, our Lord then minds them of the infidelity they would commit, saying to S. Peter, that he could not follow him whether he went. S. Peter answers him, Why cannot I follow you now? I am ready to give my life for you. Thou give thy life for me (replies our Lord) I tell you in truth, the Cock shall not crow, but thou shalt deny me thrice: S. Peter not understanding these words, continues in the protesting of his fidelity; and upon occasion of the apprehending of our Lord, draws his sword, and sheaths it not again, till our Lord commands him: He follows him, and forsakes him not, thus apprehended; but yet afterward, he denies him upon the bare word of a maid servant.  
The apprehensions of these weaknesses, which come to me not by search or study, but by Divine enlightening, and by the impression which they make in me, keep me wholly in annihilation, without any affiance in myself, which I place altogether in God and his Son our Lord: This condition would keep me in a marvellous littleness, if I were faithful therein: I have some instances, when methinks my whole body is crushed, bruised, annthilated, and my interior much more.  
To another person he wrote:  
Pity it is to see man and his infirmity, it is sometime important, that he have experience of what he is, that he may neither forget himself, nor the place which he ought to hold, ut non glorietur omnis caro in conspectu ejus, [That no flesh might glory in his sight] that being abased, nullified, and rendered as a thing that is not at all, Jesus Christ may be in him, the life of grace and holiness, waiting for the time of our redemption; that is to say, the entry into his glory, and as it is written, he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.  
And to another thus:  
The state of our poverty, and the sight of our miseries, makes us know the need we have of grace, and settles the soul upon the Nothingness of herself, and the persuasion of her inability to all good; and in this truth, that she never hath been, nor can be, but retardment and diminution to the operations of God in her.  
The knowledge of his faults and sins, humbling him strangely (as indeed they are the most just, and greatest causes a man can have of humiliation) made him write one day to me thus:  
I assure you, I lack for no matter to make me humble, and to labour in good earnest, to correct myself, although with patience; for I experiment and see clearly, that though we labour and wish earnestly to get out of our imperfections, our Lord sometimes leaves us there a long while, to make us know our weakness, and to humble us.  
He desired to be advertised of, and reprehended for, his faults, and we shall see now what he observed therein, at the beginning of his call to this high perfection. It came to pass, that a person which was much below him, had order from his Director to advertise him, if he saw any thing in him that was contrary to perfection, when this person gave him notice of some failing, though very light, and indeed but of the shadow of a fault, he listened thereto with respect and thanks, and humbled himself for it, as if he had committed some crime; and he accused himself, when he thought he had made any failing, upon his knees, saying, he was a miserable sinner, and that he had committed such a fault, which yet often, very hardly could one discern to be any. This exercise, as being most wholesome and efficacious, was very useful to him, for the making of a great progress; for our nature, by reason of its feebleness, hath need of such props to walk uprightly, and not fall.  
If his imperfections and his sins humbled him, his excellent qualities, and the graces which he received from God, did the same also: And the same things, from which the greatest part of men draw nothing but vanity, served him for motives of self-abasement: The Spirit of Jesus Christ, wherewith he was enlivened, extremely estranged him from the Grandeurs of the world, making him not only contemn them, but also to be ashamed thereof; so that he took occasions of abasements from his own condition, because so high in the world, and from the secular advantages which it gave him; which made him often to groan before the Majesty of God, and to say, that he was in a condition very low and plebeian, according to the Spirit of Jesus Christ, and that he had great confusion to see himself in that estate.  
From whence it came, that being born a Gentleman, of so good rank, as we have said, he renounced his Nobility, and gave it into the hands of our Lord, who, in return, imparted his own to him (as he made it known to a holy soul;) that is to say, his love, which by its proper force; transforming man in God, divests him of himself, and leaves nothing in him but God alone, there living and reigning; and by this means, raiseth him thus Deified to the highest degree of Nobility that he can mount to: Hence it was, that he endured with pain, that one should call him Monsieur; and he said sometimes smilingly, among his familiars, I am a fine Monsieur, it is well for me; and in his Letters, he complained that they treated him as in that quality: And in one of them, giving another [course] or career to his humility, he said,  
Believe me, I pray you, it is great pity of me, I take again the Monsieur, which I had rejected, my pride must have these her Appendices, rather than deceive your Candour, which else perhaps make you mistake in me, a piece of glittering glass for a Diamond.  
Out of his humility it was, that he would not bear the title of Marquis (which was due to him, as proper to his house, in regard the Emperor, Charles the fift, had erected Renty into a Marquifate) and he suffered only that of Baron of Renty, by which he was commonly called.  
For the graces and gifts of God, as they were received in a soul well disposed, so produced they most excellently their true effect, which was to abase and elevate the soul both together, to raise it to God, and to abase it to itself. And first, his humility made him hid as much as he could the gifts of God, and so hath robbed us of the knowledge of a thousand brave actions, which might have been very serviceable to this History.  
Secondly, when he received any favour from God, or that one rendered him any honour, the light whereby he saw the Nothingness of the creature, and the discernment he was endowed with, in distinguishing the precious from the vile, and that which is done on God's part, in all-good things, from that which man bringeth thither of his own, was the cause, that in those things he assumed no share at all; but referred all to God, as to the true Source; and so in the management of these great goods, which God enriched him withal, he had always his hands clean, without doing wrong to God, or touching that which appertained to him; and for himself, he kept quite out of sight of all vanity, which slides most subtly and most easily into a spirit, that abounds in riches of heaven, as well as those of the earth, if he look not very close unto it.  
Nor would he therefore, that any one should consider him, in what he said or did; but regard God alone therein: He wrote thus to one that much desired of him a visit.  
I cannot bear, but with pain, the account you make of my visits and society: Let us look much upon God, let us bind ourselves strictly to Jesus Christ, that we may learn of him a profound annihilation of ourselves. O my God, when will it be, that we shall have no more a sight upon ourselves, when we shall speak no more of ourselves, and when all vanity shall be destroyed.  
And he wrote to another:  
I beseech you not to regard in me, save my infirmities, and a depth of wickedness, and pride very horrible that is in me, that's it, for which I shall have need that all the world talk to, and punish me.  
In the third place, he esteemed himself most unworthy of the graces and favours of God, and believed there was not one of them, how little soever it were, but was far above his merits; and for the great ones, he was so full of, they did put him to a Nonplus. He wrote to a confident:  
The gifts of God are sometimes so great, that they put us, as I may so say, beyond ourselves (and if it were possible we could find the means to recoil ourselves further off, than beyond Nothingness) we should do it. You see among men, that when one receives a gift that bears some proportion to him, he renders thanks and acknowledgement to the giver for it; but if a Prince be Liberal to a poor man, according to the Grandeur of his own power, whether it be a sum of money, or a place, you shall see this poor man recoil, and say, Alas, my Lord, I think you know me not, I must not have so much, I am unworthy of it: In like manner, there are blessings that go beyond our expectations, capacities, and which make us see what we are, without daring to lift up our eyes towards them, their brightness doth so much dazzle, and their greatness so much astonish.  
In fine, he humbled himself always for the favours of God, because he thought that either by his sloth, he was not answerable to their extent; or that by the sole misery of nature, he used them, and made them lose some part of their force, as it happens to Plants of the Levant, which removed into a strange soil, do not retain their virtue, but degenerate, and savour of the earth, they are removed to: And if the spiritual things of nature are allayed and corrupted in their passage through our senses, how much more reason is there to think, that the Divine and spiritual things of grace, will there become enfeebled and altered. These considerations rendered him most humble, even in the greatest gifts of God, and in things of most sublimity.   

SECT. 2. The pursuance of his Humility in heart.  
AS the affections we bear to any thing, are always founded upon the esteem we make of it; so Monsieur de Renty, esteeming himself so low, so little, and nothing, in consequence thereof, did extremely abase and vilipend himself within his heart: This he did in every thing, and one of his strongest inclinations, according to grace (which is a great token of the Spirit of God in a soul) was to be always condemning of himself.  
He wrote to his Director:  
I have at the same time two apprehensions, quite contrary; the one, to avow to you, with thankful acknowledgement to God, that he fills me with effects of his goodness, and impressions of his Kingdom; and the other, that I am more disposed to condemn, than to regard myself; for upon the whole, what I do is pitiful.  
Another time, after some speech to him of many great enlightenings and excellent sentiments which God had communicated to him; he told him,  
I rest not upon all this; I told you only what is past, to render you an account, not making use of my judgement, but to condemn myself for vices, suspending it as to other things, and committing it to God.  
He wrote to another Confident:  
I know not what will become of our business, one must not speak a word in sweetness and patience, but I shall lose my credit somewhat; if this could be throughly lost, it would be great justice: Alas, if no body endured me, and all the world condemned me, my pride perhaps would be humbled.  
Carried on by this Spirit, he had an ardent desire (though always with his ordinary tranquillity, and giving himself up to the orders of God) to receive some disgrace:  
If I were to wish any thing, it should be, to be much humbled and nullified, and to be treated as an offscouring by others: This would be my joy, but I believe I deserve not so great a favour.  
This desire carried him to such a point, that had he not been withheld with the consideration of greater good, he had done strange things, to be disesteemed and receive confusion: Out of this sentiment and abundance of his heart, he said thus to one:  
I should have great pleasure, if it were permitted me, to go naked in my shirt through the streets of Paris, to make myself disesteemed, and taken for a fool.  
Whence we must observe two things: the first, that God gives sometimes to holy souls, some thoughts, affections and desires, so raised above the common pitch and humane reason, that they may seem extravagant; as this here which he gave to Monsieur de Renty, and which was, before him also, in our founder S. Ignatius. The second is, that we must not at all put in execution such desires, till before hand, they have been well examined, and justly weighed in the balance of Charity, and edification of our Neighbour.  
This burning desire which he had to be diesteemed, made him seek for, and love his own abjection, and when it came, to take it, not only with patience, but also (which is the highest step that one can mount in humility) with joy. He gave an evident and notable testimony thereof in the first journey he made to Dijon, whither a suit that he had with the Lady his Mother, and which to him by an extraordinary dispensation of God, was one of the greatest exercises of patience and humiliation, that he underwent in all his life (of which I shall speak more at large in the following Chapter) had obliged him to go: for thus he wrote to his Director the 24. of July, 1643.  
I am at Dijon now, seeing God is so pleased; where I have learned by the prejudicated opinions, that were entertained concerning me, what it is that God would draw from my journey; which is, that I lead a life secret and unknown to men in the spirit of penance. The bruit which they had spread concerning me was, that I was a Bigot, and had nothing but artifices and shows of devotion, for the colouring of my naughtiness; that indeed I have kept myself much private in my closet, out of fear to give, by coming abroad, rather scandal, than any example of virtue: I have found a generality that solicited against me, though such as from whom I had good cause methinks, for divers good reasons, to hope for a prop, than from any other, but have found the quite contrary: But so also, as God hereby hath done me many favours. I have been to see them, where I have received humiliation, with great joy: I have been very wary of opening myself in any thing that might recommend me unto them: I have only done in my business what truth required, and for any thing else, I made it matter of confusion and humiliation, as I ought to do: I shall be here, I believe, as one excommunicate, and the Scape-Goat of the old Law, chased into the wilderness for my enormous sins, for which I am of opinion God would have me do penance, not by mere pain only, but by such, as withal brings shame and confusion with it: I tell you this, to render you some account, not dwelling on it any longer; my sole scope being to love God, and to condemn myself.   

SECT. 3. His Humility in words.  
THe Humility of heart in which Monsieur the Renty was deeply rooted, produced in him the Humility of speech, which hindered him ever from speaking any word that savoured of vaunting, or that carried the least tincture of arrogance, and esteem of himself, or which was uttered in a haughty manner, or in a tone imperious or conceited; but on the contrary, they were all of them tempered with humility and modesty: and as he deemed himself to be indeed a sinner, lazy, ungrateful, perfidious, ignorant, so did he set forth, and qualify himself with these names and titles: We have seen hereof already something before, whereto we will add also this, which he writ to a certain person:  
I am, to speak the truth, but an Idiot, a poor Layick, and a sinner.  
Writing to a Priest, he said:  
What do I (an unclean one, and a Plebeian in grace, and in condition) in the Church, who live in a state that Jesus Christ refused for himself? I speak to a Priest, and to the anointed of the Lord, my God; if I should make a reflection upon myself, what should I be before my own eyes? What am I then before thine, and those of thy servants?  
He wrote to another person:  
I thank you for those Devoirs of Devotion, which you have tendered these 24 and 25 days last passed, for a thing so base as myself, who deserve no room, but among the children of Adam, that deceive all the world and who have reason to fear the anger of all the children of God, if the prayer of his son upon the cross had not implored forgiveness for his persecutors.  
And to another also:  
Seeing I am born with so willingly, and that you persevere to desire this of me, I beseech my Lord, in the hand and disposing of whom I would be wholly, that he make use (if it please him) of this miserable Rush, for the giving you some consolation, in the life of his children, and the ways which may lead you to the inheritance.  
He writ a great number of Letters, and it is a wonderful thing, that there is not among them so much as one, wherein he doth not vilify himself, and which carries not with it some touch of humility; and he did the same too in all his conversation: For although he had a design to annihilat himself the more, & to do that which generally speaking, is conceived to be the best (except in occurrences where virtue obligeth us to practise the contrary) to speak nothing of himself at all, neither good nor ill, yet was to him almost impossible to retain himself from it, in regard of that exceeding low opinion and disesteem he had of himself; whereupon when a Confident of his, said one day to him, This was not well done to speak so ill of yourself, he presently smote his breast, avowing, He did ill.  
It's true, that a man may speak ill of himself through pride, upon design to skim off to himself by this false humility, a little glory, and to get some reputation of an humble person; but when all is done, we find not that the proud are much subject to this fault, at least thus much we shall find, that it is very hard to speak of ones self from so great depth of humility as did this man of God.  
Who indeed spoke of himself very ill, and in terms of great confusion, and very often; but yet notwithstanding, without molestation or annoying of any one, and in such a manner, that we might evidently see, that he spoke from the bottom of his heart, and as he thought: And that which is yet more wonderful, he had such a grace in speaking ill of himself, and to his confusion, that many have marked, and experimented, that the words of humility and confusion which he said of himself, did imprint the same disposition in them that heard him, bringing into their souls the same effects of self-lessening, and sentiments of of humility.  
When by the particular motion of the Holy Ghost, he spoke of such graces and mercies as God had showed him, it was always with an humbled and self-annulling spirit, He wrote to a person thus:  
I am no other than a sinner, have pity on me, adoring for me the goodness of God, and of our Lord; who, to speak in the terms of the Gospel, turns in sometimes among sinners: I can tell some news of that with Zacheus, but I am confounded, for not producing in all my life, that which his love and gratitude made him do in a moment.  
And to another:  
I beseech our Lord to keep me very low, before him, and before you; for I ought to bear the shame of my crimes in all places, seeing I am altogether miserable; yet so as without ceasing to join with you in saying, Misericordias Domini in aeternum Cantabo [I will sing of the mercies of God for ever.]  
When he spoke of pious persons, joined with him in exercises of Charity, he used often these terms:  
If I may be so bold, I pray you salute them from me, I esteem myself very happy to be the last of that company, I am altogether uncapable and unworthy of it (and yet notwithstanding he was the bringer about of it) I shall be condemned by you all, if you have not pity on me, and redeem me from my miseries.   

SECT. 4. His Humility in his actions.  
AFter the humility of the heart and speech, comes that of action; which Monsieur the Renty practised in an excellent manner: We have already seen it in divers passages, we shall see it again in many other, and particularly when we speak of his patience, and of his charity towards the poor, and the sick: But besides all this, I shall not doubt to say, that he was continually attentive to all occasions of Humility, so that none of them escaped him, without being made use of.  
Since his special vocation to the service of God, he would not suffer they should carry him any more a cushion to the Church; but, to be there hid and disregarded, he mingled himself among Mechanics and mean persons; where he was often crowded and incommoded, as not being known, which he endured with great delight: He kept himself always as much as he could (with the humble Publican) at the lower end of the Church: And at Di●on, in the Church of the Vesulines, the Nuns that attend at the grate, spied him at prayers at the lower end of the Church, with his arms bend in form of a cross, when the people were gone that stood there with him; yea, and often he said his prayers before the door, when it was shut, that he might not, said he, put any to the trouble of opening it to a poor sinner. When he heard high Mass in his Parish, he went always to the Offertory, together with some poor man, and was seen sometimes with the same to accompany the Holy Sacrament through the streets, when no man of note was there but himself only.  
During the war at Paris, he went himself to buy bread for the poor, carrying it through the streets, and as much of it too as his strength would permit. As also at the same time, when he did the charity to a Monastery of Nuns, as to take in custody their Church plate, he pressed them very much, to let him carry to his lodging (which was almost two miles thence) and on foot as he was, a piece very great and weighty; but as he had the humility to desire it, so had they the discretion not to permit it: When they desired him at the same Monastery, that when he was pleased to do them the favour to visit them, he would come in his Coach, by reason of the distance, and incommodity he received in coming: He answered pleasantly, that he loved not to make use of a Coach, because that smelled something of the Monsieur, and that he must endeavour to make himself in every thing very little; He went therefore thither on foot, and returned the shortest days at five or six a clock at night, all alone, and sometimes in thawing weather; when being told of the great pains he took, he made answer, that our Lord humbled himself, and took toilsome pains for the good of souls, in a far other manner sure, and that he was his pattern.  
Being one day to go see a person of very great quality, about a business which much concerned the glory of God, he would not use his Coach, although he were to traverse in a manner all Paris, and that when it poured down with rain, but go thither on foot; one motioned, that he would at least let a cloak be carried by a Lackey, to take it when he came thither, and not present himself before that person in a Cloak altogether wet, and speak to him in such unseemliness, but he yielded not; yet to accommodate his humility with decency, he cast that cloak above his own, and past through the streets, so far in this humble equipage; and afterwards in the Nobleman's house, laid aside the wet cloak, and appeared in the other ordinary one of his own.  
But behold here another effect of this humility, whereof he wrote to his Director the 20 of December, 1646.  
It behoves me now, saith he, that I render you an account of a business that passed the other day: Madam, my Lord Chancellor's Lady, sent me a packet of letters, wherein I found some from the King with all the Seals and formalities, wherein I was made Councillor of State, but my thoughts were not taken up at all with the business. I sent her word, that I would assume the honour to see her, to thank her, for that my Lord Chancellor vouchsafed to think of me; that I honoured more than so, that which had the mark of the King, and which came from their hands, than not to receive it with all respect: But I most humbly begged one thing of her, that living in a kind of plain and vulgar manner, as I did, she would be pleased to take in good part, if (with all acknowledgement premised of my exceeding obligations to them) I did not accept those letters, and that the business might sleep without noise: some represented it to me as a thing worth thinking on, for that a Committimus might be very necessary for me, in some sort of occurrences; and that a pension of 2000 livers per ann. [about 200 l. Sterling] would afford me ability for the giving of more alms. To the first point I answered, that by the goodness of God, I had no need of it; and that often, the Committimusses prove a great vexation to those upon whom they are executed: That this should be our work, to bear our own little ordinary crosses, without laying extraordinary ones upon others. And for the second, that God having given me more of riches, than I had need of, I thought I was not obliged to augment them, but to keep me in my little way of living: you see how we stand as to this business.  
Whereupon let me tell you, that this thing cannot be affected so, but that I must take upon me also the quality of a Councillor of State, and must have a dependence upon the State, as a Pensioner of the King. Now by the paper that some while ago I sent you, you may see that I have given up my worldly Nobility to God, and this thing here, would derogate much from it; and moreover, it would be a step to an engaging of me I know not where, which now I see not, nor will see, having other things to six my eyes on. My disposition towards affairs of that nature, is to have no share at all in them: if perforce, and without my seeking, they come upon me, I shall count it a real cross, which our Lord will in such a case give me strength to bear. To conclude, Elegi abjectus esse in domo dei mei, & absit mihi gloriari nisii in cruse domini nostri Jesu Christi [I have chosen to be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, and God forbidden that I should rejoice in any thing, save in the Cross of Christ.] So have you the inclinations I find in myself.  
This was that he writ to him, concluding with these words, which carry with them another touch of humility, and much wisdom:  
I have been willing the business might be concealed, for the avoiding of Ostentation, which is found often in the refusal of things that have something of lustre, and give occasion of talk.  
And thus he carried himself in that conjuncture; but notwithstanding, sometime after, he was constrained by good advice, in consideration of a business that much concerned the glory of God, and relief of the poor, to accept of these letters, and that quality, and to make use of it.  
In a paper he wrote to the same person, I find this that follows, which makes much to our purpose:  
Walking one day this Lent thorough the streets of Paris, much bedirted, and very poor to look at, I bore in me the resentment of the Apostle, 1 Cor. 4.13. when he saith, That he was as the scum and offscouring of the world: I returned (in my mind) blessing for reviling, and the rest of that passage, so much as fell under my passive obedience, both actually receiving illumination to understand it, and strength to execute it: I know well how much neatness and new things, even to a boot, even to a glance, and a look, do hurt, if one take not good heed, the simplicity and dignity of this Christian self-vilifying. And I saw that it was a great temptation for a man to think to preserve his estate of Grandeur and note, in hopes to be thereby more exemplary, and have more weight and authority for the service of God: This is a pretext that our infirmity makes use of in the beginning, but perfection draws off at last to Jesus Christ, who was humbled upon the Cross, and made the lowest of men: What an honour is it to keep company with Jesus Christ, so lovely, and so little followed, in his ignominies, and his humiliations: it is one of my errors, that I have not yet well begun it.  
The great knowledge and marvellous sense that he had of these truths, and of the lowliness of Spirit (whither aught to tend and come the true children of God, and perfect followers of Jesus Christ) made him often to say:  
Let us be little, and very little: Oh this holy littleness, it is a great matter.  
From this Spirit it was, that he loved low and mean things, and shunned whatsoever it was that outwardly carried splendour with it; whither he knew, that nature (in a secret reflex upon itself) is always carried, and even in things most spiritual and holy: as on the contrary, Grace (as being the grace of Jesus Christ) carries to things of no reputation, such as he embraced.  
And he avoided, out of the fame thought, whatever it was that held of the extraordinary; and said, that in exercises, wherein there appeared even most of perfection, as in observing Fasts and other penances more than others, there was not in them sometimes so much, as in the common exercises; for the meanness of which is recompensed with the mortification of our nature; which nature very often seeks its self in the extraordinaries, and the singularities; being much pleased to have something above others, and so be thought of and spoken of, with the more esteem.  
He kept the same guard upon his speech, that he might not in discoursing of spiritual things, and the highest mysteries, make any use of terms magnific and pompous, or of words new and uncouth; and if it fell out, that he uttered any such, he shown it was with pain, and because he could not express himself otherways; insomuch, that neither in his actions, nor in his words, would he have any thing that made appearance of Grandeur, or of singularity.  
It was moreover an act of humility and wisdom in him, to make esteem, and to speak with advantage, of other men's carriages for their Interior, although they were far below his own, saying, that we ought most carefully take heed, of speaking like the Pharisee, I am not as other men. And writing to me one day of this subject:  
God forbidden, said he, that I should believe, there is any thing singular and extraordinary in me, although I owe him extreme acknowledgements for his infinite mercies.  
But among all the effects and testimonies of his humility, the manner of his carriage towards his Director, aught, without doubt, to have place in the first rank: He did nothing, were it of never so little consequence, that concerned himself, without his conduct; to him he propounded the thing, either by word of mouth, if he were present, or if absent, by writing, clearly and punctually, desiring his advice, his pleasure, and benediction upon his resolution: These were his terms, and that with so much humility, respect, dependence, and submission of his own sense, as was admirable; and after, without return or disputing, he followed simply and exactly his order, even as much as could be done, in a well reform Religious order, by the most resigned and obsequious novice.  
His director having written to him something concerning his perfection, he answered him in these terms:  
I beseech you believe, that although I am most imperfect, and a great sinner, if yet you do me the honour and favour to send me a word of what you know to be necessary for me, I hope, with God's help, I shall profit thereby: I pant not after any thing, but to find God, and Jesus Christ, with as much simplicity, as verity: I pretend to nothing in this world, but this, and out of this I desire nothing.  
See what a submission here was: although he had (which makes the marvel) an excellent and most clear spirit; and was endued with so high prudence, and great insight in each thing, that he was consulted by word of mouth and by letters, from divers places, by a very great number of persons, of every age, sex, and condition, both of Secular and Religious.  
For the practising so highly this submission, he fixed his eyes upon our Lord (who in each thing was his model, and his light) in that submission which he rendered to S. Joseph, wherewith he was extraordinarily affected. Being one day at the Carmelite Nuns of Pontoise, praying in their Church, and opening himself in this matter, to a person to whom with prudence and charity he might do it, he thus told him:  
It is true, that I have received this morning a grand favour, in the weditation on the subjection and dependency which the son of God was pleased to render to S. Joseph, to whom he was subject and obedient in all things as a child to his Father. Oh what an honour and grace was it to this Saint! but Oh, what a virtue and self-annihilation in, Jesus Christ! that the Son of God, being equal to his Father, should be subject to a creature, and submit to a poor Carpenter, as if he had not known how to demean himself? I am given to understand, how by this example of the Son of God, we are highly instructed (and after a manner worthy such a Master) concerning the dependence which the Creatures ought to have upon God, and concerning the strict obligation which engageth us to submit to the Sovereign power which he hath over us; and to the direction of men, in such sort, that our heart may not have repose but in this subjection, united to that which Christ Jesus renders to a Creature: O how profound is this mystery, and how it teacheth me!  
This said, he continued a while after without speaking, as if he had been wholly taken up with the greatness of this grace: and the person to whom he spoke, having told him that he felt some communication of this grace, he fell down on his knees, and so did that person also, and both of them praying, adored Jesus Christ, in this estate of dependence and submission to a creature, devoting themselves to him for imitation.   

SECT. 5. His love of a private and retired life.  
WE place also as an effect of his humility, the love he had to a private and unknown life; for he loved it not only for its affording him more time to attend upon God, and communicate more with our Lord, who was the dear object of his heart: but the more, for having thereby the means, to fly from the esteem, the honour, and the praises of men, and to be blotted out of their minds, and remain in oblivion to all the world.  
Being pressed with this love, he said, that if God had not tied him to this state, wherein he was, he should have gone into some strange and remote Country, to live there in obscurity the rest of his days; that he wished not to be known by any one in the world, that it was not expedient that one should know so much, as that he was there, and that it would have been a singular pleasure to him to be banished from the hearts of all men, and unknown by all the creatures; whereunto he contributed, on his part, all that he could, not doing any thing that might bring on acquaintance, and gain affections; and it was noted, that the more he advanced in light and graces, the more strong grew the Bent he had [plant] to this hidden life and desire to be unknown, as he witnessed five or six months before his death.  
He beheld herein our Lord, and he example that he gave us of this life, not having appeared for the space of thirty years, but once only in the Temple, although there was no danger on his part, to be frequented by men; and one would think also, he might thereby have done them much good, in cultivating, polishing, and sanctifying them, by his conversation, and by his words, being indeed come into the world on purpose to teach them. He cast also his eyes upon God, whom the Prophet calls a Secret God, and who effectually hath kept himself hid a whole Eternity within himself, and who through all the discoveries that he hath made of himself, which is showed abroad, is nothing near answerable to what is still undiscovered within him. These were the models after which this servant of God and illuminated soul, fashioned himself.  
In a Memorial written the fifth of March, 1645. which he gave to his Director, to render him an account of that which passed in his Interior, he said:  
One time, being in the street, where coaches passed to and fro, and not knowing whether I ought or no, look on them that were in them (because it was in a place of my acquaintance) and whether this would not give some occasion of talk, to see that I went in that manner on, not looking at all aside; I had on a sudden upon my spirit, but after a manner that I cannot doubt but it was of God, Trouble not thyself about being known; and, Stand not upon knowing: These two words gave me so great light and force, that I dwelled more than eight upon this Contemplation, That herein consists the greatest aids of the life spiritual, and I have it daily for a ground.  
It is certain, that since the greatest part of our evils and imperfections come from a desire to be seen, and to see, this amusement must have in it great venom against the advancement of a soul, although she often perceives not the damage, nor feels the hurt that comes from it. That which defiles our actions of Piety, is, that self-love makes one glad when they are known and observed; men show always the most fair, and hid the foul, and inside; and all the outside is so composed, that the mind is often more taken up about that, than about God: And very few there are, that have not a great part in this vain eyeing and regard, passive and active, of the creatures. O how these words wrought in me a great separation from the world! what purgation and, and what purity is it, to be upon the earth, and there see nought but God O how (undoubtedly) such a one would live, as if he were not known, without caring what the world says or thinks, without desire of taking or receiving any part there, of knowing or being known of any, neither by name, livery or visage, but according as our Lord did: How one would march naked, pure, and free of spirit: I was then in t he midst of the streets, and of noise among crowding and justling, in such tranquillity, so united to God, and so much taken up by him, as if I had been in a desert; and since that time I go thus through the streets, yet with liberty to look upon what I should see, but without being fixed to it. And these words are again sent into my spirit in necessary occurrences, and they keep and conserve me in God, I am for all that very unfaithful to this Grace, but the centre and the ground of it is not blotted out of me, and this renders me more culpable, Thus we have what was in his Memorial.  
Let us end with what he wrote to a Lady, 1643. upon this business, of a life that is secret, and retired from communion with the creatures, to whom he said:  
Let us encourage ourselves, to lead this life unknown, and wholly hid from men, but most known to & intimate with God, divesting ourselves, & chase out of our mind, all those many superfluities, and those many amusements, which bring with them so great a damage, that they take up our minds, instead of God: so that when I consider that, which thwarts and cuts into so many pieces, this holy, this sweet, and amiable union, which we should have continually with God, it appears that it is only a Monsieur, a Madam, a compliment, and talking; indeed a mere foolery, which notwithstanding doth ravish and wrest from us the time that is so precious and the fellowship that is so holy and so : Let us quit this, I pray you, and learn to court it with our own Master, let us well understand our part, our own world (as we here phrase it) not that world, I mean, which we do renounce, but that wherein the children of God do their duties to their Father.    

CHAP. 4. Of the disesteem he made of the world.  
THat great affection which he bore to an obscure life, was an evident mark of his disesteem of the world; for if he had esteemed it, he would not have desired to quit it: Now to say to what height he mounted in the disesteem of it, is a thing very difficult: 'Tis enough for us to know, that he had it in extreme contempt, by observing (as abovesaid) how he renounced, as far as in him lay, all that the world could promise, and could give him; and wherewith it useth to enslave and captivate men; how he degraded himself of his Nobility, how he yielded up his goods, and stripped himself of their property, as no otherwise to use them, than in quality of a poor man; withdrew himself from pleasures, rejected the honours & dignities to which his birth and excellent perfection gave him very great overtures; how he flowered all its allurements, trampled under foot all its glories, He beheld for this end, our Lord as his pattern, who from his entry into the world and birth, made an open profession of an absolute contempt of the world; because (as he said) he was not of the world.  
I find written by his own hand, in a Memorial which he gave to his Director, this rare and solid illumination some our Lord in this matter.  
Being, saith he, in the month of November, 1644. in a Chapel, richly Wainscoted, and adorned with very excellent Sculpture, and with Imagery, I beheld it with some attention, having had some skill in these things, and saw the bundles of flowers diluces, and of flowers in form of borders, and of very curious workmanship; it was on a sudden put into my mind, The original of what thou seest, would not detain thee at all in seeing it. And I perceived, that indeed all these, and those flowers themselves (and not in picture) would not have taken me up; and all the ornaments which Architecture and Art inventeth, are but things most mean and low, running in a manner only upon Flowers, Fruits, Branches, Harpies, and Chimeras, part whereof are in their very being but things common and vile, and part of them merely imaginary; and yet man (who croucheth to every thing) renders himself amorous, and a slave of them; no otherwise, than as if a good workman, should stand to copy out, and counterfeit some trifles and sopperies. I considered by this sight, how poor man was, to be cheated, amused, and diverted from his Sovereign good: And since that time, I could make no more stand to consider any of these things; and if I did it, I should reproach myself for it; as no sooner seeing them in Churches, or elsewhere, but this is presently put upon my spirit, The original is nothing, the copy and the image is yet less, each thing is vain, except the employment of ourselves about God alone.  
And in truth, a Christian who is nurtured and elevated for so great things, as the possession of God, and Eternal glory, aught to undervalue all that which is is here below, yea, how resplendent soever; with much more reason, than a great King will reject a boot of hay-ropes (to which hay indeed, the Prophet compares all worldly glories) in comparison of his Crown and Kingdom. This was the cause that employed this servant of God, to animate a Lady to the vilifying of the world, by writing to her in this manner:  
I shall tell you, that seeing we are not Christians, but by the tie, the dependence, and the life, we have of Jesus Christ, I wonder how it comes about, that a thing so little as man, drawn out of nothing in his first original, infected with his first Parent's sin, and the addition of his own, raised to so high a degree of honour, as the alliance of Christianity gives him, in being one only Christ with the Son of God, in being his brother, and a co-heir with him in the life to come: I wonder, I say, how, after such admirable Prerogatives, man can esteem the world, and make any account of its vanities? Shall he have his heart here, and be a man of this world, after these considerations? The things of the earth, whereof death also will quite strip us, and for ever, shall they fill our hearts, in that little time we have to be here, to work out our salvation, to obtain the treasures prepared for us, and to render thanks to God for his mercies? should we not make appear to God and men, a faith that is altogether lively, in quitting freely the things of this world, its honours, false, or at least not profitable, its establishments perishable, its opinions extravagant, and all that, which will pass away like a dream? even as we see our great Grandfathers are gone, and there is no more memory of them, their rise and settings, their contentments and displeasures, which did stick so close to their hearts, and which they had so much pain to accommodate to the Law of Jesus Christ, and to the genius of their times, all this is vanished away. Is it not true, that we have cause to think them to have been out of their wits, if they considered any other thing but God in their ways? The same thing will happen to us, each thing will pass away, and God alone will abide: O how good it is to be fastened to him alone?  
He encourageth the same Lady in another Letter, thus:  
Courage, all is well, we must die to the world, and search out the obstacles, that it brings to our perfections, to condemn them; and to live in the world (in the Apostles sense) as not living there at all; possessing it, as not possessing it all: Let us drive stoutly out of our minds the complacence and affection to our brave houses; let us ruin the delights of our gardens, let us burn our Groves, let us banish these vain images which we have of our children, hiding secretly in the love of them, that which is but indeed our own self-love (though we seem dead to it) and it makes us desire, esteem, and approve in their persons, that which we condemn in ourselves; to wit, the lustre and glittering of the world.  
I know there is a difference of conditions, but all aught to reject these entailments (as men account them) upon great birth and noble blood: I mean, these principles of aspiring to the highest, and entertaining no sufferings: such principles as these, our children carry from that birth we give them; but it behoveth, that the second birth, which we procure them from Jesus Christ, do repair these disorders: Let us take from them this vanity of mind, all these stately demeanours, and the examples of these Grandees in story, whose punishments are as eminent in hell, as their presumption hath been glittering on the earth; for otherwise it will be found, we shall conduct them to no better end.  
In another Letter he explains to her, what he had said concerning her Houses and Gardens, and which without this Explication, would seem to be very harsh:  
My design, said he, was not that you should demolish your walls, and let run into a rude wilderness your gardens, to be more at liberty for God: I understand my speech, of the disingagements and the ruins which must be made in our minds, and not be executed on things insensible, and which have no worth in them, but in form. When I say, we must set all on fire, my thoughts were of following that admirable spirit of the Apostle, who would that we have poverty among our riches, and divestment in the midst of our possessions; he means, that our spirits be truly purified and separated from the creatures, which we really make our solace; because a Christian that tends to perfection, doth himself great wrong in dwelling upon these amusements, and entertaining in his heart other inclinations than those of Jesus Christ, who saw all the world without destroying it; but withal, without applying himself to it; the business of his Father, and his glory, was his life; the wind of rivers, and the ornaments of fields, were to him but things of feeble consideration, and not matters of employment. Hither it is that I would have one come, and desire no more.  
It is, in effect, thus, That we must contemn the world; whereunto God carries us, and to bring us thither more efficaciously, he permits by turns, and often that we receive therein disgraces, and meet with pain and trouble; as when a man sets thorns in a way, to make men take another: The which Monsieur the Renty knowing very well, see what he writes thereof to a certain person:  
God hath his ends through all these contrarieties; which is, that those that are his, should be yet more his, in affiance, in recumbency, in life, and in all: The bruit of the world, and its turning upside down, are advantageous, to make known its spirit, its confusion, its vanity, to them that are not of it; and who being in the spirit of death, wait for nothing more there, than for death; bringing forth in the mean while, the effects of life eternal, which is a kind of advancement out of mortality, whilst we are in it.   

CHAP. 5. Of his Patience.  
QUestionless the humble man is patiented, because he esteems himself worthy of the evil he suffers, and of much more also: And if we will search into the true cause of our impatiences, and drive up to the spring head, we shall find it to be our pride, and the esteem of ourselves. Monsieur de Renty being most humble, as we have seen, was also by consequence most patiented, as this Chapter is going to relate.  
And now at first, when I am thinking of it, there comes into my mind, the description that Tertullian makes of patience, representing her with a visage sweet and calm, a forehead serene, without all show of frowning or sadness; a carriage always equal, few words, and a countenance such as one sees in persons innocent and assured: Now they that knew him, will say, that this is the very portraiture of him in his native colours, as being the very image of Patience to the life, having all these qualities in a very high degree. He had also many other interior qualities necessary for this virtue; for those now mentioned concern only the exterior.  
Persons that had lived a very long time with him, and had studied with care all his actions, never heard him complain for any thing whatsoever, neither for sickness, nor loss, nor in any other occasion of sufferance; but they always observed in him, a constancy , a patience invincible, and which passed often into joy, with an eveness so great and so marvellous, that he spoke not one word higher than another, nor used any gesture, which might argue a spirit over eager or forward.  
In his second journey to Dijon (which he made with the Lady his wife, and the late deceased Countess of Chastres) the second or third day, he was assaulted with a violent Rheumatism, which put him into pain all over his body, and being to lie down in bed, as need was, he went thither quite stooping, supported by a staff, and by a person that led him: In this voyage he suffered extreme pain, without saying ever a word, or making the least complaint: These Ladies perceived it, seeing him grow wan and pale as a clout, and afterwards in a moment all on fire, and although they told him, that surely he was very ill, he answered nothing to it, nor embraced the easement of talking of his grief, which naturally the sick desires; but entertained them with discourses of the excessive dolours of Jesus Christ, and what a favour it was from God, when a soul suffers for him; but in terms so full of sweetness, and with so much of love and zeal, that the company was affected with great devotion in hearing him.  
These two Ladies not able to get out of him, what his pain was, and desiring much to know it, they requested the Prioress of the Carmelites of Dijon (supposing she might have more power with him than themselves) to ask him concerning it; which she did: To whom he answered plainly,  
My pains are great, even to crying out, and swooning; but although I feel them in the greatest extremity, yet through God's grace, I yield not up myself to them, but to him.  
He told her moreover, that being led into his Chapel of Citry, and set down upon a bench, by reason of his sickness, the bench broke, without any appearance at all to him, that such a thing could happen, and that he believed, the evil spirit had broken it, to move him to impatience, making him to fall untowardly:  
But by the mercy of God, I was no more moved thereat, said he, than you see me now, although the pains that surprised me were very sharp.  
A man had need have great command of himself, and be very patiented, to be able in like occasions, not to be moved at all, and to keep himself in the same posture of spirit, as if nothing had happened.  
I had the favour, said this good Mother, to be with him about two hours, while he was exercised with these great torments, which I saw him bear with so much calmness and modesty, without stirring at all, and talking just no otherwise, than if in going out of the Speak-house, he had been in perfect health, whereas, God knows, he was in great pain, resting upon a staff, and going twofold: All our Nunnery was much afflicted to see him in this condition; and it was the motion of some, to make a vow for his health to the Lady of Grace (whose Image here they honour) believing that the Mother of God, would not deny them it, both for the veneration that this servant of God rendered to this Image, as also for the great obligations our house had to him. The whole Society made the vow upon the day of her Nativity, after Mass, whereat Monsieur de Renty was present, but, by no means, being able to kneel. The vow was accepted; for after that night he came without staff into the Parlour, and a few days after, he could kneel down, and was grown well within the nine days of the Vows continuance: They keep the staff in the Covent, in devotion and memory of this grace; and he in acknowledgement of the benefit received, sent a Heart of Crystal in a Case of Gold, to hang about the Neck of the Virgin.  
Having lost a Son whom he dearly loved, he endured this sharp affliction without saying a word, save only in testifying his perfect submission to the orders of God, and with so much patience, as might justly render it an action Heroical.  
Often had he great exercise of patience in the works of Charity, which he rendered to his Neighbour; not only enduring hunger, thirst, heat, cold, wet, weariness of body, and other outward pains, inseparable attendants on the employments he had, but also contempts and reproaches.  
While he was employed on certain set days in an Hospital, in catechising poor Passengers, a certain man that was there settled, was offended at this action of humility and signal charity, in a person of that condition, looking upon it, as an encroachment and intrusion upon his office, and came to find him out, as he was in the midst of the poor, instructing them, and gave him, in their hearing, divers injurious and offensive words, to discourage him from coming again. Monsieur de Renty seeing this man take on so against him, heard him without being moved, and patiently enduring his contempt and outrages; after all, makes answer, with much humility and respect, that he desired to teach those poor people, which he saw to have great need of it; that he was not willing to come on any such days, as he would take, but seeieg that he would not be at the pains himself, he prayed him not to hinder a good work: This did not satisfy the man at all, but he comes four days together into the Hospital, to drive out Monsieur de Renty, as soon as he began the Catechism, doing it instead of him; which this most courteous Nobleman endured all the time, with an admirable patience.  
He practised this virtue with great care and conduct, through all the things of this life, whereof there is not any but will give occasion of patience; so that whatsoever happened, general or particular, though it checked and justled his nature, his body, spirit, judgement, will, inclinations, desires, designs, and those of the best sort, every thing that concerned him in what way soever, he endeavoured to improve it towards grace and perfection, and possess his soul in patience and tranquillity, receiving and suffering all without any alteration, or being either exalted or dejected by them.  
Praying to God before the Holy Sacrament (saith he, in a memorial under his own hand) a poor man came to me to beg an Alms, at that time I applied myself to recollection, when men use to receive such interruptions with some contradiction; and the word itself implies as much; for we call it, The importunity of the poor: It was given me in this instant to understand, that if we were well enlightened, we should not count ourselves importuned, or hindered by any person or thing; because we should regard the order of God, conducting all things to our advantage; that as it behoves us to suffer with patience the distractions interior, so ought we to endure the exterior, and that the vexation, unquietness, and impatience, which these little accidents cause in us, come from our ignorance and immortification.  
It is not for all that though, but we may shun the occasions of trouble: but when they come, we must look upon them as ordered by God, receive and bear them with all sweetness, humility and reverence; and so though they come and interrupt us, the order of God is not interrupted in us, but we follow it; and this indeed is the treasure, and the great secret of the life spiritual, and (I may so say) a Paradise upon earth.  
True it is, that nothing troubles us, but through our own fault, and all the vexations which we either resent within, or vent outwardly, when any one crosses, hinders or diverts us from doing any thing, have no other source, but the disorders of our too much engaged spirits. And for the better stifling of these passionate rise, and keeping our hearts in peace, we must mark this well: that if one hinders us from doing one good work, he thereby gives us the means of practising another. A man (suppose) draws you away from prayer, or from reading, hinders you from the executing of some good design you had for your neighbour: It is true, but he puts you withal into a condition of exercising patience, which in this conjuncture, will be better, more acceptable to God, and more efficacious to perfectionate you, than all those other actions; for in them there was found your own will, but in these, there comes in a Self-abnegation, wherein consists your perfection: for the fullness of God is not; but in the emptiness of the creature.  

SECT. I. A pursuit of the same subject.  
THis great patience in Monsieur de Renty, did flow from the high esteem he made of sufferings, which if well understood, are no other than well-springs of life eternal, than mines of gold, celestial riches, than participations of the Cross of our Lord; which Cross God hath appointed the cause of our happiness, and of all the good that we shall ever possess; and consequently whereunto every one must have some ligament or nail to affix him, who will be saved.  
To one that suffered, he wrote thus:  
God fashions you for himself, uniting you hear below to Jesus Christ's sufferings: Ah! what a great favour is it! and greater than we are ware of.  
And to another:  
What a blessing is it that God makes you suffer? whilst the world laughs! if those of the contrary part had (as you have) their eyes open, they would see a ravishing wonder; yourself to laugh in suffering, and themselves to weep for not suffering: you have a favour which they contemn, because they understand it not, and poor miserable men, they count themselves happy, in what is their misery.  
This great opinion which he had conceived of sufferings made him desire and thirst after them, and to say in the ardour of his wish, with that holy woman (to whom he bore so great devotion) either to die, or to suffer. He wrote to one thus:  
I see that in a manner, every thing is unprofitable in this life, but to suffer; every consolation, every sweetness and joy, is an overhasty scisure of the recompense which is not due to Criminals, who sojourn not in this world, but to be purged, and do penance there; to which business, pleasures and joys bring some allay, and hinder, without doubt, the penance from being so full, and the soul from arriving to a higher degree of perfection: Not that I deny, but that these things may sometimes be necessary, in regard of our infirmity; which hath need to be upheld, for the better enduring its mortifications.  
The year, 1647. th● 30 of April, he wrote thus to his Director:  
I have always before my eyes my feebleness, and that little which I render to God for his favours, which keeps me in abnegation; but yet with great affiance, which carries me to love, to docility, and to obedience; but love and obedience that inflames me more to suffer with our Lord: This is my greatest longing and attractive; because in every other thing we are receivers from God; but in this here (although we receive the grace to suffer) yet the suffering is that which we can properly give to God, and is the greatest gage and proof of our love.  
But it is not for all this reasoning aforesaid; that I should choose and bring sufferings upon me, but I feel myself inwardly inclined towards it, and stay there. It is about a fortnight since that I had such a kind of acknowledgement, and such a love to our Lord, suffering and offering himself to God his Father, and knitting us to himself to be but one and the same sacrifice, that I felt myself in an instant, and during that instant, glued to the Cross by such an alliance of love, as is inexplicable, and whereof the virtue continues with me to this present.  
In a Memorial that he gave him the year, 1648. in Lent, concerning his dispositions: he said,  
It is come into my mind, that the way to make me keep a hard Lent, would be to set me at a good Table, and oblige me to make good cheer, to cast me among the brave companions of the world, to prattle and laugh, and to lead me into walks, and meetings of young gallantry; for this would be to me a little hell; yea (without speaking of the sin that might be there) the very thought of it, makes me tremble; for it is true, that Solitude, fastings, and other things, which are called Penances, are my attractives or allurements.  
And afterward, he very wisely adds:  
Although I have this feeling, I cease not to know what I am, and in all my inclinations and desires, I take heed not to beg to suffer the least thing; and when I happen to do it of myself, I revoke it afterwards, as having done foolishly: I have too much experienc of my weakness; I give myself only to my God, for every thing he desires of me, from the top of heaven, even to the bottom of hell; by his order I will all, with him I can do all, and that which is ordered by him, is always accompanied with his grace.  
This great servant of God enlightened and touched with these illuminations and contemplations, stirred up to patience all those that he dealt with, and persuaded them to knit and unite themselves intimately to our Lord suffering and crucified. He wrote thus to one afflicted:  
I beseech our Lord to fortify you more and more with his graces; and that the more he imprints in you the characters of his passion, the more he may make you grow in the holy use of your suffering to accomplish perfectly in your person, what S. Paul saith, Absit mihi gloriari nisi in cruse Domini nostri Jesu Christi, [God forbidden that I should glory in any thing, save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.] I assure you, it is a great shame to a Christian, to pass his days in this world, more at ease, than Jesus Christ here passed his. Ah! had we but a little faith, what repose could we take out of the Cross.  
But if all have not this grace, how much ought they to whom it is given, to cherish it, seeing it is a mark of the high degree of glory, that they one day shall possess: for who doubts, but that in proportion, as we shall be conformed to the death of the Son of God, and to his pain, we shall in the same degree, be to his glory, and receive the recompense thereof in bliss.  
And afterwards teaching him the way of well-suffering, he gives him this advice, which contains all the secret.  
But the beauty of suffering is in the interior, in the holy dispositions of Jesus Christ, who is (and it is a thing to be well marked, and always studied) as well the model as the head of all sufferers.  
And to another, out of the same thought, he said:  
It is a great favour to suffer: All the worlds deceived, supposing this a common favour, it is very rare: It is true, we may say that many suffer, but of them there are very few, that suffer in the dispositions of Jesus Christ: very few, which suffer with a perfect resignment to what God ordains concerning them; very few, without some inquietude, and dwelling in their thoughts upon their pressures; few that give up all events to the conduct of God, without making reflection thereupon, for to employ themselves entirely in his praise, and to give way, by our acquiescence and submission, for him to exercise all his rights and power over us.  
He fortifies and encourageth, in this sort, a Lady much in pain.  
Few understand the secret of Christianity; many call themselves Christians, and few have the spirit thereof: many in their prayers and ordinary affairs, look up to heaven; but in their important actions, they are children of nature, not looking, but on the earth, whence if they life up their eyes to heaven, it is but to complain, and pray him to condescend to their desires, and not to show their acceptance of his: They give some small things to God, but will retain those which their love ties them to; and if he separate them from them, it is a violence, and a dismembering which he must make, and to which they cannot consent; as though the life of Christians were not a life of sacrifice, and an Imitation of Jesus Christ crucified.  
God, who knows our wretchedness, takes from us, for our greater good, the cause of our evil, a Parent, a Child, a Husband, that he may by another evil, which is affliction, draw us to himself, and make us see, that all these alliances; and connexion's to whatsoever it be, that separates us from him, are so many obstacles, of so great importance, that one day, in the face of all the creatures, we shall confess, that the greatest mercy that he ever did us, was to free us of them: It is a wormwood-bitter only to the mouth and taste, but wholesome to the heart; kills the old Adam, to make alive in us Jesus Christ; it is a great winter, which is the assurance of the beauty of the other seasons: But we must beware, that what is given us out of favour, we take not as a thing by chance, or a misfortune; for this would be to turn the remedy into poison, and to receive the grace to chase it away.  
Let us enter into the holy and adorable disposition, which was always in Jesus Christ, to suffer willingly, for the honour of his Father, and for our salvation. Is not this a strange thing, that men knowing, that the way which Jesus Christ past thorough to glory, was ignominy, pain, and the cross, yet they that call themselves his disciples and followers, should expect, and beg of him for themselves another way to walk in? Is the Disciple greater than the Master? and if the head willingly passed that way, what remains for the members? aught not they to follow him? Let us therefore go after him, and suffer after his model: Blessed be sickness, the loss of honour, of riches, of goods, and of the nearest things, and the separation from all creatures, which hold us bowed towards the earth, if it set us straight, and make us lift up our eyes to heaven, and to enter into the designs that God hath over us: Blessed be the plague, the war, and the famine, and generally all the scourges of God, which produce these effects of grace and salvation in us.  
I conclude in these words which he sent to another person:  
While we live here, it is our season of patience, where faith and hope would be unprofitable, if all were clear, and nothing caused us to suffer: It is in the obscurity of this desertion, and in all the sorts of trials, as well from within as without, that those virtues are established in our souls, and that they make us hope wall of our salvation.   

SECT. 2. His Domestic crosses.  
THe greatest exercise of patience that Monsieur Renty ever had in all his life, was that which was given him by the Lady his Mother; who, whether she were angry, that he was so forward in devotion, always among Prisons, always among Hospitals, always employed in actions low and abject, in the eyes of the world, far beneath, as she thought, his birth, and that she should have been glad to see him in glistering and glorious employments, wherein his Ancestors had appeared: or were it, that she was pushed thereto by some evil counsel, or otherways. So it was, that she gave him (and for a long time) matter of suffering; and one may say, that as she contributed much to the making him man, so she contributed much to the making him a perfect Christian. The case was thus, The Lady pretending to great rights in the goods which her deceased husband had bequeathed to her Son, did demand the same of him; who with great submission and respect, gave her all that he believed was her due, and over and above; but she not content therewith, demanded more; which her son finding, by advice of learned Counsel, that it could not be done without wrong to his children, did remit the business to Arbitrators, and agreed for the satisfaction of his mother, that she should choose them all, as she pleased, persons of ability and honesty, of her acquaintance, and such as he knew not at all, to determine what he might give her, without prejudice to his conscience: When they were chosen, he went to find them out, and prayed them to content the Lady his mother in every thing, that might lawfully be done, without having regard to him, which was a request altogether extraordinary, made to Judges, by one of the parties, and which well makes appear, the affection and the honour which Monsieur the Renty bore to his mother, and how far he was from seeking his own interest.  
The day being come wherein these Gentlemen were to give their sentence: whilst they were employed in the framing of it, the said Lady was in one chamber of the house, and her son, with Madam his Lady, and a Gentlewoman, in another, where the employment of her most virtuous son was, to pray to God for a success of the business, to his glory, and the procurement of peace; and for this end, he caused them to say with him some hymns, till the time that there was brought him the award, to sign it; which was read to him, and which he heard with great calmness of spirit; and although it was not advantageous to him, and that there was a notable forfeiture on them that should not stand to it, he signed it without dispute, or endeavour, to get better terms.  
Upon this, believing that his mother would be fully satisfied, with what had been decreed, when he returned to his lodging, he caused to be sung Te Deum Laudamus, beginning it first himself, and from his heart, in way of thanksgiving for this conclusion, which he supposed would be a bond of peace between his mother and him, and a means of living happily with her, the rest of his days: But God (to purify and refine him yet more, and to lay a cross upon his shoulders, which he bore divers years in a most holy disposition) permits, that the thing should not take effect, according to his desire; because his mother not accounting herself satisfied with this advantage which these Arbitrators had given her, found our a way to appeal from the award, yet without being obliged to pay the forfeiture for refusal, and to sue him for her pretended right, at the Parliament of Dijon. Her son did all that was possible for him, to make her alter this design, and to sweeten her heart towards him; and; for the bringing of this about, he had recourse to remedies supernatural; he made long prayers, and joining penance thereto; he fasted with extraordinary rigour, and macerated his body with great austerities, hoping God would have regard to these actions, and to the sincerity of his intentions.  
After he had thus prepared himself for some time, he went to his mother, and cast himself on his knees before her, with a reverence, humility, and submission able to mollify the most obdurate heart; the which thing he did, not for once only, but often, and with abundance of tears; and begged of her with the most efficacious words that he could make use of; that she would be pleased to take him and all his family unto her, and entertain them as she thought meet; and after that, she might dispose as she pleased of all the goods that his father had left him.  
She would not consent to this humble and reasonable request, but persisted in her resolution to go to Dijon, and sue him there; which he perceiving, though he might, by an expedient presented to him, have crossed that, and never stirred out of Paris, yet out of respect to her, and to comply with her in this business, would not make use of it, but determined to go thither, and did so.  
And this he did, out of a disposition to confusion and debasement; which indeed he met with to purpose, finding men's minds prejudiced against him, with a persuasion of great injury, for one that made profession of so high piety, to deal so with his mother, which he endured, that he might be partaker of the reproaches, and honour the self-abasement of the son of God, who came into the world for our sakes, in the similitude of sinful flesh, and appeared as a criminal, although he was very Innocence itself: And so passed he here, for a guilty person in this business, though he was not at all in fault; but on the contrary, exercised therein, actions of Heroical virtue, of which you shall now see some of them.  
A person of piety, and Superior of a Religious House, acquainting him with all the evil and strange reports which were spread abroad of him in Dijon, where none were to justify him, being a mere stranger there; he heard it all without any sign of passion, but with admirable calmness, elevated himself to God in heart and words, and humbled himself before him; whereat she was much edified. She demanded, after this, whether there had been put in, any injurious papers against his mother, as was reported. He answered, No; though Proctors and Advocates sometimes say more than one would have them, yet that he had seen all the writings, and found them all drawn with that respect, which was due to a mother.  
She asked him also, if he was not afflicted at her manner of proceeding against him, seeming very harsh and extraordinary.  
He said, No, because I so much adore the order of God over me, that I cannot be afflicted at that which he permits to befall me: I am a great sinner, and therefore not only my mother, but all the world have just cause to take part against me.  
In brief, he was never heard to make any complaint of hard usage from his mother, but continually laid the blame upon his sins.  
The same person adds in a Memorial, how that divers seeking out ways of accord, had the greatest trouble in the world to make her join in it, every day inventing new difficulties, even when it was believed that all had been given her, whatsoever she desired; and that in the midst of these delays from day to day, herself said to Monsieur Renty, Sir, I shall willingly say the Te Deum, when once I hear your business ended: And one day, when they believed Articles would have been signed, without retracting (on which day notwithstanding, all was broken off) he came with a pleasant countenance, to desire her to say the Te Demm.  
It is now the time to say the Te Deum, said he, since you had the goodness to promise it: And may I be so bold, as to desire to say it with you? O what a great and wise God have we! who knows well how to do all things as they ought, and when they ought; not according to our precipitations, but to his order, which is our Sanctification.  
Hereupon he said the Te Deum, with a spirit so elevated to God, as gave sufficient evidence of his being wholly filled with him.  
And afterward said:  
It's well, though nothing be done, yet it was very meet to say the Te Deum, to render thanks to God, for that he hath done his own will, and not that of a finner, unworthy to be heard or regarded.  
This action filled me with admiration (wrote this person) and so much the more, because the business was believed to be broken, without hopes of making up again. And I no less admired his silence, in a business that touched him so near, in that he never spoke word to me of it, nor of his mother; save only to desire, that they both might be recommended to God: And from the beginning, that I had the honour to speak to him, when I gave him notice of the offers that divers persons had made us to ferve him, he thanked me most hearty for my good will (with great acknowledgement towards those persons) and without speaking any more thereof, he fell upon discoursing of God; never after opening his mouth about that business, which evidenced a wonderful disengagement, and death to every thing, though of never so sensible an interest.  
There past also many other things at Dijon, and since at Paris, during these differences, even to the death of his mother; yea, and after, which required an extreme deal of patience, and which he practised in an Heroical perfection, even to the astonishment of those who were acquainted with the business.  
But it is enough, of this matter we have spoken sufficiently, and I doubt not, Monsieur de Renty, who is now (as his eminent virtues give us sufficient ground to believe) in the place of perfect Charity, doth approve of my design, in not speaking more thereof, and of using reservedness towards that Lady, to whom all his life, he bore so much love and respect.    

CHAP. 6. Of his Mortification.  
WHat we have spoken hitherto in this Second Part of the Austerities, of the Poverty, Humility and Patience of Monsieur de Renty, makes appear evidently, to what height he was mortified, and that he was a true grain of that mysterious wheat mentioned by our Saviour, which by dying, brings forth much fruit; yet besides all this, we shall touch here some other effects of his Mortification.  
The grand secret of Christian-life, consists in the destruction of what our nature hath in it vicious, the better to give way to grace, in crucifying the old man, that Jesus Christ may live there, who hath taught us, that this is not acquired but by continual Mortification; and to that end, hath told us, that if any man doth not take up his Cross, and that daily, he cannot be my disciple.  
This excellent Scholar of that great Master, having well learned his lesson, employed all his care in the beginning of his Conversion, to mortify himself in every thing, to subdue his passions, to regulate his motions Interior and Exterior, to annihilate his desires, and to die to all the inclinations of corrupt nacure, with so great faithfulness and constancy, that as soon as he perceived her to carry him to any thing with some imperfection, and that his natural will inclined one way, he did the quite contrary: And he told an intimate person, that having undertaken the endeavour to oppose his nature in each thing, by the grace of God he had always surmounted it; insomuch, that in all things he proceeded with a spirit of death, and continual sacrifice, making no further use of his passions, senses, nor of any thing in him, but with an eye always open, to hinder the operations of malign nature, and whatever she brought thereto of her own, following the conduct of our Lord, saying, that a man must disengage himself from himself, and every creature, that God only may be his object.  
And accordingly he performed it exactly; for when in his sickness he endured most sharp pains, he was so taken up with God, and abstracted from them, that he thought not of them. It was impossible to find a man more reserved, in speaking of that which troubled him than he: For as he knew, that nature is apt to seek and comfort itself, in discoursing of that which hurts her, so he deprived her of that satisfaction and content, lifting up in the mean while his heart to God, and offering him his pain, without otherwise dwelling upon it; being glad that God's work went forward, that the body of sin was in destroying, & his sacrifice advancing.  
He that is baptised (said he) ought to be dead in Jesus Christ, and to lead a life of suffering, and in this suffering, of application to God, let us march on to our end, which is sacrifice in each thing, in the manner that God will have it, upon the bottom of obedience to his orders, and of the annthilation of ourselves, in the imitation, and by the Spirit of Jesus Christ: Let us be so many Victims, entertained, and taken up with these Interior dispositions and sentiments, that Christ had from his conception to his death, and to the last period of his offering up.  
Hence it was, he had often in his mouth these words, Sacrifice, Union, minding to say thus, that we ought to study and enforce ourselves to die in each thing to ourselves; and for the attaining thereof, to sacrifice to God our spirit, our judgement, our will, our thoughts, our affections, our desires, our passions, and all in the union, and after the manner of Jesus Christ.  
In these apprehensions, he wrote to a person, that he had great devotion to these words, which the 24 Elders sang in the Revelations, to the Lamb, which is our Lord, prostrate before his Throne, Thou hast made us Kings and Priests, and we shall reign upon the earth: In that this divine Lamb causeth that God establisheth his Kingdom in us, by reigning in our souls, and in our bodies, by his grace, that we are Priests, to offer up ourselves to him in sacrifice; and that by this means we shall reign for ever with him, in the land of the living: So that this excellent man, in all occasions where it behoved him to deny something to his nature, and to die to himself, cast his eyes upon this estate of sacrifice and of victim, to offer up himself to the glory of God, by the pattern of his Son our Lord.  
This great and continual care which he had to mortify himself in each thing, brought about, that he had so tamed his passions, so regulated the motions of his soul and body, so changed his inclinations, and subdued his nature, that at length he came to such a point of Mortification, passive, and of death, that he felt no more in the spirit any opposition to any thing painful, and was not mortified with any thing whatsoever: From thence came it, that writing to his Director, concerning his disposition, he said, that he understood not that which they call Mortification; because that where there is no contradiction nor resistance, there is no mortification; and when there befell any thing of a much mortifying nature, and would have touched him much, if he had been as yet alive to himself, if any familiar person spoke to him of the pain thereof; he said smiling, that the thing went well, and that we must gain upon ourselves, that nothing may mortify us any more, and that we be, as it were, insensible to each thing.  
He came to this pass, not by the goodness of his nature, nor by a kind of stupid indifferency, which sometimes is found in certain sleepy spirits; but by his labour and virtue, which had made this blessed work in him, and had changed his nature; for they that knew his youth, report, that naturally he was of a swelling, hasty, haughty, and jeering disposition; which he had so corrected, or to say better, annihilated, that in truth it was admirable, insomuch that he was become moderate, stayed, patiented, humble, and respectful, in a degree of consummate perfection: So that if we consider him well, a man may say, that he was of a disposition quite contrary, and diametrically opposite, to that which he brought from his mother's womb; teaching us by an example, so assured and illustrious, that a man may prevail much over himself, if he endeavour it sincerely, and that, whatever vice he hath, he may at last rid himself of it, if he force himself; according to those words of our Lord, The Kingdom of Heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force.  
And therefore, he recommended in a special manner this holy courage, and the necessity of self-enforcement; as being that by which we may measure what profit we have made in true virtue, and a means also absolutely necessary for the gaining of perfection. He wrote to a person that practised devotion, thus:  
O how much to be feared is it, that we cheat ourselves with the name and the appearances of devotion, relying much on our exercises of piety; which, it may be, are barely performed, and in speculation only, never coming to the practice, nor to the conquest over ourselves. In the morning we worship Jesus Christ, as our Master and Director, and yet our life all the day following, is not directed by him; we look upon him as our pattern, and imitate him not; we take him for our rule and guide of our affections, and yet we do not sacrifice to him our appetites; we make him the model of our conversation, which yet is never the more holy; we promise him to labour and get above ourselves, but it's no more than in imagination. The truth is, that if we know not our devotion, rather by the violence and enforcement we make upon ourselves, and the amendment of our manners, than by the multiplication and simple usage of spiritual exercises, it is to be feared they will be rather practices of Condemnation, than of Sanctification. For after all to what purpose all this, if the work follow not? if we change not ourselves, and destroy not that which is vicious in our nature? It is no otherwise, but as if a builder should pile together many materials towards making of a brave Edifice, and yet never begin it. And yet we see the work of Jesus Christ is almost reduced to this pass, amongst the spiritual persons of these times.  
He said to another, that the love which a Christian soul was obliged to bear to he virtues which Jesus Christ hath taught us, ought not to end in the simple sentiments of esteem and respect toward them, whereby souls of the common sort are easily persuaded, that they have done their duty; but therein they deceive themselves, for that our Lords will is undoubtedly, that they make a further entry into the solidity of his Divine practices, specially in Mortification; Patience, Poverty, and Renouncement of ourselves; and that is the cause why there are so few souls truly Christian, and solidly spiritual; yea, even sometimes amongst the Religious, was this, that men contented themselves to make a stand at this first step.  
I will end this Chapter, and this Second Part, with a Letter which he writ to his Director, who had thought it fit for him to visit a person that had great need of succour and instruction for some spiritual dispositions, which he performed with much success and benediction.  
This Letter dated the 14 of May, in the year, 1647. will make us well see the great disengagement that he had from himself, and his perfect Mortification attended with gifts inestimable, and his great light whereby he clears and explicates matters of great subtlety: The tenor is as followeth:  
For the person whom you know, and the visit I made him, it is God and your direction that hath done all: I am so much afraid to mingle therein any thing of mine, that going to the place where he is, yet I perceive I shall not visit him, without a new order from you, or that he much desire it: I have not since that time, so much as sent any commendations to him, considering with myself, that we must keep the man reserved, and in great sobriety: And I thought it fit to cast all this upon you, as my guide in the business. Ha' Father, the great imperfection of souls, is the not waiting enough on God, the natural disposition struggling, and not brought into subjection, comes in with fine pretexts, and thinks to do wonders; and in the mean while it is that which sullies the purity of the Soul, that which troubles its silence, and turns aside its sight from Faith, from Affiance, and from Love; whence it happeneth, that the Father of Lights expresseth not in us his Eternal Word, nor produceth in us his Spirit of Love.  
The Incarnation hath merited all, not only for the abolition of our faults, but also for all the dispositions of grace, whereunto Jesus Christ is minded to associate us; of which this is the principal (and was in him so far as he was man) to do nothing ourselves, but to speak and act according as we receive, knowing that we alone are not to do the work; but that the holy Spirit, which is the Spirit of Jesus, and which governed him in all his ways, is within us; which would stamp upon us his impressions, and give us the life, the life real and experimental of our faith, if ballasted and held back by patience, we would but wait his operation. This is it in which I feel my infirmity, and yet whither I find a great attractive: I see that which I cannot utter, for I possess that which I cannot express: And the cause (Father) why I am so brief, comes both from the imperfection of my natural disposition, and from ignorance, as also from a great largeness of the Divine goodness, which works in me that which I cannot utter. The effect of this is, a fullness and a satiating of the truth and clearness of the magnificence of God, of the greatness of Jesus Christ, and of the riches which we have in him; of the most Holy Virgin, and of the Saints; one sees here all praise and adoration, and comtemplates them within. I tell you here of many things me seems, and yet all this is done with one draught so simple and so strong in the superior part of the Spirit, that I am nothing diverted from it by any exterior employments: I see all, I understand all, and I do (though it be ill) all, that I have to do. This is that I present you with, to receive therein from you instruction and correction.  
Thus we see the admirable benefits that come from perfect Mortification, and the delicious fruits that are produced from this mysterious grain of wheat when it is dead.    

PART. III.  

CHAP. 1. His application to our Lord Jesus Christ, in regard of his Neighbour.  
WE have observed in the first part of this History, that the grand exercise of Monsieur Renty was, to apply and unite himself to our Saviour, and from that union, and his example, to derive all his virtues and good works: This was the general course he held in them all, to mould himself after him, for the composition of his Exterior and Interior, never taking his eye off this Divine Copy, but endeavouring to draw each line exactly, and pencil his true lineaments, making him his native and perfect Original.  
This was the scope of all his designs and cares, and particularly of his charity to his neighbour; for which, he propounded our Saviour as his grand Exemplar, marking what he had done, and what he had suffered for men, weighing those affections and tendernesses he bore towards them, how he sought after, and conversed with them; how he instructed, comforted, and encouraged them, sometimes reproving, otherwhiles bearing with their infirmities, and at all times carrying them in his most dear embraces, and most intimate enclosure of his heart.  
He pondered what he had delivered concerning this virtue of charity, that it was it, that he had established as the ground and perfection of his new Law; having left us this one command more expressly, which with special propriety he had termed his own, and the execution whereof he had enforced above all other: he much thought upon it, how that this Master had charged us to love our neighbour, according to the model, measure and fashion, that he had loved us: And finally, that he had made this virtue, and no other, the distinctive character betwixt such as possessed his Spirit in truth, and those that had it only in appearance.  
Wherefore having wellweighed these actions and doctrines of our Saviour, and resolved to do his utmost, to render himself a good Christian, and his perfect Imitator, he determined as far as he could, both to embrace this doctrine, and follow his actions, and to love his neighbour with the bent and spirit of of such a divine Master.  
Writing to Sister Margeret, a Carmelite of Beaulne, he said:  
I sigh after my Saviour Jesus, desiring to imitate and follow him whither he pleaseth: I beseech you by your prayers, obtain for me his Spirit, to be my life, my whole life: sigh and groan for me after my God, that I may be wholly for him, in his Son, that I may follow him, and not live, but by his Spirit.  
And to another person, he writ thus:  
I have so great a view of the love, and of all the effects of the love of the most Holy Soul of our Lord, that this Interior, so full of clemency, bounty, and charity, makes me conceive far otherwise than ever, how that we ought to live of this Divine love, even in our deportment towards men, and how in effect, it is in him, that the whole Law is accomplished in its perfection.  
Furthermore to the same party, thus:  
Since God hath manifested himself to us by his Son, and hath admitted us, through him, into his grace, and made us partakers of all his actions, both towards God and man, how can we ever quit this his dear Son? He that hath Jesus Christ, hath a key which opens many doors, it discovers unto us large prospects, it enricheth us with vast treasures, and breaks open the prison of man's heart, as being too straight for his Immensities.  
And to the same, thus also:  
Ah, how good is that desert! when after Baptism we are conducted thither with our Lord, by the Spirit of God: Thence it was that our Saviour came out to converse with men, to teach them, and work their salvation: Since therefore we, together with him, make up but one Jesus Christ, as having the honour to be his members, we should live his life, take on us his Spirit, and walk in his steps.  
This was the ground that made this perfect Disciple apply himself with all his power to this admirable Charity, which we are now coming to speak of at large, endeavouring in all the commerce he had with men, to unite himself most intimately to our Saviour, rendering himself up as an instrument to be guided by his hand in the helping of others: beseeching him to breath upon him this Spirit of Charity, recommended so much to us in his word, but more in his actions; and to inflame him with this divine fire, which he hath kindled in the midst of his Church, to be wholly burnt and consumed with it: he consulted him in all his doubts concerning it, begging of him to inspire, what, and how, and when, he should speak and act for the good of his neighbour, and that in him, and by him, these might all be done.  
He looked upon men, not according to their natural qualities, their beauty, nobility, riches, dignities, and worldly honours, but according to their more noble relations, and those common to all; viz. as creatures divine, the lively images of God, created to praise and love him to all eternity, as died and purpled in the blood of Jesus, brothers and coheirs with him, his purchase and inheritance, bought with the price of his life, and a thousand dolours; and who therefore must be infinitely dear unto him, and most passionately beloved of him.  
In this capacity it was, that he beheld men, loving and applying himself to their necessities, and he arrived by the purity of this conduct to so far perfection, that as on the one side he was extremely useful to his neighbour, and received therein wonderful blessings from God; so on the other, this communication with them, did not distract, nor bring any prejudice to himself, but very much good. There are that advise them, who have to do with others in the matter of their salvation, especially with such from whose converse any danger may arise, to consider them as bodies without souls, or as souls without bodies, and as pure spirits. The counsel is good, and some make profitable use of it; but Monsieur Renties' view was, to look upon God and Jesus Christ in every man, and to consider, that it was they that demanded secure of him, and prepared his thoughts to talk to them, and perform what was necessary for their souls and bodies, believing truly, that it was to God and Christ, that he rendered these assistances and service. And this same thought is much to be made use of, that we may do good, and take no hurt from others; otherwise, we shall hazard ourselves, and do little good, for when we proceed upon the inclination and motives of nature, the effects have a relish of their cause, proving no more but natural, or vicious, or at most indifferent; viz. loss of time, light discourses, amusements, engagement of affections, which carry in them much of sense, and degenerate afterwards into something worse, whereby instead of purifying one another, a man pollutes and undoes himself: He that will conduct souls to Christ and God, must of necessity carry them through such ways as lead thither.   

CHAP. 2. His Charity to his Neighbour taken in general.  
HAving a purpose to speak of his Charity, which his man of God had towards his Neighbour, I shall speak first of it in general, and say thus much, that it was so great and enlarged, that it seemed to have no bounds; in that he loved not only all Christians and faithful people, but even all men, not excepting any, because he beheld motives in all of them of a true charity, and sincere love, looking upon them as creatures of God, and his chief Workmanship, for whom our Saviour became man, and laid down his life, whom he loved and desired to save; these all he likewise loved, and laboured their good: Thy Commandment, saith David, is exceeding broad; the same dimensions he prescribed to his charity, loving the present and absent, domestics and strangers, good and bad, esteeming all according to their degree, honouring all, speaking well of, and doing good to all, and ill to none.  
There was not any considerable public good work done either at Paris, and a great way off it, wherein he had not a great share. There was no undertaking there, that rended to the honour of God, or good of man, of which he was not either the Author, or Promoter, or Finisher, and very often all these together. He was one at all the meetings for Piety, and in many as the soul and primum mobile, he kept correspondence through the whole Kingdom, concerning works of charity, received from all parts letters, desiring his advice in all difficulties that occurred, in the erecting or advancing of Hospitals, Seminaries of Religion, Places of Devotion, Fraternities of Virtuous Persons, agreeing to associate together for the better applying themselves to their own and others salvation, and for the managing of all sorts of good works.  
One of good report, writ thus concerning him, from Caen; Monsieur Renty was our support and only refuge, in the execution of all our designs, which related to the service of God, the saving of souls, and relief of the poor and distressed: To him we wrote continually, as well for the settling of our Hospitals, and houses for receiving of lose women converted, as also for the suppressing the insolence of some Heretics, who shown contempt of the blessed Sacrament too openly. Finally, we received counsel and secure from him in all like occasions; in which he expressed a great zeal for the glory of God, and extirpation of vice: Since his death, we have not met with any to whom we could have the like recourse about the things of God.  
Another from Dijon wrote thus: We cannot but acknowledge the great benefit this Province hath received from Monsieur Renty, wherever he came; wherein he hath wonderfully advanced all works of Piety. We may truly say, that his days were filled with the plenitude of God; and we believe, that he scarce lost one minute of time, in which he either spoke not, or acted not something tending to his service.  
He applied himself to the necessities of the English, Irish, and captives in Barbary, and of the Missions into the Levant; he took very great pains for the good of the Hospital at Marcelles, for the relief of Galley-slaves, and contributed much to the advancing of the affairs of new France in America: he had a design likewise to purge all Trades and Manufactures from corruptions that had grown upon them, to rectify and sanctify them, that men might live upon them like Christians; which thing he, together with others, had happily begun, and perfected the same in two of them, as shall be showed hereafter.  
Moreover, as one of the great effects of Charity is Concord and Union, so had he a wonderful care to conserve, increase and perfect it in himself and others; wherefore he lived in perfect amity with all the world, with Seculars, ecclesiastics, and Religious, esteeming, respecting, and speaking honourably of them all; and when any difference fell out among them, he was greatly afflicted for it, endeavouring by all means, to pacify and unite their spirits, and to accord their divisions; knowing, that the God whom we worship, is a God of peace, who would have us live in peace, and that never any discord comes from him, but from the Devil, the sour of Tares; that nothing is more opposite to the spirit of Christianity, that spirit of Union and Love, than Division and Schisms in Charity, making us not live like brothers, but strangers and enemies; that instead of profiting in virtue, we multiply and increase our sins and vices: The spirit of the new Law, is a spirit of such perfect Charity, and intimate Union, that (as St. Paul saith) it makes no distinction, as to the heart of Jew nor Gentile, of Barbarian nor Scythian, of bond nor free, but Jesus Christ is all to all, to unite, and close, and oblige them all in himself: According to which this true Christian writeth thus, in one of his letters:  
The words which we ought chief to imprint upon our hearts, are those of mutual love, which our Saviour bequeathed us in the close of his Testament; this love should inspirit all Christians, to perfect them in one, and cause them to live and converse together as brethren and children, yea, as one sole child of God.  
And because this Union with Christ our Saviour, to whom we all belong, is the best and most necessary disposition in such as are employed about the good of their neighbour, to the end that they may receive from him both light and strength, to enable them according to his purposes, together with his saving Spirit, to assist and ground them in all virtues, and especially such as qualify a man for that purpose; therefore his utmost endeavour was, to unite himself intimately to him, and in all things to act by his Spirit, and to acquire these virtues, and render himself perfect in them.  
These virtues are set down by St. Paul, in the first Epistle to the Corinthians, upon which he made frequent reflections, and long meditations; and although he carried always the New Testament in his pocket, yet that he might read and consider them often, he wrote them down with his own hand, carrying it apart about with him: The Contents whereof were, 
Charitas patiens est: benigna est:  
Charitas non aemulatur: non agit perperam:  
Non in flatur, non est ambitiosa:  
Non quaerit quae sunt sua: non irritatur, etc.   
Charity is patiented, full of sweetness, envieth not, is not malicious nor hurtful, is neither vain nor ambitious, seeketh not her own interests, is not froward nor choleric, thinks no ill, but interprets all to a good sense, rejoiceth not at the faults of others; but on the contrary, takes great content in others well-doing, suffereth much, believeth all things, not out of feebleness of spirit, but out of goodness and holy simplicity; if its neighbour mend not presently, hopes always that he will, and in the interim beareth all things from him.  
These are the virtues in which he must be particularly exercised, that will deal profitably with his Neighbour, without which he labours in vain; for experience will show him, that after much time and pains, he shall profit little; for the more any one is filled from God, and animated by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, the more shall he advance holiness in himself, and good in others; yea, though his words be few and ordinary, for that our employments receive not their force, from the hands that acts them, nor our words from the mouth that utters them, as from the disposition of the heart, and the Spirit that animates it.  
Now as bare Virtue alone, is not sufficient to complete a man for this design, but one must also have a capacity thereunto. So this charitable man, besides that capacity wherewith God had abundantly furnished him, as well of a great wit, piercing, solid, well disposed, resolute, laborious and constant; as of a body well made, of a good grace and presence; and besides the Sciences and fine knowledge which he had learned in his youth; he had also by his own industry and travel (being good at every thing) learned several things, not only for his own use, but to teach them to others, whereby to help themselves, or make some other use of them; as, to let blood, to make medicines for cutting of wounds, to compound remedies for several diseases, of which he had books writ with his own hand, which he communicated, abasing himself to learn the meanest skills, which might any way be useful to others.  
One day in Paris, he carried a friend with him to a poor man, who got his living with making hots and wicker baskets, in a cave; into which he entered, and in the presence of his friend, finished a hot which he had begun some days before, with design, having learned the thing, to teach it to some poor people in Country, to help to get their living: he left the hot, and a piece of money to boot for teaching him, with the poor man, which indeed deserved to have been reposited in some Cabinet of Rarities, or rather in some place of Devotion, as a glorious Monument of an Heroic Charity.  
Understanding when he was at Dijon, that the Religious Veselines, whom he affected very much, provided, out of Charity, Drugs and Medicines for poor people; he was much pleased with it, and to improve their good work, taught the Sisters belonging to the Infirmary, to make some excellent Compositions, which had very great virtue against several maladies, preparing them, dispensing and boiling them himself, stooping to the meanest and most troublesome labours, as much as could be done by any servant, holding his head for a long time over the smoke of those medicines, which sent forth no pleasant fumes, before a great fire, not desisting till all in a sweat, without any word or sign at all of complaining of what he suffered. The Religious desired him to suffer the lay Sisters to help and assist him, but his mind was so set upon it, that they must let him alone, and give place to that fire of Charity, which inflamed him all within, and which sweetened unto him, or rather consumed all the the pains, the outward material fire could inflict; yea, and moreover he urged them out of great prudence, to acquaint him with the hours of their devotions, and set times of their meetings, that he might not divert them from these, being a punctual observer of the time they appointed him, that he failed not one minute, though with much difficulty, considering his several other employments, to which he stood engaged.  
The like he observed in all other things, insomuch that he took upon him all shapes, transformed himself into any figure, condescended to all accommodations, for the good of his neighbour; and all these by virtue of this celestial fire, which melted and cast him wholly into the mould of Charity, his thoughts, words, actions, and each thing in him was charity, which made him say one day thus, in a letter to one of his great Confidents:  
Methinks my soul is all Charity, and I am not able to express with what ardency and strange expansion I find my heart to be renewed in the Divine life of my new born Saviour, burning all in love towards mankind.  

SECT. 1. His Charity to the poor.  
FIrst of all, concerning his Charity and affection to the poor, I shall say this, that Jesus Christ was not only the fountain from whence this grace did flow, but also the motive and object, in that he beheld him in them, and him chief he imagined to assist and serve in their persons: so that his thoughts stayed not upon their torn and ragged habit, nor upon their vile and despicable outside, which naturally displeaseth the eye, offendeth the smell and other senses: But passing further, he beheld within and under these, with the eye of faith, our Lord Jesus Christ present and dwelling in them, whom he esteemed as his native images, loved and valued by him: And as he burned with an ardent affection toward our Lord, so he loved tenderly the poor, succoured them with all his might, and left nothing unattempted for their sakes: With these eyes, and not those of nature, must each one behold the poor, that will love them indeed, and have bowels of compassion, and a true resolved and constant Charity to towards them.  
In the second place, resolving to give you this Charity by retail, we will begin with that which he exercised in his house; where from the year, 1641. he invited to dinner poor men, two in number, and at first twice every week, on Tuesdays and Fridays; but five or six years after, finding himself much engaged in other services, for the honour of God and good of his neighbour, he reduced them to one day, which ordinarily was Thursday, and then invited three; which he ordered in this manner, willing to join his Spiritual Alms with his Corporal (an important secret, to be learned and practised by all charitable persons, each one according to their capacities) he sought out such poor, as seemed to him to have greatest need of instruction; wherefore during his abode at Paris, after his morning devotions, he went to S. Anthony's gate, and there took up such as were newly arrived, whom courteously saluting, he brought home, and if it were winter, brought them to the fire, always making them sit down; and afterwards, with a cordial affection, which appeared in his countenance and whole deportment, and with a marvellous grace, he instructed them in what was needful for them to know, in the mysteries of the Holy Trinity, the Incarnation of our Lord, and Holy Sacrament. He likewise instructed them how to make Confession, and to communicate worthily, and in brief, how to live virtuously; this done, he gave them water to wash, set them down at table, where himself served bareheaded, with exceeding great respect, and set the dishes before them with his own hands, brought in by his children and servants, in which his Lady also had a great hand, enjoined silence to others whilst they were eating, providing that they should feed freely and familiarly: after dinner dismissed them with an Alms, himself waiting on them to the gate, with very great reverence, and some wholesome discourse.  
He must be very much a Christian, that could do in this manner; and a Nobleman of his age and quality, who stoops to such services, must have his eyes very strongly fixed upon his Saviour, otherwise such offices will go down with much difficulty. It's true indeed, a Courtier will make no scruple, but rather a point of honour and delight, to wait upon his Sovereign, disguised in rags or some poor habit; but then he must be well assured it is the King, and no other. Many persons of quality in Paris, and elsewhere, being present at this so holy and Christian an action, were much taken therewith, and encouraged to imitate it, at least in part. This laudable custom he continued to his death; and when his occasions would not permit him to perform it in his own person, his Lady did the same to so many poor women.  
His other custom was, on that day in the week that Christmas day fell upon every year, to invite a poor child of ten or twelve years old to dinner; and on the day of the Epiphany, to invite a woman with a sucking child, in honour of the mystery of that day; likewise one Midsummer day, in honour of S: John Baptist his Patron, he invited twelve poor people, waiting upon them himself; and on Maundy Thurday did the like, after he had washed their feet.  
Besides these, and several other Charities and Alms at his own house, he endeavoured the general relief of all the poor in Paris, and all other places thereabouts, as much as possible; busied himself to understand their wants, studied ways of remedy, and carefully prosecuted them; and what he could not accomplish himself, he commended to others, spoke for them, begged for them, bought necessaries for them, and carried them with his own hands; studied to establish settled courses of living, for men and children that were destitute; and when he could not at present provide for them abroad, he kept and maintained them at his own house, until he could conveniently put them forth.  
He was the first that thought upon and motioned some relief for poor English Catholics, driven by persecution out of their Country, engaging persons of quality in the purchasing of Lands for their Subsistance, and having brought it to perfection, himself undertook the charge of distributing one part of this Charity; which he performed monthly, going to them a foot, and commonly alone, having made choice of those quarters which were most remote, where entering their chamber, he saluted them with tenderness and compassion, and after in a very civil and respectful way, he gave them their allowance, leapt up in a paper privately. One day in his return from this employment, he spoke to a friend on this manner:  
Certainly these are good Christians, who have left all for God, where as we live in plenty, whilst these content themselves with two Crowns a month, having parted with thousands for their conscience, and endure with patience such considerable losses: O Sir, Christianity consists not in words or shows, but in deeds.  
Furthermore, this wise and charitable man, joined with his care of the poor, one consiberable point of prudence; viz. after his visits and survey taken of their wants in gross, he examined in particular as well their spiritual as corporal necessities, and endeavoured in the first place to mark their inclinations, their passions their ill habits, what vices were predominate in them, what were their chief infirmities; that like a prudent Physician, he might apply fit remedies, duly exhorting them to live like Christians, and to make a sanctified use of their poverty.  
As to their temporal necessities, he considered each one's capacity, industry, trade, and employment of each: if Tradesmen, he considered what was necessary to set them to work, what tools or materials, which accordingly he provided, either buying new ones, or redeeming their own laid at pawn; bought materials, giving them provision of bread for two to three days, and procuring them work, and that not only for themselves, but their wives and children, and afterwards bought some of their work, and bestowed it in Alms upon others, took order for the quick sale of others commodities, encouraging them to take pains, and avoid idleness, coming from time to time to visit them, and see if all went well with them.  
To these we may add, his Charity to poor Prisoners, whom he visited, comforted, and relieved, mediating and procuring their liberty, when he found it expedient for the good of their souls: For one day he returned this answer, to some that made suit to him for the release of him whom we are now coming to speak of:  
We often get men out of Prison, who make use of their liberty to the dishonour of God, and their own destruction, for whom it had been better they had remained in durance.  
This being first considered, he afterwards laboured for their enlargement with great affection; of which I shall now give a pregnant proof.  
There was in Low- Normandy, a Prisoner for divers years, who was both innocent, and in great extremity; several persons had endeavoured his freedom, but without success, by reason of a potent adversary: The business was commended to Monsieur Renty; who after a just information of the case, undertook the matter, chose an honest man, a Master of Requests, where the cause depended, to make report of it to the Counsel; commended the prosecution of it to his own Advocate, went in his own person often to see and solicit it, undertaking for the charge of the whole business.  
Notwithstanding all this, perceiving the cause to hang long, and the Prisoner to languish in misery, he changed his purpose, writ to his adversary in his behalf; requested that the business might be referred to him, promising to make a journey into Normandy, and there to accommodate the matter to his content. When he came thither, he presently set up a Mission in his Parish of Beny; from whence taking along with him one of the Fathers of the Mission, he went to the Town where both patties were.  
When his coming was noised in that place, all the streets were filled with people, blessing God for his coming; and understanding the occasion thereof, professed, that none but he could accomplish that business, or put an end to that poor man's misery, praising God that had chosen such a holy man, with a thousand good p●ayers for him. He went straight to the Prison, where the Father made an exhortation to the Prisoners, to strengthen and comfort them, which he seconded with his Alms; after which, he promised the poor man to go to his adversary, to induce him by arguments, and persuade him with entreaties, to grant his enlargement; in the mean time, that he should pray to God to bless his endeavours, and should rest in hope, that by some means or other, with God's grace, he should be delivered.  
Thence he went to the other party's house, whom he treated with all persuasive means, returning back to the Prison to receive information upon some difficulties that occurred betwixt them; where finding all the Prisoners together at their usual devotions, he waited till they had done, though it was very late, towards seven a clock, having two leagues to go after that to his own house, where it was ten a clock at night before his return: having at length taken instructions from his Prisoner, he went back to the other party, with whom he came to such an agreement, that this poor man, after nine years' Imprisonment, and a world of misery, by his solicitation and Charity, was released, whom he obliged to come to Confession and Communion to the Fathers of the Mission, and render thanks to Almighty God for his deliverance; and to assist him further therein, according to his custom of adding Charity to Charity, he maintained him eight days at his own house, discoursing with him every evening, and exhorting him to a good life; and at his departure, persuaded him to go see his adversary, whom he found now as sweet and as tractable; as before he had been incensed against him. And since that time, being made Priest, he was one at the Church of Beny, to say Mass for the intention of his Deliverer.   

SECT. 2. Of his Charity to poor sick men.  
IF his Charity was thus great toward the poor, certainly it was far greater to such poor as were sick; for in them he beheld a double object of this most excellent Virtue, Poverty and Sickness, both which conjoined, did kindle a redoubled flame in his compassionate affections.  
We scarce read of any thing in the lives of the greatest Saints of this subject, which he did not practise: It was of such an extent and progress, that not content to assist them in one or two ways, they found in him, and that often in one visit, a Benefactor, a Physician, Apothecary, Chirurgeon, Pastor, Father, Brother, Friend and Servant, comforting them every way, and in such fashions as have not formerly been known or practised, especially by persons of his rank and quality.  
In the year, 1641. he learned to let blood, and other parts of Chirurgery, he endeavoured to know how to make all sorts of Medicines; and to that end, consulted with a Physician, by whom he was instructed in some principal things of this Art; wherein his design was not the bare knowledge, but the practice: When ever he went abroad either in Town or Country, he carried about him a Surgeons Box, and several Powders, for the cure of most ordinary diseases: These he used with great dexterity and confidence, yet prudently enough, never advancing rashly beyond his skill in cases of difficulty.  
In his visits of the sick, he never shunned any service necessary for them, and in his power to perform; as, making their beds, helping them to bed, making their fire, washing their dishes, setting in order their little household stuff, fitting every thing; hoping hereby to win upon the affections of those poor people, the better to comfort, and exhort them to patience, and draw them to God with more facility. He was seen one Day at Dijon (which place was an ample Theatre of his virtues, for many months of his abode there) without his Cloak, with a potsherd in his hand, begging fire at ones door, for a poor sick body. In which Town, after he had once or twice visited sick folks, in company of such as shown him their dwellings, he returned often alone to the same, exercising towards them greater and more humble acts of Charity, than when in company, succouring and relieving them both by day and night.  
In the year, 1640 visiting several sick folks in S. Paul's Parish in Paris, he met with a Religious woman, who had the care of them, coming out of an house, whom he asked what she sought there? who answered, Jesus Christ, and that she came now out of a chamber, where there was great need of Charity. He was much taken with that answer; replying, that he sought him also: And so both went to that house, where there were many sick persons, whom notwithstanding he had already the same day visited, made them broth, given them their breakfast, and made their beds.  
This good woman led him to several other places, where he instructed the sick, and gave them Alms, and afterward he continued this holy exercise in her company, setting apart for it one day in the week, which commonly was Friday; on which he made his visits, let them blood, wiping his hands not with any fine linen, but with any dishclout that came next hand; administering proper remedies for their diseases, assisting and serving their necessities, but chief their spiritual ones, comforting and encouraging them, preparing them for a good Confession, and worthy receiving. Informing himself in each Family, whether God was served there? whether any quarrels or differences were amongst them? which he was careful to take up, especially amongst poor folks, whom when ever he met with them, though in the streets, he would admonish of their fault, and endeavour to accord them.  
Finally, he never left such places, without providing for all their necessities, which he took notice of with incredible Charity, sweetness and respect; dispensing with other business, that he might have sufficient time to hear all their complaints with invincible patience.  
In all his journeys, as soon as he alighted, he went to the Church, to adore the blessed Sacrament (as we have mentioned elsewhere) after which, he enquired if there were any Hospitals in that place; whither (if the time would permit) he failed not to go, visiting their sick, enquiring if sufficient care was taken for them, administering what remedies he could, with his hand, by Bleeding and Medicines, and with his words, in sweetening their pains, by good discourse and encouragement, and with his Alms.  
In the great Hospital of Paris, this honourable mention hath been made of him, We have seen Monsieur Renty frequenting this Hospital for twelve years together and upwards, with wonderful diligence; both at his entrance and departure he went to the Church, where he remained sometime before the B. Sacrament, which thing did excite devotion in all those that saw him, bo●h there at his entry, he offered up all his actions to our Saviour, and begged such graces of him as were needful: And at his going out, begged a blessing to render his endeavours successful; this done, he went into the rooms, bestowing himself and his Charity amongst the sick, from two a clock till five, directing and comforting them in all their necessities. We have seen him dressing and making clean their soars and ulcers, many times kissing the feet of the sick, assisting to bu●y their dead. Moreover, he taught the Religious women that waited on them, to make some ointments they knew not formerly, and made them himself before them in the place. Commonly he came thither alone, sometime in company of some Noblemen of good quality; who encouraged by such an example, strove to imitate it in some sort, and to have a part in such holy actions.  
Neither did he only visit the sick; but they likewise sought him, and would find him out where ever he came, if they were able to go abroad. At Dijon they would come to him in troops, for all sorts of sicknesses and distempers. In the year, 1642, going to his estate in Normandy, he spent about four months in these works of mercy, administering Physic and Chirurgery to all sick of that Country, in such sort, that from all quarters they came to him, and in such multitudes daily, that one could scarce come near him. This puts me in mind of that we read of our Saviour, how from all parts they brought to him all that were sick of all diseases, to be healed by him; which seems to be represented in some measure by this his servant and true disciple, in that the sick, the weak, the lame, or otherwise in firm; came to him from all sides; and we have seen him compassed about with a throng of them, some to be let blood, some for his ointments, some for his powders or other medicines; some for counsel or consolation, some for an alms, or for ease in some case or other. Treating all with the like diffusive Christian Charity, with the like bowels of pity and compassion, the like spirit of love, as wherewith the Son of God, of whom he received it, had pity upon us. And stood in the midst of them, with the like goodness and patience, endeavouring to do good, and minister comfort to them all.   

SECT. 3. A further prosecution of the same Charity, and the success.  
BEyond all these, his Charity yet ascended higher, even to the care and cure of such diseases as were very troublesome, and which to nature carried much horror and aversion along with them.  
At his Castle at Beny, he entertained poor people infected with scald heads, lodging them in a chamber fitted and furnished for them; where himself visited them, plucking off their scabs with his plasters; attending and feeding them till their recovery. At Paris likewise he visited the same in the Suburbs of S. Germains (which was their usual abode) carrying them some collections of Alms, joining Humility also with his Charity; forasmuch as he hath been seen standing in the midst of these noisome sick folks bareheaded, attending to a Sermon which he had procured for them.  
A credible witness testifieth thus of him: I have seen Monsieur Renty in his Hall at Beny, dressing a Cancre, which a man would not look upon at some distance without aversion and horror: which he (having mastered all such squeamishness of nature) did handle with pleasure and respect.  
During his abode at Dijon, he met with a Wench, who had been taken with the Soldiers, by whom she had gotten the foul Disease; some charitable people had persuaded the Religious Nuns, the Vesulines, to take her into their care, who lodged her in a poor neighbour's house, Her body was in a very sad condition, even nothing but rottenness, casting out such a stinking infectious smell, that none could come near her; and the house she lodged in, were ready to turn her out of doors, so that she was in a forlorn condition, had not the Superior there, a woman of great virtue, bethought herself to confer with Monsieur Renty (to whom she bore a very great respect) about the means of relieving this poor creature.  
This good man's Charity, like a perpetual motion, giving him no rest or truce, not for a moment, carried him instantly to visit this poor creature, and to provide for her extremity: In the first place, he hireth a woman to attend her, and deals with her Host to keep her there: after this, he provides her Dyer-drinks, and Physic proper for her disease, bringeth her broths his own self, with all other convenient nourishment; stayeth by her a long time at each visit, and whilst she was in a sweat, wipes her with his own handkerchief, using the same himself afterward, a thing more admirable than imitable: Moreover, having as great a care of her soul as body, instructs and comforts her, taking the pains once in a day to read her a Lecture out of some Book of Devotion; enduring with much courage and delight all the difficulties of trouble and inconvenience, that so noisome a disease could present, by its stench and rottenness: at all which, his heart leapt, as if it had been entertained by some delicate perfume, which was, no doubt, the sweet odour of Jesus Christ, whom he looked upon in these poor people (as we have said before) which perfumed all their infections, and caused him to find delicacies in the greatest loath-someness.  
In fine, by his care, he retrived this poor creature from misery, and the very jaws of death, brought her into the state of a good Christian; insomuch, that she spent the rest of her time very virtuously; and when ever she came to the Monastery of the Vesulines, she could not hold from relating, with great feeling; the unparalleled Charities of Monsieur Renty, together with her deepest obligations, which she every where published, with the highest recognition of her gratirude to so worthy a person.  
Neither were these generous acts of his Charity, enclosed within the walls of Dijon, several other places and Hospitals bearing witness of the like, which we have heard from divers, and have good cause to believe. To which we may add his ardent desire for the erecting of an Hospital for the infected with the King's Evil, there being none such in Paris, nor in all France.  
Thus did this great servant of God employ himself about diseases, and those the most noisome. And now let us consider what blessings and success God gave to his endeavours and Medicines, which will appear little less than miraculous. Being in low Normandy, much busied amongst his sick people, men were astonished to see how he cured all diseases, even the most desperate and extraordinary; and that with remedies sometimes, which scarce appeared to have any thing in them; which made those that took notice of them apt to believe, that the cures were wrought, not so much by any natural power of the Medicines, as by Grace and Miracle.  
The same opinion they had at Dijon, of the cures he wrought there, that they were healed by some way supernatural. To which purpose, I cannot let pass, the discourse he had with the Prioress of the Carmelites, a great Confident of his, whom he visited often, to whom he related, how a little before, a woman in childbed, had been sick unto death, and given over by all the Physicians, whom he visited notwithstanding, and tried whether in so great extremity, his remedies might minister any ease.  
I went to her (said he) and made up the best Medicine I had, yet such, as I could not imagine to have so great a virtue, as to cure that disease: What then? having no better, I prayed to God for his blessing upon that, if it might be for his glory, and the good of the Patient. God did it; for coming to visit her again, I found her well recovered.  
The Prioress ask him, if he did thus often? he answered:  
Yes, when he was desired it; for these being poor people, have no other help, neither have I any better remedies: I know my Saviour is not tied to Medicines; we must have faith in him, where we can do nothing ourselves; and that out of his bounty he hath bestowed on me.  
She replied, but this is then a miracle?  
And doth not he work miracles for us every day? said he.  
And do you such for the poor? said the Prioress? To which he answered with great humility and well beseemingness in these words:  
My Lady Prioress calls that a miracle, which our Lord hath wrought; for my part, I have no share in it, but only by bestowing on the poor such as I have, make what you please of it; all my reflection thereupon is, only to return praise to my Saviour Christ when the cure is done.  
If the Holy Scriptures command us to honour the Physician for our necessity of him: Undoubtedly, those are much more to be honoured, who proceed in their cures, not so much according to the method and direction of Galen and Paracelsus, as that of God.   

SECT. 4. His zeal for the Salvation of his Neighbour.  
THis part of Charity will appear greater and more ardent in Monsieur Renty, than the former, as being the most sublime and noblest degree of it, as saith S. Thomas. And the first, in regard of its object the Soul, which is incomparably more excellent than the body. And secondly, in regard of the things bestowed in this way of Charity, which infinitely surpass those other, as much as an eternal possession in the heavens, conveyed by the one, superlatively exceeds bread, silver, health, supplied by the other: Wherefore his holy prudence clearly perceiving a difference, was transported with far other affections to the one, than to the other.  
And being continually inflamed with the love of God, and his Son Jesus Christ, uncessantly sought all ways, and used all means, to make them known and beloved, both here and eternally, by all men; preventing what he could any offence, or sinning against them, daily pondering with himself, the inexplicable goodness and tenderness of God towards the souls of men, which have been so dear to him, and cost him such an invaluable price. He entered into the same affections, loving, and desiring their salvation, according to that Model.  
This zeal of his was admirable, having all the qualities to render it perfect: Being in the first place universal, extended to all in France, out of France, yea, all the world over: Insomuch, that he said to one of his Familiars, that he was ready to serve all men, not excepting one, and even to lay down his life for any one upon occasion: He earnestly desired to convert, to enlighten with the knowledge of God, to inflame with his love, to sanctify and save the whole world, if it had been in his power; of which Paris being, as it were an Epitome, he went through all the quarters and streets of that vast City, searching out what he could remove or bring in, for the glory of God, and salvation of souls: And the same Spirit of God that conducted him in this inquiry, blessed his endeavours, and gave him the favour to rectify what was out of course, to confirm the wayering, to strengthen what was in order, to root out vice, and plant virtue: Which he did in so many several ways, as a man would think it impossible; but what cannot a man do, that is zealous, disinterested, and full of God?  
He performed what possibly he could, in his own person, not sparing any cost, nor losing one minute of time; and wherein his power and strength of body or mind, falling short of his desires, proved deficient, he engaged others: Whereupon, he procured Missions at his own charge, in his own Countries of Normandy and Brie; and by joint contribution of others, erected the like in many other Provinces, where he had no Land; as, in Burgundy, Picardy, Chartrain, and elsewhere.  
And here it will not be amiss to take his own words concerning these, out of a Letter myself received from him, relating to a Mission in his Lordship of Citry in Brte.  
The M●ssion was begun here on Whitsunday, a day that bringeth with it an extraordinary benediction: the people's hearts are touched with great sense of repentance, which they manifest by abundance of tears: Many restitutions and reconciliations are made, common and public prayers are made in Families, swearing and cursing are redressed. And this Reformation extends itself to three or four leagues round about us. Amongst many others, there came a young maid, whose life had been very v●cious, who returned home a real Co●vert, giving an ample testimony of her repentance, relinquishing her former acquaintance: Whereby I find, that this was the very end; for which my Saviour brought me hither, and engaged my abode in this place.  
These operations of grace, filled him up with unspeakable joy, which often distilled into tears, for having to do in that which made for the glory of God, and benefit of souls. We have it from an eye-witness, who hath seen tears stand in his eyes; and demanding the cause, received from him this answer:  
I profess they proceed from that excessive joy I take to see so many touched with remorse, evidencing their conversion, by making restitutions, by being reconciled to their enemies, burning their idle and vain books, quitting their former occasions of sin, commencing a life altogether new.  
We have seen him likewise in the Church of Citry, so transported with zeal, that he hath swept the Church, carried out the dirt himself, rung the bell to assemble the people thither.  
In all his Missions, he commonly employed some Secular Priests of his acquaintance, living in community, and settled at Caen for those employments: who have quitted themselves herein with great benediction, and notable success. He writ divers Letters to their Superior, earnestly entreating and conjuring him, to promote this business seriously and hearty; giving him account of what Missions were established, and what were in a hopeful way, what he had done in them himself, and to whom else he had spoken; with such courses as were to be taken to make them effectual.  
The year he died, this was written in a Letter to the same person, concerning a Mission he had projected in the Town of Drieux, of the Diocese of Chartres:  
I have solicited soveral persons, to join in setting up a Massion every year, and I shall go myself along with it as oft as I can, to serve and obey your orders, in visiting the sick, and giving alms to the needy: And for the same design, to assemble some companies of people whom God hath wrought upon by your preaching: Since God gave us a heart thereto, we have brought others to have a hand in it; and my Wife, with two others, bear their part in it, imitating herein St. Mary Magdalen, Joanna, and Susanna, of whom St. Luke saith, that they followed our Saviour and his Disciples, ministering with their substance, for the preaching of the Kingdom of God. We shall endeavour to perform this without noise or show, taking a private lodging apart for the purpose. Be pleased (my dear Father) to be our Father and Guide, and assist us in Autumn, if you can, to break the bread of life to those, who with great humility desire it of you. I beg of your Reverence with tears, to give ear to our request, who are touched with the necessities of our poor brethren, and the love of Christ, who desires to unite us together in one heart, even his own; that therein we may live in the presence of God. My dear Father, I commit this charge to your care, it being only in the power of his holy Spirit. to render yours, and the endeavours of other Father's successful: I trust he will hear us, and that we shall see abundance of his mercies. I attend your sense, both for the thing and the time: and in the mean time, you may, if you please, keep the thing secret between us.   

SECT. 5. Of the same Subject.  
WE have already declared, how he kept correspondence all over France, and elsewhere, concerning great undertake, and important affairs, for the glory of God, and good of his neighbour. He further obliged in all places, as much as he could, several persons, to join together, and assist one another, in the work of their own, and others salvation. And procured Assemblies of Piety for divers uses, of which he wrote thus, in one of his Letters, 1648.  
I am now returned from Burgundy, where my journey hath been full of employment, in helping the setting up of several companies of men, and women also, who have a great zeal for God's service.  
In a Memorial from Caen, we have these words, Monsieur Renty hath settled here many Assemblies of devout persons, whom he advertised to meet once a week, and consult about relief of the poor, and the preventing of offences against God, which hath succeeded marvellously. Moreover, he advised divers Gentlemen of the Country, to meet together from time to time, to encourage one another in the way of Christianity, and make a Profession against Duels.  
He writ to a Superior of one of the Missions in these words:  
I was united in Spirit to you on Sunday last, which I conceived to be the time of opening your Mission. If you think I may be any way useful, in forming some little body of Gentlemen, and Societies in that City, as we have already performed in little Villages and Towns, I most humbly entreat you to believe, that I shall employ my utmost in it, though haply I may do more hurt than good.  
When he came to Amiens, where I was, the precious odour of his virtue and sanctity perfumed the whole City: for in less than a fortnight's space, he performed so many, and so great things, in visiting Hospitals, Prisons, and poor people that were ashamed to beg, with several other acts of Piety, as were wonderful. In two only journeys which he made to that place, parley as well by his example, as by his Conversation and Advice, he engaged several considerable Citizens, in these Exercises of Charity, which they embraced with good courage and alacrity, and have continued in the same inviolably.  
It was his earnest desire and design to plant the Spirit of Christianity in all Families, and to engage people of all conditions, to serve God in good earnest, having special care of their Conscience. He desired to be able to instruct Fathers, Mothers, Children, Masters, Mistresses, and Servants, in their respective duries, aiming herein at their mutual benefit; seeing we can put little confidence in such, who truly fear not God: For he that once comes to falsify his faith to his Sovereign Lord and Saviour, will not stick, as we may well believe, where the interest of Honour, Pleasure, or Profit doth bias him, to do as much to one who is but that Lord's Servant: Wherefore he endeavoured the planting of virtue in all, as the best Promoter of the Service of God, the Salvation of our souls, and the common utility of all relations.  
To which purpose he drew certain rules for Gentle men and persons of quality, and likewise for Lady and Gentlewomen. Since those that are above others in place and dignity, are seen at a further distance; and their example makes a deeper impression of good or evil, than that of the vulgar. These I met with, written by his own hand, which deserve to be inserted here, as a testimony of his zeal to do good to the Public.  

Certain Articles, to mind all persons of quality, of their Obligations to their Families, their Tenants, and in their † Lordship's.  
[† For the better understanding of these Rules, the Reader must know, that the Lords in France have in several Manors, the power of Justice, as well Criminal as Civil; and for that purpose have their Judges and Subordinate Officers in their Courts.]  
THe first and most important obligation, for the conduct of a family, is good example; without which, the blessing of God cannot be expected: It is therefore meet, that all the Domestics, from the highest to the lowest, give good example of modesty, as well in the Church as in their particular Places and Offices, that by the excellent harmony of their outward behaviour, it may appear that God is the primum mobile within them.  

For Officers.  
1. The Lord of the Manor ought to inform himself, Whether his Judges and other Subordinate Officers belonging to his Courts, behave themselves well in their places: and he ought to procure for this information, and redress of what is amiss, persons of known ability and integrity.  
2. He ought to examine with prudence and privacy, what complaints shall be made by the people, of injustice or bribery.  
3. Whether they observe the Rules and Laws of his Court.  
4. Whether they frequent Taverns on Sundays and Holidays, or in time of Divine Service.  
5. Whether they observe the Precepts of the Church, in forbearing to travel and work on those days, without real necessity.  
6. Whether they punish public crimes; as, Blasphemy, Usury: etc. and whether the Laws be put in execution against Drunkards, Fornicators, and Oppressors of the poor: Whether they banish lewd women, who procure manies ruin, and cause so much mischief:  
7. Whether there be any such Libertines, who scoff at Religion and Priests, or eat flesh on days prohibited.  
8. If some notoriously wicked person be found in the Lordship, it will be convenient to begin with him, if it may be; that the rest may understand, that no quarter is to be given to vice; and that it may appear to all the world, with what firm resolution you proceed, in what opposition to Libertines: There is need of zeal and severity, and yet withal, sometimes of Clemency, where there is promise of amendment, with appearance of repentance.  
9 A Chief Justice may upon good information, without form of Process, commit a man to Prison for 24 hours, with bread and water, for blasphemy, or any other notorious vice: and afterward admonish him, that if he continue, he shall be proceeded against, according to form of Law.  
10. Some persons are reclaimed sooner by a mulct of the purse, than by corporal punishment; such are to be fined without remission, when found guilty.  
11. Scandalous offenders ought to be deprived of the privileges and favours of the Court; yea, and are to be burdened in taxes, and other cases, where they are in a common condition with their neighbours; that they may understand thereby, that they speed the worse for their v●cious life. On the contrary, virtue is to be cherished, and countenanced with privileges, and public favours, and protection.  
12. Offices ought to be bestowed gratis, that thereby fit and able Officers may more easily be chosen, and be prevented from the least pretence of Bribery and Injustice.  
13. Lords should give good example, by refusing presents from their Tenants (for freeing such from common services) or from those who have business depending before them, or from the poor; showing themselves disinterested, noble and uncorrupted; whereby their Authority may be preserved, and both their Officers and Tenants kept in strict obedience and respect.   

For Royalties.  
1. They ought to recommend it to the Gentlemen their neighbours, and observe it themselves, not to hunt or hawk unseasonably, to the prejudice of poor men's corn.  
2. They ought not to introduce any such custom upon Country people, of keeping their Hounds.  
3. That Coney-warrens be not maintained or erected, to the prejudice of their Tenants, except such as are of ancient standing.   

For payment of Taxes.  
1. They are to take care, that the rich lay not the burden upon the meaner sort.  
2. That their Officers and Bailiffs be not unnecessarily multiplied, to the burdening of their Tenants.  
3. That they set not Lands at too high rents, upon pretence that by their power, they can remit their taxes: A thing very much to be considered, by reason of some privileges Lords have in this kind, whereof the excess tends to great injustice.  
4. That the taxes be equally assessed, according to men's abilities; it being usual with Assessors, to receive money of the meaner sort, to return them insufficient and none solvent. To prevent which, they should give order, that the tax be laid so justly, that what returns are afterward made of insufficiency in any, be imposed upon the Assessors themselves.   

For the Church.  
1. It were convenient for the Lords, often to visit the Pastors, that the people might thereby take notice of the respect they give him, and learn thereby their own duty: And likewise to know of them, if any abuses be committed, to be remedied by the Civil power (of which there are some things mentioned in the Articles for Officers) and in particular, what reverence is observed in the Church; whether the people are attentive at the prone, whether they send their children to be catechised, and come themselves; at which also, you and your family shall be present.  
2. Whether the Church stock be improved, and the Churchwardens quit themselves well in their accounts, clearing them at the years end; and that the Church's stock be not made use of, for paying of taxes, or other public charges; and in case it be so, to prevent such abuses, by complaint to the Bishop.  
3. To review the former accounts, and provide necessaries for the Church, a Chalice of silver, a decent Tabernacle for the B. Sacrament, with comely Ornaments.  
4. To learn of the Curate, who are the poorest in the Parish, to take a note of them, and consider them in the first place.  
5. I would never take place of the Priest, especially in sight of the people.  
These are such Instructions as I have collected rudely, and think fit to be observed; besides which, the bringing in of Missions is most excellent, for the planting of the Spirit of Christianity in the hearts of the people, to which every one should contribute their best assistance.  
Moreover the Gentlemen of the Country, shall do well, to meet once a month, to confer about their duty, and encourage one another in the service of God, who may also settle in Villages, petty Societies of well devoted persons, to take care for preventing abuses, and the occasions of sin, and to relieve and comfort poor people, who are ashamed to beg.  
There might be found also a way, to settle amongst good Women, an association of Charity, for instructing, comforting, and succouring the poor and sick: But above all, a company of pious Clergy, who may meet once a month, to confer about the faithful discharging of their weighty function; upon which depends the universal good of the people.    

Certain Directions for Ladies and Gentlewomen.  
THe way of God is to cause grace to superabound, where sin hath abounded: The first woman brought death into the world, and the Virgin Mary hath given the Church occasion to sing, that it was a happy fault, since by it was occasioned, our alliance with her Son, and his union with the Deity: But this is not all, for if the first woman brought so much evil into the world, it seems to have pleased God, to make use of women, for the reparation thereof; having by his wisdom ordained, that they should have the education of children, and care of the family; whilst men, being of a stronger constitution, are more employed abroad; they, more sedentarily disposed, attending within doors, where they have the knowledge, and oversight, and conduct of all.  
From whence it follows, since all orders of Clergy, Nobility, Magistracy, and people, are raised out of private Families, as their common Nursery; that to this Sex is deputed by God, a business of the greatest consequence in the world; viz. The nurturing of souls in the spirit of their Baptism, preserving them unspotted tables, to receive the impressions of Gods will, and holy vocation, to what future estate he shall design them, for his glory, and their own eternal good: Wherefore it highly concerns them to make frequent reflections upon this, since the greatest good, and most eminent evil of mankind, in part, depends on them, for which they must render one day a strict account.  
1. Wherefore they ought to take great care of the education of their children in their tender years, correcting by virtue and a gentle hand, what nature discovers in them reprehensible: Remembering that for the most part, vice grows up, through their esteeming it to be little, and out of taking pleasure in whatever they see children do; by which compliance, their errors grow up with them, until heat of blood and youth, render them uncapable of correction.  
2. That they be vigilant in instructing their domestics, shutting the door against all blasphemy, impurity, all unlawful games and pastimes, and other vices.  
3. To prevent that their Servingmen haunt not Taverns, and oppress not others.  
4. The Mistress of the house must provide, that her servants be carefully treated and tended in their sickness, that she visit them in her own person, even being as our brethren, and fellow-servants of the same God and Father of us all: And at all other times, make provision for their necessaries, that they be not tempted to pilfer or murmur.  
5. Let her also endeavour, not only in her own house, but also among her neighbours, to bring in the custom of common prayers at night; and if her husband be absent, let her supply his place, in calling them together, and praying with them.  
6. Let her and her children be continnally in some employment, that their lives be not unprofitable, or their family brought up in idleness; remembering the Apostles rule, that he that will not work, shall not eat; which thing prudently ordered, will prevent many inconveniences.  
7. Let her often visit her poor neighbours, to comfort and encourage them in virtuous living.  
8. Let her take into her ear the repairing of the Ornaments and Linen of the Church, lest the holy mysteries of our faith be undervalved, where decency is neglected.  
9 Let her show great recverence to the Clergy, not regarding the meanness of their birth, but the dignity to which Jesus Christ hath advanced them: Hereby, both putting them in mind of their honourable function, and the people, by her example, of their duty.  
10. Let her entertain Visitants, with the spirit of Hospitality, great Charity, and Christian Civility, taking opportunity thereby to do some good, not losing precious time in frivolous discourses.  
11. Let her keep no obscene or immodest pictures in her house, much less permit her daughters or herself to appear such, by going naked. Avoiding likewise all curious and phantasticul fashions, which are evident signs of impenitent hearts, and breed nothing else, but the nourishing the soul in its corruption, and the averting it from God.   
These are the Directions he left under his own hand, for Ladies and Gentlewomen. Moreover, he studied for a long time, how to reform Trades, and free them from those abuses and corruptions, which in process of time they had contracted, and so to sanctify them, that some at least in each profession, might live like the Primitive Christians, in such sort, as to make all their gain common, deducting only sufficient for their own necessary maintenance, and bestowing the rest upon the poor.  
And at length God so blessed his endeavours, that he found some Tradesmen of the same mind and spirit; so that at this present, there be two companies in Paris, one of Tailors, the other of Shoemakers: and of these in two several quarters of the City (and the like at Tolose) who live and do all in Community: They rise, they go to bed, they eat and work together; morning and evening they say their prayers together, and at the beginning of every hour in the day, exercise some act of Devotion; as, singing a Psalm, reciting their Chaplet, reading in some book of Devotion, discoursing of some head of the Catechism: They call Brothers, and live accordingly in very great unity and concord.  
Monsieur Renty was the chief Agent in establishing this business, and with the help and assistance of some Religious persons, drew up Rules, for the ordering of their Spiritual Exercises. They chose him their first Superior, in which Office he had a very particular care of them, visiting them frequently; and when he found them upon their knees at any of their Spiritual Exercises, joined with them, not permitting them to rise to salute him, or interrupt so good a work, making himself, as it were, one of the Brotherhood.  
Moreover, besides these Tradesmen, living in Community, there were a great number of others, of all Professions, that came to him for advice, instruction, and assistance: Whom he treated with wonderful respect and Charity, most affectionately discoursing with them, answering their queries, resolving their doubts, and instructing them what they should pursue, and what avoid, in their Vocations, for the saying of their souls.   

SECT. 6. The Continuation of the same subject.  
HIs zeal carried him on to endeavour the good of all sorts of persons. He had a particular inclination to prevent the danger that threatened young Maids, who wanted subsistence, and to reclaim such as were fallen. And indeed it would be too great a task to recount all his actions of this nature, and the number of those Maids, whom he placed forth, and contributed towards their maintenance; some in houses erected for such purpose, others in the Monastery of St. Mary Magdalen, and others with devout Ladies, who addicted themselves to this kind of Charity: Which is so highly commendable, as that which doth not only save such women as are in peril of shipwreck of their honour and virtue; and retrieve such as have already lost both: But likewise doth prevent the destruction of many men, and the committing of many enormous sins and disorders.  
We mentioned before, what is recorded of his Charity in instructing the poor, at the great Hospital in Paris. And now I shall relate how he behaved himself in that of St. Gervaise; where passing by, one day, in the year, 1641. he enquired to what Charities that place was devoted. To which answer was made, that they lodged poor Travellers: He was much pleased with this Institution; and perceiving withal, that so great a number of poot that lodged there every night, wanted instruction, he found himself moved from God, to perform that Office: And shortly after, came to beg of the Superior, with great humility and submission, leave to Catechise them in the evening, when they were assembled together. To which the Superior willingly assented, without any knowledge of him, who would not tell his name, but concealed himself for the space of six-Moneths.  
He undertook the employment, and performed it with great content, because every night he found there new comers, whom he duly Catechised and instructed; coming thither commonly alone, and on foot, both Summer and Winter, in ●ain and snow, without light, in the dark. After Chatechism ended, he caused them to kneel down with him, to examine their Conscience, & sa● their Prayers, than sung the Commandments with them, and distributed some Alms. This 〈◊〉 he continued for many years, till some Eccle 〈◊〉 persons, moved by his example, undertook 〈…〉, and continued it to this day with great 〈◊〉.  
〈…〉 and renderness of heart was exceeding 〈…〉 poor people, whom he had never seen 〈…〉 also with such humility, as cannot not easily be expressed. When he met any one at the Hospital, he saluted them with great respect, and put them before him, talked with them bareheaded, and very reverently. If at any time they kneeled to him, he did the like to them; and continued on his knees, till they risen first. One of them observing him diligently, and knowing him to be Lord of the place where himself lived, was deeply affected, to see these things; and came and fell down at his feet. Monsieur Renty did the like to him, continuing in that posture for a long time, resolving not to rise, before the poor man. He used to receive them in his arms, and embrace them with tender affection.  
These actions proceeding from a person of his birth and quality, and produced by the holy Spirit of God, wrought wonderful effects:  
And that first, in these poor Passengers, who astonished at such ardent Charity, joined with such profound humility, were exceedlingy moved thereby, insomuch, that tears of Devotion were seen flowing from their eyes, and themselves falling down at his feet, with signs of repentance for their sins, and a design of a better life; begging his counsel and assistance therein, and beginning it, with going to Confession and the Sacrament the next day.  
Secondly, in those Religious women that belonged to this Hospital; who taking fire at his example, resolved to do the like, in daily serving the poor, teaching them their Prayers and Catechism, with the ten Commandments, which offices they had never done before. Together with many other good things, conducing to their own attaining to perfection, and the better governing of their Hospital: which he infused into them, and they do still continue with great Devotion; he having several times told them, that he hoped in time, to see God greatly glorified and served among them; as we see it is come to pass at this day, and may truly affirm, that this gallant man hath contributed not a little to so much good done there, both within doors and without, and doubt not, but he hath already received the reward thereof in Heaven.  
But let us further consider some other effects of his zeal: Going one day with a friend to visit the holy place of Montmatre, to which he had great Devotion; after his prayers said in the Church, he retired into a desolate place of the Mountain, near a little spring, which (as it is said) St. Denis made use of, where he kneeled down to his prayers; which ended, made his dinner of a piece of bread, and draught of water: Grace being said, he took out the New Testament, which he always carried in his pocket, and read a Chapter upon his knees, bareheaded, with extraordinary reverence.  
In this juncture of time, came thither a poor man, saying his Chaplet. Monsieur Renty risen up to salute him, and fell into a discourse with him concerning God, and that so powerfully, that the good man striking his breast, fell down upon the ground, to adore that great God, making such evident appearances of the great impressions that were wrought upon his Spirit, that struck Monsieur Rexty and his friend with much astonishment.  
Immediately after this, came a poor Maid to draw water at the well: Whom he asked what she was? She answered, a Servant: But do you know, saith he, that you are a Christian, and to what end you were created? Whereupon he took occasion to instruct her, in what he conceived necessary for her to know; and so to the purpose, that she confessing her former ignorance, told him ingenuously, that before that hour, she had never thought of her salvation; but promised from thence forward, to take it into serious consideration, and go to Confession.  
Let us still proceed a little higher, on the same subject: In his return from Dijon, after his first journey thither, accompanied with two noble pious persons, about some four leagues: He stopped three or four times by the way, to Catechise poor Passengers, and one time went far out of his way, to do the same to some labourers in the field, instructing them how to sanctify their work they were about.  
A young Maid in Paris, having been very cruelly used by her Uncle, fell into so great disorder and desperation, that all in a fury, she accused our blessed Saviour to be the cause of her misery, in abondoning her to the barbarous usage of such a man, without relieving her. In this horrid plight of conscience, she went to receive the Sacrament, several times in a day, at several Churches, that she might not be discovered: And this upon design, to do despite to our Saviour, to provoke him to finish her destruction, as it was begun, letting her to fall into the abyss of misery and hell for ever.  
Monsieur Renty advertised of this sad accident, and considering the great offence against God, and mischief of this poor creature, was transported with zeal speedily to find her out: Which after eight days pursuit from several Churches, at length he did, meeting with her in the very act of Communicating: Taking witnesses, he conveyed her to an Hospital for Mad-folks; where he took so great care both of her soul and body, that she returned to herself, and gave ample testimonies of her conversion and repentance for those horrid enormities.  
Neither did his zeal reach only to those that were near him, but such also as were absent, and far remote; to whom he had no other relation, but what was contracted by his alliance to our blessed Saviour, and his own Charity. Understanding the news that was current some years since, of a War the Turk designed against the Knights of Malta, and to besiege the Island; he so far interested himself in their danger, that he recommended it twice, by Letter, to the prayers of Sister Margaret, Carmelite, of the B: Sacrament at Beaulne, whom he deemed to have great power with God. His first Letter runs thus:  
I commend to your prayers, and of the holy Family, the Order of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, which is at this present in great danger, and with them the whole Christian World, What that common Potent enemy of our faith will do, I know not one. Our little Jesus, who is all love and power, knows how to vindicate his own glory, please you therefore to commend it to him.  
In the second Letter thus:  
I beseech the Omnipotency of the holy Babe Jesus, to preserve his children under the Cross, and to purify them for his own work. This is it, which I request for our Brethren of the Order of St. John Baptist of Jerusalem.   

SECT. 7. Certain other qualities of his zeal.  
THe design of advancing the Salvation of men's souls is attended in this world with much doing, and much suffering. It is necessary therefore for him that undertakes the task, to fortify himself with courage and patience: And both these, were most eminently in Monsieur Renty; being in the first place, full of courage, resolute and laborious, employing his body, as if he had two more in reserve, when that was spent, dispatching more business in one half hour, than others would have done in many days: Very stout he was to undergo any difficulties, and withal, very quick and decisive.  
A certain Lady of note, made him her executor, having disposed in her will very much to pious uses: He was informed that her friends, being persons of eminent power, were displeased therewith. To which he replied with a truly Christian courage and magnanimity, I never moved the Lady to bestow any of her estate this way; but since her Piety hath prompted her thereunto, I shall spare no pains therein, nor be dismayed with any power that shall oppose it: My care shall be to perform her will, & for other things I take no thought; for if it come to a matter of Law, I shall be ready to plead it, both in behalf of the poor, whose Solicitor I am; and for her sake also, in her state of sufferance, if she be yet therein.  
His zeal was ever still backed with courage, without the least haesitancy, where the honour of God, and good of his neighbour were concerned. Entering one day, some Gentlemen engaged in a quarrel, with their swords drawn, and in fight, and to kill one another; he resolutely threw himself in the midst of them, laying hold on those who seemed most outrageous. They begun to quarrel with him; but finding him resolutely bend to part the fray, and to hazard his own life, for the saving of theirs, were suddenly pacified, and listened to his sober counsel, who took up the quarrel upon the place.  
Meeting with a man whom some Huguenots had perverted, and taken along with them to Charenton; who was resolved likewise to force his wife to the same place and opinions: He fell into discourse with him, endeavouring, at least, to prevent any such violent course with his wife. The man entertained him very rudely, both with neglect of his advice, and obloquy. But this holy man suffering his choler and fury to spend themselves, brought him at length, by his wont sweet behaviour, to a calmer temper convinced him of his blindness and errors into which he had thrown himself headlong, and after several visits, confirmed him in the Catholic verity. Finally, meeting with the principal party that perverted him, threatened him with the Law, in case he persisted in his course; having respect to others also, whom he had dealt withal in the like kind; Thus his zeal frustrated the others designs, and established this Family in their former Religion.  
Secondly, his zeal was accompanied with unparalled patience, a virtue very requisite for him, that would render himself capable to do good to others, seeing he must endeavour to win their hearts, at which he is to make his first entrance, applying himself to their inclinations and humours, which in very many prove difficult and untoward; and not following his own, but subduing his passions, and renouncing his own will, insinuating himself after a sort into their dispositions, and being, as it were, changed and metamorphosed into them; as St. Paul saith of himself, waiting long and patiently for their conversion; and attending (without being tired or discouraged, notwithstanding that he finds by all his travels, he wins but little ground) the times and the moments wherein they may profit, and yield to his motives; all which qualities are not acquirable, without great violence offered to one's self, without much suffering, and great mortification. To whom therefore may well be applied these words of our Saviour, That grain which thou sowest, if it die not, remaineth fruitless; but if it die, it sprouteth, and bringeth forth much fruit. To the end therefore that we may bring forth fruit amongst men, we must die to ourselves, and with this holy man, be endued with zeal and patience, to bear with meakness, and great pains of body and mind, in those charitable employments; undergoing the importunities, complaints, passions, the repulses, the contempts and in juries which often are met with in the business.  
One day he visited a person, who out of jealousy and a groundless suspicion, had cruelly used his wife, and given her a wound with a knife; who understanding his business, entertained him very coarsely, lifting up his hand to strike him, belching out uncivil language, and offering to thrust him out of doors. Monsieur Renty took all this patiently, not replying one word: But after some time, he drew near again, and embraced him, and accosted him with such soft language, that he was persuaded by him at length to go to confession, which he had not done in twelve years before; and in sine, reconciled him fully to his wife, and so lived and died a good Christian.  
Another time he went to see a poor old man that lay sick, whom he boarded with his ordinary discourse of things concerning his salvation: But the old man, whom age, sickness, and want, had rendered very crabbed, instead of listening to him, fell into passion, telling him that he understood those things better than he; and if he would hearken, he would instruct him himself. Monsieur Renty answered, with all his heart; and after a great deal of patience and attention, prudently taking advantage from some things in that impertinent and weak discourse, to convince and inform him better, proceeded so happily, that he brought him to go to Confession, and the rest of his days to take great care of his souls health:  
We may add hereunto, his wonderful discretion concerning the faults of others, wherein he exercised great parience and courage: Patience, I say, in bearing with them, and courage in admonishing and correcting them.  
A certain zealous Ecclesiastical person, did by Letter request his advice and assistance, in redressing some scandalous faults that were committed near him, and remained unpunished. To whom he answered, he must have recourse to God by his prayers, to procure of his goodness, illumination for those sinners, and grace to mend their lives; adding withal, how hard a thing it was, to redress such evils; for our Saviour himself, whilst he was upon earth, did not take away all sins, and so must we be constrained to leave many behind us, which God permitteth sometime to be, as well for the exercising and purging of the good, as for the punishment of the bad.  
The same party advertising him of two other things; the one, of some considerable faults he had noted in a Priest, that took upon him the charge of souls: The other, how a Canon had struck one of the Fathers of the mission, who had reproved him deservedly for a fault. To him he wrote back thus:  
I humbly thank you for your pains in informing me of what passed concerning the Missianers. Ye are all fellow-servants of one God, and know how to reverence those graces of God ye see in one another; neither are ignorant, how that St. Peter, though an Apostle, and full of graces, was found culpable, as St. Paul tells us: We must therefore excuse the faults of our neighbour, and lay them under our feet. The work of God that acteth in the heart, receiveth its testimony from a self-annihilation, manifested by the Patience and Charity of the Saints in Exterior actions: Beg ye the increase of these graces for those that want them. It was very scandalous for one Priest to strike another; but we know, that Priests put our Saviour to death, and we have too many in these days of that Function, who hold more of the old Law than the new, which consisteth in the alliance and union of Charity with Jesus Christ.  
His patience likewise in bearing with the faults and imperfections of others, was very exemplary, still extennating them with some word of mitigation, and excusing and covering them with Charity, if it were possible. Being told of one that had put a cheat upon him in a business of small concernment, belonging to his Lawsuit at Dijon, he straightway covered the fault, and by an act of humility said, it is I that continually cheat my God; then changed the discourse to another business: In this he looked upon the example of God, and his Son our Saviour, who infinitely hating of sin, and shedding his blood for the destruction of it; notwithstanding, daily do suffer such an innumerable multitude of most enormous sinners, with so great patience and forbearance: Neither was this his patience and connivance at faults, without the design to correct them, as much as he could, which he managed with great prudence and courage.  
When ever he intended to reprove another, he commonly in the first place accused himself, the better to dispose their spirit, by the example of his own humility, and the setting forth of his weakness, to receive his say; and afterwards requested the same Christian office from them back again: All which he performed in such a graceful way, that there be many who received good, and retain the memory of it to this day.  
Having one day a design to admonish one, he began a discourse of that unity of spirits and freedom of hearts, that aught to be amongst Christians, in telling one another the very truths. For want of which, we are ignorant of them, and so grow grey in our vices, and carry them along with us to our graves. And therefore, that he should hold himself extremely obliged, if any one would perform toward him this charity. The other finding his heart exceedingly softened with this discourse, besought him to deal freely and plainly with him, in telling him, whatsoever in him he saw amiss, which thing then he did.  
When he had to deal with stubborn sinners, his language was sharp and severe; knowing when it was fir to yield, and when to reprove sharply. And his counsel to a friend concerning a third party, was this:  
Take heed of humbling yourself before that man, such abasing of yourself in this case, will both prejudice him, and the cause of God. Reprove him severely and roundly.  
He put a great difference betwixt Christian patience in our own concernments, and fortitude, requisite in the things of God, and the good of our Neighbour, and for the worthy preserving of our just Authority.   

SECT. 8. Two other qualities of his zeal.  
THese two qualities likewise accompanied his zeal, Freedom and prudence: For although his great Humility, of which we have formerly spoken, hath rob us of the knowledge of many, and most profitable things he did, and caused him to conceal many of his inward graces, and outward actions, yet did his zeal bring many of them to light, and compel him to manifest them in a sincere, charitable, and holy simplicity; where he saw it necessary for the glory of God, and good of his neighbour; as we may gather from some Memorials we have from him. According to which necessity, and that spirit of Charity, sometime he spoke directly of himself, and sometime in a third person (as S. Paul of his own Revelations:) To which purpose, see how well and fitly he wrote, in the year 1649. to a virtuous Lady:  
Give me leave, Madam, to declare unto you my thoughts, concerning that liberty we ought to use, in communicating freely the gifts of God bestowed on us, to such persons as may reap fruit from them; not stifling within ourselves what we receive from above, whereby we obstruct a second fruit which God expects from his graces: Which is, after our receiving good from them, to communicate them to others, with charity and discretion: Improving them, like good seed sown in good ground bringing forth abundance of fruit. I wish that we would consider ourselves, set in this world, as a Crystal, which placed in the middle of the Universe. would give free passage to all that light it receives from above: And that by good example, by a high estimate set of virtue, by discountenancing of vice, by comforting others, by pious convease, we would impart those talents we have received from heaven, to all creatures; and this without disguisement, or the least claim of propriety. Giving obedience and passage to them, as the Crystal to light.  
Furthermore, that all those honours and commendations which we receive from below, should freely pass through us again up to God, without making any stay with us. No otherwise than the Crystal transmits' the beams of several torches set under it, purifying, and darting them, more sparkling towards heaven: for this indeed is our bounden duty, to render unto God, all that honour & praise, we receive from men, who alone is worthy of all honour and glory. And who hath therefore bestowed upon us such things as are praiseworthy; not that the praise thereof should rest upon us, but pass thorough us towards him, that he may be blessed and praised in all things.  
Moreover it is observable, if nothing be opposed to the Crystal, to receive that light which passeth thorough it, it appeareth not at all: And though the Sun bestoweth his beams from above, and the torches their flames from below, yet these, for want of a reflection, remain only imperceptible in the Crystal. In like manner, though we receive the heavenly light, and abundance of graces, if we make no approaches to God and our neighbour, by rendering to the one what is his due, and to the other what is Charitable; it may be we have a light, but that's only in ourselves, and hidden under a bushel: Which being so straight confined, cannot produce its effect of communication, and is in danger in a short time to be choked and extinct.  
Consider also, that when the Sun shineth upon a clear Crystal, there is not any corporeal thing more capable of that lustre, or that receives its beams, with so great splendour. Moreover, betwixt it and the Sun no light is seen, but after it hath passed thorough the Crystal, it becomes bright and glorious, and also burns according to the figure to which it is disposed: To show us, that what passeth betwixt God and us, is a work only of the Closet, which ought not to appear abroad until it hath passed thorough us to others.  
Let us then suffer ourselves to be penetrated by the graces of God, that after their beams have lightened and warmed us, they may afford the like to all about us: Let us imitate that clear Crystal which composed of solid matter, yet gives free passageonely to the light; let us, like it, be impenetrable to all, but what proceeds from God, and returns to him. Let us not, as we commonly do, descend to the appetites of sense, and lust inordinately after earthly things, which is to cast dirt upon the Crystal; whereby that which is clear in itself, by reason of that filth that environs it, is no more capable of light, than is the dirt upon it: And if we will restore it to its former transparency and penetrability, we must wash it well: I mean, our polluted souls, in the clear waters of repentance.  
Let as finally, ●ffer up ourselves to our blessed Saviour, that we be not defective in the right use of his graces which he bestows upon us, neither for ourselves, nor for others, that we bury not his talents: Imitating likewise herein the Crystal, which is first penetrated by light only, and then scattereth it abroad: Let us appear without a Mask before the face of all the world, speaking aloud, both by the mouth of our actions, with the Spouse in the Canticles, My Beloved is mine, and I am my Beloved's; and by our example and diligence, increase the number of those souls that thus love, opening and making plain the way of love: For ever blessed be the God of love, in whom I am, etc.  
By this Letter we may perceive, that notwithstanding the design of his Humility to hid those gifts and graces he had received: yet his zeal often caused him to bring them to light, when the glory of God, and good of his neighbour might be promoted thereby. And yet this he managed with admirable prudence, that though his zeal was free, yet not so indiscreet, as to be its own Herald upon every appearance of doing good; but was very circumspect, weighing all circumstances of time, place, persons, and necessity. Wherefore in the same Letter, he gave this sage advice to that Lady, touching the order and measure which are necessary to be observed in this communication:  
To some we must lay open our hearts more freely and exactly, to others more reservedly, keeping aloof off, and beating about the bush; too others altogether locked up, concealing those secrets from them, in whom we see no disposition at all to make good use of them.  
One of the most necessary qualities of this zeal, whereby to render it profitable, and prevent many miscarriages, is, that it be well seasoned with discretion and prudence, to consider things well, and execute them in the best manner: To foresee, and prevent mischiefs, and redress them in time, when they have happened, applying such efficacious remedies, as may have as much of sweetness, and as little of acrimony as may be. And in desperate cases, or where the cure would prove worse than the disease, to suffer, and dissemble them; as we do in those of the body; viz. blindeness, lameness, and crookedness; souls having sometimes some certain defects, which are, as it were, incorrigible; which God suffers often, thereby to save and perfect through humility, those that are infected therewith; and others likewise who deal with them, by their patience and charity.  
Thus was Monsieur Renty both by grace and nature very prudent and advised: His zeal made up with all these perfections, and guided its self every where with these illuminations. One writing to him to procure a pardon for a young Gentleman who had committed murder, his mother promising in lieu of that favour eight hundred pound Sterling, to be employed in works of Piety and Alms. In his first answer, he desired to be informed, whether the party was truly penitent for his fault. In the second he writ thus:  
I cannot persuade myself to stir in this business, because it would seem, that under the pretence of Alms, impunity is aimed at: I am not willing to foul my hands with the price of blood. In a word, although others undertake the business without scuuple, and I see very considerable Alms that would come of it; yet for all that, I cannot afford my assistance. The Divine Providence will never forget his holy poor ones.  
One great point of prudence requisite in a zealous man, is not to overthrow his body with excessive travel, nor overcharge his mind with too much business, which by their number and weight may choke his devotions: but so to have a care of the salvation of others, as not thereby to neglect his own: but according to his strength to proportion, what ought to be, both to the one and other. Concerning the first of these, he expressed himself thus to a Clergy man, upon occasion of some distemper he had contracted with extraordinary pains in his Mission:  
Give me leave, Sir, to deal plainly with you, in telling you, that amongst those many cares I have for you; this is not the least, that I would not have you impose too much upon yourself; and for want of moderation, to render yourself altogether unserviceable. The enemy usually takes no small advantage of such free and well disposed natures. You are not herein your own, but a man for the whole world; and, with St. Paul, a debtor to all men; preserve yoer self therefore, not so much, I mean, by making much of, but by forbearing to destroy yourself by labours and travel: I am told how greatly your endeavours are blessed; give me leave from that interest myself challengeth therein, with all humility and respect, to admonish you thus much.  
Concerning the second, touching our own salvation, he had a special regard hereto, managing those affairs which belonged to the good of his neighbour, by the rules of a well ordered Charity, which in this case gins at home; indispensably performing all his Exercises of Devotion, and reserving a considerable part both of the day and night for his conversing with God, and prayer; yea, as he passed to and fro in the day time in the streets, he often went into the Churches remaining there whole hours together, before the B. Sacrament, when his occasions would any way permit; and especially toward his latter end, as his employments increased, so was he in continual recollection; from which neither his business, nor any exterior objects did distract him: Whereupon a most familiar friend ask him, whether in that great throng of business, he observed his usual two hours of prayer. He answered, when I can, I keep three hours, sometimes four or five; but when occasion is offered to serve my neighbour, I easily quit them, for God of his mercy hath given me the grace, to be inseparably with him, even in the crowd of business.   

SECT. 9 The success which God gave to his zeal.  
GOd endued this his servant, with such a powerful virtue for the good of his neighbour, that not only his words and actions, but even his very presence, made impression upon others for their eternal good. So that one familiarly acquainted with him, said, that he believed him to be endued with an Apostolic spirit; for as the Apostles received the grace, to enkindle the life of Faith, and fire of Charity, and set up the Kingdom of God in all Countries and places where the Divine Majesty sent them; in like manner was Monsieur Renty, even far beyond the bounds of his condition, filled with grace, and assisted by Divine Power, in all the Cities, Villages, Private houses, as well Religious as Secular, whither the Divine Providence conducted him, to enlighten men with the knowledge of God, and his Son Christ Jesus. To enkindle in their hearts perfect Charity, and bring them to a good life. In all which he was exceedingly blessed with happy success, as shall be showed hereafter.  
Being one day at Paris, in the time of Lent, going to a poor man's house, to exercise some of his ordinary acts of Charity; and hearing a great noise of people, singing and dancing in the next house, he left his poor man, and went in thither, and looked upon them; who were so surprised and astonished at his presence, that they presently quitted their dancing and singing: And he fell into a discourse against those disorders and dissoluteness in that holy time of Lent, with such fervour, as drew tears from their eyes, and wrought so effectually upon some of them, that the next day they went to Confession.  
Another time, he visited a poor maid, who being abused by a young man, and gotten with child, was lest in great necessity; whom he found plunged in so deep a melancholy, that she had resolved to make away herself; yet by the grace and power, which God gave to his good counsel, he comforted her dejected spirits, and brought her into such a condition, that she went to Confession. After this, he went to seek out the young man, who at the first onset, behaved himself very ill, contemning his wholesome advice: But after several arguments, enforced from the danger of his soul, and other threaten of God's Judgements hanging over his head, he melted into tears, promising to do whatever he pleased to command him; insomuch, that by his advice, he was reconciled to God by true repentance, and to the maid by wedlock, and since that time have led a good life together.  
During his abode at Amiens, a poor woman had undone herself by selling salt (a thing forbidden in France, under heavy penalties) and being taken in it: Who thereupon fell into an excessive sadness and grief, retaining also such an hatred against them that had reduced her to this misery, that she could not be persuaded upon any terms to forgive them; whereby she became uncapable of the Sacraments, in the extremity of her sickness. Monsieur Renty was brought to her, in the company of two or three other persons, who talked with her a long time without any success. Insomuch, that seeing whatever he said prevailed nothing, fell upon his knees in the middle of the room, inviting the company to do the like; and after some few prayers, bespoke the sick party, saying, and will not you join with us, to beg mercy of God? To which she yielding, he caused her to repeat after him word by word, certain acts of repentance and charity; by which she found her mind so strangely altered, that she appeared quite another woman; and openly professed, that she did forgive them from her heart: And receiving with much meekness all his instructions, prepared herself to the worthy receiving of the Sacraments.  
Being one day at the great Hospital in Paris, instructing the sick how to dispose themselves for a general Confession; one of the Religious women entreated him to speak with a person that was newly brought in thither; who had been without any cause at all, run thorough the body with a sword, and was so incensed against the party, that he could not endure with patience, any should speak of forgiving him. But no sooner did Monsieur Renty urge to him, the duty of a good Christian in such a case, with other speeches to pacify and sweeten his spirit, but he was appeased, and said, he forgave him with all his heart; adding, that he was ready both to see and embrace him, expressing moreover, very much sense of Piety.  
Certain Abbots, and other ecclesiastics of quality and virtue met at Pontoise to settle a Mission: Monsieur Renty, who was very intimately acquainted with the most part of them, came to visit them; where, according to his usual custom, without speaking thereof to any one, he went to the prison, and meeting there with a most obstinate sinner, who had continued so along time, and neither by entreaty nor threatening, by fair means nor foul, nor by any other means which the Mission could use, be brought to Confession.  
The Mission sending for Monsieur Renty to dine with them, word was brought, after much search for him, that they might happily meet with him at the Prison; where he was found sitting at the table with the Prisoners, for whom he had provided a dinner, discoursing lovingly with them, comforting and stirring them up to a good life. Amongst the rest, the foresaid party in particular, upon whom he had the greatest design; to whom he spoke with so much power, dealing with him so discreetly, or divinely rather, that he brought him to his bent, working in him a resolution effectually to change his life, and make a good confession of all his sins: which gave a just occasion to one of the Mission to say, That Monsieur Renty had accomplished that in three days, which others would have had much ado to have brought about in three years.  
I omit many others of the like kind, concluding with this one, which seems very remarkable. He was requested to visit a devout woman, who was tormented with excessive pains both inward and outward, and had great need of comfort and direction; who received so great relief from his instructions, that within some few days she writ as followeth, The effect which I found by the conference I had with this worthy servant of God, was such, that as soon as I had gotten victory over myself to speak, and lay open my heart unto him, straightway my blessed Saviour communicated his goodness so powerfully to me, that I was even pierced by the effects of his presence: I found also a very particular assistance from the blessed Virgin, whom this holy man did invoke at the beginning of our discourse. And I can assure you of a truth, that I was sensible of much comfort and ease of my affliction; insomuch, that his speeches had so great an influence upon my soul, and wrought so effectually that I have continued ever since in a good condition. And though my pains are not abated, yet I find such an alteration in myself, that I seem to be no more my own, but all that is within me, breatheth after nothing but the Execution of the will of God, and the accomplishment of his good pleasure at any rate. And though nature suffers some difficulty in it, yet she must now learn to yield to grace, and make resistance no longer. My torments are not changed, and yet I profess to suffer nothing, because I am very well content to suffer: And although my inferior sensitive part is much pained, yet my superior part cannot; nor indeed is it capable of suffering, by reason of its conformity to the will of God. All my care, during this time of resignation of myself to sufferings, is to make good use of my affliction, and endeavour after solid virtue, with a perfect abandoning of myself to the will of God.  
Behold here the blessings of God upon his endeavours, for the good of his neighbours; which working such strong impressions upon their hearts, to bring them to God, almost always accompanied his labours: At which indeed we ought not much to wonder, if we consider him as a happy instrument, fastened and united to the Lord of hearts, and Saviour of souls; singly aiming at the glory of God, and good of others, and sparing nothing he conceived necessary thereunto. To which purpose his custom was, before he undertook any such business, to give himself up to our Lord (they are his own words) to speak by his Spirit, and in his Power.  
And this Lord (who desireth infinitely the salvation of man) finding him so well disposed, and fitted to his hand, used him for noble employments, and furnished him with suitable graces and favours, even to work wonders. Which may serve both for the instruction and shame of such, who by their calling are designed for the procuring of the salvation of men, and yet through their own fault, do it with so little profit.  
I find moreover, that God gave him sometimes beforehand knowledge and foresight into the affairs which he would have him do, thereby to prepare him to undertake them without fear, and to acquit himself well therein. Being at his house in Citry, at the latter end of the year, 1642. he had a secret intimation from God, that at his return to Paris, he should find a new employment about the poor, and should be much taken up therein: Which fell out accordingly; two days after his arrival there, certain persons coming to advice with him, about a course to relieve such poor as were ashamed to beg, throughout that City, entreating him to take it into his care; which he did accordingly, undertaking for his share, to visit the fourth part, and distribute there alms according to their necessities, which was a sufficient employment for one man, to take up his whole time, though he had no other business; which yet he performed, notwithstanding the multitude of his other occupations; so that we may say, that according to humane reason, and without a special assistance from God, he could never have been able to have done and suffered such great matters: But God, who hath given us a limited strength of body and mind, can as easily heighten them, when, and how he pleaseth.  
One day he said to one of his great Confidents with much humility and devotion:  
I have been this night bathed all over in tears, by a view which our Lord hath given me. At which words making a stand, remaining sometime recollected in silence, and transported with that grace he had received; afterward he went on, saying, that whilst he was at prayer, he understood that there was a great employment assigned him for new France in the Indies.  
Which afterward fell out, and chief in the building of a Church in the Island of Mont-real: In which noble design, other pious persons, whom God had chosen thereunto, joining with him; He by his cares; counsels, credit, and liberality both of his own, and what he begged from others, was highly serviceable.  
Sometime he received beforehand, not so great light of his business, but only a bare knowledge, and present impulse of doing something, without any further discovery: As, when he was much pressed in Spirit to go to Pontois, without understanding any reason for it, having at the same time much employment at Paris; yet with obedience to the inspiration, without debating he undertaketh the journey; where unexpectedly he met with a Nobleman of great quality, from a Province far distant; who came thither, conducted by God, to ask of Monsieur Renty, and receive from his mouth instructions for his souls health, and how to serve God perfectly, which he had little known, and less practised: Which thing Monsieur Renty then taught him; professing at his return from thence, that he could give no account, what afterward became of the party, or how he lost him   

SECT. 10. His grace in assisting particularly some choice souls.  
THough this great servant of God, had an excellent faculty in assisting all men for the good of their souls; yet was he more eminently happy, in some particular choice persons, to whom our Saviour had assigned him, for the curing of their imperfections, to make them march on apace, and that thorough the narrow way of virtue and perfection. But because the greatest number of these are yet living, whose modesty I dare not offend, I shall speak something only of some who are dead; and chief of one person, which may serve as a taste of all the rest.  
This was the Countess of Chastres; who being deeply in the affections of this world, according to the custom of most young Ladies of her quality; it pleased God, out of his infinite love to her, to bring her before her death, from those vanities, and conduct her by the thorny straightway, to the paths of virtue and high perfection; for which great work Monsieur Renty was assigned from God: He inspiring the one, to request assistance and counsel, and the other to afford it; and this with so happy success, that within less than a years space, her advancement herein was so notable, that he himself was astonished at it: For in that short time, she became so perfectly disengaged from all those petty conveniences and accommodations, which our Ladies (flattering themselves) pretend still to have need of; that one presenting her with something of that nature, wherein she had formetly taken delight, she returned this answer, which may serve for a good lesson to us all (especially if we consider, that she was well known, to be of a very delicate, tender complexion, and very sickly) how apt we are to multiply necessities, I thank God, I have quitted this, and far more other things. for the love of God, and yet find no want at all, It is true, that nature of herself is dainty, and prone to flatter herself, upon the pretence of necessities, which she is willing to apprehend much greater than truly they are; and often maketh them such, by her imagination.  
God endued him with great grace and light, to discern her proper way, and to persuade her to follow it; to advance her in the paths of solid virtue, and to teach her by degrees to die to herfelf; to support her in great interior afflictions, and to instruct her very effectually, in what was most proper for her present condition; he being accomplished with all the qualities of a fit Director, and she on her part, perfectly resigning up herself, to believe what he said, and force herself to put it in execution: A thing very requisite in those, that resolve to make use of the conduct of others to good purpose. She received his counsel, with all the resignation she could, imagining our Saviour to speak to her by his mouth; which really was not without cause, if we duly consider the passage I shall now relate.  
The Lady speaking to him one day, about procuring some relief of a most pressing excessive pain, with which her spirit was afflicted; and not finding any comfort from whatsoever he said, she was moved to cast herself down upon her knees, to deliver up her own will to our Saviour, and by a perfect resignation, to enter into what designs his good pleasure had decreed concerning her; which she did accordingly: And after rising from her knees, she no more beheld Monsieur Renty, but in him our B. Saviour, shining with a very great splendour, & saying to her, do what my servant directs thee: Which words, at that very instant, wrought such a wholesome and divine effect upon her, that her pain vanished, she remaning filled with God, in joining a perfect tranquillity of spirit, accompanied with a lively repentance for her sins, and an absolute contempt of the world, and of herself.  
Though this happy intercourse betwixt him and this Lady, accompanied with such signal blessings from God, had contracted a strict and perfect amity betwixt them, yet he was very wary, wise, and reserved in his addresses, visiting her only when the work of God did require, and making no longer stay nor discourse with her, than what was precisely necessary: Which the Lady thinking to be a little harsh, bemoaned to a friend, whom she knew to have some power with this holy man, in these words, Monsieur Renty doth extremely mortify me with his civilities and reservedness. I have great need to see him often, and yet cannot obtain it: yea, when we are together, he will not sit down, except it be when I am sick, or that I am not able to stand any longer; and always with his hat in his hand. I beseech you tell him, what out of that great respect I own him, I dare not myself, what pain and inquietude I suffer, to see such his carriage toward me, who ought be continually under his feet.  
The party acquainted him with thus much, and received this answer:  
I proceed in this manner, because my duty to God, and to the Countess of Chastres require it; and moreover, since my Saviour doth oblige me to treat with her, I must do no more than what is necessary, and so retire, to which this posture is most convenient. If we sit down, we should forget ourselves, and talk more than is needful, and perhaps pass on to things unprofitable: Wherefore we both aught to stand upon our guard. I being a lay man and a sinner, do not speak to her but with great confusion, though I know it to be the will of God, and am certified by several pious and judicious men, that it is my duty.  
Those that undertake the conduct of souls, ought seriously to ponder this prudent answer, and persuade themselves, that the business consists not in speaking much to them, but in disposing them to speak to God, and in making them fit for God to speak to them; to beget in their souls the substantial Word, his Son: And after wholesome counsel given, consonant to their state and disposition, in putting them upon its execution with good courage; virtue consisting not in words, but deeds.  
Thus you have the course he took in directing this Lady; who thereby arrived to great perfection, making most excellent use of all her great sufferings of body and mind; attaining to so great contempt of the world, that she died with a design (notwithstanding her great infirmities and sickness) to become a Carmeline, in the Monastery of Beaulne.  
And that we may have a taste of his skill in conducting several other persons of great virtue, let us consider these following Rules of great Perfection, which he gave to them; and which, without doubt, were drawn from his own private observation.  
I have protested in the presence of the blessed Sacrament, that I will live according to the Maxims and Counsels of Jesus Christ; and to that end:  
1. Never to desire or endeavour, directly or indirectly, to increase my fortune in riches or honour, neither to consent to any advantages, which my friends would procure for me, unless in obedience to, and advice of my Ghostly Father and Director of my Conscience.  
2. To study the contempt and hatred of worldly riches and honours, to speak of them no longer according to the flesh, but according to the spirit of Christianity; and for the better establishing of its Maxims in my soul, to avoid, as much as I can, the conversation of such, as are guided by contrary Rules.  
3. To entertain no Suit in Law, either as Plaintiff or Defendant, until all possible ways have been used for an accommodation, without any humane respect: In which I will submit to advice.  
4. To cut off all superfluities, as well in what concerneth my own person, as my family, that I may be the better enabled to assist the poor: For the better execution whereof, I will once every Month, after Communion, examine myself therein, as strictly, as if I were then to give an account to God.  
5. Never to contest, but to yield to all the world, as much as I can, both in point of Honour, Precedency, and of Opinion, Dispute, and of another Will, which I ought to prefer before my own.  
6. To shun all delicacies, not to do, or desire any thing, upon the motive of pleasure; nor to admit of any such thing, unless it be joined with necessity, or condescension to my neighbour, or the health of my body, or the refreshment and relaxation of Spirit.  
7. To bear with patience, Contempt, Injuries, Contradictions, Losses, Oppressions and Affronts.  
8. To do all, that with discreet zeal I can, to hinder others from offending God, or blaspheming his Holy Name, or detracting or slandering their neighbour.  
9 To avoid and reject all kind of tenderness and delicacy for the ease of the body; yea, to diminish and cut off, as much as I can, such commodities and conveniences as may be forborn, without danger of health.  
10. To receive with all readiness and charity the requests of my neighbour, and to supply his necessities, in what I can possibly, by myself, or by others.  
11. To perform the duty of Fraternal correption, with all Charity and Humility, in the most prudent manner I can, and to receive it most willingly from others.  
12, Once every Month, at least, I will examine myself upon the faults I have committed against these present Resolutions: And once a year many may mere together, to renew this Protestation, and advise together of the way and means to accomplish it.   

SECT. 11. The great skill he had in the Interior matters of the Soul.  
WE must of necessity confess, that the knowledge of Interior things is most difficult, and that the discerning of Spirits, is, without contradiction, the most obscure of all Sciences: And to be acquainted therewith, requires eminent grace from God, and a light no less, than what flows from the Sun of Righteousness: For, if the skill of curing the body be difficult, and only conjectural, by reason that we are guided therein by Exterior Signs, which often prove ambiguous and equivocal (whereupon the most, expert Physicians, find themselves frequently mistaken, and prescribe quite contrary remedies) how much more must the skill of governing Souls, in the matter of their salvation, which are spiritual and remote from sense, yea, and supernatural, be attended with great difficulties, and involved in wonderful obscurity.  
But Monsieur Renty proved very skilful herein, having received a wonderful light from God, to search out the mysterious secrets, and understand the most abstruse wind of Souls, in which his own experience was no small advantage to him: His more than ordinary light served him to discern truth from falsehood, the safe from dangerous, the motions of a good spirit, from those of the evil one, to bring disquieted souls to their repose, to fortify and en ourage them, to disengage them from all worldly things; & to unite them to our Saviour Jesus Christ, and by him to the Divinity, to be guided in all things by his holy Spirit.  
I shall here present you with a taste of this excellent skill, and some beams of this Divine light in these matters, which I found amongst his Papers, under his own hand, which may give great insight into the mysteries of a Spiritual life.  
There be (saith he in those Papers) three kinds of elevations and groan of the Soul after God, about which she ought constantly to be busied, to enable her to accomplish the Precepts of our Saviour; that is, to pray always, and never to slack this holy Exercise, lest she fall into oblivion of God, and after that into sin.  
The first is the elevation and groaning of the Penitents, who begin at the Purgative way. The second is of the Believers, who have proceeded to, and do practise the Illuminative. And the third is of the Perfect, who are arrived at the Unitive.  
The first are exercised in the renouncing of sin, and the vanities of the world, in bewatilng their former life, and seeking God, sending forth from the depth of fear and revexence, their groans and sighs to him, which is the beginning of life eternal.  
The Believers seek after the knowledge of his will, by his Word, which is his Son, desiring to conform their lives after his example, who is our Way, our Life and Truth: And this is the progress of this life. The Perfect groan in the presence of God, after an Union with him, in imitation of our Saviour, exercising it by acts of love, and so fulfilling the first and great Commandment, in which consisteth the perfection of our life here below.  
There are some Souls in the first estate, who renouncing sin, and quitting the vanities of the world, receive great sensible consolations from God, and taste ravishing delights. But if they endeavour not to pass on to the second, to understand and practise the will of God in his Son, the Devil will soon deceive them by this bait, causing them to rest in the complacency of these gusts: So that not making progress in Christ, who is their way, they will wander into by-paths, to the danger of a precipice: Their condition being a kind of imperfect, floating self-denial, and desire to be for God, to do his will, and love him with a false Interior peace, upon which they rest, and whence afterwards, they degenerate into a very dangerous condition, because they are not truly grounded upon Jesus Christ, whom God hath appointed for our sole Guide.  
But if after they are thus purged from the gross affections of the world, they be not likewise purified from themselves, giving up all to Christ Jesus, with a serious resolution to imitate him, and enter into his Sacrifice of Self-annihilation: Instead of receiving the Spirit of God, they shall confirm themselves in their own; and forming to themselves false illuminations, shall be guided by their own sense, and by what their own corrupt nature suggests to them, as glittering and pleasing, with great danger of falling headlong into the errors of the Enthusiasts; who persuade themselves, that every thing that occurs to their fancy, comes from God: Out of an opinion, that they neither will, nor seek, nor love any thing but God, and so become little or nothing at all sensible of the checks of their own Conscience.  
If you observe those that begin their Spiritual life in this manner, you will find them to have little faith or dependence on Christ Jesus. And if you ask them what they desire, or whetherto they tend? they will answer in general, To whatsoever God will have. It will be necessary to set these right, and if they be not too far gone with these gusts, and sensible consolations, to carry them to desine indeed what God will have, but desire it according to the model of our Saviour, and the precepts of his Gospel (which he hath left us as his Will and Testament, and to be our Light, and the Rule of our enlightenings.)  
We have many who rest in this first step, being yet esteemed and admired, even by persons who pass for spiritual, and of on by their Ghostly Directors, calling this the my stical way. In which notwithstnading, the decaitful spirit of Nature and the Devil, play their game, under the mask of these dark illuminations, of these false peaces, of these acquaint terms, high words, and mysterious notions, of these volumes of spiritual writings (the fruits whereof are for the most part in the paper) from whence it is seen so often, that those who have begun well, and with much purity, do fall afterwards into gross faults; whilst Property and Self-pleasing steal into the soul in the room of Christ Jesus.  
We have others, which heed no other thing than the preaching of John Baptist, by their Austerities and Pennances, setting up there rest here, without proceeding on to Christ Jesus, to receive his Spirit; relying upon an inward satisfaction and confidence in their mortifications, and sticking there.  
Others, so stay upon Jesus Christ only, as if he had no Father having affectionate devotions to his Humanity, and much led by the sensible, go no further. They know Jesus Christ but not Jesus Christ, God and man, who is our Life, Truth, and Way.  
Others build all their hopes upon the Blessed Virgin and other Saints, and their particular Devotions to them; which are very good, when they are grounded upon repentance for their sins, and a true conversion of the soul: But these grossly deceive themselves, by hoping of succour from the Blessed Virgin and the Saints, or of having any communion in their merits, when they quit not their own vicious courses.  
These three estates, thus understood and distinguished, afford great light in the conduct of souls; whereby to understand their beginning, progress, and perfection, with the deviations they are subject unto. And every one of these estates, hath its proper work, its sufferance, and its prayer.  
The work of the first estate of beginners and Penitents, is to find out all that inclineth to sin, that obstructeth our salvation, or withdraweth us from God, to avoid it. Their Cross or Sufferance is, to bewail their offences, to mortify their passions, and subdue their body●n any thing that makes it rebel against Reason and the Spirit; and also to punish the irregular motions of Concupiscence. Their prayer is, to beg grace and strength, for their performance of these things.  
The work of the second, namely, of Believers, is, to study Jesus Christ, his Life and Doctrine: Their Cross is, to bear the troubles that befall them in imitation of our Saviour; to suffer contempt and persecutions, which attend all such as follow him, Their prayer is, to beg his Life, his Spirit, and his frame of Soul, to act interiorly and exteriorly after his model.  
The work of the third and Perfect one, is, to do each thing by the Spirit of Christ, through their union with God: Their Cross is, in bearing with, as they ought, aught, the corruptions, darkness and stupidity of this world, as also persecution for righteousness, which thing shall never be wanting. Their prayer is, to ask continually, a more abundant participation of the Spirit of Christ, a more intimate union with God, a greater dying to themselves, a more faithful improving of his grace and talents received, with perseverance to the end.  
Moreover, in the first estate, we must labour hard, in resisting of sin, in vanquishing our passions, and renouncing vanities; which young beginners cannot do, without many repeated acts, much violence to themselves. But those to whom God hath given an entrance into the two other estates, do it easily, with a simple and facile guidance of their spirit, not diminishing their acts of humiliation, but hindering the oppression and trouble thereof.  
In the second estate, is requisite on our parts, a vigorous correspondence in following jesus Christ, not acting any more from ourselves, but in him, in singleness of heart; and, enduring with patience and longanimity, the purging and purifying of our spirits by jesus Christ. In which work, we must be content, to suffer many secret tempests, and inward tumults, arising from the reluctancies of our old habits, and our spirit stirred up by the motions of nature, full of many images and impressions. And finally, be content to lose our very souls with much patience, that we may receive them again, clothed with Christ jesus.  
In the third estate, is contained a work of Passion, that is, of Prayer; where the bounty of God doth all, as it were, the soul tasting a certain experimental satiety of the presence and truth of God, and of his love in jesus Christ, in which she reposeth. She finds herself often absorbed in the joy of the greatness, the power, the goodness, and the infinite perfections of God, of the alliance with his Son; his love, his manner of conversation, and the admirable effects, which the participation of his Spirit produceth, joying in the possession of these good things, with a tranquillity, content, and vigour, surpassing all sense and expression.  
A good progress thorough the two former estates, makes way for the third; where we must be careful, considering the uncertainty and mutableness of our natures, to use great industry, to be sure of going forward, and of repeating also what we have done, the better to ground ourselves, and repair our losses.  
Thus we have his insight into spiritual things, evidencing the great advancement of his illuminated Spirit, which God had enlightened in more than an ordinary manner, declaring unto him the designs he had upon souls: Giving him to penetrate into the obscurest recesses of their Consciences, and to discover what was most secret and hidden, to speak with words not studied and premeditated, but which were inspired, and put into his mouth at that hour, which proved most powerful and effectual.  
In the year, 1644. A maid, whom God had endued with pious affections, was desirous to become a Carmeline. She communicated her intentions to Monsieur Renty, begging his advice. Who at first, finding some difficulties in the business, judged it fitting for her, to think no more of it. Notwithstanding afterwards, God inspired him at his prayers with a very great certitude, that it was his will, she should proceed in the business, maugre all difficulties, pointing out to him the very place where the thing should be done. He informed her thereof, which she harkened unto, with due respect, as if Christ himself had spoken unto her, and commanded her to enter into that Monastery, where she remains at this very day.  
In the year, 1647. having visited a person afflicted with great pains, who had need of such a man as he, he writ thus to his Director:  
I have been with the party you know of, and have told her what I thought convenient to her condition. Our Saviour enlightened me to discover to her, his good pleasure concerning her, how that this sad and dark condition was not sent, to bring her to a stand and trouble at it, but to facilitate her way to perfection, and carry her without amusement, to our Saviour Christ Lesus, who is our Sanctification.  
I acquainted her, how we ought to lay this sure foundation, that ourselves are nothing, but infirmity and misery itself: So that when any one tells us thereof, he tells us no news: And that God from this insufficiency of ourselves to all good, means to extract that excellent virtue of Humility and Diffidence of ourselves, obliging us thereby to go to his Son our Saviour, to find strength in him, and remedy for all our miseries. I was much enlarged upon each thing which she told me; and God gave her so great a plenitude of light and grace, that she spoke marvellous things touching the operation of the Holy Trinity in her, with other excellent notions, manifesting a very particular assistance of his Divine Grace. In this estate I left her.  
Concerning himself he adds thus:  
As concerning myself, I have not much to say, only I find within myself, through the mercy of God, a great tranquillity in his presence, through the Spirit of Christ Jesus, and such an inward experience of Eternal Life, as I am not able to express. And this is that, whither I am most bend and drawn: Yet I find myself so strangely naked and barren, that I wonder at the condition I am in, and by which I discourse: For in my addresses to this party, I begun my speech, not knowing how to pursue it; and after the second sentence, I had not the least foresight of what should be the third, and so of the rest: Not but that I seem to have a perfect knowledge of the things I speak in such a manner as I am capable of it: But I only utter what is given me, and in the same way as it is communicated, I communicate it to others. Which done, there seems to remain nothing in me, but the foundation from whence it springs.  
He grew to so high a reputation in this knowledge of soul matters, joined with extraordinary graces, that many Ecclesiastical persons, and many Superiors of Religious Orders, and well governed Communities, thought themselves very happy in communicating with him, and following his advice, in matters of great weight; being assured by undoubted signs, that he was replenished by the Spirit of God. And very many, both ecclesiastics and Seculars, of each Sex and quality, even such as were arrived to great perfection, sent to receive his instruction and assistance, in the conduct of their spiritual affairs.  
In the year, 1641. he began particularly to apply himself to this way: But of all the employments our Saviour called him to for his service, there was none wherein he met with more pain, or more contradiction of his Spirit, than in this, judging himself most unworthy and uncapable, resolving to proceed no further in it, notwithstanding his several impulses thereunto, without ask counsel: Which counsel, after good examination of the business, was this, that he ought to undertake it, and that it was the will of God. To which he submitted with exceeding great confusion and shame in himself, manifested by his countenance, words and behaviour, in his communication with the parties that asked his advice, yielding to their requests with very great humility and reverence; as all those can witness who knew him: And they likewise assuring themselves, that God resided, spoke, and acted in him, and by him, remained in his presence with great respect, and relied most confidently upon his conduct.  
And God made it evident, by his blessing and wonderful success upon his endeavours, that his actings herein were perfectly agreeable to his will: Teaching us hereby, that he hath no need of us for the execution of his designs; and that he serves himself of whom he thinks good, and many times of such a one, whom he finds well disposed, passing by those whom their vices render uncapable: And the best preparation to be employed by God in great affairs, is, to abandon ourselves wholly to his designs, and become very little in his own esteem, as this holy man was.    

CHAP. 2. His outward behaviour and Conversation.  
UNdoubtedly a man's outward composure, and the whole oeconomy of his conversation, is of great consequence in the service of our neighbours, either to further or hinder our design for their salvation, being that which only lies open to the eye, and makes the first and strongest impression upon their spirits; and either wins, or alienates them, according as it is well or ill ordered.  
Whence it came to pass, that Monsieur Renty, who had an ardent desire to assist his neighbour, and to procure to that purpose at any rate, whatever might be requisite thereto; did whatever he could, for the well composing of his exterior, keeping his demeanour, gestures, motions, looks, words, silence, and other parts of his Conversation, in such a harmony, as he conceived most suitable to draw his neighbour to God: which he managed with such advantage, that we may say with truth, and the allowance of all that knew him, that in this point of good outward comportment, he was admirable, and that no man of long time hath been seen to go beyond him.  
He was very modest, always calm, and inviolably equal. Amongst all the things which I have observed in the deceased Monsieur de Renty (saith a sufficient witness, who was iutimately acquainted with him) his rare modesty, and great equality in his behaviour and deportment, gave me the first and most pregnant Ideas of his Sanctity. There was something in his looks, that carried so much reverence in it, that one might easily judge thereby, that he was always actually in the presence of God.  
In every place, condition, employment whatsoever, the same in his looks, gesture, words and actions, whether alone, or in company, with friends or strangers, rich or poor, before his children or servants, yea, even before his Lackey, in the field or town, at the table, and every where.  
We may freely avouch, that completely Master of himself he must be, that possesseth such an immutability: At which it is impossible for any to arrive, who applieth not himself continually to the presence of God, and hath not absolutely conquered his passions and interior motions: For easy it is, amongst so many encounters, which daily present themselves from without, to have our spirit discomposed, put out of frame, and be transported, and discover its irregularities by choler, word or gesture, or some other sign.  
And such a constant equality is more admirable, when it is found in such a person as Monsieur de Renty, who was not Phlegmatic by Complexion, but Choleric, hot, and of an active spirit; but the exact and perpetual care, force and watch, that he had over himself, held and preserved him in this Exterior deportment, so excellent, and divine, and so suitable to one that is to work good upon others.  
That which pleaseth me most in him (saith another very credible person in a Memorial) was the great recollection, and intimate union with God: attended with such a marvellous peace and trancuillity of mind, that it shined forth in his countenance, and begat a kind of devotion in the beholders. This union methought, was ever in him, without any sign of distraction, any levity, any word not necessary, no complacency in company, or any humane respect, ever forced him to scatter his spirit, or to quit his union with God; not but that he was most full of civility, but so, as to look more within himself than without.  
And indeed, this continual presence of God (saith the same person) did so take him up, that no accident, object, or any thing rare or extraordinary, could divert him. I never saw him admire those things the world usually doth, nor fix his eyes upon any curiosities whatsoever. His gate in the streets was in a recollected, modest, and equal manner, without gazing here and there, that a man might see Jesus Christ was his way, his employment, his all, and nothing else.  
Being one day importuned by a friend, out of curiosity to go see a great Personage, esteemed for a Saint, and to have the gift of miracles. He replied with his wont sweetness, Our Saviour is in all Churches in the B. Sacrament, and him we may visit.  
And seeing the business of speech and silence, make up a great part in a good or bad conversation; let us see how this holy man, so zealous of his neighbour's salvation, behaved himself in both.  
He was very reserved in his speech, and that both from nature and grace, and indeed he could not have been so prudent a man, had he been a much speaker; since the Scripture makes it the proper character of prudence, to speak little; and, that in the multitude of words, there shall not want sin.  
In the intercourse of visits, and all Assemblies of Devotion, where it concerned him to speak, he did it in his course, with a mind and demeanour intent and recollected, with words short, but material. He was never seen forward or eager to speak, or in speaking, or to do it with a higher tone than ordinary, whatsoever was his haste, if he made any report, or gave account of business, he did it so briefly, and in words only necessary and pertinent, that a very hard matter it would be (as one said of him) to find one that spoke better, and yet less than he.  
Things that were vain or unprofitable, or the news of the times, were never the subject of his discourse, but always something good, and the Kingdom of God, in imitation of our Saviour; and where this discourse was diverted to worldly business or trifles, he either took leave of the company, or stole away, without saying any thing.  
And when he talked even of good things, it was with moderation; saying, that there was much need of sparingness and sobriety, when we speak of God and good things; and that it was one of the greatest amusements that troubled him, when he was amongst spiritual persons, to hear them often spend precious time, in talking of virtue at large, and without sluit, departing from such Conferences with dry, empty, and dissipated spirits: Whereas the secret of Christian virtue, consists not in speaking, but in doing, and that substantial word of God is only one, and this sufficiently efficacious, to produce the holy Spirit, and in its unity, to work marvellous things.  
His conversation moreover, was in a true and high manner humble, respective, affable, officious, obliging, and cordial; Patient he was, in suffering the ignorances', rudenesses, imperfections, cross humours, and other faults of his neighbours; prudent in applying himself to their dispositions, and passing by many small matters, without seeming to take notice of them at all.  
And so profitable and edifying was his demeanour, that wherever he came, his very looks and modesty, his words, his silence, and all his Exterior comportment, cast forth a fragrancy and sweet presume of Virtue, Devotion and Piety, and made a good impression upon the spirits of others. His very presence charmed many into recollection; the very sight of him was enough to bridle any, and his acquaintance have confessed, that their knowing that he was in the Church, hath wrought more attention in them at their prayers; and some of them, eight days after their having enjoyed his company, have felt in themselves the effects of grace, in an extraordinary attraction and devotion towards God.  
Wheresoever he came, he was flocked unto from all parts, out of that reverend esteem they had of him, and the desire of those consolations they were sensible of, in his presence. Notwithstanding, when he perceived any value set upon himself, or any applause of what he did or said, he was deeply humbled in spirit, testifying by his carriage the discontent of his soul, hanging down his head, casting down his eyes with deep silence, during such commendations, with a grave and set demeanour, expressing his inward affliction, which begot respect and edification in the beholders,  
For conclusion, I shall add one thing very remarkable, and which shows how perfect and accomplished he was in his conversation, namely this, that his extraordinary way and fashion of converse, of dealing and treating with others, and of his devotion, was not checked, blamed or condemned by any, but approved, prized and commended: so that generally all had him in esteem, reverence and love, and said of him in proportion, as was said of his Master Christ, He hath done all things well. Such a general approbation as this, and in one that dealt in so many and difficult businesses, must needs be very rare, and argue a most prudent and advised spirit.  
And as these things got approbation, so his humility, his honesty, his respect to each one, even the lowest, his affability, charity, patience, and other virtues, gained him the hearts of all; yet as it is a perilous thing to be so much esteemed, praised and approved by all, so God, by a wise and divine counterpois, to secure his virtue, and keep him from tripping in so slippery a way, did permit, that from whence he should have received the most esteem, approbation, and satisfaction, to wit, from the Lady his Mother, he found the quite contrary, and that in a way most strange and afflictive to him, as we have seen before.   

CHAP. 3. His conduct of his business.  
IT is without contradiction, that few men in Paris, or in all France, were so much employed as he, in the affairs that concerned the service of God. For which he was furnished with great strength of body and mind, to manage so great and several businesses without difficulty, with great tranquillity, order, and content; husbanding his time to the best advantage, disparching one speedily after another, and sometimes many together. He hath been seen to do three things together, without trouble or mistake. And at other times (when pressed with many dispatches at once) to read Letters, give Audience, and writ Answers to different persons, all at the same time, of which he hath quitted himself handsomely and well.  
In one of his Letters, he wrote thus:  
It is very true, that business finds me out from all parts; insomuch, that I am often enforced to read, writ, and do business all at a time. A little assistance would do well, though I have many sharers; however, let not that trouble you, for I dispatch as much at present as I can, the rest in due time, without encombring myself therewith. Our Saviour doth graciously bestow on me a peace of mind in all this, so that I am not at all distracted with it.  
His order was, seriously to consider of things, before any resolution; and if after his own sense given (to which he was not at all espoused) he found another's reason to be better, he quitted his own. A thing very necessary to men of business, yet rare to be found: since if we take not heed, we all idolise our own judgement, and falling in love with our private light, are dsirous to be leading men, affecting to see our own opinions crowned.  
Having composed rules for a Society of Pious persons, and digested them thoroughly, he presented them to be examined by some virtuous persons, from whom he admitted with great humility, some corrections, cancelling them with his own hand, requesting that they might be put in other terms, more proper than his own.  
After he had resolved on any thing, he shown himself prompt, firm, and constant for the execution; not quitting it, till he had brought it to the end it should be. Not like those, who hot at first, grow presently cold, and begin many things well, but finish nothing. Sometime when he had brought a thing into a fair way to perfection, he committed it to a friend to finish; not out of any inconstancy of spirit, but to gain time for the undertaking and doing of more: And withal, that herein he might avoid the honour of it. Out of his great humility, passing that to another, which would exercise his humility, in letting another have the praise, which redounds more to him that happily ends a good thing, than to him that gins it.  
In all affairs that concerned the service of God, he had an unmoveable constancy, and undaunted courage, never flagging or yielding up himself. And besides the force of his words, there appeared in his countenance an extraordinary assurance (although his ordinary deportment was always sweet and quiet) which particularly appeared in all meetings; where he manifested so much spirit, and God invested him with such a force, that those that beheld him, felt themselves struck with an awful respect. When he spoke and gave his opinion, his proposals carried so much light in them, his judgement so much solidity, his reasons so great force (he taking every thing in its due place, and observing each juncture of time) that all were constrained to acquiess in his determination.  
But if any approved not of his advice, or disputed his reasons, he knew how to enforce them with such arguments, especially where he had any authority in the Assembly, that at length they yielded. But if they chanced to make another reply, he gave not one word more, but his very silence, and the steadiness of his countenance, and his other carriage, restrained any further dispute. And the meeting ended, he would go to that party, and crave his pardon with great humility: Sweetly informing him, that what he aimed at, was not to make good his own opinion, but for the cause of God, to which by duty he was obliged: But in other things, that he was most ready to yield to every one.  
We meet daily with those spirits, that are very inconstant in business, doing and undoing every hour, very indecisive and mutable: But he was of another temper, quicksighted to penetrate into a business, judicious to determine it, and constant not to vary in a resolution well grounded; so that his word was his law, and was taken by others as current as an obligation.  
When his presence was requested at any consult, he would be punctual at the time appointed, that none should stay for him: Where taking his place (and that the lowest, if it were possible) his demeanour was so modest, and composed, that all were edified by it. Listening to others with great attention and seriousness, as if he had no other business. And after his opinion given, very brief and material: his presence being no further useful, he would take leave; being a great husband of his time, since other business for God's service, still attended him else where.  
And notwithstanding the throng of business, and though never so important, he quitted not, for them, his Exercises of Piety, nor his care of perfection, which he preferred before all other his affairs; knowing, that as wholesome meat, taken immoderately, doth hurt, and instead of strengthening the stomach, weakens, and suffocates its natural heat: So these Exterior employments, even the most holy, if a man surcharge himself, bring much prejudice, and extinguish the ardour of Devotion. Wherefore he was careful not to overburthen himself with them, being very vigilant that they should not distract and dissipate him, nor quench the Interior motions of the Spirit, nor secularize his soul, but ferve only as means to elevate and unite him more to God.  
In the multitude of business, he was still recollected, and as much alone in great meetings, as the Hermit's in their solitudes: which might be gathered from his modesty, and composed countenance, evidencing his application to his Interior, and his union to God, from whom he drew light and strength, for the managing and prudent ordering of these bu●nesses. One day he wrote thus to his Director:  
My recollection hinders no business at all, but rather furthers it. For without it, I should have a solicitous desire of doing all myself; whereas I act now in a most serene way, in which I have no share; for it is our Lord that doth all.  
In another Letter thus:  
Finding myself one day much burdened with divers-business, I had a desire to draw off my mind wholly, and at the same instant I found it. Since which time they create me no trouble, and I dispatch them more readily without thinking of them. This grace hath been often renewed to me (although in several manners) which I acknowledge to be very great because it preserves me disengaged, even in the multiplicity of business.  
And notwithstanding he never omitted any thing of prudence or industry, for the effecting his business, yet the success he expected much more from God's benediction, than from his industry, or any humane endeavours; knowing well, that what was undertaken for the service of God, and good of his neighbour, was to be accomplished by his grace: Wherefore in every thing he had a great recourse to prayer, instantly commending all his exercises to God, and in all employments and choice of persons which he made use of, his eye was more upon grace than nature, or any Exterior abilities.  
And knowing that the affairs of God are not without their difficulties, but meet with great oppositions, even sometimes to be overturned, he was armed with patience in the undertaking, to suffer with courage, not starting at the greatest dangers, but still hoping of the success. If they miscarried at any time, he rested well satisfied, after all fair means attempted on his part. Thus he writ to a friend:  
It is a great infirmity in our humane nature, that she needs applause in matters of grace: Wherefore I look at it as a great favour from God, when I have the honour of executing any enterprise, solidly undertaken, and well approved of and acknowledged, to proceed from the Spirit of God, by those to whom he hath committed in his Church the judgement of such things; notwithstanding the accomplishment of it meets with many crosses and contradictions.  
In another thus:  
We may take up good and holy designs, and God doth often inspire them; yet when he is pleased to permit a contrary event, we must adore his secret will, which brings with it, more of mercy in the crossing of them, than if they had succeeded to our comfort. We should always be jealous over our own spirit, that it fix not upon any thing.  
And again thus:  
The sweet Jesus hath his designs, which he conducts by such means, as we would not at all make choice of; and the reason is, because he would thwart our wills, and abate our dependencies upon earth: And therefore often thwarts he our just undertake, being more jeolous of the Sacrifice of our hearts, than of any thing else, how specious soever.  
But the principal rule which this holy man observed in these affairs was, never to look at them in themselves, but in the will and design of God, and to proceed in view of this. Whence it came to pass, that he applied himself to business, not as appearing glorious, pleasant, or profitable, but as agreeable to the will of God, to which he submitted his own; making poor and mean employments equally considerable, and sometime preferred before greater: Hence he took up things cast aside by others, undertook charities out of the road, and not taken notice of, applied himself to such poor as were in a forlorn condition, believing, that herein there was less of nature, and more of grace: And never thrust himself into a business without the will of God, and when it did consist with that, he was not hasty or precipitant, but let things go on kindly and sweetly, according to the pace of his Providence, and the course of his good pleasure.  
The like we have of him, in Memorials from divers places: It was not his way, to begin or finish any thing, according to the motion of his own will, but of the Spirit of God, as far as he knew it. If after he had undertaken any thing, he felt his inward motion to cease, he ceased also the pursuit. He had no private design or project whereby he steered (although he knew the things he had to do) but attended on the express order from above; which he received either by a light in his understanding, or by an impression in his will, or by some other way, that gave him as great a certitude, as any can have in the like occurrences where upon a familiar friend, asked him one day, whether he would do such a thing at such a time? He answered,  
Know you not that to morrow is not mine.  
And at another time he said;  
I see five or six things, which of necessity must be done; but I cannot tell you, which I would dispatch the first, nor when, nor how, for through the mercy of God I am indifferent to all things.  
He writ thus to his Director:  
I hope to be at Paris about the end of September, where I shall receive your orders to come to you, when I may be lest troublesome: Where I shall be ready for what my Saviour shall appoint by you. I forecast nothing, but only to obey and follow his conduct by your appointment, and in every thing the best I can: I find by experience, that when I think to do most in any place, there I do nothing at all. This hath taught me to go divested of all design; and when I think lest thereof, and abandon myself to God, than he doth the more; wherefore I will leave the doing to him, and to you in him.  
Going one day in the holy Week, accompanied with a friend, to receive a most royal and liberal sum of money given by the Queen of France, in behalf of the Church of Canada; and passing by a Church where they were singing the Divine Service.  
Let us, saith he, dispatch the will of God, it would be a great comfort to be present at the Church, to hear the praises of God; but let us pass on, since this is more in concurrence with his holy will.  
The same party reported of him, that he had observed several persons wondering at his extraordinary recollection, and such an intimate union with God, in one man, who had so great employments, but he was above them all, affixed only to God, and to the execution of his will.  
He gave this counsel to a certain friend, who had great designs for the service of God, but such as at that time were not seasonable.  
Let us not apply the days business, but to the day. Your intentions are pious, but you must resign the future to God, and be willing for the present, to love and follow what he makes appear to be his will, and to keep yourself still before him as a ready Sacrifice, together with our Lord Jesus Christ.  
For the conclusion of this Chapter, I shall produce a Letter to his Director, upon the same subject, in the year, 1648. full of light.  
I will tell you, said he, what passed yesterday within me, by which you may understand my present condition: Hearing the Gospel of the Assumption of our Lady, which speaketh of Martha and Mary, most of the sentiments I formerly had upon that subject came presently into my mind; to wit, that prayer and converse with God, are much to be preferred before all Exterior exercises, though never so holy; seeing that Martha bufied about so holy and excellent a service, was reprehended for her trouble, and Mary commended for her recose. This word, Turbaris erga plurima, Thou art troubled about many things, hath besteaded me along time, to draw me off from outward things, and also from inward, though good, if not absolutely necessary, as visiting and instructing the poor, or reading or writing something of devotion, and the like: And I understood it expedient at that time to quit them, the better to betake myself to Interaloperations, and arrive at the laying down of our own will and vivacity, to attend wholly to the Divine appointment, following it in prudent simplicity, by the Spirit of Christ, which enlivens and lives in those that harken to it with respect.  
Low-Normandy, I have been, as it were, continually employed in Exterior works; as conferring with all sorts of people, taking care of the sick that found me out, removing from place to place, reconciling differences, new building a great Church, which was to be plucked down and enlarged. For which I was forced to draw out several platforms, and make the very models (in which formerly I have had some insight) by reason of the want of Architects in that place, calling to mind my old notions, and busying myself wholly in it. Yesterday, after my morning's work, hearing the same Gospel read, and these words in particular, Turbaris erga plurima, Thou art troubled about many things; a certain Interior light came upon me, and it was said unto me, Non turbaris erga plurima, Thou art not troubled about many things; giving me to understand, and that in a very evident manner, that the things we are employed upon according to the Divine order, whatsoever they be, do not create us any such trouble, and I discovered clearly (at least as I thought) that Martha was not reproved for doing a good work, but for doing it too solicitously. Our Saviour intimating to her by these words, Turbaris erga plurima, that her business was done in trouble and inordinate agitation of spirit, though the end was very laudable. That the priucipal business consists in hearing the Eternal Word, even as his own humanity, whether in working or preaching, or any other employment, received its motions from the Divinity. A me ipso facio nihil, sicut audio, hoec loquor, I do nothing of myself, as I hear, that I speak, said he. In like manner ought we to take our directions from Jesus Christ, who is the Word of Eternal Life, and act nothing with disturbance, but all in peace by his Spirit.  
I received hereby a great support, in the performance of these petty Exterior offices, to which my duty obliged me, and made no difficulty at all, to yield up myself, to this holily-disordered Divine Order. In which I perceived, that it was Gods will I should perform these petty things, which could not be done without me. For these three months I have not, it may be, spent three or four hours at my prayers upon my knees together, out of the Church; and should I perform them at all, no otherwise than on this fashion, I should but very ill discharge my ●u●y.  
It is certain, that I have discharged it ill enough yet I understand that God is pleased in the midst of these employments, to which he hath appointed me, to make me sensible of his presence and power, in uniting my soul to himself by certain intimate ways, and that the outward work may be performed by the hand, whilst the soul solaceth herself in that real alliance of Sons with their Father, by the Spirit of the Son, who admitteth us into his communion, together with that of the blessed Virgin, the Angels and Saints, yea, and of the whole Heaven, if you will. Such a wonderful expansion of soul can our Lord give, when, and how he pleaseth.  
I enjoyed at the same time, such a sensible impression of God, yet excelling all sense (as being acted in the more noble part of the Soul; viz. the Spirit) that if I had been thrown like a boul, I could never have lost the sight of my God. All things are here transitory, for our Lord turns this boul in a strange manner, when it pleaseth him. And these divers turn are done for the souls advantage, whereby she is fashioned for every occasion, that she may do nothing for or by herself, but all for God, and according to him.  
Moreover, I evidently see, that a person whom God employeth in these low affairs, if he follow them with the same fidelity, as if they were greater, keeping his station, by obedience and self-denial, is as acceptable to him, as he that is occupied in the noblest functions: The work itself making not the difference, but the faithful execution of it, by submitting to his good pleasure. Will nothing please you but to convert a thousand worlds, and bring all souls to God? you shall be content to carry stones, and sometime to sit still and do nothing. The Sacrifice of Patience is both well pleasing to God, and comfortable to ourselves. And I believe it is without comparison more rare, to find a soul faithful in patience, and content to do no more than God would have him, than faithful in actions which appear abroad.  
I know well, that God doth all in all, but this Sacrifice of Patience, and of C●ssation, is more commendable in a heart, who hath the love and zeal of his honour, and in pursuit hereof, is hurried on to action, and hath need of greater force to withhold it from doing, than to incite it. This kind of Cessation seems to be nothing at all available for the nourishment of such zeal; and this hunger and thirst after righteousness, which would devour the four quarters of the world, is reverberated like the fire penned in, which circles and works about, until it find a vent by this consideration, that God is all-sufficient in himself, and hath no need of us for advancing of his glory: that we receive more honour from our employments than he service, being so impure, that we blemish every thing we meddle with, and rob it of some lustre, and prove often not only unprofitable, but endamaging servants. I have one word more to tell you, that you may direct me in it; which is, that I am really ashamed and confounded in myself, that I do no more for God; considering his dignity, h●s love, his gifts and communications, by the alliance of Jesus Christ and his Spirit: Which indeed, together with the sense of my great imbecility for any thing that is good, of my sins and miseries, would work my extreme torment, did I not bethink myself of his all-sufficiency in himself, and that he doth with us as he pleaseth, in keeping us in obedience and profound annihilation.  
Thus far his Letter, wherein are many good things to be learned.   

CHAP. 4. The excellent use he made of all things, and his application to the Infancy of our Lord for that purpose.  
IT must needs be, that Monsieur Renty made excellen use of all accidents that occurred to him, and generally of all creatures, to attain to such a height of perfection; whereof this usage of them (as mu●h as is in man) is undonbredly the principal means to which all others are subordinate, otherwise, and without it, unprofitable and mere hindrances.  
True it is, that God hath placed in the bosom of each thing, as in riches, poverty, honours, disgrace, health, sickness, good and evil, a secret virtue, and moral capacity to advantage us in our salvation, and to be instruments of perfection, even as so many cords to draw and unite us to himself; but all this, according to our usage of them. For b●ing well used, they produce good effects; but contrarily, abused, instead of uniting us to God, they estrange us further from him, rendering us more imperfect and vicious, and instead of advantages, prove the instruments of our ruin. Wherefore he being well instructed in this grand secret of Spiritual life, employed all his care to practise it perfectly. Which that we may better understand, it will not be amiss, to follow it to the Springhead. The holy man had continually in his heart, making it the principal conduct of his devotions (as we have mentioned, and may be easily deduced from the series of this History) to unite himself to our Lord Jesus Christ) and that upon good grounds: Since out of him (as saith S. Peter) there is no salvation; God having chosen him, the sole Mediator of Redemption, and the repairer of our miseties; loving no creature in the world but him, with a love of perfect amity: Whereupon, by S. Paul, he is styled the Son of his love and good pleasure, and we alone are accepted in and through him; who are found beautiful and shining with glory, when we are united to him, and out of him we appear deformed, hideous, and most abominable, being indeed, without him, filled with sin, and his enemies. Wherefore every man is so far dear and amiable to him, as he stands united to his Son, which is manifested in the Blessed Virgin and his Apostles; all our actions pleasing him, so far as they are united to him, even as each member of our body participates of life, according as it is animated by our soul.  
Having therefore perfectly learned this fundamental truth of Christianity, his study was, to unite himself to our Lord Jesus Christ, and to copy him forth as his Rule and Law for the regulating of his Exterior and Interior; adoring him daily under this notion, applying himself with great reslection to his words, actions, designs, and the several mysteries, receiving from each of them great enlightenings. Thus he writ to me one day upon the mystery of his Incarnation:  
I have had the grace divers times, very intimately to understand that ineffable mystery, hidden with God from all ages, and manifested now to the Saints (according to S. Paul) which is the alliance he hath contracted with us, in Jesus Christ. This knowledge produceth in me as much astonishment as love. And (to tell you my sense of it) a man possessed with these verities, remains no more a man, but becomes annihilated, and all his desire is to be lost and melted, on purpose to change his nature, and enter into this Spirit of Jesus, to act no less in him than by him.  
I have conceived such great things of our Saviour's Humanity, united to the Divinity, as cannot be uttered. How hath this alliance of the Divinity, most deeply abased the sacred Humanity into a self-annihilation, and a sacrifice of love, upon the sight of the greatness of God? What an honour is this to the Humane Nature, to be thus predestinated? and, What a glory to us to be chosen and called to an entrance into his favour, and a rising to God, and the everlasting enjoyment thereof through him? It would spend me this whole day to write to you, the view that I have had of the wisdom and bounty of God, touching this mystery of Love, which he hath opened unto us in his Son.  
And though he was truly devoted to all the mysteries of our Lord, yet in a most special manner to that of his Infancy: The occasion whereof was thus;  
Being constrained to make a journey to D●jon, by reason of a suit of Law beforementioned, he heard much talk of Sister Margaret of the blessed Sacrament, a Religious Carmeline of the Covent of Beaulne, on whom our Saviour had conferred particular favours, who led a life very extraordinary, grounded upon true and solid virtue. And as our Lord hath several ways to sanctify a soul, and fit it for his sacred purposes; so he was pleased to exercise this choice woman absolutely in the mystery of our Saviour's Infancy, and through that pipe, to convey into her soul, a torrent of grace and extraordinary gifts, not only for herself, but others; as may be seen in her life, now in writing, by a person most worthy of such a work. Monsieur Renty had a desire to go to Beaulne, being but seven leagues from Dijon, to recommend himself to the prayers of this holy Virgin: And though when he came thither, he neither spoke to her, nor saw her (she having, by a particular conduct of our Saviour, been retired for thirteen years from the speech of any secular person) yet notwithstanding, he received much benefit from his journey; as he expressed in a Letter writ back from Dijon, to the Prioress of that place.  
I want words to express the mercies I received by my journey to Beaulne. Sister Margaret hath marked me out, in the holy Infant Jesus, such a divesting of myself of all worldly things, that it appears to me my rendezouz, where I must strip myself naked of all things else.  
The year after, he made a second journey; where God having altered her resolution, for speech and converse with others, he had the happiness to discourse with her, and contracted at that time, a very intimate alliance of grace, receiving great gifts by means thereof. The chiefest and source of all the rest, being, that our Saviour engaged him, as he had done her, in a more particular devotion to the mystery of his Infancy, and imprinted in him the lineaments of the like Graces and Spirit.  
This holy man (whose judgement may be highly esteemed by us, considering his extraordinary insight into spiritual matters) greatly valued this Religious woman, approving exceedingly her directions, and testifying how great a blessing he reckoned her acquaintance, and what benefit he had reaped from her, even after her death. To which purpose he writ thus to me the eighteenth of June. 1648. the year of her death.  
The holy Infant, sweet Jesus, hath taken to himself our good Sister Margaret, whose death was consonant to the dispositions of her life, and miraculous graces. I have received from her, since her death, great comfort: That grace I received, according to my present estate and weakness, to enter into the Infancy of our Saviour, hath since been renewed to me, and I have understood it more solidly.  
About a month after, I received these lines from him.  
I had yesterday; by the singular bounty of God a view of his Divine Majesty, of S. John Baptist, and Sister Margaret of the B. Sacrament. so clearly represented to me in my spirit, that I cannot suspect the truth of it. O what effects were produced by their presence, and what love by these sights! I am wholly renewed in my respects; to that great Saint my Patron, and to that glorious servant of God, who honoured him very much, whilst she was living; and from whom, without doubt, since her death, she hath begged to be my Protector. It is m●st certain, that the work of God in her, was one continued prodigy of grace, and a masterpiece of his hand.  
But let us return to his application made to the Infancy of our Saviour, chief begun, in his second journey to Beaulne. Of which we may understand something from this Letter, written to a Father of the Oratory, Confessor to the Carmelines there.  
I must needs tell you, that upon my first journey which I made to you, above a year ago●, I brought back with me, a great esteem and devotion to the Infancy of our Saviour, but I was not yet well settled in it. I attempted it from time to time, but could not yet make it my principal food. Since which the holy Infant, by a supernatural grace, hath manifested and opened himself to me; and now I find every thing in him, and am remitted thither for all.  
And to the Prioress he writ thus:  
I must acquaint you, that the holy Infant Jesus, will grant me the favour to apply myself particularly to his honour, to give myself to him, and to his holy dispositions; ordering my life, and the sacrifice of myself, by the conduct of his Spirit.  
In order hereunto, he cousecrated, and gave up himself thereto, in these terms; a copy whereof, written with his own hand, and in his own blood, he sent to Sister Margaret, which is kept with great devotion in that Covent. And another, something more enlarged to his Ghostly Father, to which he wrote his name only in blood, in these words.  
To the honour of my King, the Holy Infant Jesus.  
I Have consecrated myself this Christmass-Day, 1643. to the holy Infant Jesus, offering up to him my whole Being, my Soul, my Body, my , my Wife, my Children, my Family, the Estate which he hath given me, and finally, all that I am concerned in; having beseeched him, to enter into full Possession, Property, Jurisdiction, of all that I am: That I may live no more, but in, and to him, in the quality of a Victim, separate from every thing of this world, and challenging no more share thereof, than according to the applications which he shall give, and shall allow me. Insomuch, that from henceforward, I shall look at myself merely as an instrument in the hand of the holy Infant Jesus, to do whatever pleaseth him, in great Innocency, Purity, and Simplicity, without reflection or return upon any thing whatsoever, without taking share in any work; without having joy or grief from any thing that arrives, not looking upon things in themselves, but in his will and conduct, which we will endeavour to follow by the appearance and presence whi●h we shall render his Cratch, and to the Divine States of his Infancy. I therefore this day lose my own being, to become wholly a slave, subsisting upon the holy Infant Jesus, to the glory of the Father, and of the Holy Ghost.  
This I signed, into the hands of the most blessed Virgin my Mother, my Patroness, and my Protectress, and in the presence of S. Joseph.  
Gaston Jean Baptist.  
And as he did with an entire heart, consecrate himself to this holy Infant, so did this, bestow himself freely on him; revealing it particularly to Sister Margaret of the B. Sacrament, that he should from thenceforward be guided and animated by the Spirit of his Infancy; and that he was descending to him, to be his Master, his Light, and his Intelligence: And showing her one day his heart, he said, See here the habitation of my Servant.  
Upon which, she wrote to Monsieur Renty, how the Infant Jesus had bestowed himself upon him, to be a Spiritual and Celestial Air, for him to breath constantly; even as his body breathed this Material Air, and that his Innocence, Purity, and Simplicity should subsist in him instead of himself; destroying in him, what his nature had, corrupt and polluted.  
And herein he made so large a progress, that she often saw him within a beam of light, so penetrated and filled with the grace of this holy Infancy, like a sponge in the Ocean, even absorpr in that abyss of infinite riches, beyond his expression. And he himself writ, concerning it, to a person, in these words:  
The Divine King of the Cratch, the holy Infant Jesus, doth so accumulate his favours upon me, that I beseech you to thank him: They are inexplicable.  
From this time, his custom was, every Eve of the 25 day of each Month, to enter into his Chapel, at ten a clock at night, and there to remain in p●ayer till midnight. He adored the precious moment of our Saviour's birth and entrance into this world, performing certain acts of Devotion before the Image of his Sacred Infancy; which further he honoured, by inviting a poor child to dinner, entertaining him with wonderful great respect. And during all that time that he celebrated the voyage of the Infant Jesus into Egypt, and return to Nazareth, he had to dinner every day three poor folks, for the honour of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, during which time, he would never ride in a Coach, though his business often called him to painful and troublesome journeys afar off on foot, and at length he quite gave over the use of a Coach.  
After he had engaged himself in this devout application, to the Infancy of our Lord; and being filled with his grace, and animated by his Spirit, had received thereby wonderful impressions and illuminations. His Ghostly Father desired of him, to write down his conceptions of that Divine Mystery, and wherein chief that grace consisted; which begat this ensuing Letter, in the year, 1645.  
You have laid your commands upon me, to set down in writing, wherein consists the grace of the Infancy of our Saviour, so far as I understand it. This Adorable Lord, hath renewed in me this morning two Conceptions, which he had given me a Month since, three days one after another, by which I shall be able to express what I conceive of it.  
Being at my prayers, in the Church, about a Month ago, I fell into some inward inquietude about my Devotion to this Infancy, by reason that my Spirit was possessed with this thought, That a Christian should regard our Saviour entirely, from his Incarnation, to his Glory, where he sits at the right hand of his Father, a●d from whence he sends us his Spirit. And that we should make our addresses to all these mysteries, according to our necessities; and therefore to tie ourselves to one particular, were to send up maimed Devotions, and to limit the extent of Verity and Grace. After this, I went to receive the B. Sacrament, abandoning myself wholly to my God, according to my usual custom. A little while after the Communion, I saw (by an enlightening) our Saviour entire; that is, all his mysteries, from his Incarnation, to his state of Glory, where he resides at present, governing us. And in particular, the Greatness and Dignity of this mystery of his Infancy; and withal, I was instructed, that this mystery is our Port, and our Address, for to obtain our Consummation in glory: That this is it, to which we must direct ourselves, and here stay our thoughts, and that it would be temerity, to proceed to other mysteries on the same manner. I saw it rashness to desire and demand orosses for ourselves, since it is the work of God's grace to conduct us to them, and uphold us under them: I saw it rashness; to desire Mount Thabor; that is, high illuminations. Finally, that we ought not presently to address ourselves to those other mysteries of our Saviour, but only to this of the Infancy, which brings us into the ignorance, the separation from, and in applacation of things of this life, making no further use of them, than as they are given us for necessity, which keeps us in great silence, and produceth a Mortification of the Exterior man, whilst the Interior is busied in contemplating the most holy Soul of our Saviour, continually employing itself in looking up toward his Father, in his Love, in zeal of his Glory, in the Offering of himself, and in the obedience to proceed forward, in all innocence, and purity, and simplicity, to all his other estates, through which his Father had appointed him to pass.  
I found then, that for the happy conducting of ourselves through all conditions, whether of light or darkness, of Thabor or Calvary, we must, for to receive and improve grace, begin at the Infancy, which teacheth us our first lesson of Abnegation, to be taught of God, of silence and innocence, without any regard or pretensions to ourselves; but with the same spirit of submission and obedience, that this blessed Babe Christ Jesus there practised and taught us:  
This light and knowledge hath established me more than formerly in this mystery, finding there my bottom, abiding there with attention and reverence, to do what shall be commanded me afterward. For the soul doth not raise itself by itself to any thing; but on the contrary, doth empty herself, resting still in her own littleness, with great recognition of what passeth, and with the simplicity of a pure resigned aspect. O Father, how guilty shall I appear before God, in answering so little to the greatness of his gifts! It is my grief, and a great one, as he well knoweth.  
Some three days after, these words of S. Paul, were unexpectedly suggested unto me, Hoc sentite in vobis, quod & in Jesus Christo, etc. Let the same mind be in you, as was in Christ Jesus: But chief was I affected with these words, Semetipsum exinanivit, formam servi accipiens; He emptied himself, taking upon him the form of a servant; and those that follow, Factus obediens usque ad mortem; Being made obedient, even to death. And light was given me to understand, how that these words carry with them, the proof of that which I had contemplated three days before, of the right way and proceeding of this my Saviour, who in his Infancy humbled himself, even to the form of a servant, and all the rest of his life, to death, being obedient to the Cross, following the decrees of his Father, not by election, but by submission and patience. This second view confirmed me further, and after another manner in this mystery.  
The Infancy therefore of our Saviour, is an estate, where we must die to all things; and where the soul, in Faith, Silence, Reverence, Innocence, Purity and Simplicity doth attend and receive the orders of God, making it his daily work in Abnegation; neither looking before nor behind, but being united to the holy Child Jesus: Who with an absolute Resignation, received orders from his Father, for his visitation by the Shepherds and Wisemen, for his Circumcision, going up to Jerusalem, flying into Egypt, his return back, his journey to Jordan to be baptised into the Wilderness to be tempted, for his Preaching; and finally, his Death upon the Cross, Resurrection, Ascexsion, and Consummation in Glory. Thus, Father, ought we, methinks, to follow Jesus, our Model, in these steps, through the grace of this Infancy.  
This is it, he wrote to his Director, concerning this Mystery, and why he chose it before others; and which appears also in a Letter to another.  
For this reason, ought we to address ourselves to the Infancy, rather than the Cross, or any other Mystery, because he emptied himself (as saith the Apostle) of his own good pleasure, and chose the Manger, but not the Cross, to which he was conducted by his obedience. To teach us, to choose, of ourselves, Annihilation; and after, to suffer ourselves willingly, as little children, to led into Egypt, the Desert, the Cross, and the Crown.  
Besides these solid enlightenings, relating to this Mystery, he had moreover, others, touching the three Verrues of Purity, Innocence, and Simplicity; in which chief consists the spirit of this Mystery, and which it produceth in a soul that is united unto it. Thus he expressed vimself concerning them:  
I have beheld my soul upon the Bulwark of Innocence, and upon the Foundation of Death, Annihilat on, and Nakedness, to live in Divine Purity, with the holy Infant Jesus.  
But because this is somewhat obscure, he writ thus more clearly, to his Director:  
I have v●ewed my soul upon its Situation of Death, Annihilation and Nakedness; that is to say purged and stripped out of its self, and of every creature: For when the soul is suspended, as in a desert, from beholding any thing at all, and without any prop to rest upon God draweth her straightway to himself, by the cords of pure love which he letteth down from heaven (as saith S. Katherine of Genoa) and this cord is no other, than the Infant Jesus; in union of whom we ought to render unto God, all the rights of a perfect Sacrifice, which in Purity, Innocence, and Simplicity, is sacrificed and consumed for his glory. It hath often been declared to me, and this is my very basis (as far as my infidelity may permit me to say it) that I ought to act no further, save by the conduct of the Infant Jesus, having still before me his sacred actings, his unspotted love to his Father, his sacrificing himself for his Glory, and the destruction of sin; his submission to all his Decrees, which he understood distinctly, waited upon with patience, and executed in their several seasons: In the Manger, in his flight into Egypt, in his thirty years' Concealment, in his travels till his death; acting nothing by his own, but according to the perfect will of his Father. Whereby I am taught my duty, to work in the same purity of spirit 〈◊〉 For the conservation of which, Innocence and Simplicity are communicated unto me, like two Bulwarks to uphold me therein.  
Innocence is one Bulwark of this Purity; or if you please, a bright Crystal, through which I behold all things without offence; that is to say, without receiving infection from them, so that the vices and disorders of men do not fix or make any impression upon me. This Innocence carries me forth to my neighbour with exceeding great benignity and sweetness, and is an incredible relief and succour to me in all employments, by reason of the multitude of mischiefs and sins I daily meet with; it being my Saviour's pleasure I should fly to this for remedy against them. Innocence therefore applies itself to what is before me in all my actions, to the end that Purity should receive no trouble in its operation; that is to say, in the respect it hath towards God.  
Simplicity is the other Bulwark and Guard of Purity, and hath its influence chief upon what is past and done, separating my soul from all duplicity, and multiplicity, and reflections upon what hath been done or seen. Thus is my soul happily enclosed betwixt two Bulwarks, and two Walls; whereof the one, viz. Innocence, preserveth her against the present and the future; the other, of Simplicity, from what is past and behind her.  
Happy are those souls, that are called to this Mystery, and to be acquainted with, and enjoy God, made man, in the Manger: From which, no doubt, they receive great blessings, in the penetration and possession of the Purity, Innocence and Simplicity of this Divine Babe; in the same manner as men find it more easy, to obtain favours on the Birthday, or Coronation of a great Prince, than at other times.  
Thus this man of God, and Infant of Grace, declared his sense touching these three Virtues, and such the noble and divine uses which he made of them: Purity having influence on his intentions, ruling in all his Interior and Exterior actions, so that thereby he singly aimed at the glory and interest of God: Just as an infant worketh simply, according to nature, in looking, crying, hearing, eating and sleeping; performing all these purely, according to nature's principles, both for the efficient and final cause of each of them. In like manner, doth the child of Grace, produce all his actions by the instinct of Grace, and hath it for his ultimate end, purely aiming at God's glory, in imitation of Christ Jesus, who behaved himself in the same manner in the Manger, towards God his Father; even as a sucking child by innocence he looketh upon every object, with a pure and innocent eye, not engaged upon any thing, but abstracted and free from all malice, all impressions of their Species or Ideas, much more from all pollution from them; like as the Sun shineth upon a dunghill, without taint or imperfection.  
Simplicity quitted him from all multiplicity, engagements, reflections upon his own Interest, Complacencies, Vanity, passion of Joy or Sadness, from any of his own Performances or Speeches, from Praise or Dispraise, or from the Vices of the Times, Places, or Persons he conversed with, to receive any pollution from them; no otherwise than a newborn child beholdeth a Pageantry which passeth before it, which is forgotten as soon as removed.  
Lastly, Purity directed his eye in a strait line to God, pretending to nothing but his glory, in any thing that man had a hand in.  
And this proceeding of his, all aught to imitate, if they desire to make progress in Virtue, and arrive to perfection; and particularly, those that treat much with their neighbour in the negotiation of his salvation, that they may do it with more advantage to him, and with no damage to themselves.    

PART. iv His Virtues, whereby he was elevated and united to God.  

CHAP. 1. His Interior, and his Application to the Sacred Trinity.  
ALthough what we have hitherto said of the Heroic Virtues, and famous Actions of Monsieur Renty, which had respect either to his own perfection, or the good of his neighbour, is very remarkable: Yet the principal and more admirable, is that which remains: viz. The state of his Interior, and his communication with God.  
So David saith, that the Kings-daughter is all glorious within; and the Holy Ghost setteth forth in lofty expressions, the Spouse in the Canticles, for the beauty of her face, and of her whole body; But it adds, that nothing could sufficiently be uttered concerning the hidden graces of her Soul, and Interior, which were far more charming and attractive; even as the chief excellencies of our B. Saviour, consisted not in his Exterior, or in those things he did either for himself, or for men; but in the intimate union he had with God, and those actions he produced in the profundity of his Spirit towards him: In like manner, our perfection consists not, in our good works, which appear outwardly, nor in the exercises of Charity, Humility, Poverty, and the like Virtues open to the eye, but in the application of our spirit to God, and our union with him by the acts of virtue, and chief of the three Theological ones. It consisteth, I say, in honouring and adoring him in the Temple of our souls; in performing to him there, the Sacrifices of a lively Faith, upon the Altar of our Understanding; in offering up the Holocausts of perfect Hope, and ardent Charity, upon the Altar of our Will; and in a total subjection of our spirits to his, and an union of all our faculties with him; whereby we become purified, sanctified, and deified, proportionably, as the blessed Saints are in heaven, where this perfection is completed.  
This was Monsieur Renties practice, whereby he had a true feeling of S. Paul's words, Your life is hid with God, through Jesus Christ; concerning which, he expressed his thoughts thus to a friend:  
There is nothing in this world, so separate from the world, as God; and the greater the Saints are, the greater is their retirement into him: This our Saviour taught us, whilst he lived on earth, being in all his visible employments united to God, and retired into the bosom of his Father.  
His principal care was, incessantly to cultivate and adorn his soul, to unite it intimately to God by the operations of his understanding and will; to give up himself, with all his strength, to this hidden and divine life of Faith, Hope and Charity, of Religion, of a mystical Death, and entire Abnegation of himself.  
Some years before his death, his particular attractive was, the contemplation of the B. Trinity, being the last end in which all must terminate: Whereof he gave this account to his Spiritual Guide, in the year, 1645.  
I carry about with me ordinarily, an experimental verity, and a plenitude of the presence of the Holy Trinity.  
And in another Letter thus;  
All things vanish out of my fancy, as soon as they appear, nothing is permanent in me but God, through a naked faith, which causing me to resign myself up to my Saviour, affordeth me strength and confidence in God the Trinity; in that the operation of the three Divine persons is manifested to me in a distinct manner; viz. The love of the Father, which reconcileth us by his Son; the Father and the Son who give us life through the Holy Spirit; the H. Spirit which causeth us to live in in Communion with Jesus Christ; which worketh in us a marvellous alliance with the Sacred Trinity, and produceth often in our hearts by faith, such inward feelings, as cannot be expressed:  
He writ also to a confident friend, and one that was much devoted to this Sacred Mystery;  
How that the proper and special effect of Christian grace is, to make us know God in the Trinity, uniting us to the Son, who causeth us to work by his Spirit. And to say the truth, we are consecrated by our Baptism to the worship of the B. Trinity: Therein we are consecrated to his Glory, receive its Seal, and put on its Badge and Livery; to manifest to us, and to all the world, that we are perfectly and absolutely its own.  
He writ to the same party in the year, 1648. on the same subject.  
The Feast of the blessed Trinity, giveth me this occasion to write, that we may renew ourselves in the honour and dependence we have upon this incomparable Mystery: I desire to join hearts with you, to adore that which we are not able to express: Let us melt into an acknowledgement thereof, and fortify ourselves by the grace of Faith, through Christ, to be perfected in this adorable Mystery. Infinite things might be spoken, which my heart resenteth, of the latitude of this grace, but I cannot utter them: I beseech you, let us adore God, let us adore Jesus Christ, let us adore the holy Spirit; which Spirit discovereth unto us the operations of love and mercy of these Divine Persons in us, and let us make good use thereof.  
The same year he clearly expressed his condition and the manner of wholly applying himself ●o●th, Sacred Trinity; how that his soul was most entirele united to the three Divine Persons; from whence he received illuminations, that surpassed all humane understanding; how he lived perpetually retired, and locked up, as it were, with the Son of God, in the bosom of his Father: Where this Son became his Light, his Life, and Love, and the holy Spirit his Guide, his Sanctification and Perfection; how he did bear within himself the Kingdom of God (which he explained by a resemblance of what the Blessed enjoy in heaven) by virtue of that view and transcendent knowledge of the sacred Trinity, which was communicated to him; and that pure Love by which he felt his heart inflamed, and, as it were, transformed into God, in whom he possessed a joy and repose beyond all expression: That in this estate he had a conformity with the Son of God, by a participation and fellowship both in his Beatitude and Sufferings, which he endured here below, and that by his holy Spirit were accomplished in him, the mysteries of the whole Pilgrimage of our Saviour in this world; rendering him as a daily sacrifice to the B. Trinity, breathing after the Resurrection, and his perfect Consummation in Glory. Su●h was the disposition of this holy man towards the B. Trinity, in which he passed his latter years, and in which he died, finishing his sacrifice; and was often wont to say, That when a man is called up hither, he must abide there without any changing.  
Being guided this way, and treading these paths, he made an admirable progress to the highest pitch of perfection attainable in this life, each Person in the sacred Trinity working in his soul, wonderful impressions of grace, sealing him with their particular characters, and sanctifying him in an extraordinary manner.  
The Father kept him always retired and recollected in his own bosom; where he bestowed upon him a large share of his own infinite inclination to communicate himself to others, and of this blessed Celestial Fecundity, in begetting children, not of flesh and blood, but of the Spirit; enflaming his heart with a paternal and maternal love towards mankind, from whence did flow, that unparalleled charity whereof we have spoken.  
The Son transformed him into a lively image of God, through the resemblance of his own perfections: bestowing on him a filial spirit, to acquit himself towards him in all his endeavours, with that singular reverence, saith, confidence, love & obedience, as is required from a Son to a Father; bringing him into such a condition, as that God spoke to him Interiorly, producing in him his word, accompanied with such power and strength, as was able to touch men's souls, and work in them the blessed fruits of salvation.  
The Holy Ghost (that infinite pure and reciprocal love of the Father to the Son, and of the Son to the Father) cleansed him from all the impurities of self-love, and selfseeking; inflamed him with a perfect love towards God, taught him the way of spiritualizing all material things, of sanctifying all indifferent things, of extracting good out of all evil; and finally, of leading a life truly spiritual, after the grand pattern of our Saviour. This he expressed in brief, in a Letter to his Director, writ in the year, 1647.  
The Divine goodness worketh in me, that which I am not able to express: I possess even the B. Trinity, and find distinctly in myself the operations of the three Divine Persons.   

CHAP. 2. His Faith.  
THe better to take this Spiritual Life in pieces, we will begin with his Faith, the prime Theological Virtue; which Gulielmus Parisiensis calls the Primum Vivens of the soul; and S. Paul, the first step we make in our advance towards God.  
This blessed man studied with particular care a solid foundation in this virtue, knowing the incredible consequence thereof for a spiritual life, and how all other virtues depend on it, as on their Root, their Rule, and Measure.  
O how good a thing (saith he, in one of his Letters) is it to live of Faith! I seem to understand this Virtue every day better and better: Those that are established in this, the life by which the just live (according to S. Paul) are at length completed to Perfection, and enjoy here the first fruits of glory.  
He possessed this grace in so high a degree, that he was more ascertained of the presence of God, of the verity of the mysteries of our Faith, than of the shining of the Sun. He truly lived by Faith, this was the path in which he walked, working all by the spirit thereof: Hereby he looked upon things not only with his corporal eyes, but with those that pierced deeper, considering them, not according to their present or past condition, or the order of nature; but their future and eternal, according to their relation to grace and glory; regarding nothing, but as it was, or might be, a means of ●●s own, or others salvation. All his works were performed by the hand of Faith, which proves strong and effectual; which more willingly handles Ulcers, and the loathsome soars of poor people, than gallants do Satins or Velvets.  
The pure and vigorous Faith of the primitive Christians (said he) caused them to act without those conveniences and necessaries which we stand upon (which indeed argue the decay and weakness of Faith) such heroic actions, as we only now admire; these assuredly lived by Faith, without any form and composition of their own proper spirit, in great Simplicity, Efficacy and Verity.  
Being fortified by this Faith, he was wont to say, that he felt no difficulty at all, when our Saviour sensibly deserted him for a time, and sent him great aridities; attributing all those inquietudes, impatience, and anxities, which we labour under, in this estate of privation, to the want of this grace. I have taken out of one of his Letters, what he writ to this purpose.  
We seldom meet with persons addicted to prayer, that can behave themselves prudently under Interior derelictions; or that can have patience to wait for some time at the door of sensible consolations and enlightenings, without making a forcible entry; that do not chafe themselves, and cast this way and that way, and seek by their own means to procure them; seeking for another support than that of Faith, which alone should suffice any spiritual man: These sensible gusts are but sent as supplements of the littleness, and cordials for the faintings of faith: But the just should live by faith, and upon that foundation rest himself in expectation of our Saviour with patience: Our inconveniences arise from hence, that we are a people of little faith, to discern things by its light, although we often pretend to know more than really we do.  
To another he writ concerning this point (upon the subject of the Centurion's faith) thus:  
Where shall we meet with a Faith comparable to that of the Centurion? Alas, what a shame is this to our Spiritual persons, who talk much of Faith, but indeed have little more than the sound, scarce any thing of the truth and effect thereof? how few are there that can bear the afflictions of spirit or body, with a naked Faith, and such a simplicity, as seeketh remedy only from God, and maketh use of patience, when comfort doth not appear so soon as expected: We all covet to enjoy Jesus Christ sensibly, and that he would come to our houses, to cure our anxieties: And for want of these sensible comforts, the Spirit runs and wanders on all hands, seeking repose, but finds it not, because indeed it is not to be found in her action, but only in her sacrifice made in Faith, which brings down the Spirit of Christ, which is our strength and life, in the midst of troubles, and of death. The Centurien was ashamed and confounded that Christ would come to his house, his Faith mounting far above these sensible signs: Whereupon he is honoured with the name of a true believer, and so propounded to us for a pattern.  
Monsieur Renty being animated by this spirit of Faith, made no reliance upon any thing that came to him by an extraordinary way; resting neither upon Visions, Revelations, inward Motions or Miracles, but soully upon a pure and naked Faith, to carry him to God.  
These following lines he writ to his Director, touching a business of great importance:  
I send you a Paper, which I received three months since, from a person of great virtue, whom you know; which she had kept for me, not daring to trust it i'th' any others: That which confirmeth me in the opinion I had of her solid virtue is, that she never told me any thing, to which I did not find myself predisposed Interiorly: This is as a seal to confirm my former resolutions concerning this, without building any certainty upon the thing itself: for we should be emptied of all reliance upon any thing, and of all reflections, following in simplicity of Faith, without dispute, that which our Saviour doth to the soul for the time present, be it concerning this or that.  
Going to Beaulne, where Sister Margaret of the B. Sacrament resided (famous for many miracles, which God had wrought in her, and a person very worthy to be visited) he said, That he would neither desire to see her, nor speak with her; only if our Saviour should make known unto him, that such was his will, he would endeavour it, otherwise he would not seek any occasion for it.  
Another time being at Dijon, when the blessed Sacrament was exposed, some friends inviting him to draw near to the Altar; he replied, That he had no need of sight for to believe, and that his Faith went further than what his eyes could show him.  
Hereby we may understand the great Faith of this man of God; and undoubtedly, it was with her eyes that he beheld every thing; and by her hands, that he accomplished all his actions, and ascended to such a perfection of all Virtues; from whose example we may learn the directest way to attain thereto; which is, steadfastly to believe the verities of Christian Religion, and be perfectly persuaded thereof: As on the contrary, the very source of all our sins and vices, and generally of all the mischiefs in Christianity, is the weakness of Faith, whereby we are neither thoroughly convinced of those sacred Mysteries, nor guided in our affairs by the Rule of Faith: It was our Saviour's advice, Noli timere, tantummodo crede; Fear not, only believe: If thou believest firmly, thou shalt be delivered from all evils, and be accomplished in all virtue.   

CHAP. 3. His Hope.  
A Strong Faith, by a moral necessity, produceth a firm Hope and Charity: A true belief in God, what he is in himself, and what he is to us, will work in us a strong affiance in him, and ardent charity towards him. As appeared in Monsieur Renty, who being well grounded upon a firm Faith in God, had likewise an undaunted confidence in him, and an inflamed affection to him.  
This confidence was built upon the knowledge and experience of the Power, Goodness, Mercy, and Bounty of God, and of the infinite Merits of our Saviour: And being grounded upon these two Pillars, he hoped all things, and believed that he could accomplish every thing. He used to say, that when he looked at himself, there was nothing so little, wherein he apprehended not difficulty; but when he looked upon God, he could think nothing impossible to himself: And this distrust of himself was not a disheartened and Lazy Humility, but courageous and magnanimous, as is requisite in those, who undertake things necessary, though not conscious of any ability of their own for the performance.  
He writ to a person concerning these two grand points, which indeed ought to hold the balance of all our actions even before God.  
The diffidence you have in yourself, makes me very intent upon the good of such a condition, and upon the sure foundation thereof, which the Church desires we should ever conserve, placing at the beginning of every hour of the Divine Office, this Virsicle, Deus in Adjutorium meum intend, Domine ad adjuvandum me festina; O Lord attend unto my help, O Lord make haste to assist me: Whereby we learn, that the soul is in continual danger of a Precipice, if not sustained by that infinite mercy, which he is daily to invoke, for her preservation from ruin: And really, we should continually fall, if we were not continually supported; therefore the Church hath divided her Office for the seven parts of the day, in that the number of seven comprehends all time: the world being created under this number, to teach us, that we should at all times retain this Diffidence of ourselves, and Confidence in God's assistance.  
This Hope of his, was so great, that in all affairs he relied not upon his own prudence, conduct, care, credit, providence, or any humane contrivancies, but on God alone; saying, That after we have done our duty, with great Diffidence in ourselves, we ought to attend wholly on him, and wait his time, without pressing the business; or entrenching upon his Prerogative. And thus he writ to a friend:  
As for my children, I leave them in the hands of the Holy Infant Jesus, without determining any thing concerning them, not knowing what will befall to morrow: He giveth me great confidence in his protection, which renders me altogether blind, without wishing any thing, but being ready for his will in every thing.  
Guarded with this perfect confidence, he feared nothing, but remained firm and resolute against all accidents and encounters: He walked securely in all places, at all times, in the streets, in the fields, by day and night, travelling thorough Woods and Forests that were bruited to be dangerous, and frequented by Robbers, without fear, without other defensive weapons than what his confidence in God did arm him with, carrying about him so much goodness, he was above all those frights, which nature is subject to, not moved with sudden alarms or accidents; so that we may call him, The Christian without fear: And to say the truth, there is nothing deserves 〈◊〉 fear but sin, since nothing else can hurt us; all other things prove, in fine, advantageous, if we make good use of them.  
One day a scaffold, on which he stood with the workmen, erected about his building, fell down, and hurt some of them; with which he was not amazed, or moved at all, for his own particular. His spirit remained unmoveable, and in the same constancy, being firmly settled upon him that is not subject to a change or alteration.  
A friend told him one day, that he was fearful to walk in the evening without a sword, in the streets of Paris, and that he desired to be quit of that timerousness, yet could not satisfy himself, to be found unarmed in case of an assault, entreating his advice in the business: Who told him, that of a long time he had left off the use of a sword; and that after he had commended the business to God by prayer, he should follow his inspiration; assuring himself, that his protection over us, is much according to our relying upon him.  
These words were found in one of his Letters to his Director:  
My soul being armed with Confidence, Faith, and Love, fears neither the Devil, nor Hell nor all the stratagems of man; neither think I at all, on Heaven, or Earth, but only how to fulfil the will of God in every thing.  
He hath been noted to do very notable things through the strength of this Virtue, even at such times, when he hath been afflicted with great aridities in his Interior.  
In our aridities and privation, of the sense and feeling of grace (saith he, in a Letter to a friend) is manifested an heroic abnegation of ourselves to the will of God; when under Hope, believing against Hope we show ourselves to be true sons of Abraham, Isaac shall not die, though the knife be at his throat; and in case the true Isaac should, in fine, be crucified, it is but to make us conformable to the Cross, and cut of our ashes to raise us to a true and better life.  
Thus likewise he writ to his Director:  
I have a very clear insight into the great want I have of my Saviour: him I behold in his riches, and myself in my deep poverty; him I look upon environed i● power, and myself in weakness; whereby my spirit being filled with content, by the impression of these words, Quid est homo, quod memor es ejus? What is man, that thou art mindful of him? doth rest upon a total abandoning of its self into his bounty.  
These words, Longanimiter ferens, bearing patiently, have dwelled long upon my spirit, though I did not at first remember whence they were taken, or what they meant: only this, that I must wait with patience for the commands and approach of my Saviour, without putting myself forward by my own inquest or endeavours, but rest with faith and reverence, begging his grace, and hope in him: But a few days ago, taking up the New Testament, in opening the Book, I did light upon the sixth Chapter to the Hebrews, where the Apostle speaks of Faith and Patience, whereby we obtain the promises; qui fide & patientia haereditabit promissiones; who by faith and patience shall inherit the promises; and to prove this, brings in the example of Abraham, & sic longanimiter ferens adeptus est repromissionem; and so waiting patiently obtained the promise: This passage touched me to the very heart, and relieved my languishing; together with another passage of S. James, which presented itself to my eye at the same time, Patientes igitur estore fratres, usque ad adventum Domini, ecce agricola expectat preciosum fructum terrae, patienter ferens; Be patiented therefore, my brethren, till the coming of our Lord, behold the husbandman waiteth patiently, till he receive the fruit of the earth: Hereby I was settled in peace, upon the solid foundation of Hope and Abnegation.  
As this incomparable Virtue enricheth the soul that is perfectly stated in it, with a profound repose, a solid joy, a wonderful courage, and sets it aloft above all Terrestrial things, with a generous contempt of whatsoever the world esteems and desires, giving it a taste of the pleasures that are Eternal (as it is not difficult for him that hath assured hopes of a glorious Kingdom, to set at nought a Pad of straw;) so did it communicate to this holy man, all these excellent treasures, and imprinted in his soul all these noble reflections.  
Whereby he was incited with all his strength, to encourage others in the pursuit of this Virtue, knowing by his own experience, the inestimable benefits thereof, understanding it to be our Lenitive in all disasters, our staff and stay in all weaknesses, and our secure haven in all tempests; instructing them continually, how that God, to the end that he might drive us into this Port, and cause us to rest in it, doth frequently permit us to be assaulted with temptations and trials, the deeplier to engage us to have recourse to him, begging his aid and succour, and relying upon him with confidence. The like instruction he gave to a certain person, upon occasion of the Apostles amazement, when they beheld our Saviour walking upon the waters, and took him for a Chost.  
Think you this was without a special providence, that our Saviour suffered his Disciples to go alone into that ship, and permitted a contrary wind to arise? Who knows not, that in the same manner he fashions the souls of the faithful, by his absences, and by their trials, that he may afterwards manifest his power, upon the seas and tempests, quickening thereby our Faith, and showing himself to be the Messiah and true Deliverer of the world: But, observe we, how many Christians in their sufferings, are affrighted, with the Apostles, seeing our Saviour marching on the waters: Every thing makes them afraid the winds, the waves, yea, even Christ himself (that is) the anxiteys of their spirit, their own dispute, and also those good coursels that others give them for their establishment upon Christ Jesus, before God: All this appears but as a Ghost to amaze them, unless Christ himself graciously appear yet more unto them, to comfort and strengthen them.  
Shall we always want confidence, thus to think Christ a Phantasm? Shall we not address ourselves to him in all our necessities, as to our Lord and Deliverer? The Jews brought all their sick folks to him, and he cured them: What, is he become a greater Physician of the body, than of the soul? No, no, our little Faith, our little Love, our little Confidence, is the cause of our languish, and unfruitful anxieties of spirit: Let us go straight to him, and all will be cured.   

CHAP. 4. His Love of God.  
SEeing the Love of God is without contradiction the most excellent and perfect of all virtues, and that which principally, and above all the rest makes a man a Saint; we cannot doubt, that this holy man was possessed thereof in a very eminent degree, and that he loved God with all his heart. This Love he founded upon his infinite perfections and favours; which may be perceived by what he writ to his Director in the year, 1648. concerning this Queen of all Virtues.  
Our Glorious Lord hath from time to time, with his resplendent beams, shone upon my soul quickening her therewith; which have appeared in such several manners, and have wrought such great things in a short time, as would take up far more to write them, which really I am afraid to undertake or begin. They all concentre in this one point, the love of God through Jesus Christ, his communication of himself to us by the Incarnation of his Eternal Word, and ours to him through the same Word, becoming our brother, conversing with us, and erecting, as it were, a mutual society, that we may be all one in him, and experimentally feel what the love of God is toward us.  
In all that I read in the Scripture, I neither understand nor find any thing else but this Love; and perceive clearly, that the very design and end of Christianity is nothing but it, Finis autem praecepti est charitas de cord puro; The end of the Law is love, out of a sincere heart: And this is acquired by Faith in Christ Jesus, as the Apostle saith in the following words, Fide non ficta; by faith unfeigned: Which uniteth and bindeth us to him; whereby we sacrifice unto the Divinity, our souls and our bodies, through his Spirit, which conducteth us to the complete end of the Law, to deliver us up to God, and bring down him to us, in charity, and a gracious inexplicable union, to whom be praise for ever, Amen.  
My heart was this mor●ing enlightened with a great Charity, upon these words, That we are set in this world to know, and love, and serve God: Which gave me to understand, that the true effect of the knowledge of God, is to annihilate ourselves before him: for this knowledge coming to discover unto us, that infinite Majesty, the soul abaseth and emptieth itself, through the deep sense of fear and reverence, according to the measure of this discovery: And this is the first step of the soul in this estate.  
Next he love of God manifested to us in the giving us his Son, gins to affect us with love: And as the former view of his greatness contracted us in fear, so this his love in Christ Jesus enlargeth and elevateth us to love God in him and to conceive some good desires according as his spirit breathes in us: And this is the second step.  
The third is, to serve him (that is) by putting this love into practice by good works: For these desires are but blossoms, and these good works the fruit: I could say much on this subject, if I could express my own feeling of it: For here we find all in all; that is, God revealed by Jesus Christ, loved and served by his Spirit. This Divine Lord sets up a blessed Society, and a Kingdom in our souls, wherein he rules and reigns there by love unspeakable and eternal.  
Writing to another person, he expresseth himself thus:  
I give thanks to our Lord, for that he hath disposed you to a perfect Abnegation of yourself: This is done, to lead you into the pure estate of love; which without that, cannot be pure; in that our love to God consisteth not in receiving gifts and graces from him, but in renouncing all things for him, in an Oblivion of our selvee, in suffering constantly and courageously for him.  
Thus did he express the nature of Love, not to consist in taking, but giving; and the more and greater matters we give, the more we manifest our Love: This Love carries up the Lover, according to the measure of its flame, continually to think upon his Beloved, to will what may please him, to study his interest, to procure his glory, to do every thing that may work his contentment, and to be extremely apprehensive of any thing that may offend him.  
Accordingly, he being all on fire with the love of God, was perfectly sinsible of these effects: All his thoughts, words, and works were the productions of this love; for notwithstanding he practised other virtues, yet they drew their original from this Furnace of Charity, which in him was the beginning, and motive, and end of all: which he testified to his Confidents frequently, and in words so enkindled with it, as were sufficient to warm the most frozen hearts. I have observed (saith one of his Confidents) this Divine fire so ardent in his blessed soul, that the flames thereof have burst forth into his Exterior; and he hath told me, that when ever he proncunced the name of God, he tasted such a sweetness upon his lips, as could not be expressed; and that he was even pierced thorough with a heavenly suavity. To another he writ about 9 or 10. years ago that he could nor conceal from him, how he felt a fire in his heart, which burned and consumed without ceasing.  
Another of them assures, that he hath often seen him inflamed with this Love of God, that he appeared even like one besides himself; and how he told him, when these transporting were upon him, that he was ready to cast himself into thefire to testify his Love to God: and in one of his Letters to a friend, he concludes thus.  
I must now hold my peace, yet when I cease to speak, the fire within, that consumes me, will not let me rest: Let us burn then, and burn wholly, and in every part, for God: since we have no being but by him, why then do we not live to him? I speak it aloud, and it would be my crown of glory, to seal it with my blood, and this I utter to you with great freedom.  
In a Letter to another thus: I know not what your intent was, to put into your Letter these words, Deus meus, & omnia; my God, and my all: Only you invite thereby, to return the same to you, and to all creatures. My God, and my all; my God, and my all; my God, and my all. If perhaps you take this for your motto, and use it to express how full your heart is of it; think you it possible I should be silent upon such an invitation, and not express my sense thereof! Likewise, be it known to you therefore, that he is my God, and my all: And if you doubt of it, I shall speak it a hundred times over. I shall add no more, for any thing else is superfluous to him that is truly penetrated with my God, and my all: I leave you therefore in this happy state of Jubilation, and conjure you to beg for me of God, the solid sense of these words.  
Being transported with this Love of God, it wrought in him an incredible zeal of his honour, which he procured and advanced a thousand ways: Which may be understood partly by what we have already writ, and several other which are unknown, because either they were wholly spiritual, or concealed by him even from his most intimate friends, The 12 of March, in the year, 1645. he writ thus to his Director, upon this subject:  
One day being transported with an earnest desire to be all to God, and all consumed for him, I offered up to him all I could, yea, and all that I could not: I would willingly have made a Deed of Gift to him of Heaven and Earth, if they had been mine. And in another way, I would willingly have been the underling of all mankind, and in the basest estate possible; yea, and if supported by his grace, I could have been content, to have suffered eternal pains with the damned, if any glory might have accrued to him thereby. In this disposition of a calm zeal, there is no sort of Martyrdom, no degree of greatness or littleness, of honour or disgrace, that passed not through my spirit, and which my soul would not readily have embraced for the advancement of his glory: Here a man would be content to be a King, to govern all; or the meanest Beggar, or most miserable Wretch, to suffer all for him; and this without reason, through an excess of reason. It is an impossible thing to understand, how in so short time the soul should wish such different things, and a large discourse would be too narrow to declare one circumstance thereto belonging: All I could do in this condition, was to give up my liberty to God, writing the Deed in paper, and signing it with my own blood.  
See here the zeal of a man, all on fire with the love of God, where likewise his conformity to his will, an infallible mark of this love, is very observable. Those persons who knew him perfectly, report, that this intimate union of his will to Gods will, was one of his singular graces; and himself declared, that he was constantly in this blessed frame, to which he had applied himself more particularly for several years, in which he made it evidently appear, that the object and end of all his actions, was the Divine will, into which his own was wholly absorbed.  
He writ thus to one concerning the sickness and death of the Countess of Castres', to whom he had (as we have formerly mentioned) a very near relation, founded upon grace.  
I must tell you, that during my absence from the Countess of Castres', my heart was tenderly sensible of her pain, knowing that she suffered very much: But my desire submits to the Order of God, and when that is signified to me, he gives me grace to obey. Coming to Paris, I received the news of her death; when I resigned myself wholly to God, attending his good pleasure for what would follow.  
Another time he writ thus to his Director:  
I have been held these three weeks with a seavour, together with a defluxion, and an exceeding great weakness; and my frame of spirit during this condition, hath been a simple prosecution of, and adherence to the will and pleasure of God: I discover nothing in particular worth writing to you, saving that I have a heart ready to receive any afflictions that can befall me. I desire whatever is decreed from above, and beg it with all my heart.  
We have set down before, how that in the year, 1641. one of his children whom he dearly loved, departed this life. When the news was brought him, he spoke not one word, nor shown the least disturbance, but absolutely submitted to the order of God, corresponding thereunto in a perfect reconciliation of his own affection to the child, and his great loss of him.  
At the end of the year, 1643. his Lady fell desperately sick, even to death, being left of all her Physicians, speechless, and without sense; but he, notwithstanding the deep resentment of such a heavy loss, and a business that touched him to the quick, manifested such an absolute conformity to the will of God, as broke forth into these words:  
I cannot deny, but my nature is deeply affected with the sense of so great a loss, yet my spirit is filled with so wonderful a joy, to see myself in such a state, as to give up and sacrifice to my God, a thing so near and dear to me, that if civility did not forbid it, I would make appear outwardly, and give some public testimony of my readiness thereunto.  
By this heroic deportment, he evidenced that the will of God was so absolutely his, that he not only willed that which he willed, though never so difficult, but that he willed it as God doth, that is, with much pleasure and content: for so God doth not simply will and act things, but wills and acts them with infinite it delight, being in himself most infinitely happy. But pleased God to restore his Lady to her health, with respect (as we may piously imagine) to this heroical carriage of his faithful servant; as likewise to avow he made to our blessed Lady, for the obtaining thereof.  
Neither did his conformity only go thus far, but advanced further yet, even to things of a higher consideration, referring to his perfection and salvation; for notwithstanding that he earnestly aspired to Holiness, and endeavoured thereafter with an unspeakable courage, fervour, and diligence, yet all this was with an entire resignation of himself to the designs of God, concerning himself  
For opening his case to this Director upon this point, he writ thus:  
My present condition consists in an adherence of my will to whatsoever God is pleasad concerning me, and this I am sensible of from the bottom of my soul: I have of late undergone very great aridities of spirit (except some few intervals) where all is said open, and my soul resigneth herself to God in an inexplicable manner, from which she remains full of certainty and of truths, which will not easily vanish, though they cannot without difficulty be unfolded,  
Having writ and signed with his own blood a Deed of Gift of his Liberty, as we have mentioned before, he writ thus to the same person concerning it:  
From that instant, God hath bestowed upon me such a conformity to his will, that as I acknowledge all things to be guided by his hand, so likewise I receive every thing from it.  
And to another intimate friend he writ thus:  
The party (meaning himself) hath, since that time, felt such a wonderful great conformity to the will of God, that he can will nothing, but what God willeth; neither can he understand how any man should will any thing else: this makes every thing pass smoothly and currently.  
This disposition of spirit made him look upon things, not in themselves, but as contained in the will of God; and this he gave as a chief advice to attain to perfection.  
It behoveth a soul (saith he) to give up itself to God; walking on in simplicity in all its operations; applying itself to every thing, not for the thing itself, but in order to the will of God, not engaged at all to it, but to God, obeying and honouring him in every thing.  
And from this perfect subordination to the will of God, sprung his admirable Tranquillity of mind; and from this fountain, flowed those rivers of peace and profound repose, which he possessed in so great perfection; that from the most sudden surprisals, his spirit was not altered one jot, neither were his inferior faculties of body put into any disorder, as himself acknowledgeth.  
For thus he writ to me one day:  
I comprehend not that thing you call Mortification: If one lives in this estate of Conformity; for such finding no resistance in his spirit, is not capable of it: Who so willeth whatever God willeth, is daily content, let what will happen.   

CHAP. 5. His great Reverence and Fear of God, which produceth in him a most admirable purity of Conscience.  
ONe of the most excellent dispositions of the soul, in her Interior life, is that of great Reverence in the presence of God; as the Scriptures mention, that the Angels continually abase and cast down themselves with Reverence before his Sacred Majesty: And Monsieur Renty was deeply affected with this noble part of Devotion, speaking to God with so great Reverence, as it proceeded into trembling.  
And this unspeakable respect unto God's Greatness, caused him often to walk in the fields bareheaded, in the heat of the Sun or any other unseasonable weather: And being asked by a near friend, what it was that kept him in such a constant awfulness, and how he attained to that wonderful Reverence he bore to God, in all places, in all employments, and at all times. He answered, The sight of his glorious Majesty, which continually seems present by me, produceth in me this effect, keeping me in exceeding great awe, with a deep sense of his greatness, and my own vileness, and nothingness, in comparison of him. A mote in the Sun you will say is little, but I am far less than that before God, being indeed nothing.  
Writing to his Director, June 1. 1647. he saith:  
I have been busied all this last month in studying my own baseness, I am seized with great confusion, accompanied with exceeding Reverence before God, as one that hath his eyes cast down before the Throne of his Majesty, not daring to look up.  
And to another person he writ thus:  
Let us behave ourselves in the presence of God, as the men of the world do before their Prince; who not withstanding they be men of spirit, and have their heads full of weighty business, yet stand bare in his presence, and with modest and humble behaviour, forbear to speak, not listening to any thing but what he speaks, forgetting all other business: And all this they are obliged to by civil respect, and pay this duty to one, perhaps, inferior to themselves in natural parts. How much more should the Holiness, the Majesty, the Infinite Greatness of God, ravish us from ourselves, and work in us a most profound Reverence.  
Behold here what wonderful deep sense of his own vileness, this holy man bore in the presence of God; which indeed well becometh, not only sinners, but the holiest men upon earth. He that beholds the Sun from a valley, when it riseth and appears upon the point of a high mountain, thinks him that stands above, to be near it, and that he is able almost to reach it with his hand, when the same man notwithstanding, beholds it at a vast distance above his head; and though in reality he is nearer it than the other in the valley, yet within such a small proportion, as scarce deserves to be named, in respect of the total distance.  
In like manner God, in his Greatness, his Majesty, and all his Infinite Perfections, is so far above, not only us that are most imperfect, but even all those that are arrived to the top of the greatest perfection, that all of us must debase and cast down ourselves, with a most profound annihilation in his presence.  
This great respect he bore to the presence of God, together with his ardent love toward him (of which we have spoken in the former Chapter) imprinted in him a horrible aversion to the Test thing that might offend him; as likewise, a wonderful purity of Conscience. His Confessors report, that he excelled herein even to astonishment; and that the Prince of Darkness had very little in him. He told a familiar friend one day, that it much afflicted him when he was to confess to any others besides his ordinary Confessor, because they not understanding his condition, could not so well apprehend him; and that he was often troubled to find something to confess to them.  
And this purity will be best known to us, by its contrary; viz. his sins, which he was accustomed to send monthly to his Director, a Letter, who lived a great distance from him; and these were sent by common messengers, signed with his one hand, which were subject to be intercepted; an evidence of an heroic humility, in a person of his quality.  
Take here what he writ November 27. 1646.  
I purpose, if you allow of it, to put myself into a regular course, to give you an account of my state the 25 day of every month: And then coming to his faults he saith, For my faults, I give you here a few, which I can remember, of those many, I have committed.  
Upon two several occasions, I spoke two words passionately to my servants.  
I omitted twice to recite the prayer, Angelus Domini, through forgetfulness.  
In another Letter to him, he writ thus:  
I am as blind (or rather more) in espying my faults, as in other things: Only in general, I have a deep sense of my misery; and I can say, that I am not ignorant of my unworthiness, and that lamentable corruption which sin hath wrought in me; the sad effects whereof, have been these this month, Speaking with one about a deed of Charity; which was, to dispose of some Orphans, for their education in the true Religion, I named inconsiderately two Gentlemen their Kinsmen, who had refused to be employed therein.  
I mentioned the fauls of a certain person, to another, that knew of them before, upon design to make him understand, that he was in a better condition: But my Conscience presently reproached me, that it had been sufficient to have spoken of the good conditions of this party, without mentioning the evil of the other: In which I confess I meddled too much in that affair. In sum, I am a straggler from God, and a ground overrun with thorns.  
In another:  
My fauls are as one great heap, which I feel in myself obstructing the light from God, I am strangely remiss and ungrateful: I assure you I find much in myself, to confound and humble me.  
Having been employed a whole day in taking up a business, and in the evening seeing one come intr the room, who was reputed by the company, to have maintained an untruth, I said inconsiderately, and for want of care, Behold the man that maintained that falsity.  
In another:  
I am sensible of my fault, in mentioning a trifle, not without some vanity; viz. that I had been the means of placing a servant in such a great family: I had a motion within me, not to have spoken it, and yet it escaped from me; of which I am exceeding sensible, because I should have been faithful to the spirit of God.  
Also I took place at the table of a Priest, I made great difficulty of it at first, but I knew not how I ●ielded not to the Priest, but to a person of quality present, that pressed me to it.  
Lo here some faults of this servant of God, which questionless discover the great purity of his Conscience, which was so bright, as to show these failings, which in some manner, might pass for perfections: or much like those spots which curious eyes discover in the stars.  
And truly, these may demonstrate, to what height of Purity and Innocency, a soul that is watchful over herself, may arrive: Seeing a Gentleman of his birth and age, in a Secular life, and the throng of so great employments, attained hereto; only if we use the like diligence, and be faithful to the Spirit of God, the only means to attain to this perfection.   

CHAP. 6. His great Reverence to Holy Things.  
MOnsieur Renty did not only carry a great Reverence to, God, but likewise to all things belonging to his Service, and to all Holy things; which sprang from that sense of Virtue and Religion imprinted in his soul, producing the like fruits Exteriorly.  
In the first place, he had a singular respect to all Holy places; and it will be very hard to recoin, with what Respect and Devotion he beh●ved himself in Churches. At his entrance, his demeanour was exceeding modest, and religiously grave: He never sare down there, nor put on his hat, not so mu●h as in Sermon time; he would abide there as long as possibly he could, and hath been observed, upon great Festivals, to remain there upon his knees for seven or eight hours: He was very silent in the Church, and if any person of any condition spoke to him, his answer was short; and in case the business required longer time, he would carry him forth, or some other way free himself thereof.  
Secondly, he used great veneration to all Ecclesiastical persons, even to the meanest; but the Reverence he gave to Priests was wonderful. He would never take the upper hand of them, without extreme violence, as appears by that passage in the former Chapter. Whensoever he met them, he saluted them with profound humility, and in his travel, would light off his horse to do it, and render them all honour possible. When they came to visit him, he entertained them cordially, with exceeding great respect, at their departure, waiting on them to the gate; and if any dined at his table, gave them the upper place, which civility he observed to his own Chaplain.  
When any Mission was in any of his Lordships, he entertained the Missioners apart, where they were served in plate, when other Gentlemen and persons of quality that visited him, were only in pewter, waving herein all humane respects. A Nobleman and his Lady came one day to him upon a visit, accompanied with a Priest, that was Tutor to their children. After he had received them, observing the Priest at the lower end of his Hall, with some of their Retinue; quitting civilly the Nobleman and his Lady, he went down to the Priest, showing great respect to him, as to the most honoatable person of the company.  
In fine, his opinion of the Priesthood was so venerable, looking upon it as the most potent means for procuring the glory of God; that he said to a friend, That he had a design to enter into that Order, if God should ever bring him into a condition capable of it.  
And as he had this singular Reverence toward them, so likewise had he an earnest desire that they, and generally all Ecclesiastical persons, should understand the excellency of the condition, to whi●h God had called them, leading a life agreeable to their Dignity. He writ to his Director in the year, 1645. upon occasion of several ecclesiastics of his acquaintance, who correspond not to their Profession and Obligation; that his heart melted into sorrow for them, and that he prostrated himself before his Saviour, and begged with tears for some Apostolic Spirits to be sent amongst us our poor Fishermen;  
Give us, O Lord, our poor Fishermen, I often repeated; I meant the Apostles. But this word ran much in my mind, not being able to use any other; and my spirit wrought much upon these words, Pescheurs & Pecheurs, Fishermen and Sinners. I look upon these men, simple indeed in their Exterior, but great Princes in their Interior, whose life and outward appearance vile, in the eyes of men, and estranged from the pomp of the world; converted souls, by their Sanctity, by their Prayers, by their Vigilance and restless Labours: And herein I discover a great mistake ordinary in the world; which believes, that outward greatness and pomp, is the way to keep up ones credit, and render him more capable to do good to his neighbours: But we are foully mistaken, for it is grace that hath power upon souls, and an holy and humble life, that gaineth hearts.  
With the same spirit he bewailed much, the hasty and irreverent reciting of their Office in many places.  
Being this day present at Divine Service (saith he in a Letter to me) many words therein put me in mind of the holiness thereof; and yet I could not without much grief, take notice of some chanting it hastily, without devotion or spirit, and others hearing it accordingly: Good God, what pity is this! where is our faith? My eyes were ready to run over with tears, but I forced myself to refrain them.  
In the third place, he had a great respect and love to Religious Persons, and all such as dedicated themselves to the Service of God, encouraging and assisting them with all his might.  
This Letter he writ to one, that was assaulted with great combats.  
I must needs let you know, the tender resentment I have of those tempests, and present storms that you endure: I know no reason, why men should alarm you thus, nor that you have done any thing against the Gospel, which is the only thing they should condemn you for: I believe it will be very hard for them, to gather a just cause of reproach from your design. For my own part, I do not wonder at these crosses, its sufficient to know, that you belong to Jesus Christ, and do desire to follow him, reckoning contradiction to be your portion in these days of your flesh. Be you only firm in your confidence upon our Lord, suffering no storms from without to trouble you, or obscure that light that hath guided and pressed you to this business. I pray God deliver you from the reasonings of flesh and blood, which often multiply upon us in such matters; assuring you, that if you give not car to them, God will manifest himself unto you (that is) he will comfort and fortify you, in faith, and in experience of the gifts of his Holy Spirit.  
To another he writ thus:  
Blessed for ever be the Blessed Infant Jesus, for the happy entrance of those two devout souls into Religion, which you mention: I shall rejoice exceedingly in their perseverance, the best argument of their effectual calling. If the other party you know of, had a little more confidence and courage, to break her fetters, it would be a great step for her: And surely, there is not need of so much prudence and deliberation, to give up ourselves to him, who to the Gentiles is foolishness, and to the Jews a stumbling block. This world is a strange cheat and amusement, insinuating into, and infecting every thing. God hath no need of our good parts, nor of our rare qualities, who commonly confounds the wisdom of the wise by little things, which he chooseth. Blessed be that littleness, which is held for weakness, and yet overthroweth all the Power and Prudence of flesh.  
Treating with some Religious Persons, he seemed, as it were, rapt on a sudden, with the consideration of their happy condition, speaking to them thus:  
O how happy are you my Sisters!  
After which, falling upon a discourse of their Vocation, he spoke so effectually, as wrought in them, an ample acknowledgement of their obligation to God, and a courage to proceed in well doing.  
This following Letter he writ to a Gentlewoman newly entered into Religion, who next under God, did owe her calling to him.  
I thank my Saviour with all Reverence, for those good dispositions to your Profession, signified in your Letter. I understand, and am sensible of abundant grace wrought in you, whereby I assure myself, of a noble pregress I am to expect, from the bounty of God; who is to that soul, that gives herself to him, Merces magna nimis; Her exceeding great reward. You have made a leap which puts you in a new world: Blessed and adored be God, who in the fullness of time, out of his wisdom and love to a soul, sends his Son unto it to redeem ●t from the Law of Servitude, and translates it into the Adoption of his Sons. This hath he now wrought in you, in a more special manner, and the excellentest way that could be. You was never united to Jesus Christ, as you are now, by your holy Profession: You had heretofore something to give, that was never before engaged, and he something to receive, that was not formerly in his possession: But now all is given, and all is received, and the mutual donation is accomplished: No more Self, no more Life, no more Inheritance, but in Jesus Christ: He is all, in all things, until the time, that (according to the Apostle) he delevering us up all, and wholly to his Father; his Father also shall be i● Jesus, and in all his members, all in all, for ever. Amen.  
Fourthly, he had a very great Devotion to all the Saints in Heaven, but more partifulatly to S. Joseph, and S. Teresa; whom in the year, 1640. he chose for his Patroness; and above all the rest, to the Saint of Saints, the B. Virgin; in testimony whereof, he dedicated himself to her Service at Ardilliers, then, when he designed himself for a Carthusian. And in the year, 1640. he desired to be admitted into the Society erected to her honour, in the house of the professed of the Jesuits of S. Lewis; and for many years, he wore a seal upon his arm; with her Image graven, wherewith he sealed all his Letters. We have likewise mentioned, how he gave to an Image of Nostre-Dame de Grace, a heart of Crystal, set in Gold, to testify to that Admirable Mother (as he used often to style her) his love; and that with this heart, he resigned up to her his own.  
Finally, this man of God, most entirely honoured and loved the Spouse of Christ, his Holy Church, reverencing every thing that came from her, making great account of all her ceremonies, saying, That he found a certam grace, and particular virtue in the prayers and customs of the Church: conforming himself most readily to her practices. Being present commonly at High-Mass in Paris, he would go to the Offering amongst the people, and ordinarily with some poor man: He assisted at ceremonies, where it was rare to find, not only men of his quality, but far meaner persons; as, the consecrating of the Fonts in the Holy Week, at long Processions, in all extremities of weather.  
Upon which occasion, he writ one day to a friend:  
Our Procession goeth this day into the Suburbs, and since our Saviour hath favoured us with this great mercy, to be of this little flock, we ought to follow his standard; and I take it for a signal honour, to follow the Cross, which way, our holy Mother, the Church, leads us; there being nothing in her, but what is glorious, since she acts in every thing, by the Spirit of Religion, in the presence of God; whereby she unfolds great mysteries, to those that are humble and respective.  
From which expressions & actions, we may infer, that he being a man of such quality, and taken up with such a multitude of business, had a very reverend esteem of all the ceremonies of the Church, otherwise he would never have rendered such Obedience and Honour to them.  
And though it be most true, that he highly honoured these ceremonies, yet he desired likewise, that by the Exterior pomp that appeared to the eyes, Christians might be led on to the Interior, and more Spiritual, complaining, that the outward Magnificence wherewith Churches are adorned, do often stay and amuse them, and instead of carrying them on to God their chief end, diverts them from him. To this purpose he writ thus to a friend:  
We should take notice of that simplicity, in which the Divine Mysteries were conveyed to us, that we may not be held too long with the splendour, in which at this day they are celebrated: These thoughts came into my mind, in hearing the Organs and Church Music, and beholding the rich Ornaments used in the Divine Office; we must look thorough this state, at that spirit of Simplicity, Purity, and Humility, of their primitive Institution: Not but that these are holy and useful; but that we should pass thorough it to the Simplicity and Poverty of Bethlehem, Nazareth, Egypt, the Wilderness, and the Cross.  
But above all, he was singularly devoted to an union of spirit and affection, and universal communion of all good things,  all the faithful, in all places of the world; and to be admitted into the communion of Saints, being an Article of our Creed, very dear unto him.  
Wherefore he highly valued all, of each Nation and Profession, without espousing any particular spirit, or interest, to respect one above others, to magnify one, and derogate from another: He honoured all ecclesiastics Secular, and communicated with them concerning all his Exercises of Charity for his Neighbour: he gave great respect to all Parish Priests, was very serviceable to him of his own Parish: he frequented the Societies of the Religious, loved and made use of them for direction of his conscience.  
And notwithstanding the great variety, and several orders of them in the Church, yet was not his heart divided, but affected with an equal esteem, and approbation, and a general affection to all, according to their degree, being guided herein by one Spirit; viz. that of Christ Jesus, which enliveneth all the faithful, as members of his body; in the same manner, as out bodily members, notwithstanding they be different, in sight, figure, and offices, are knit together, and all perfectly agree, because they are all quickened by the same soul: All misintelligence and disagreeing is a sign of two spirits that rule there; and division is the principle of death.  
Concerning this communion of Saints, he one day suffered some difficulty: Whereupon he writ this excellent Letter to his Director:  
I find experimentally, a real union both in light and faith with the party I mentioned, which is more than palpable, giving me assurance, that we are all one. Upon this occasion I shall acquaint you, in what manner my mind hath been busied these few last days, and is yet full of it; and to the end my relation may be more intelligible, I shall take the matter somewhat higher.  
The operation I have found in myself for these two or three years, hath constantly held me fixed in the pursuit of our Saviour Christ, to find in him Eternal-Life before God the Father, through the influence of his Spirit; of which I have from time to time given you account: And now I confess to you, that though for that time I also honoured from the bottom of my heart, our B. Lady, the Saints and Angels, and have been desirous to express it upon all occasions; yet so it was, that their presence and their commerce was obscured in, and, as it were, very remote from my soul.  
I assure you, that those thoughts hath frequently run in my mind; saying thus within myself, I so much honour our Lady, and some other Saints and Angels, and I know not where they are: I lifted up my heart easily towards them, but there was no presence of them at all, at least, such as I now perceive it. Some months ago, I possessed an opening, and a light in my soul, accompanied with powerful effects, concerning love and dear union with God, making me to conceive inexplicable things of God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost (who is perfect Charity) not by the reasonings and discourses of the understanding, but by a single view, most by one touch penetrating the heart with love: And I beheld, how the Son of God our Saviour, came to advance us by his Incarnation, into this love, uniting himself to us, whereby to reduce us all into this intimate and sweet union, until he shall have completed us all in himself, to be made, all of us, one day, all in God, after he hath delivered up his Kingdom to his Father, Ut sit Deus omnia in omnibus; That God may be all in all: And we enter into this blessed union, with the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.  
Some ten or twelve days since, being in my morning prayers, on my knees, to pray unto God, I perceived in myself, that I could find● no entrance unto him, only I kept myself there much humbled, but the sight of the Father, the access to him of the Son (with whom I ordinarily converse, with as much confidence, as if he were yet upon earth) and the assistance of the holy Ghost, seemed at a strange distance, withheld from me; and I perceived an unworthiness in myself, so great, so real, and so penetrating, that I could no more lift up the eyes of my soul to heaven, than these of my body.  
Than was i● given me to understand, that I had really that unworthiness which I felt. But that I must seek my entry to God, and to our Saviour, in the Communion of Saints: Whereupon I was on an instant possessed with a wonderful presence, of the respect and love, and union of the B. Virgin, the Angels and Saints, which I am not able to express, nor to utter the greatness and solidity of this grace: For this union is Life Eternal, and the Ecclesiastical Paradise; and this union is both for the Saints in Heaven, and those on earth, which I have almost always in full view and presence.  
From thenceforward I understood, that we were not made by God, to be alone, and separate from others, but to be united unto them, and to compose with them one divine total: Even as a beautiful stone, fitted for the head of a column, is altogether unprofitable, till it be settled in its place, and cemented to the body of the building, without which it hath neither its preservation, its beauty, nor its end. This meditation left me in the love, and in the true and experimental connexion of the communion and communication of Saints; yet with a due order of those to whom I am more united, which is my Life in God, and in Jesus Christ our Lord.  
This is the contents of that Letter.   

CHAP. 7. His devotion to the Holy Sacrament.  
ONe of the greatest Devotions of this holy man, was, that to the H. Eucharist, considered both as a Sacrifice, and as a Sacrament; of which he had ever an incredible esteem, honouring it with all possible reverence, and affecting it with tender love, blessing and praising God for its institution, and exciting, both by his word and pen, the whole world to do the same.  
He was accustomed to say, that it was instituted, to stay and place our Saviour, God and Man, in the midst of us, to obtain for us, all the benefits of grace, whereof we are capable here, and to dispose us for those of glory. That the great design of God, in the Incarnation, the Life, Death and Resurrection of his Son, was to convey unto us his Spirit, to be unto us Life Eternal; which Spirit he hath taught us by his Word, merited for us by his Death, & doth more confer upon us from his estate of Glory. And the better to convey this unto us, to cause us to live thereby, and die in ourselves, he giveth himself to us in this most Holy Sacrament, dead, raised up, and glorified, to produce in us, by the operation of his Spirit, these two effects of death and life.  
He was not only present every day at Mass, but took it for a great honour to serve the Priest himself: He received every day, if not hindered by very important business, or some pressing occasion of Charity. And as the honour we render to this B. Sacrament, consists not in often receiving, but in communicating well and perfectly; he took all care thereof, that could be expected from one of so holy life, and eminent Piety.  
He spent many hours, in prayers, upon his knees, before the Blessed Sacrament. And being once asked by a friend, How he could remain there so long? He answered, That there he recreated his spirit, receiving from thence refreshment and new forces; and yet sometimes he encountered with some trouble in that Devotion, which may be gathered from this Letter to his Director, dated the 27 of June, in the year, 1647.  
I have been very poor all this month, I know not whether I was ever so lumpish, both in spirit and body, as I was upon the Festival day of the Blessed Sacrament. I was present at Service, at Procession at Mass, at Communion, heard the Sermon, at Vespers, and Compline; but like a very beast, not knowing how to demean myself, either kneeling, or standing, I was in a kind of restless condition of body, and very wand'ring and distracted in spirit; only I knew well, that in the bottom of my soul. I had a desire to honour God through his Son Christ Jesus.  
After Compline, I found myself so dull and heavy, that seeing myself unable to remain before the Blessed Sacrament, for I fell all along, I resolved to try, whether upon retiring, and refreshing myself a little, I should be any better: But for all that, I found myself more tired and discomposed in body and mind, than if I had had the courage to have lain there still all along upon the ground.  
Hereupon I reflected upon what I had formerly read, in a Paper you sent me concerning a certain virtuous person, afflicted with the like stupefaction: Whereupon I risen up, and set myself under the Crucifix, before the Holy Sacrament, determining to honour my Saviour in all conditions and tempers. Being thus upon my knees, by the Divine assistance, I got the victory over myself, and my spirit was enlarged: Whereupon I received from the Blessed Sacrament this illumination, That to become Bread (which hath relation to that Mystery) I must first be ground, like the corn, than kneaded with water, and lastly, baked in the even. And that this was the right way to be incorporated into that mystical Bread, our Lord and Saviour; and at the same instant that this was revealed unto me, I felt in myself, a vehement desire to be thus dealt with, which hath remained in me ever since. And now I understand, that to enter into a Spiritual estate, we must, like the corn, before we be sent to the mill, be first threshed, and winnowed from our earthly impurities, and that the grain is not fit for use, till it be pure, and that it becomes not fruitful, till it first dyeth in the ground.  
The meditation upon this material Bread, hath taught me great Mysteries (during this Octave) of the Heavenly Bread in the Sacrament; viz. how that Jesus Christ, being bruised and broken in his Passion, giveth himself to us for food, to the end that we might set forth and express, his Death, his Lnve, and Virtues in our life. And in this condition I now find myself much in love with Jesus Christ, desirous to be wholly to him, and to render unto him in my affliction, this which he hath given me, and my goods, and my body, and my soul, and my time, and my eternity. I have a great thirst upon me to serve him, and other long, which I reserve to communicate, until I have the happiness to see you.  
This his singular affection to the B. Sacrament, caused him to write in Capital Letters upon a Chimney piece, in his Castle at Citry, Blessed for ever be the most Holy Sacrament of the Altar: This made him walk on foot, to visit all Churches within two leagues round about him, to see in what decency the B. Sacrament was reserved there; and to bestow in several parts, a great number of silver pixes, to keep it in, upon poor Parishes; and Tabernacles likewise, which he made, & gilded with his own hands, having a great dexterity in all such Manual works. Of which he writ something to me, the 26 of September, in the year, 1646.  
Since Advent, I began a work, which I have designed this long time; viz. at such times, as my urgent occasions will give leave, which commonly is after supper, till prayer time, to practise some handicraft work; where having all my tools, I make Tabernacles for the B. Sacrament; and if I finish but one in a month, my time will not be ill spent; for they may be serviceabe to some poor Churches that want them.  
Guided by the same zeal, in the year, 1641. he cast to set up, in his Parish of S. Paul, a company of devout Ladies, every one in their turn, to spend an hour in prayer every afternoon, before the Sacrament. He wrote a short Treatise of the conduct of this Devotion, and the grounds of undertaking it; the chief whereof was, upon the consideration, that our Saviour being continually in this adored Mystery: to give himself to us, it was therefore but reasonable, that some persons should be present in the Church, to render to him their homage, and honour, and correspondent to that his desire, of giving himself to us. This Treatise he presented with all humility and due respect to his Parish Priest, for his consent, and the putting it in practice, if he thought it fitting; which was done accordingly, and continueth to this day with great edification and profit; and succeedeth so happily, that the like institution is taken up in several other Parishes and Towns; as at Dijon, where Monsieur Renty erected it, at his first journey thither, with great zeal and courage, overcoming several difficulties and oppositions against it.  
He likewise excited several persons in his Parish, to accompany the Holy Sacrament, when it was carried to the sick; in such sort, that a great company of men and women, were seen to follow our Blessed Saviour, with lighted torches; where he attended likewise with great diligence, notwithstanding his daily employments, spending for a long while almost all the morning in this Holy Exercise, in all seasons of heart and cold.  
One day, amongst other, being very foul, & he much distempered with rheum, he was wished to forbear that time, being so very incommodious for him to walk bareheaded, to the great prejudice of his health All which moved him not a jot, but he went cheerfully thorough these difficulties; and which is very observable, at his return was cured of his rheum.  
Another time, accompanying the H. Sacrament, a coach with six horses passed by, without stopping, or saluting the same; whereupon he, suspecting them to be illaffected persons, and much offended with their impiety, stirred up with zeal, to defend the honour of his Master, adventured to admonish them of their duty; and casting himself before the horses (with much hazard to his person) stayed the coach in its career, and engaged the persons to do reverence thereto, by staying till it was passed; which heroic action, caused great admiration in all the beholders.   

CHAP. 8. His Prayer.  
THis Chapter, and the next, contain some things in them, that cannot so well be expressed by way of History, by reason that things of such difficult nature, must be dilated upon, to make them intelligible.  
In this Chapter we shall speak of his Prayer, which we may fitly term the large channel which conveys the gifts of God into our soul; the most certain means for procuring of help, and all graces requisite to our salvation, the most universal instrument, whereof we serve ourselves in our spiritual life, to perform all the functions thereof for our advancement in the Purgative way, for rooting out vices in the Illuminative way, for the practice of virtue; and in the Unitive, for arriving unto an union with God, in which consisteth our perfection. All the Saints that ever were, have set so high a value upon this Divine action, that quitting, as it were, all other affairs, they have passed their days and nights in prayer; many having left their Crowns and Sceptres, and retired into Monasteries and Solitudes, to have the honour to converse with God more secretly, and for longer time.  
Monsieur de Renty enlightened by their beams, and treading in their steps, gave himself to this exercise, with such care and diligence, that we may aver, this to have been his ordinary employment, and his whole life a trade of praying.  
I mean not here his vocal Prayers, having spoken of them before: I affirm, that his affection was exceeding great to mental Prayer, understanding well the necessity thereof, as that whereby we come more intimately to know, and reap the benefit of all Christian verities; which until they be known, are not at all beneficial; and the utility thereof, to learn a man what he is, and enable him to exercise the real acts of virtue, in the inward life and spirit of them; elevating the soul to a familiar conference with God; an honour more incomparably glorious, though but for one quarter of an hour, than is the most intimate communication with the greatest Monarches for whole years together; like as we esteem it a greater honour, to discourse freely and familiarly with a King, the space of one hour, than many years with a Peasant.  
Moreover, he well understood the different manners of this Prayer, and how it ascends by four steps. The first is Prayer of Reasoning and Discourse. The second, that of the Will and Affections. The third, that of Union or Contemplation; which divides itself into two branches; viz. in Contemplation active or acquisite, and Contemplation passive or infused; which passive Contemplation, is the fourth and highest round of this ladder of Prayer.  
Prayer of the Understanding, and of Discourse, or Meditation, is an application of the Spirit, to understand some virtues of his salvation, which he apprehended not before; reasoning and discoursing thereon within himself, ruminating upon its causes, effects, and circumstances of time, place, manner, and persons belonging to it, to draw from thence arguments of good life; going from one circumstance and point to another, from the causes to their effects, and so backward, which is called reasoning; and, because our mind is quick and ready in this operation; not only nimble to go, but run in it, therefore it is termed also discourse.  
He began at this step, and made some stay upon it, where indeed every one ought to begin, and rest, until he is called by God to another; because the most proper and natural way, that God hath given men, to come to understand and affect any thing, is that of Consideration and Reasoning; wherefore each one must serve himself herewith, till he be advanced higher.  
The ordinary subject which he took for these meditations, were the Life, Passion, and Death of our Saviour: Which without all contradiction, is the most profitable of all others, since he is set before us for our pattern; in the imitation and expression whereof consists our perfection, and life eternal.  
After some time, having been faithful in this first stage, he passed to the second, that of will and affection, being called with an Amice, ascend superius; Friend, fit up higher: Not unlike a Scholar, who becoming a good proficient, is set up to a higher class of deeper learning. For he spent not all his days in Grammar, but studied to proceed from one Science to another, till he arrived to perfection.  
This Prayer of Affection, is a familiar and passionate treaty betwixt Christ and the Soul, wherein very little or no discourse is used; or a sincere communication with God, as present and resident within us; in which the soul quitteth all reasonings and disputes, and by a simple direct contemplation, and thinking upon God, is carried on to him, and inflamed with the desires of praising, blessing, adorning and glorifying him, with several elevated acts of grace, oblation, petition, and above all, of Love, the Queen of other Virtues, most acceptable to, and most glorious in the sight of God, most advantageous to ourselves, enabling us with power, to surmount all difficulties, to practise all good works, and uniting us more intimately to God.  
This, I say, the Soul performs without discourse, in regard that the understanding being sufficiently furnished with light from her former meditations, hath no need to study new arguments or motives to produce love, and other necessary affections, but may serve herself of the former store.  
The way to practise this, is first of all, to retire into the secret cabinet of our heart, applying ourselves to God, who resideth there, not by reason and discourse, but by faith, steadfastly believing his Divine presence, with all his perfections: And in order to this firm assurance, to present ourselves before him, with profound reverence and adoration, abasing ourselves, out of respect to his infinite greatness, and the sense of our own vileness, in the light of those words of David, Domine, quis similis tibi? Quid est homo quod memor es ejus; Lord, who is like unto thee? What is man that thou art mindful of him? or that he should dare to appear before thee?  
Keep yourself before him with these affections of Reverence and Humility, and remain there for some considerable time, the better to imprint them upon your soul; for such time will be very well spent, and continu● it yet longer, if you find your heart dilated and melted with these affections.  
After this, shutting out all ruminating, and reflection upon the subject you desire to be employed upon (as for example, suppose it be this, that God is all in all, and yourself are less than nothing, that he is your Sovereign Lord, and ultimate end, that he hath a particular care of every thing that concerns you, that our Saviour died for you, and the like) employ yourself hereon by faith, in a most simple naked manner, reiterating acts of a lively faith, of such a truth, which the Church hath taught you; and after this, an act of Hope, or of Praise, or Thanksgiving, or Contrition for your sins, or of any other passion the soul shall be more disposed to; but especially of love, taking care that these affections have an influence upon your will and manners, to produce in them a happy alteration.  
These are the directions we are to observe in this second degree of Prayer, which therefore is called Prayer of God's presence, and of F●ith, and of Affection.  
Wherein also two things are carefully to be marked: First, that it is not requisite in this prayer, to exercise at the same time several passions; but rather one, as Hope, Love, or any other, well-grounded and prosecuted is sufficient: And the rea on is plain, because so long as God gives to the soul, the grace to produce acts of any one virtue, in such a manner, as that she finds herself disposed and pressed thereto, and to exercise the same with ease, this is an evident token, that it is his will that she should serve and honour him, should sanctify and perfect herself by the same; and that she ought to continue therein, so long as she finds that succour graciously assisting her. Moreover, on the souls part, it would argue want of discretion, to quit so good and profitable an exercise, so powerfully supported in it, and it made so easy to her, by that Divine assistance; and fall upon another, that is likely to prove difficult, for want of the same assistance: Whence we may conclude, that we ought not to change our exercise of Piety, so long as God supplies us with sufficient grace to attend it.  
The second is, that we should reiterate many actof the same virtue; as of Faith, Hope, Love, or (which is better) continue and hold on the same act; thus, to acquire a rooting and establishment of these virtues, which is not gotten but by vigorous and effectual reiteration of their acts; as, a nail is not driven up to the head, with one blow, but must be strucken hard and often. And so it is with virtues, whose force and sound profit, consists in their having a well-rooted and grounded possession of the soul; whereas, they are worth little or nothing, till they are habituated therein; even as the tree brings forth neither leaves nor fruits, until it hath taken deep rooting.  
The same thing is to be done for any moral conclusions, which are drawn from these acts (that is) to double and redouble them, till they be fixed and made effectual; as for example, after some repeated acts of Faith, that God is your first Principle, and that of yourself you are nothing, and that all your hope is in him, and our Saviour; say with yourself, once, twice, and twenty times over, with affection, and a quiet, but vigorous application; if I believe this great truth of God and myself, why do I attribute any thing to myself? why do I not humble and abase myself under him? why do I not love him, upon whom all my good depends? why do I not look upon myself, and all creatures in the world, as nothing? If I hope in God, and my Saviour, why then do I fear any thing else? is not here ground enough to live with confidence and joy? what is he that can molest or trouble me? Live then, O my soul, in tranquillity and repose, as this same hope doth oblige thee. These acts thus redoubled, and repeated with constancy and vigour, will without doubt produce great effects in the soul; which is the fruit that this Prayer of Affection should bring forth.  
Herein did Monsieur Renty exercise himself for many years, reaping thereby an inestimable treasure of spiritual riches.  
This Prayer (saith he in one of his Papers) is not by discourse and reasoning, but by a loyal love, tending always to give more, than to receive. The obscurity of Faith is of greater evidence to the soul, than all the illuminations she can procure●; which faith she ought to use with Reverence and Thanksgiving, not with Complacency or Affectation: Here needs no stretch of the Spirit, this Prayer never offends the brain; this is a state of modest deportment, in which the soul keeps herself in the presence of God; expecting what his spirit shall please to infuse into us, which we receive in simplicity, and in confidence, as if himself spoke to us.  
The ordinary dispositions with which he entered into this Prayer; were first, A profound Reverence, and an abasing of himself in God's presence, whose infinite Majeste held him in a deep sense of his own meanness, saying, that we ought to consider ourselves before it, as little, and less than the smallest Atoms. Secondly, A strong and absolute Confidence in his Infinite Goodness and Mercy, which bearing up his Humility, and the sense he had of his own vileness, made him still hope all things.  
He exhorted all of his acquaintance, that were capable of it, to use this kind of Prayer, as the most excellent, profitable, and easy of all others; since it puts not a man to the labour to consider, nor penetrate into, or discourse of any subject; but is easy for all sorts, but chief for the unlearned, who herein have need of no more, but a simple belief, applying themselves thereto with Affection.  
He counselled men to give themselves more to the operations of the will, than the speculations of the understanding; and that place of S, Paul to Titus, where he exhorts us to live in sobriety, he expounded of the sobriety of the senses, and chief of that of the Spirit, to cut off in our prayers multiplicity of notions and discourse, and to proceed therein by Faith.  
In effect, the mystery of faith is incomparably transcendent above all the Science and Discourse of the most acquaint and sublime wits; for as every thing is but visible by his own light, a Torch by his, and the Sun by the Sun; things of glory by the light of glory, so those of grace by the light of grace; whereof the most perfect, without doubt, is that of Faith. Reason is bestowed upon us for the discovery of natural things, and Faith for Supernatural and Divine: With men we discourse by Reason, and with God by Faith; and since God is at an infinite distance above man, and Grace above Nature, we may well conclude, that Humane discourse of the finest th●ed, is too heavy for that high pitch, which can soar no further than natural Reason can conduct it.  
Moreover, whatsoever notions we have in this world of God, and things spiritual, they are in some degree deceitful and false, not representing things as they are really; since our spirit conceives nothing here below, but what hath passed thorough the senses, where spiritual things are refracted, and receive much earth, and come to us distorted and disguised: But it is Faith alone that represents them in their real entities.  
There are but two indubitable lights, on which we may rely, and which surpass all others in excellency, which sanctify and deify our understanding, elevating it to its first principle, and original of all verity; which is the Divine Intellect; that is to say, the light of Faith here, and the light of glory hereafter: These two being participations of that knowledge which God himself hath, which demonstrates the dignity and perfection of Affective Prayer, which quitting Discourse, proceeds by Faith.  
Neither did he make long stay upon the former way of Prayer, but passed on further, ascending to that of Union and Contemplation; which was bestowed upon him in a very high degree. Holy men speaking of this Contemplation, the sublimest degree of Prayer here upon earth, make thereof two sorts, Acquisite and Infused: The latter is, that which God alone produceth in the soul, to which she contributes nothing, but a simple consent, to receive his operation; which is also called Contemplation Passive. The former is, that which man, assisted by God's grace, may acquire by his own labour, and exercise by his own industry, and is therefore called Active.  
The Infused, hath so absolute a dependence upon God, that it's given when, and to whom he pleaseth; who also takes it away, which we cannot hinder, no more than all the men in the world, with all their strength, put together, can stay the Sun from rising and setting. But all are in some measure capable of the other; and it is a single contemplation of God, or any other subject, without discourse, sweetly moving the will with holy affections, and particularly with that of Love: It is a quiet, pleasant operation of the soul, setting her in full view of her object; a silent prospect of Faith, accompanied with Reverence, Esteem, Gratitude, Confidence, and chief with Love,  
When you visit a sick friend, beholding him in bed, suffering extremely, tossing and turning, tormented, and groaning; and this fight of such a loving friend, toucheth you deeply with the sense of compassion, with an earnest desire to comfort him, and a sympathising in his suffering, this is Contemplation; for you behold all this without reasoning, with one direct view, which affects you, and makes these impressions upon you. So when you behold our Saviour praying in the Garden, with his face to the earth, all over in a bloody sweat; or bound at the Pillar, covered with stripes; or nailed on the Cross, dying betwixt the extremities of pain and infamy; and this serious, but simple attention, without any formal discourse, affects you with compassion and admiration, with compunction for your sins, with hope and love: This is Contemplation. Again, when Mary Magdalene sits at our Saviour's feet, listening to his blessed words, with the ear of faith; or looking up to him upon the Cross, and believes this to be the Son of God, her Redeemer, who pardoned her sins, obliged her with so many favours, testified so great good will to her, and now suffereth so much for her; and when from this spring there flows from her a torrent of tears, out of the bowels of Love, Gratitude, and Contrition: This is Contemplation.  
The use then of this Contemplation, Active and Acquisite, consists, in entering into the bortom of our souls, and there in the presence of God quitting all sense and discourse, applying ourselves by faith, and affections of the will, to some one of the Divine perfections, or some mystery of our Saviour, viewing it with attention, and the eyes of Faith, of Reverence, Affiance, and Love, without reasoning, and also without multiplying a quantity of different affections at one time, fixing ourselves upon this attentive and affectionate regard, which also ought to be so naked, and abstracted from all solicitude and reflection upon any things else, as wholly to forget them, as much as is possible; to be taken up wholly, and busied in listening to our Saviour, with Mary Magdalene, who sitting at his feet, spoke not one word, and though blamed by her sister, answered nothing, thinking only upon hearing and attending on our Saviour.  
The soul in Contemplation must be silent to all creatures, and speak only with God. The soul useth to speak to the creatures four ways; by her Understanding, in thinking of them; by her Will, in affecting them; by her Imagination, in forming images of them; by her Passions, in desiring them: and all this she doth without language, or the help of her Exterior senses.  
So that the words she utters, are thoughts which she placeth upon them, and affections which she conceiveth, and Idaea's which she formeth, and desires which she produceth towards them.  
On the contrary, the soul is silent, and speaks not a word, when she ceaseth to apply herself to them by these faculties; and when she is not busied about them by those operations, but ceaseth from all acts that relate to them; insomuch, that having no commerce with them, she remains in such a state, as if there were nothing else in the world but God and she, to whom alone she speaketh in this mystical silence, of which S. John is understood, when he speaks of a silence in heaven, that is, in the soul, when she converseth with God by her understanding, and by her will, producing acts of Faith, Hope, Love, Adoration, Blessing, Glorifying, Thanksgiving, Union, and the like.  
And she is yet further silent, from time to time, neither speaking at all to him no not after this noble way, and with this Divine language, but is listening and attending to his speeches, which sometime may be articulate, but these intelligibly only to herself; but more frequently are illuminations, by which he enlighteneth her understanding; and certain impressions and motions, with which he teacheth her will, saying with David, andiam quid loquatur in me Dominus Deus, will hearken what the Lord saith within me; and praying with Samuel, Loquere Domine, quia audit servus tuus; Speak Lord, for thy servaut heareth.  
Our Saviour teaching his Disciples to pray, told them, and us in their persons, Orantes, nolite, multum loqui; when you pray, use not many words; which he meant not only of the words of the mouth, but likewise of understanding, and other faculties; Speak not much, but harken diligently: He likewise calls himself Verbum, the Word, because he must be listened unto, and that deservedly; wherefore he saith to the soul, Audi Filia; Harken, O my Daughter.  
And Father Avila, who hath writ an excellent Treatise upon those words, gives this for a weighty advice, that we should go to prayer, to hear rather than to speak; who also told Lewis of Granada, that writ his Life, how that when he went to his holy Exercise, he used to bind and tie up his understanding, like a fool, to the end that it might not talk much. We have certain souls, which in their prayers, talk all, as conceiving, that the mystery consists in talking much to God, and employing still their faculties in working, without considering, that what God shall speak to them, will be far better and more profitable than what they can speak to him; even, as in our converse with other men, we use not to talk continually, but after a few words, harken to what they speak: So in our prayers to our Saviour, let us after our speaking to him, attend with silence to what he shall say to us. This is the course of active Contemplation, and prayer of Union; where we must mark its difference from prayer of Discourse, and prayer of Affection; in that these two faculties of the soul, the Understanding and Will acting all these three sorts of prayer: The Understanding acts more than the Will in prayer of Discourse; the Will more in prayer of Affection (where is to be noted, that those who begin this prayer, are not in the entrance thereof, ordinarily, without son discourse; but yet such as go on, diminishing 〈◊〉 little and little, till at last it quite ceaseth; and no● also, that in the beginning, they have great variety 〈◊〉 affectionate acts, but toward the end but few.) In th● prayer of Contemplation or Union, the Will hath th● mastery over the Understanding; but with more sim plicity than in the prayer of Affection: Besides, i● this God acts more, and man less; therefore the operation here is more spiritual, more pure, and divine therefore he ought to attend in peace and affiance the action of God, without disturbing it.  
Whereupon Monsieur Renty used to say,  
That it was the great imperfection of many souls, not to attend sufficiently to God; the natural faculties being too busy, and not subjecting themselves to him, upon specious pretences, thinking to do wonders; whereby indeed they hinder him from working in the soul, whilst he finds it in a state of agitation and inquietude; whereas it should be in tranquillity and silence, to receive his operations.  
But some may say to me, that he conceives this cutting off Discourse, and this using of a naked Faith, and so great simplicity of operation, can do little, but rather loseth time. To whom I reply, that it is quite the contrary, and time very well spent; for whilst we quit the operations of sense and discourse, we dismiss that which keep us at a distance from God, who is infinitely above all discourse, and much more above sense; but going on by faith, and the affections of the will, we approach near to him.  
Monsieur Renty cleareth this doubt in one of his papers, saying;  
Some will say, often there occurs nothing to me in such prayers, and I fear to spend my time in idleness: But know, that you lose no time at all, when by losing yourself, you are sound in a state of Reverence and Affiance in the presence of God, to make your course towards him; nor can he dislike such a behaviour. Another will say, but I have had many distractions, and find myself afflicted with great aridities, and many other inconveniences. I answer, persevere still, notwithstanding all these difficulties, in your view, of Faith and Reverence, and in your Affections, as much as you can, and keep yourself shut up in the cabinet of your heart: Suffer the noise of all these tempests without, without heeding them; after the example of Noah, who in the midst of his Ark, was quiet, as his very name imports, whilst winds and waves beat upon him on every side. Those things are but necessary, and serve to purge and dispose the soul for the operation of God upon it; even as green wood puffs and sweats out its humidity, before it can burn: So, let these distractions, and all sorts of imaginations assault us, as it pleaseth God, but let them not trouble or hinder us from this holy exercise, only let us, diverting our mind from these miseries, when we perceive any, continue peaceably, and without noise, this our Sacrifice, with assurance that we shall not wait long before our Lord come unto us.  
And himself, when finding himself in such sterile condition, would cry to God out aloud, when he was alone, I am yours, O my God, in despite of all these distractions and aridities: I am yours, and will continue so without reserve; you have created me, and I will love you for ever.  
Sometime he would write with his finger upon the ground, and sometime upom his breast; saying,  
I am content with every thing that proceeds from the will of God, and with what he appoints for me: I ask nothing else, I will never trouble myself to procure consolation, or to be freed from aridities, my resolution is to bless God at all times.  
To this purpose he writ to his Director:  
I am now and then an hour or two at prayer, and nothing occurs to me: Sometime I am troubled with distractions, aridities, and lassitude; but however it comes to pass, I never end, but with a desire to begin again; and often this lassitude of body is relieved, and vanisheth by an inward strength, which is given me, and which disposeth me to continue my Devotion out of the time and place of prayer, even in the midst of converse and business; and I tell you sincerely, that notwithstanding I perform every thing so ill, yet I find little difference of times for prayer, being recollected continually.  
To another intimate friend he writ thus:  
I was the other day three or four hours in the Church with great aridities, nothing occurring whereon to fix myself: Behind me I overheard a good servant of God saying his prayers, with the Gloria Patri: I presently offered up to God that which I heard him say; whereupon of a sudden, it was discovered to me, that when the soul is alone in the desert, where she hath no creature to rest upon, God casteth down from heaven his line of love, to draw her up towards him; and something to that effect I felt in myself; and though nothing did occur to me, yet when I end prayer, I could willingly begin it afresh.  
And thus much for active and acquisite Contemplation.  
As for the passive and infused, as it depends absolutely on God, so hath it no other rule but his will and good pleasure, to communicate himself to a soul, illuminating the uderstanding with transcendent light, and replenishing the will with strong affections, especially that of love: Even as Moses, that perfect pattern of all Contemplation, to make himself fit to ascend Mount Sinai, there to converse with God, quitted his herds, and flocks, his people both great and small, his brother Aaron, and even Joshua his servant, who was continually with him, and then went up alone to the point of the hill, where he entered into the dark cloud, in which God was, as the Scripture saith, and abode there forty days in Contemplation, and intimate converse with his Sacred Majesty; So must we, quit sense, reasonings, all sensible and intellectual things, to be admitted into true Contemplation, which is transacted within the clouds of faith (where certainly God is) and by faith in our illuminations and affections. And here is to be noted, that all these sublime contemplations and favours, must terminate in a ready disposition of the soul, to the will of God, to render it carefully observant of his commandments; even as all those of Moses were, for the receiving of the Tables of the Law, and the putting them into his hands; which yet were afterwards broken, to teach us by a figure, that the soul, notwithstanding all those dispositions and helps to sanctity, is subject to failings, so feeble and near to precipice are we, with all these illuminations, unless God sustain us.  
The Spouse in the Canticles, inviteth souls in these amorous words, Comedite amici, & bibite, & inebriamini charissimi; Eat and drink, my friends, and be inebriated, you that are dearest to me: Where by eating, which breaketh and cheweth the food, is meant meditation; by drinking, which swalloweth liquid things, prayer of affection; and by drunkenness, active contemplation, or rather passive; which produceth the same effect in the soul, as drunkenness in the body, viz. loss of reason, oblivion of all things, and mirth.  
Monsieur Renty was drawn, up thither by God, and elevated with Moses, to the top of the Mountain of infused contemplation. Thus he writ to his Director in the year, 1645.  
I have not had this long time any use, neither at prayer, nor almost at other times, of the understanding, nor of memory; I neither see, nor feel any thing, have neither gust nor disgust of any thing, only find my will lively, and ready for every thing, that shall be showed it by God, and for God.  
In another Letter to him thus:  
I find for some time, that my prayer is no more regular: I possess the Sacred Trinity with a plenitude, of verity, and clearness, and this with such an attraction so pure and so vigorous in the superior part of my soul, that my outward employment create me no diversion at all.  
And another time he writ thus:  
Jesus Christ worketh the experience of his Kingdom in my heart, and I find him there my Lord and Master, and myself wholly his: I discover now a greater enlarging of my heart, but so simple, that I am not able to express it; save only thus, that it is a simple, but most real sight of the Trinity accompanied with praising, blessing, and offering up all homage thereto: All which is done so silently, that it causeth no noise below, neither can it be discerned in the higher part of my soul by parcels, so as to be expressed, except it be by reflection: Whether I utter myself well to you, or no, I know not.  
This blessed man, thus united by contemplation to God, the supreme verity, received abondant light, both for himself and others, upon all subjects; but especially those he had for the understanding of the holy Scriptures, and especially the New Testament, and therein the mysteries of our Saviour were admirable.  
Thus in a Letter to his Director:  
Upon one word I shall read in the New Testament, I shall sometimes discover notions of those truths, in so full and piercing a manner, that I ever feel my body replenished therewith, that is, my whole nature penetrated.  
And to one of his friends thus:  
When I read the Sacred Scripture, I fortify myself to enter into those effects they work, which is a plenitude of the truth of God, wherewith the soul is solidly and experimentally satisfied.  
And he made notes upon all the Lent-Gospels, full of piety, and those great illuminations, with which his spirit was replenished.  
This is a short account of the Prayer of this great servant of God, so far as we could discover it; for the chief part thereof, is that which passed within the Sanctuary of his own Soul, where his union and converse with God was so wonderful, that after he had spent seven or eight hours therein, he found himself in the end, as if he had only then begun it, except only that he had then yet more desire to continue it; and at length arrived to that height, that he never ended it at all, being wholly and constantly in recollection and application to God: Whereupon he professed to an intimate friend, that he need neither particular place, nor time for prayer, since in all places, times and business, he continued it.   

CHAP. 9 The state of his Mystical Death and Annilation.  
WE are now come to the highest degree of Virtue, and the ultimate disposition of soul, to render her capable of a most intimate union with God, wherein her perfection consists: She must die first, before she can live this new life, and must be annihilated, to become truly something.  
This death and annihilation stands not, in the destruction of man's naturals, to deprive him of understanding, memory, will, and affections, much less of his senses; but in the ruin of the old man, which is wholly corrupt, and infected with sin; in such sort, that the understanding and other faculties spiritual and corporal be cleansed, and animated by the Spirit of Christ Jesus, to work no more according to nature corrupted, nor yet nature pure, but nature elevated by grace, and sanctified by Jesus Christ.  
Now as the corruption and malignity of the old man, holds an entire possession of our nature, and the poison of sin is spread all over body and soul, so that from the crown of the head, to the soul of the foot (as saith the Prophet) there is no sound part in us: So all these parts must be healed, this corruption purged out, and the malignity perfectly mortified and destroyed. When I say perfectly, I mean, so much as this can be done here on earth; for it is only in heaven, in the estate of glory, where this happiness is completely perfected; but in this world, there will still remain something to be purged. This holy man, writing to one concerning this state of death and annihilation, tells him, how that singing in the Church, with others, the Magnificat, he was illuminated upon these words, Deposuit potentes de sede, etc. He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble; which represented to him a soul full of itself, complete in the power and riches of its parts and natural endowments, in its life of Exterior and Interior sense, undertaking to see and understand every thing, full of itself, and quite empty of God.  
Then he adds:  
Now our Saviour gave me to understand in this verse, that he divesteth this soul of her own proper arrogant spirit, rich in nothing but iniquity, that he humbles, and empties, and annihilates her, and so exalteth the lowly, advancing her at length to a wonderful condition, where I saw her reduced to an happy and rich annihilation, emptied of herself, and despoiled of what she possessed, of sense and man; divested not only of the old man, but of the gifts of God that are in her, to be presented before him in nakedness, and simple obedience. I understood, that in this estate, the soul being affected with great humility and affiance; likewise, God did in her, that which he pleased, and that she was throughly enlightened, and that she discovered afar off the least things, as we usually do a little bush in the midst of a mown field.  
He writ this following Letter to his Director upon the same subject.  
Since the time that I gave up my liberty to God, signed with my blood, as I told you: I was given to understand, to what a state of annihilation the soul must be brought, to render it capable of union with him: I saw my soul reduced into a small point, contracted and shrunk up to nothing: And at the same time, I beheld myself, as if encompassed with whatsoever the world loves and possesseth, and, as it were, a hand removing all this far from me, throwing it into the ocean of Annihilation. In the first place, I saw removed all Exterior things, Kingdoms, great Offices, stately Buildings, rich Householdstuff, Gold and Silver, Recreations, Pleasures; all which are great encumbrances to the souls passing on to God, of which therefore his pleasure is, that she be stripped, that she may arrive at the point of nakedness and death, which will bring her into possession of solid riches, and real life. Secondly, all Interior things, which are more delicate and precious; as, Acquired Sciences, skill and sublime Learning, operations of the Memory and strength of Understanding, humane Reason, experience of Sense; of which the soul must likewise be purged, and die to it● own proper actions. And I perceived, that we must come like little Infants, simple and innocent, separated, not only from evil, but even from our ordinary way and manner of doing that which is good, undertaking what the Divine Providence presents to us, by making our way by God to them, and not by them to God; which is a course more naked, unengaged, and abstracted; which sees nothing but God: And not so much, if I may so say, as the things she doth, of which nothing stays in her, neither choice, nor joy, nor sorrow for their greatness, or for their littleness, for good or bad success, but only the good pleasure and order of God, which ruleth in all things, and which in all things sufficiently contenteth the soul, which adheres to him, and not to the vicissitude of affairs, whereupon she is constantly even, equal, and always the same in the midst of all changes.  
In another he writ thus to the same purpose:  
An absolute abnegation, will be necessary to all things, to follow in simplicity, without reserve, or reflection, what our Saviour shall work in us, or appoint for us; let it be this or that: This way was showed me, in which I ought to walk towards him; and hence it is that all things to me, ordinarily, are without any gust or delight.  
Moreover, in another thus;  
I apprehend great matters concerning the verity and simplicity of the annihilation I ought to have; and I had, for the twinkling of an eye, the sight how simple this should be, that the soul itself cannot take notice of it: This is the state of Death and Annihilation, without regard to any thing, save our being wholly to God, by Sequestration, Faith, and Affiance.  
Lastly, to another:  
Assure yourself, there is no security in any estate, but this, of Dying and Annihilation; which is, to be baptised into Christ's death, that we may live the life of Mortification; not that other ways may not be good, but not secure; especially any thing we do of ourselves: Our best way is therefore, to divest ourselves of all, that the Holy Infant Jesus govern all.  
He used the word All, because this death must be universal, thorough every part of old Adam; even as a dead body is not only dead in an eye, or ear, or hand, but in every sense and member; so much we die to riches, and poverty, to pleasure and pain, honour and dishonour, praise and dispraise being affected with none of these, because we are dead to all: Moreover, the spirit must be dead, not only to one faculty, as the Understanding or Will, but to all, and to every thing; only the difference is this, that the body being once deprived of her life, cannot naturally recover it again; but the Spirit will easily live again, and the malignity of the old Adam return upon us, if great heed be not taken; because we are not able by this death, to reach the very centre of nature.  
Just as in your Garden, you may either suffer a noisome weed to grow, if you meddle not with it, but give it liberty to spread its leaves, and increase, or if you would not have it appear, you may cut it, or pluck it up by the roots; but after all is done, you cannot prevent that the earth should not produce the like, if it be thereto disposed naturally: Even so it is in your power to permit unruly affections to live in your soul, producing therein disorders, and exercising their tyranny; or you may mortify them so, that they get not head, although the root remains; or further, may root them up, as heroic spirits do, changing their nature, and turning the course thereof, introducing contrary inclinations, from evil to good, from vice to virtue; yet although these generous spirits arrive to this height, yet will their nature continue still rotten at bottom, ready to bear the same cursed weeds, without our daily vigilancy.  

SECT. 1. Of the same subject.  
TO decipher particularly the mystical death of this renowned person; we may aver, That in the first place, he was dead to riches, and all the wealth of this world; in which he so absolutely divested himself, both of any affection to them in his heart, and of the real possession of them, that he quitted, as we have formerly mentioned, all property to them, using them no otherwise, than in the quality of a very poor man, with an ardent desire that he might also be deprived of the very use of them.  
I acknowledge before God (saith he, in a Letter to his Director) his great mercy to me, through his Son, in freeing me from the things of this world: and my constant thoughts are, that if his order did not oblige me otherwise in that condition he hath set me, to give away and quit all I have: This is my earnest desire, after which I long exceedingly; not out of presumption of my own strength, but in the power of Jesus Christ, in imitation of his life.  
And to another person he writ:  
All that can be imagined in this lower world, is of small concernment, though it were the losing of all our goods, and the death of all the men in it: This poor Antchill, is not worthy of a serious thought, had we but a little faith, and a little love, how happy should we esteem ourselves, in giving away all, to attend no more save on God alone; and to say, Deus meus & omnia; My God and my all.  
In his suit of Law at Dijon, he acted with so little show of interest, and so like a mortified man to gain or loss, that he could not be persuaded not only to solicit the Judges, but not so much as to commend his case to them himself; not out of any faulty supine indifferency, or neglecting what he thought absolutely necessary; but because by an heroic virtue, he had lost the sense of all these earthly things, entirely committing the success thereof to God; and knowing, that these things succeed better by our prayers to, and affiance in him, than with our addresses to men, through the multitude of solicit, many times fruitless.  
Secondly, he was dead and crucified to all recreations and pleasures of this life; having renounced them at the beginning of his Conversion, remaining constantly in the condition of a sacrifice of body and soul no God, which was his great exercise, and his usual phrase; making no further use of his senses, and their objects, than what was of absolute necessity, following herein the pattern of our Saviour: He was so wholly taken up with God (as we have said before) in his soul, that when he had very grievous pains in his body, and was very sick, he scarce thought upon them, but accounted it a trouble to speak or complain thereof, as appeared notably in his last sickness.  
Thirdly, he was annihilated and dead to honour, his great birth and nobility, wherefrom he solemnly degraded himself in the arms of our Saviour, to render himself the more humble.  
He was dead also to all esteem and praise of men, and to disgrace likewise; of which he gave a notable testimony to a familiar friend, who told him how much she was troubled, to see him so much honoured and esteemed by men: Who answered her:  
First, That she had great reason for it, in that he so little deserved it. And secondly, upon her demand, how those commendations assected him: He replied, I neither attend, nor return any answer to them; they affect me no more than a stock, through the grace of God, I am insensible of praise and dispraise; the one, nor the other make not any impression upon my spirit, but I entertain them without reflection.  
And he had good reason, since'as all the prayers men bestow upon us, make us not one jot the better, so neither their opprobries the worse: Besides that, ordinarily in the distribution of these, the greatest piece of injustice in the world is committed, by commending such as least deserve it, but rather shame and confusion; and blaming such, whom God highly esteemeth.  
In the fourth place, he was dead and crucified to all supernatural good things, all spiritual delights and favours (which without comparison are of greatest value, above all that we have named) even to all gifts, virtues, perfections, which he desired and sought after with a most disengaged and selfdenying spirit, not lusting after this or that virtue, this or that degree of perfection, but willing and desiring all, according to Gods will; about which he expressed himself further thus:  
The love of ourselves is so afraid to be stripped out of any thing, that it suffers us not to be carried forth to our true rest, as long as it can subsist and uphold itself by its own right and property; which should teach us, to use all diligence for the annihilation of our own desires, even of those that seem to us to tend only to virtue: I say, that seem to us, whereas indeed if God gave us a true light, we should undoubtedly see, that the course which tends to our divesting of all these things, carries us on secretly, but most really, to the true possession of them, and our own preservation; and that we must daily descend to our own nothingness, in which alone God is to be found. Thrice happy are all such poor in spirit.  
He was also dead and annihilated to all gusts of Devotion, all sensible Graces and Consolations, of which our lovesick souls are so greedy: Upon which subject he expressed himself thus:  
I am better satisfied with those graces in which sense hath no part; than with those that have more of the sensible; of which indeed, I am somewhat jealous; for we find amongst spiritual persons, great store of counterfeit riches of the Spirit; those, I mean, who are all for gusts, and sensible consolations and illuminations, in this state of exile; wherein we ought to live rather by faith, than feeling, and which is much to be lamented; We meet very few that are not infected with this ●●ch, it being the natural condition of man, to desire to see, and to that end to affect and search for enlightenings, and wanting the experimental knowledge of that which comes from God, which is not to be gotten but by quitting his own, he looks after that which he finds in himself, mistaking it for Divine, because it is modelized to his own gust and fancy.  
And in another Letter thus:  
As for obscurities, aridities, and other troubles of spirit, they are to be born with upon any terms; and we must give up ourselves as forlorn creatures, throwing ourselves into God, on all sides of us, as a fish in the Ocean, which is its proper element; into God, at all times and for all things: If we be true members of our Saviour Christ Jesus, we shall see nothing but submissions and abnegations, and shall sense nothing else but these.  
He was dead and annihilated also to all glorious and extraordinary favours & enjoyments; of which he had no other feeling, than the Sun, which being covered over with light, and crowned with glory, yet is no way sensible thereof; insomuch, that having received by the mouth of a great Saint, promises of some great favours from God, he returned this answer to his Director:  
Those things whereof they have given me notice and assurance, must be as they may, I rest nothing upon them, nor confide in them, knnowing it to be my duty to live by faith.  
Being certified at another time, of a special favour received from our Saviour, it had no other operation upon him, but the impression of a great confusion, and profound humility; And as they gave him all these things in writing at large, he parted with them all to his Director, together with all his other secrets, and most important papers of Devotion; especially those written with his own blood, formerly mentioned; an evident demonstration of his great humility, by reason that most men are taken with those parcels of piety, grounding this their affection to them, upon some benefit receiveable by them: But the reliance which is placed upon God, must be disengaged from every thing else. This he made appear by this Letter to his Director:  
I have received the paper, which mentions this grace and favour, whereof I send you the copy, having no other reflection thereupon, but to meet it with the greatest latitude of heart I can possible, to bless God, acknowledge his goodness, and serve him for it. I have burnt the original, with several other papers of the like nature. If you judge it not convenient that I should do so, let me receive your commands accordingly for the future. I could wish (if there be any thing left for me to wish) that I had nothing left me but my God: This is the sure replenishment of the soul, and rich treasure of the heart.  
Moreover, he was wholly dead to all that God wrought by him, taking no share thereof, nor interesting himself any more with them after they were done, than if they had been performed by another.  
Fifthly, he was crucified and dead to all affections, not only such as are irregular, but those also which are purely natural of all creatures; and in particular, of those who used his counsel, and depended upon him for the conduct of their souls; wherein the obligations and relations on both parts, use to be more than ordinary; insomuch, that upon a separation, there falls out the jection of spirit, and distractions of Devotion. To this purpose he writ to one of those persons, thus:  
I cannot, without much trouble, bear the great matter you make of my converse, and of my removes: Let us breath after God, and make good our alliance with Jesus Christ to learn in, and from him, a profound abnegation of ourselves.  
And in another Letter thus:  
Jesus Christ is ever the same, and his grace is continually advancing, and as long as I am to him, so long shall I be to you, for him, and in him; he is not wont to part souls, by the separation of bodies; since his custom is, to separate only what is imperfect, as being that which very often brings with it some hindrances to the perfect life of the spirit, which is never so complete, as when it is alone.  
Giving notice to a friend, of the death of the Countess of Castres', for whose spiritual good and perfection, he had taken very much pains: He writeth thus:  
I was not in Paris, but at Citry, when she departed, I was sent for post the day of her death, which was Saturday, but came two hours too late. Entering the Town, I understood the news from them, that spoke openly of it in the streets: Presently I fixed myself to the will of God, whereupon I found no more alteration in my soul, than if she had been alive: I see his order in this, that I assisted her not at her death, and make no doubt, but that he permitted it for her advantage.  
To a friend that had lost his Spiritual Director, he writ thus:  
Touching the remove of your Ghostly Father, it would, without question, prove a great loss to you, and all the Country from whence he went, if the providence of God herein did not rather sanctify and establish, than destroy; and if oftentimes by removing these petty visible and sensible supports, he did not make way to settle us more firmly in our progress to which he designs us; which is, to dwell and to hold ourselves in God together with Christ Jesus; where we find all truth, and all power, and who is so near to us, that he is even in the midst of ●; and proportionably, as our dependence upon creatures faileth, through his providence, he makes it appear, a●d we experimentally find, that we are not left destitute thereby, but that supply is made, either by his Spirit, that resideth continually in us, for our relief; or by the conduct of his Ministers, which the fewer they are, the more is that grace dilated and multiplied, which we receive by them. So great is the providence of our Heavenly Father, as to take care of the meanest necessities of all his children, who to him behave themselves as children. Neither indeed ought we to be further engaged to those persons who assist us in our Spiritual conduct, than as to God's instruments, whose help, it is his will we should make use of, but no longer than he pleaseth; and when his will is, either by death, or otherwise, to take them from us, we ought not to be afflicted, nor lose our courage; but, with submission and gratitude, resign all to him, which will be a good means to move him to provide others, who perhaps with more advantage to us, may understand the pulse of our souls.  
In fine, he was dead to all love of himself; which he had so perfectly subdued, that being naturally quick and hasty (as we have formerly hinted) he became so stayed and equal in all his demeanour, as caused admiration in those that knew him; being naturally of a high spirit, he had acquired a most profound humility of heart, whereof he produced most evident actions exteriorly, at all times, and in all places: And though his genius inclined him to wit and scoffing, yet he so corrected it, that none was more respectful and courteous to all, even the meanest: As for his passions, those were so perfectly subdued and regulated, that they never broke lose upon any occasion; so that you might say, he had none at all.  
He had arrived to a perfect death in the superior faculties of his soul; his memory so emptied of all worldly things, that it never presented any Ideas sufficient to distract his Devotions: He made not any imperfection upon what was passed; as we have observed, and our Saviour had endowed him with this singular grace, not to be busied in his thoughts about those actions, in which he was conversant; which after they were done, were obliterated wholly, as to any care for them, and quite blotted out of his memory, that they might be no hindrance to what was in hand.  
This Letter was writ to a familiar friend, relating hereunto.  
It is some while ago, that finding myself in the midst of a world of people, my spirit was enlightened and affected, neither to desire to know any body, nor to be known to any: This hath wrought in me a wonderful separation from every thing; and methinks, herein consiste●h one of the chiefest points of a Spiritual Life, which requires great purity of spirit, wonderful estrangement and distance from the creature, and which placeth the soul in this world (as if it were no part of it) in a state of perfect oblivion and ignorance of things which do not concern her, that is no longer able to endure, but only what is necessary.  
He was dead to his spirit, reason, and judgement, living only the life of Faith, which is a Christians proper death. It may be gathered from what hath been mentioned already, that he acted nothing by this faculty of its self, no more than if he had had no such power, but wrought all by the moving of Christ Jesus, who lived in him, and operated by him.  
Lastly, he was annihilated and dead to his own will; which we have placed after all, as being the most important faculty in relation to Moral actions: This therefore he had entirely resigned, in conformity to Gods will, not desiring absolutely any thing, but in order thereto.  
I adore (saith he, in one of his Letters) so affectionately the will of God, in whatsoever he pleaseth to make out for me, that Hell itself should be my Paradise, if he decreed me thither.  
And in another, thus:  
Far be it from me, to act in this business by my own spirit, I would have it wholly annihilated, that it might know no other language but Nothing, and continually Nothing, to follow in all the footsteps of the Divine will, according to its measure and manner.  
And to a third, thus:  
My Saviour hath graciously brought me into such a state of indifferency for every thing, that I could be very well cortent all my life, to be fixed to my bed a Paralytique, not able to stir, without making any reflection upon any service I might render to my neighbour, or that I could render him no more; all things, according to the will of God, being equal to me.  
And in a fourth, thus:  
Of late I have been busied in such occasions, both Exteriorly and Interiorly, as were sufficient to have gravelled such a weak, mean spirit as mine, had it not been absolutely resigned to the will of God. It is upon him alone, by this way of Abnegation, that I bottom myself, adoring with you, and by your instruction, the decrees of his Sacred and Divine Will, who holdeth all things in his own hands to keep us subyect unto him by his justice, and to sanctify us also by love: If the effects thereof upon us do evidence us to have the hearts of children (that is) 〈◊〉 Spirit of Christ Jesus, to sigh after our heavenly Father, and cry, Abb● Peter.   

SECT. 2. Continuation of the same subject.  
MOnsieur Renty was so absolutely resigned to God, having quite lost and annihilated his own will into th●● of God, that he neither desired no● feared any thing in this world. And in fine, enjoyed such a sweet tranquillity of spirit, and repose, which nothing could disturb or alter, that from thence arose a wonderful and invariable equality, shining forth in his Exterior at all times, in all places, upon all occasions.  
One of his intimate friends, desirous to try one day whether he had an affection to any thing, questioned with him about every thing he could think of, to put him to the rest, and, among other things, asked him, whether he desired not that these works which he had undertaken for the glory of God, might succeed and take effect. To whom ●he replied, that he had no other aim in all his actions and erterprises, than the accomplishing of the will of God; and that although he used his utmost endeavour that such things might succeed, yet notwithstanding, he was perfectly resigned in all things to his Majesty's good pleasure; adding many other expressions, testifying his Mortification to all desires, and a perfect transformation of his will into that of Gods. This discourse was not quite finished, but there happened an occasion to put it to the trial; for one came running in, crying, that all the Heaven was on fire; which news, usually very frightful, made no alteration in him at all, who most calmly and composedly looking up to the heavens, said, the fire is here in Paris, without any further distance, though he understood presently that it was so violent, that the street he lived in, was in danger to be burnt down, and his neighbours said, it was necessary to quite forsake their quatters, by reason that the fire was not far off, and was likely in a very short space to reach them. In this public fright, he keeping his ordinary equality, and referring all to the will of God, went into his Chapel, where he continued long time in prayer, offering up himself in sacrifice to God, and resigning up his own will unto him; some persons looking upon him with great admiration in this posture; whilst so many hundreds were at their wit's end, and preparing for a speedy flight.  
He professed to another secret and familiar friend, that he felt himself, through the mercy of God, in such an absolute state of death to every thing, that neither Angels, nor men, the loss of all he had, the subversion of his family, nor any other accident could remove him from his settled tranquillity: And this he said, not hyperbolically, or by way of ostentation, but out of a solid experimental establishment in that fortitude, common with him to all great Saints.  
Such was the mystical death and annihilation of this man of God, by which his soul was enriched with a vast treasure of spiritual wealth, causing him to lead a most perfect life, and uniting him most intimately to God, to which this death is absolutely necessary; because no being can arrive to that which it was not formerly, without ceasing first to be what it was; as, wood cannot pass into the nature of fire, as long as it keeps its former nature; this must be quitted, and the matter be divested of all the form of wood, both in substance and accidents, and reduced into a state of privation, to be made capable of the fires unitement to it. And this is a general rule in nature, admitting no exception, that each subject must be predisposed to receive a new form, and so much more, as this form is more noble; and this disposition consists in the privation of the subject, and loss of other forms, to gain a new one: So also to make a spiritual man, he must no more live according to nature; but that he may be capable to be united to God, must necessarily die, and be annihilated to himself.  
And if fire require this total privation in the matter, to communicate itself thereto; with greater reason doth God, who is altogether a spirit, infinitely pure, the first and sovereign entity, require of a man this universal nakedness and privation, this death and annihilation to himself, and all created beings, before he give and unite himself with him; for in giving himself, he giveth also the fruition of himself, of his beauty, goodness, wisdom, and his other perfections, and by this union renders the receiver happy.  
Hence also may be gathered, what admirable purity is requisite in a soul, for this union with God in Heaven, in the state of glory; that for this we must either conserve our Baptismal Innocence; or if that hath been lost or sullied, we must be purged here, or in Purgatory, by severe penances, notwithstanding our other good works, and the high degrees of sanctity to which we have attained.  
And the same, in proportion, may be averred of the soul here in this estate of grace, where it must be very pure, to prepare it well for its union with God here in this life: And seeing her pollution ariseth from her love to the creature, and to herself, and from the life of the first Adam, according to the lusts and appetites of our own spirit, it must die to all these creatures, and likewise to its self; just as the body to be made perfect, and to partake the true life of immortality and bliss, must necessarily die first; so likewise must our souls, if we will have them arrive to perfection, consisting in this union with God, to lead a holy and Divine life, which alone can truly be called life.  
To this purpose he writ thus to his Director:  
I see clearly, that the only way to a Divine Union, is to be perfectly divested of every thing that is not God, and dead to ourselves, and every creature: O that I well understood the importance of this nakedness and death! and what is it that hinders the bonds of this Celestial love and union with his Divine Majesty, and that Sovereign Beauty, but a certain show of, and light adherence to some creature? and shall we suffer that a thing so small, and so unworthy, should possess in the room of God, and that Holy Spirit, which is an all-consuming fire of love, invirancing us on all sides, should not have the power to work upon us the same effect, which this elementary fire worketh upon wood? Why should not I vicious and discontented creature, in the midst of these my wretched plenitudes, acquire happiness in the possession of God, which I may do by his grace, in separating myself gently from the creature, by a single and affectionate application to the Creator.  
To another person he writ, thus:  
When S. Paul saith, You are dead, and your life is hid with God in Christ Jesus: He layeth death as the necessary foundation of a Christian, whereby to remove from him all affection and inclination to the creature: As we see, that a dead man hath no more any motion or sense of any thing; for though we are frequently sensible of the rebellious motions of corrupted nature, yet they only spring to be choked and stifled in their birth. To this purpose the Apostle sets our Saviour for our pattern; of whom he said in the former part, Exinanivir seipsum; He emptied himself. If you ask how long, and to what degree? I answer, even from the instant of his conception, to his death: Behold, this is our Rule, our Patron, and our general Rendezvouz from all sides.  
And to a third:  
If we understood truly, how the real divesting ourselves of all, rendered us capable of union with God, we would incessantly beg this grace, offering great violence to ourselves, to arrive at this state of Death and Abnegation, to which every Christian must endeavour, that aims at union with God, and ascend to perfection. I received some years since, great illumination upon this verity, giving me to understand, that the treasure hidden in the field, mentioned in the Gospel, is no other but this estate of Death and Annihilation, taking away from us ourselves, to give us to God, emptying us of all creatures, to be replenished with the Creator, the Fountain of all good. Our Saviour tells us there, that he that found it, went and sold all to buy it: If we understood the true value of this precious treasure, we would freely part with our liberty, with all we are, and all we have, to purchase it.  
Really, this should work in us great confusion, that such precious things, and such forcible motives, obliging us to tend to this Abnegation, we arrive at it so slowly, and most men so seldom. O how few truly annihilated persons are to be found! few that do not live according to the corrupted life of the old man, producing actions accordingly, when ever occasions of honour, or profit, or pleasure are presented: Few that attain to lose and renounce themselves in such points as tend to their perfection: Let us therefore employ all our forces to arrive at this happy estate.  
O the spirits that are thus dead, what an admirable life do they live I and hereby become rare instruments in the hands of God, capable to act great matters tending to his glory: These are intimately united to him, wholly transformed and annihilated in God; and by this gainful loss, and happy annihilation, arrive t the height of perfection, they enjoy a settled peace, a pure and solid contentment incomparably surpassing all sensual pleasures. These are so far advanced above all earthly greatness, above that Idol-Honour, which the world so much admireth, that these are become their contempt and scorn: They make no difference betwixt the pomps of Emperors and Spiders-webs; they value Diamonds and Precious Stones, equal with common Pebbles; they neither take health for happiness, nor sickness for misery; they think that poverty should not be termed a misfortune, nor poor men be deemed miserable; they weigh not Beatitude in silver scales, nor measure it by the ell of Pleasure; but repute that all these things do much resemble running waters, which in their courve wash the roots of trees and plants as they pass, but make no stay with any of them, flowing continually towards the end and place appointed them.  
Of these illustrious dead men, and most divinely annihilated souls, the Angel speaks in the Apocalypse, Writ, blessed are they that die in the Lord from henceforward, for they rest from their labours. And indeed this verity should be writ in Letters of Gold, in Characters of Sapphires and Rubies. Blessed are the dead who die thus to themselves, and to all created things, to live only to their Redeemer: The Holy Ghost hath said it, and assured them, that at the instant of this precious death, they find rest from all their labours, because their former pains and troubles of spirit now have an end, for that they have now rooted out the causes of them, and dried up the fountain, which, according to S. James, are our lusts and concupiscences.  
Monsieur de Renty had arrived to this pitch, as may be seen in what we have mentioned, deserving to be put in the list of those truly happy. I mean, those happy ones of the state of grace, and possessors as of the Paradise of this life.    

CHAP. 10. Of his Corporal death.  
MOnsieur de Renty having now finished his mystical death, must now also look for to enter into the way of Glory, to receive that recompense of the reward which God had prepared for him in the Heavens, necessarily die the death of the body, and so he di●●, 'tis this day that I writ this, two years ago, which fell out in that manner as I shall now relate.  
One the 11 of Aprl, 1649. he found himself very ill, and having concealed his sickness for five days, was constrained, immediately after a journey he had taken about some acts of Charity, to keep his bed; where he endured great pains all over his body, with which his spirit likewise was so much affected, that he professed his fancy to be so much disturbed with absurd and raving imaginations, that if God's grace had not assisted him, to undestand the ground of them, and preserved him under them, he should have spoken more extravagancies than any mad man: that there was much therefore in such an evil, to desert and humble him; but it was the duty of a sinner to honour God in all conditions in which he should put him.  
During these great pains and torments, both of body and mind, and during the whole course of his sickness, his ordinary employment consisted in affectionate elevations of his mind to God, in thoughts and words of blessing, praise, and submission to whatsoever was laid upon him, of meekness, and perfect obedience to all that attended, and had the care of of him, with such a humble and contented spirit, that he thought all well done, though sometimes it was otherwise.  
He expressed a wonderful patience, which ever gave a check to any complaint; still saying, that he suffered nothing, although his pains were extraordinary: And when his keeper; which was a Sister of the Hospital of Charity, with whom he had visited so many poor and sick solks, did importune him to declare his grief, O Sister (said he) how doth the love of God wipe away all pain? The Servants of God-fuffer nothing. Another friend demanding of him, if his pain was not great? He answered, No. The other replied, That he thought it was. It's true, saith he, that I am much clogged with my disease; but I feel it not, because I do not think of it. Being urged by their sister to take some sweet things, he refused saying; These conduce little either for life or death, and are not at all needful.  
Yet he refused not Physic, though it was very bitter, which he took with a cheerful countenance, and swallowed it with great difficulty, without leaving any. The day before his death, one told him of an excellent medicine, which had done great cures. He answered, Patience is a sovereign remedy, intimating his unwillingness to try it; yet when it was brought, he took it without any reluctancy, or once ask what it was, evidencing his mystical death to any thing that concerned him.  
His sickness increasing, and afflicting him very sore, yet he never called for any thing to refresh or relieve him; and when they had forced lean sheets upon his bed, and a pillow, which he had formerly refused with great confusion and humility; he said, Lo here lies a Gentleman at his ease.  
Feeling some natural affection of joy arise in him, upon the sight of a person of his acquaintance, with whom he had held a strict correspondence in spiritual matters, who came out of the Country of purpose to visit him; he straightway suppressed it, repeating these words three times over, with great fervour, I desire nothing more but God; which demonstrated clearly his perfect disengagement from all created things.  
He commended to this parties care the missions (entreating him to labour eranestly in that business, as an employment by which God was much glorified, and the most profitable to the Church of any he knew) in these words:  
Promise me Sir, that you will take pains therein, and promote them with all pessible diligence: O Sir, it is a service well pleasing to God.  
Reflecting upon the poor (for whom he had always a most tender care) he said to his Lady;  
I recommend the poor to you, will not you have a great care of them? you will perform it better than I: Fear nothing, what you give to them, will not lessen the rest.  
Most part of the first week, and some time also of the second, that he lay sick, were spent by him in works of mercy, appointing several Alms, and giving order for letters to be writ into several Provinces about businesses of Charity; with which he stood charged, and whereof he gave an exact account,  
Many persons of quality came to visit him, whom he received with much civility; but not without some trouble, by reason that most of those visits drew on discourse of worldly things and compliments, of which he complained, saying,  
They come hither to talk their Philosophy, of which I have no need.  
And another time his expression was:  
A Christian should talk little.  
A Lady of great worth and piety, coming to visit him; said, Sir, I would with all my heart lay down my life to save yours. To whom he replied with a cheerful look, and his eyes lifted up to heaven;  
To die is not to be lost, our conversation and union will hereafter be more near and intimate.  
But, Sir, said she, if God would restore your health, and continue you longer with us, do not you desire it? St. Martin desired to live upon these terms. He answered, with much confusion:  
O Madam, there is no comparison betwixt a Saint and a sinner, the will of God be done.  
The third day of his sickness, he desired, that his Ghostly Father might be sent for: Whereupon they took occasion to demand of him, if he found himself much worse. He answered,  
No, but that in a business of that consequence, and where the memory and judgement were so subject to decay, it were not safe to defer, for fear of a surprisal; and that it were very fitting to do that, which he had so often advised others unto, in the same condition.  
The day after he made his Confession, and then called for his Reliquary, that he might enter more particularly into a communion with all the Saints. The day after, he confessed again, and almost every day till his death.  
The Pastor of his Parish came to give him the Communion; and observing him after receiving, in a great silence, not speaking one word, but only with profound humility; saying,  
My God, my God, pardon me, I am a great sinner.  
He asked him the reason, why he spoke so little, and did not apply himself to those that stood by, and were well pleased to hear him.  
It is not fitting, saith he, to speak in the presence of the Word Incarnate, which I have received, nor take up any room in those hearts, which ought not to be filled, only with God.  
But he added besides;  
That his spirit was then applied to that joy, which a creature ought to have, to see itself upon the point of being reunited to his first Principle, and to its last end.  
The same day after dinner, one told him it was fit to use some diversion from his serious thoughts, the Physicians judging his disease to have much of melancholy in it. To whom he replied, I never had any joy comparable to that I have felt this day. He asked him, upon what cause? To think, saith he, that I am going to be united with my God; repeating the words of the Apostle, Cupio dissolvi & esse cum Christo; I destre to be dissoved, and be with Christ; and those also of the beloved Disciple, The Spirit and the Bride say, Come; and let him that heareth say, Come; and, he that thirsteth, let him come: Behold, I come quickly, Amen. Come Lord Jesus: Yet resigning himself as well for life as death, unto the will of God.  
One day about noon, he desired that his Chamber window might be set open, that he might behold the brightness of the day; which being done, he cried out:  
O bright day of Eternity! how this Sunshine cheers me, helping me to meditate on that day, which shall never have night-  
The more his sickness and pain increased, the more he strove to unite himself to God by prayer, imitating his heavenly Master, who in the strength of his Agony prayed the more earnestly: And when the violence of his disease oppressed him more, and he had need of greater straining to think upon God, he cried out:  
Courage, courage, Eternity is at hand.  
With many such like speeches, uttered with incredible fervour, but which could not be distinctly pronounced, by reason of the extreme dryness of his throat, caused through the ; till at last, stopping his speech all on a sudden, he fixed his eyes steadfastly on heaven, for a quarter of an hour together, with a smiling look, and full of reverence, as if he saw some extraordinary sight: After which mustering up all his forces, he sat up in his bed, took off his cap, and holding it in his hand, he said, as it were ravished and overwhelmed with this Contemplation, with great straining, and words half stifled in his throat, as well by the ardency of his spirit, as the weakness of his body;  
I adore you, I adore you.  
The Curate having administered to him Extreme Unction at the time appointed; which he received with great devotion, answering to each prayer, and attending to what he said, and repeating them a good while after. He asked him, if he would give his blessing to his children. He answered,  
How so, good Sir, shall I presume to give a blessing in your presence? I should be happy to receive one from you.  
But being urged thereunto, and told that the Church allowed that laudable custom, he lifted his hands and eyes up to heaven; saying,  
I pray God give it to you, and may it please him to bless you, and to preserve you, by his grace, from the malignity of the world, that you may have no part therein; And above all, my children, that you may live in the fear and love of God, and yield due obedience to your Mother.  
On Saturday, which was the day of his death, about half an hour past ten in the forenoon, being newly recovered out of a violent fit of a Convulsion, which had like to have carried him away, looking attentively on those that were present, he made signs with his hands, head, and eyes, with a pleasant countenance, for a person of quality, and his intimate friend, to come near him: Which being done, he spoke thus to him:  
Sir, I have one word to say to you before I die (then pausing a little, to recover his strength, he testified his affection to him, but in words that could not distinctly be understood, at length raising his voice, and speaking more articulately and plainly, he proceeded) The perfection of Christian life, is to be united unto God, in the faith of the Church: We ought not to entangle ourselves in novelties; let us adore his conduct over 〈◊〉 and continue faithful to him unto the end; let us adhere to that one God, crucified for our salvation; let us unite all our actions, and all that is in us, to his merits, hoping that if we continue faithful to him, by his grace, we shall be partakers of the glory of his Father. I hope we shall there see one another one day, which shall never have end.  
The party ready to reply, and give him thanks, Monsieur Renty stopped his mouth, saying,  
Adieu, this is all I have to say to you, Pray for me  
Some time after this, and a little before his death, fixing his eyes steadfastly upon heaven, as if he had discovered something extraordinary; he said,  
The Holy Infant Jesus, where is he?  
Thereupon they brought him his Picture, which he kissed devoutly; and ask for his Crucifix, took it in his hands, and kissed it most affectionately. Then turning himself towards death, presently entered into his last agony, which held not above a quarter of an hour, of which he spent the most part in pronouncing the Holy name of Jesus; making as well as he could acts of Resignation, and commending his spirit to God; after which he expired sweetly, and his holy soul, as we have good cause to believe, departed to its place of rest.  
Thus lived and died Monsieur de Renty, one of the most glorious lights that God hath bestowed upon his Church in this age, and one of the greatest ornaments of true devotion that hath appeared this long time. He died at Paris, the 27 year of his age, the 24 of April, 1649. about noon, near the time of our Saviour's elevation on the Cross, of which a certain person having a particular knowledge in his prayers, applied the merits of this passion to him at the instant of his death; in such sort, that this application, together with his own acts of resignation and annihilation which he had made, and with which he both honoured and embraced the Cross, are piously believed, to have perfectly purged his soul, and put it into a condition of entering into its beatitude and enjoyment of God at the instant of its dissolution.  
There are reports of several Revelations and Visions concerning his state of glory, and how at the instant of his death, a Globe of light was seen ascending from earth to heaven. Certain miraculous cure are also related to be done by his intercessions, and spiritual relief, supernaturally afforded to several devout persons by his admonitions; which things will not seem incredible, when we consider his holy life, and heroic virtues, rendering him one of the miracles of our age: Yet since I have not the like assurance of these, as of what I have already written, and that true Sanctity and Christian perfection consists not in su●h things, which are not at all imitable, I shall not insist upon them.  
I only add by way of conclusion, that we have great reason to admire the secret counsels of God, in taking out of the world a man so useful; who being in his full strength, and flower of his age, and in such an eminent degree of credit, reputation, and capacity, might wonderfully have advanced the honour of God, and good of his neighbour.  
But when I say it was the hand of God, all things are therein concluded: And hereby he is pleased to let us know, that he hath no need of us for the advancing of his glory, & the execution of his designs, which he can bring about without us; and when he is pleased to make use of us his instruments therein, we are to behave ourselves with great humility in his presence. He hath translated him to another place, where he glorifies his Majesty with greater perfection; to a place and state, that truly deserves the name of glory, and that not only in consideration of what the Saints receive, but of what they render to the King of glory. Moreover, we may affirm, that these holy men, great pillars of the Church, and comforts of the faithful, are frequently taken away before their time, as a just punishment upon us, for the little use and benefit we make of their conversation and example.  
And truly when first I heard the news of his sickness, and the danger that he was in, I could not but make this reflection that considering so solid and complete a virtue, notwithstanding that great need the world had of him, and the exceeding great good he might still have done in it, it was very likely he might die, as being a fruit ripe for heaven; even as fruit in its maturity is ready to be gathered, and takes hurt, by being plucked too soon or too late. Thus did God gather this good man, in the maturity of his graces, and perfection of his virtues, as a man perfect and completed, to place him in heaven, there to receive his just reward; where he waits for us, to adore, and glorify, and love, together with him, in all perfection God the Father, the Son, and H. Ghost, to whom be Honour, Praise, Benediction, and all sorts of Adoration and Service, now and for ever. Amen.    

THE CONCLUTION OF THE WORK.  
How we ought to read the Lives of Saints.  
TO conclude this work, and render it more useful to the Reader, I think it will not be amiss, to afford him some instructions how to read the Lives of Saints, and Histories of persons eminent in virtue; to the end, that that fruit may be reaped by them, for which they were compiled. These eminent souls then, are to be considered two several ways: 1. As they have relation to God. 2. As to ourselves.  
For the first, as they relate to God, it is certain, that these Saints, and Persons, famous for Piety, are the greatest Masterpieces, the richest Ornaments, the most precious Jewels, the choicest Works, and the greatest Instruments of God's Glory, that are upon earth. For if the meanest righteous man is incomparably more noble and honourable, than all sinners put together (since these are the very slaves of the Devil, and enemies of God, even the greatest Kings and Monarches of the Universe (according to the estimate that truth itself makes of them) ignoble and infamous, whereas the other is a servant, friend, and child of God (whose service is perfect freedom) how much more honourable and glorious are the Saints, and the Persons of such heroic Virtue, because they possess such justice and virtue in a more high degree, have a greater abundance of gifts and graces, partake more fully the perfections of God, are more lively images of him, and enjoy a nearer alliance and resemblance with our Saviour Jesus Christ, and are his richest conquests, and his choicest workmanship.  
Tertullian considering Job, in the thickest of his bad news, posting from all quarters, in the height of his afflictions, and most sensible pains, free from all impatience and murmuring, not opposing the least word, or repining thought against God's sacred counsels, but continually blessing God for all; and looking upon him fallen from the height of happiness, upon his dunghill, where he lay stripped of all, but sores and scabs, spread from the crown of his head, to the sole of his foot, enduring all this extremity with invincible patience, he breaks forth into this expression, Quale in illo viro feretrum Deus de Diabolo extruxit! quale vexillum de in mico gloriae suae extulit, cum ille homo ad omnem acerbum nuncium nihil ex ore promeret nisi Deo gratias! What a Trophy hath God erected to his own honour, in the person of Job, by his patience, able to encounter the Devil! what a Banner hath he set up, what a Victory hath he obtained by him, over that enemy of his glory!  
These words and considerations are applicable to all his Saints, of whom we may say, that they are the great procurers of his honour, and by their Faith, Hope, Charity, Patience, Fortitude, Humility, Obedience, Chastity, and other Virtues, like so many high-sounding Trumpets, do make the earth echo with his praises.  
We ought therefore to have a high esteem of all the Saints and persons of signal Virtue, we are obliged to a particular veneration of them, praising, and loving, and honouring them, and our Saviour Christ in them, and for them; for undoubtedly, Mirabilis in Sanctis Deus, as David saith; God is most admirable, and to be praised, loved and feared in his Saints. We ought to admire his power, in their miracles, the might of his grace, in their heroic actions; we ought to hope in his mercy, on the consideration of those happy changes he wrought in them; and to fear his justice, when we consider those severe chastisements, which he inflicted upon their smallest faults; and love his bounty and goodness, in those demonstrations of his mercy and benignity which he hath showed to them. Where it is to be observed, that as we are not to credit lightly all that is said or written of their Visions, Revelations, and extraordinary graces and favours which God hath bestowed on his Saints, when not approved and authorized by the judgement of his Church, because herein a man may easily be deceived, and the Devil, much craftier than we, knowing our curious and ambitious nature, apt to be taken with sublime novelties, can disguise himself in several shapes, and be transformed, as saith S. Paul, into an Angel of light. So neither on the other side, ought we to be too incredulous or rash to condemn; since it is certain, that there ever have been, and ever will be, true miracles; nor is it just for us to measure the power and goodness of God, by our reason, nor limit his bounty by the narrowness of our hearts.  
Since the great mysteries of the Incarnation, and of the H. Eucharist, together with what God hath wrought in the beginning, and continueth working every day for man (whereof we can raise no doubt) there is nothing that can seem incredible in the Graces, and favours of God communicated to a soul, since nothing herein can be paralleled with the former. Our Saviour testifies greater love to weak man, giving himself to him more miraculously, and in a more transcendent manner in one Communion, than he ever manifested to all his Saints, in those extraordinary Communications of his graces and favours to them.  
Moreover, what bounty, what compassion and tenderness did he exercise towards men, whilst he lived amongst them? What did he not for them, in his life? what did he not suffer for them at his Death, after his glorious Resurrection, when he was in a condition so far above them? what familiarity and intimacy did he show to his Disciples, visiting them frequently, disguised in divers shapes, appearing visibly to them, appointing several meetings with them, talking lovingly with them, suffering them to touch him, and eating with them: These familiarities are very wonderful, and withal very certain; we may truly affirm, that the love of God to mankind, and particularly to pure and innocent souls, is unconceivable, Cum simplicibus sermocinat●o ejus; His Secret is with the righteous. We see how Fathers, though never so grave and ancient, delight themselves in their children, even often to play with them; insomuch, that that renowned great Captain, and King of Sparta, Agesila●s, surprised by a friend, riding upon a stick with his little son, and observing him astonished at the action; asked, Whether he had any children: Who answered, No. Then said Agesilaus, wonder not at what I do; you must be a father, to be capable of these tendernesses, and to come to these forgetting of yourself.  
We must not therefore think it strange, if God (who is truly a Father to mankind, and so far transcends in paternal affection all others, that in comparison of him, they deserve not the name of Fathers) hath such tender bowels, and amorous affections to the Saints, who are his dearest children; which he expressed often with unconceivable intimacies and caresses, that whoso will judge of the reality of them, must first be possessed with the same love, that God bears in his eternal bosom, some glimpse whereof we may conceive, by considering the embraces, and kisses, and welcomes that passed betwixt the Prodigal Son and his Father in the Gospel, Luke 15.20.  
Here therefore, according to the observation of the Ancients, Ne quid nimus; let there be nothing done too much, let there be neither too much facility, nor too much difficulty to believe what is said of the graces done by God to holy souls: But let us balance ourselves equally between the one and the other, weighing and examining things in the scales of Divine Prudence, not of Humane Reason. And thus much for the first consideration, as they relate to God.  
Concerning the second, as they relate to us, Saint Gregory the great hath an excellent Note, Homil. 34. in Evang, where he saith, That God hath not lighted more Torches in the heavens, to guide and direct our steps on earth, than he hath set us here below, to conduct and show us the way to him. Amongst these, the Saints are undoubtedly the most considerable, since there is not one amongst them, whose life is not a bright shining light unto us, to discover the paths we are to walk in; and like that famous Watch-Tower Pharos in Alexandria, which by its fires and light, served to guide the Mariners in the night, how safely to steer their course.  
The Saints, saith S. Gregory Nyssen, set forth their lives to men, who direct their course towards God, like a bright Lamp, to conduct them securely. And speaking of S. Ephrem. he calls him a great Luminary, 
In vita S. Ephrem. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Prefat. in Job.  who had more enlightened the world by his life, than the Sun had by his beams; and a little after saith, That God had fixed him as a stately living Pillar (like the Mercur●es of the Ancients, placed in Cross-ways to direct Passengers) to declare to men, the Highway to Sanctity and Perfection. S. Gregory the great adviseth us, moreover, to consider, how that as God the Creator by an admirable Providence, a most beautiful Oeconomie, and profound Wisdom, hath so ordered the course and seasons of stars, that every one keeps his time of rising and setting one after another, to enlighten the darkness of the night, and cast their influences upon us: So in like manner, he hath sent and disposed his Saints, like so many stars, to give us light in the darkness of this life. Accordingly (saith he) he hath appointed Abel to rise, to teach us Innocence; Enoch, purity of Intention in our Actions; Noah, to forrifie us with courage, in expecting our long delayed hopes; Abraham, to set before us a model of an heroic obedience; and so of the rest. Ecce quam fulgentes stellas (as that holy Pope goes on) in coelo cernimus, ut inoff●nso ped● operis iter nostrae noctis ambulemus; Behold what bright Stars bespangle the firmament of the Church, to guide our feet safely in the night of our journey.  
And admirable are the examples they have left us, and the influences of Virtue that these mysterious stars have conveyed to us, Fuit in iis (saith S. Augustine) Continent●a usque ad tenuissimum victum, panis & aquae, & non quotidiana solum, sed etiam per plures d●es perpetuata je●unia, Castitas usque ad conjugii prolisque contemptum; patientia usque ad cruces flammasque neglectas, liberalitas usque ad patrimonia distributa pauperibus; denique tot us mundi aspernatio usque ad desiderum mortis; Their temperance was extended even to the most slender diet of bread and water, and to fasts, not of a single day only, until the evening, but continued for divers days together. Chastity, even to the contempt of Marriage and Progeny. Patience, to the slighting of Gibbets and Flames. Liberality, to the distributing of their whole Patrimonies to the poor. In fine, contempt of the whole world, even to to the desiring of death.  
And all this to instruct us, what we ought to do, Sanctorum Vita (as saith S. Ambrose, cap. 1. de S. joseph) caeteris norma Vivendi est; The life of Saints is our rule, to order our lives after them.  
Since than God hath given these for a rule to guide our lives after; and for Beacons, to direct us in our sailing towards heaven, let us mark them attentively, and follow their steps in our journey thither.  
To which undoubtedly we are obliged, because God demands and expects it from us; and also, we shall find it most profitable, in that this attentive observing what they did, is most likely to make the deepest impression upon our spirits, Whereupon S. Anthony (as Athanasius reports of him, in e us v t●) recommended earnestly to his Religious, the lives of Saints, to fashion themselves after their model. And S. Basil writes in his first Epistle, that as young Painters, to make themselves skilful, look often upon the pieces of curious and excellent Masters, spending whole hours and days in the copying of su●h Works; so they that would draw the Picture of Virtue in their souls to the life, must diligently heed these most excellent Originals, by which they shall in time become, in some measure, like unto them. He adds moreover, That as heat and light stream naturally from the fire, and sweet scents exhale from perfumes; in like manner sacred Knowledge ariseth from the actions of Saints, and the sweet odour of their virtues, perfume such as are much conversant in them.  
And as it is not possible, that he that continues long in the Sun, should not receive some heat and light from it; and, he that makes some stay in the Perfumers shop, amongst Musk and Ambergrise, should not smell at all thereof; neither can such as have much commerce with Saints, and study their virtues, remain without some amendment and savour of holiness.  
Those two renowned Courtiers of the Emperor, which S. Austin mentions in his Confessions, lib. 2, cap. 6. were so wrought upon, by reading the life of S. Anthony, that they presently took up a resolution to quit the world, and all other thoughts, save of their own salvation; Legere coep●t unus eorum (these are his own words) & mirari, & accendi, & inter legendum, med●tari, arr●pere talem vitam, & relict â militiâ saeculari, servire tibi; legebat & mutabatur intus, & exuebatur mundi mens ejus: One of them b●gan to read the life, and as he read, to admire, and his heart burning within him, conceived a resolution to imitate it, to throw off his sword, and the Emperor's Service, to become a servant of God: Thus whilst he read, he found his heart changed, and his soul to disentagle herself from the affections of the world, to put off the old man, to be clothed with the new.  
And of himself he affirms, that the examples of these holy servants of God, were like hot coals cast into the bosom of his soul, heating, and warming, and setting him all in a flame.  
S. Columban oweth his conversion to the reading, and the considering of the life of Mary of Egypt, our Founder S. Ignat●us his, to the lives of several Saints, with innumerable others: S. Eugendus Abbot of Claude, read continually the lives of S. Anthony, and S. Martin, and having them constantly before his eyes, and more within his heart, fashioned his own after them. Bonaventure, saith of S. Francis, that Ex recordatione Sanctorum omnium, tanquam lapidum ignitorum, in deificum recalescebat incend●um; when he found his heart wax cold in the love of God, he warmed and enkindled it by the frequent ruminating upon the Virtues of Saints, as so many red hot stones.  
To this purpose, the examples of Saints are serviceble unto us, and such benefit are we to extract from the reading of their Histories; and as they are our patterns for our imitation, so will they be witnesses against us at that great day, if we fail herein; and will sit then as Judges to condemn us. We may much more truly say of them, than Seneca said of that great Philosopher of his times, that he was given to that age, Ne aut exemplum d●esset saeculo suo, aut convicium: for the instruction or the reproach of those times.  
For the Saints were like us, and we are like them, men made of the same Mass, children of the same Father, servants of the same God; we have the same Commandments, the same Sacraments, the same Hope, the same Heaven before us. Elias (saith S. James) was a man subject to like infirmities: The Saints had flesh and blood, as we have; subject to like passions, like weaknesses, sensible of the same difficulties as we in resisting their appetites, vanquishing their vicious inclinations, practising of virtue; yet notwithstanding, through the grace of God (which is never wanting to any) with good courage and resolution, broke thorough their difficulties, achieved heroic actions, though never so contrary to their own inclinations. We must think (saith S. Ambrose upon this subject, l. de Joseph. c. 1,) that the Saints N●m naturae praestantiris f●erunt, sed observantiae majoris, nec vit a nesciveru●t sed emondarunt; had not a more excellent nature than we, but a more exact care over it; were not exempted from the temptation of vices, but circumspect to correct and avoid them: Therefore we must imitate them, because we are able, and if we neglect it, shall be held culpable.  
S. Aust●ne relates, that when first he began to consider of a conversation, he fell into mighty torments, and unspeakable anguish, especially upon the thoughts of quitting those delights which ●ad bewitched him, and of living in continence; and hereupon, That virtue presented herself before him, with a countenance full of majesty and sweetness, and inviting him with a pleasant look, to draw near, opening her friendly arms to embrace him, which were filled with a number of persons, whose example was sufficient to encourage and fortify him: Here were young men and maidens, men and women of all ages, vigorous old people, and ma●ds grown ancient in virtue: Then Chastity, with a little disdainful s●n●le; yet such a one as was proper to encourage him; said, Tu●n ●n p●●eris quod ist & istae? an vero isti & istae in s●m●t ●sis possunt, ac non in domino Deo suo? Canst not thou do what th●s● of both sex's have performed? or can any of these perform this of then selves? or rather by the Lord their God?  
We may therefore do according to our degree and station, what the Saints have done in theirs, wherein if we fail, we shall be found guilty, and their deeds will condemn us, Instauras (saith Job to this purpose, according to S, Gregory's interpretation) testes tuos contra me, & multiplicas ●ram tuam adversum me; Thou producest thy witnesses against me, which are thy Saints, because I neglected to imitate their virtues, and increasest thine anger round about me; and in another place, Resp●ciet homines & dicet, peccavi & vere deliqu●●; the sinner beholdeth men, that is, the Saints, weak men like himself, who yet conquered their infirmities, and went beyond themselves; and considering their victories, accuseth himself, saying, I have done amiss, I have sinned, and I condemn my own life, so lazy, imperfect, and vicious.  
Hence it is, that S. Judas, and the Wiseman before him, tell us, That the Saints shall judge sinners, and condemn at the last day; because they shall then make it appear, that if, with them, they had corresponded to that grace which was given them, and done their part as they should, they should have been partakers with them in the same bliss, and therefore their destruction is wholly from themselves.  
When we shall all stand before that great Tribunal, to receive our final doom (saith Prospe●) what shall we do, or what will we answer? which way can we turn us? to the Saints, those friends of God, whose instructions we have refused, and whose lives we have not imitated? shall we excuse ourselves by the corruption of our nature, and frailty, and infirmity of our flesh: Sed excusationi reclamabunt omnium Sanctorum exempla, qui cum frag●litate carnis, in carne viventes, quod fecerunt, ut●que sieri posse docuerunt: maxim quia neceipsi peccato, sua vertute, sed domini miserantis auxilio, restiterunt: But the examples of the Saints will confute us, and render those excuses fruitless; who labouring under the same infirmities, and conquering them, demonstrated that what they did, we might have done, seeing neither did they such things by their own strength, but through that assistance they received from the goodness of a merciful God: what then shall we answer for ourselves, if our Saviour shall say unto us, as undoubtedly he will, Si po●uistis, quare non restitistis desideriis peccatorum? si non potuisti●, quare meum contra peccatum non quaesistis aux linm? aut vulnerati quare poenitendo non adhibu●istis vulneri vestro remedium? if you were able to resist sin, why was it not done? if you were not able, why did you not seek help from me? if you were wounded in the combat, why did ye not apply a remedy to your wound by true repentance? to which not having any thing to answer (saith the same Father) he will pronounce against us the sentence of condemnation, and send us into everlasting torments.  
Let us therefore in the name of God, secure ourselves from this danger; let us not flatter ourselves, by saying, these things are high and impossible, until we have first tried some of them; let us up and be doing, every one of us according to our condition and measure of grace, imitating these Saints and great servants of God; and in particular this, whose History we have here related, who in the flower of his age, of so noble descent and birth, tempted with all the advantages the world could afford, in a secular and married condition, having lived so holy and virtuous a life, hath traced out to all sorts of people, most excellent patterns of virtue for their imitation; and likewise hath afforded a fit subject, if they do neglect it, for their just reproach.   
FINIS