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NARRATIVE
OF
A TOUR TAKEN IN THE YEAR 1667,
TO
ila (irantie Chartreuse auto
,-
BY
DOM CLAUDE LANCELOT,
AUTHOR OF THE POUT ROYAL GRAMMARS ',
INCLUDING
SOME ACCOUNT OF
DOM ARMAND JEAN LE BOUTHILLIER DE RANGE,
REVEREND FATHER ABBE, AND REFORMER
OF THE
MONASTERY OF NOTRE DAME DE LA TRAPPE;
WITH NOTES ;
AND
AN APPENDIX,
CONTAINING SOME PARTICULARS RESPECTING
M. DU VERGER DE HAURANNE, ABBE DE ST. CYRAN;
CORNELIUS JANSENIUS, BISHOP OF YPRES;
AND ALSO
A BRIEF SKETCH OF THE CELEBRATED INSTITUTION
OF
PORT ROYAL.
This is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and
Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent. JOHN, chap. xvii. ver. 3.
No man can say that Jesus is the Lord but by the Holy Spirit.
1 COR. chap. xii. ver. 3.
In every nation he that feareth God and worketh righteousness is
accepted of him. ACTS, chap. x. ver. 35.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR J. AND A. ARCH, CORNHILL.
1813.
J. M'Creery, Printer,
Black-Horse-Court, London.
PREFACE.
DOM LANCELOT'S Tour to Alet is one of the
smaller productions edited with his " Me-
moires de St. Cyran, in 1738."
All the writings of the Port Royal school
are valuable, from the exalted piety, and the
profound erudition which distinguished their
authors. They derive a peculiar interest too
from the protracted persecutions they endur-
ed ; and which at length involved that cele-
brated institution in an untimely destruction.
This little piece, like the other productions
of Port Royal, is characterized by the spirit
of piety which pervades it. The new field
also which it presents to the generality of
English readers, renders it curious. Both the
customs alluded to and the persons described
are little known in this country.. The sub-
VI PREFACE.
stance of true religion must indeed be ever
the same. Yet the spirit of piety is suscepti-
ble of new modifications, when presented in
combination with habits of thinking and act-
ing foreign from our own.
Like the other works too of Port Royal,
Dom Lancelot's tour is diffuse and prolix. It
is encumbered by a profusion of extraneous
matter, arid fatigues by the minute detail of
particulars from which the lapse of an hun-
dred and fifty years has taken away all inte-
rest. Whole pages are filled with tedious
and abstruse disquisitions on a controversy
long since dismissed from public attention.
Other passages weary by the enumeration
of ceremonies confined in England to a small
portion of its inhabitants, and the minute de-
tails of which would be wholly unintelligible
to a protestant public. But above all, it is te-
dious from the protracted relation of petty
occurrences relating to a numerous circle of
undistinguished private acquaintance. These
ought to have been suppressed by the French
editor.
The tour to Alet was never intended for
PREFACE. Vll
publication by its author. It was a confiden-
tial letter to an highly respected and intimate
friend. Whilst then it partakes of the piety
of the writer, and relates many curious cir-
cumstances, it cannot excite wonder to find
them buried and almost suffocated beneath a
load of minutiae solely interesting to the pe-
culiar age, and the identical circle in which
it was written.
The little work now presented to the pub-
lic was originally designed to comprise all that
was interesting in Lancelot's tour. It was in-
tended to include every fact which was curi-
ous, and every sentiment which was valu-
able.
The selection has been made with various
degrees of precision. Where a passage ap-
peared peculiarly striking, or free from di-
gression, it has been rendered with a degree
of fidelity approaching to the accuracy of
translation.
Under other circumstances a different me-
thod has been pursued.
Where the .original appeared involved with
Vlll PREFACE.
extraneous subjects, and encumbered by de-
tail, or where it seemed needful to elucidate
Lancelot's idea by combining it with informa-
tion derived from other sources, a greater lati-
tude has been allowed. In this case the fact
or sentiment alone has been preserved, and an
entire liberty has been used as to the expres-
sion. This occurs in a very great number of
instances.
A considerable number of passages have
been wholly suppressed. They appeared en-
tirely destitute of every claim on the curiosi-
ty or interest of a modern reader.
To convince a person of this, it will be ne-
cessary only to mention them.
One of the passages contains a conversation
between Dom Lancelot arid M. Pavilion, on
some chronological tables just then published
at Port Royal. Another is a circumstantial
account of the mode of performing the cathe-
dral service at Alet ; a third gives a long de-
scription of a belt embroidered by the nuns of
Port Royal, and presented by them to the bi-
shop. It is succeeded by a prolix recital of
all the compliments passed on the occasion.
PREFACE. IX
These, with many other passages of a similar
and equally uninteresting nature, are entirely
omitted.
By this means the original work became
curtailed nearly one half.
Whilst so much has been on the one hand
suppressed ; nearly as much has, on the other,
been added.
M. Lancelot often makes incidental allu-
sions to persons and institutions familiarly
known in France ; but with which the Eng-
lish are comparatively but little conversant.
These it became necessary to introduce to the
English reader. Without some explanation
the original would have been unintelligible.
For this purpose recourse was had to other
authors. The information they supplied was
meant to be abridged, and added in the form
of notes.
It was, however, suggested, that the ne-
cessity of constantly referring to the end of
a book occasions a most wearisome and un-
seasonable interruption. On second thoughts,
therefore, it seemed preferable to interweave
X PREFACE.
into the text all that information which ap-
peared requisite to render it intelligible,
As it now stands, nothing remains in the
notes but what may be perused separately.
It seems almost superfluous to add, that
this necessary liberty inevitably occasioned
a still farther departure from Dom Lancelot's
original narrative.
The added passages needed to be combined
into one whole, to be so modelled that the
various joinings on (if the expression may be
allowed) might not glaringly appear. Whilst
the information derived from a variety of
other authors was accurate in point of fact,
it was requisite that, with respect to turn of
thought and expression, it should coalesce
with the work into which it was incorporated.
These licenses having been assumed, the
Tour to Alet now presents a tout ensemble
very different from the original. It has cer-
tainly no pretensions to be offered as a trans-
lation of Dom Lancelot's work.
On the other hand, though widely differ-
PREFACE. XI
ing from what his work w, this little narra-
tive is yet offered, with some degree of con-
fidence, as a faithful representation of what
the writer believes M. Lancelot's work would
have been, had it been addressed to an Eng-
lish instead of a French reader ; and had it,
instead of being addressed to a cotemporary,
been designed for those who would view the
transactions of the age from the distance of
an hundred and fifty years.
This pretension, however, is to be under-
stood with due allowance. It is not pre-
tended that the tameness of a translation can
vie with the spirit of an original. Nor that
the transcript of an undistinguished copiest
can bear a competition with the work of the
celebrated master whom he imitates.
It is not supposed either that every possible
mistake or inaccuracy is excluded. It were
almost impossible this should be the case,
where every character is new and every cus-
tom foreign from our own. Nevertheless it
has been the writer's wish to preserve the
most strict fidelity in point of fact. And not
only so. Equal pains have been taken to
maintain, in every part, the spirit and turn
Xll PREFACE,
of sentiment which characterizes the ori-
ginal.
With respect to the facts, the authorities
were mentioned throughout at the foot of
each page. This was done with a double
view. Where passages have been collected
from various sources, it seemed desirable that
the reader should have an opportunity of
examining their authenticity and appreciating
the authority ; but finding that this mode of
reference was likely to take up a great deal
of room, it has been thought better, once for
all, to subjoin a list of the authors whence
the information was derived.
Secondly, it is well known how deeply
much of the French literature, current in
England, has been tinctured with the venom
of infidelity. It was believed that it would
not be unacceptable to parents to be furnished
with a list of works of a different description.
Authors who convey much curious informa-
tion, and whose works are all calculated to
impress a pious spirit.
With respect to the mode of expression
and turn of thought. The sentiments not
PREFACE. Xlll
translated from the tour to Alet, are mostly
borrowed from the Port Royal authors. For
these no authorities are marked, it appeared
needless to give citations where so consider-
able a degree of latitude has been used.
The reader, however, wrho is well versed
in these writers, will readily detect the
sources whence they are derived.
It has been considered, that in every in-
stance where it was possible, the appropria-
tion of sentiments from the Port Royal school
would preserve the sentiments of Lancelot
with more fidelity than additions from any
other source.
One observation should not be omitted.
It has been the editor's wish every where to
give correct dates. Where it has been in the
editor's power they have been compared in
distinct authors. In some cases, however,
this was impossible. For one or two facts
the Dictionnaire Historique (edition 1804) was
the only authority at hand. In this valuable
work the dates are singularly incorrect. Pro-
bably this may be owing to their being ex-
PREFACE.
pressed in figures instead of in words. Hence,
although much care has been taken to prevent
mistakes, it is not impossible but that some
error may have escaped unnoticed. In al-
most every instance, however, the dates have
been ascertained by a reference to correspond-
ing events in other authors.
The title of Dom Lancelot's letter to Mo-
ther Angelica is still retained, because it is
in fact the substratum of this little work, and
because it furnishes by far the greatest share
in its materials. It is retained without scru-
ple, because the degree in which it has pre-
tensions to be considered as his has been so
fully and so exactly ascertained.
Another remark ought also to be made.
Much is said in this little work of the con-
duct of the Jesuits. It ought to be said,
that the whole information is solely derived
from the Port Royal writers. And in
any event those who, on weighing the evi-
dences on both sides, cannot exculpate them
from blame, as it respects Port Royal, will
yet think that their conduct towards the
Jansenists ought not, in fairness, to be ad-
PREFACE. XV
verted to without, at the same time, remem-
bering their beneficent influence in Paraguay
and in the islands of Japan.
The following little work does not profess
to be an history of Jansenism, formed upon
a collation of authorities on both sides, it
simply purports to give a faithful abstract of
the Port Royal accounts of their persecutions.
The following observations were suggested by the re-
marks of some friends. The preface being already
printed, they are now added in the form of a note.
The author wishes to add one observation, relative to the
style adopted in the succeeding essay.
It has been endeavoured strictly to preserve the character of
the original.
The style of the Port Royal writers is marked by a decid-
edly religious phraseology: But this, literally translated,
would have presented peculiarities foreign to that of protestant
readers. The substitution of that of any other denomination,
would have been equally objectionable to those not belonging
to it. Nevertheless the adoption of the style suited to litera-
ture or science, would have entirely destroyed the religious
character of the original.
PREFACE.
With a view then, at once to preserve the character of
Lancelot, and to avoid the adoption of partial technical terms,
the author has endeavoured every where to adopt a scriptural
phraseology, both as the true classical language of religion, as
that which is common to all denominations, and as that best
calculated to present a real semblance of the venerable ori-
ginal.
The grand truths of the Gospel will be recognized by the
sincerely religious, even if not clothed in their own peculiar
phraseology ; and the benevolently philosophical, will discover
genuine philanthropy and universal benevolence, even though
expressed in language which they may have been accustomed
to imagine, necessarily associated with bigotry and intole-
rance.
We will not pay our readers the bad compliment of sup-
posing them amongst those, who are diverted by words, from
the perception of things.
July 15, 1813.
INTRODUCTION,
CONTAINING SOME NECESSARY PRELIMINARY
INFORMATION RESPECTING
DOM CLAUDE LANCELOT.
DOM CLAUDE LANCELOT was born at Paris
in the year 1616. He was early distinguished
for piety and learning. At the age of two-
and-twenty he became acquainted with Jean
du Verger de Hauranne, the celebrated Abbe
of St. Cyran, the friend and companion of
Jansenius. This man was equally distin-
guished as the founder of the learned insti-
tution of Port Royal ; and as the first and
chief promulger of Jansenism. Lancelot be-
came devotedly attached to his master, and
soon proved one of the most eminent dis-
ciples of the Port Royal school. Associated
by his introduction to Port Royal with Ar-
nauld, Pascal, Nicole, and Saci, he was soon
k
XVtll INTRODUCTION.
as much distinguished for his philological,
as these great men were, for their moral and
theological works. Equally esteemed for
erudition, for piety, and for conciliating
manners, he was selected with Nicole, to
superintend the Port Royal school at Chenet.
The celebrated Tillemont, Le Nain, Racine,
and the Duke de Chevreuse, the beloved
friend of Fenelon, were amongst his scholars.
To him chiefly, Europe is indebted for the
Port Royal Latin, Greek, Spanish, and Ita-
lian grammars. He was also author of the
collection of Greek primitives, and of two
volumes, octavo, containing memoirs of his
patron the Abbe de St. Cyran, and other
miscellaneous pieces. After the malice of
the Jesuits had succeeded in abolishing the
Port Royal schools, Dom Lancelot became
tutor to the young princes of Conti. At the
death of the princess, their mother, in 1672,
he assumed the rule and habit of St. Bennet,
in the abbey of St. Cyran. The persecution
of the Jansenists was still zealously pursued
by the Jesuits. Their intrigues prevailed in
gaining over the court party. Their united
influence succeeded. Port Royal des Champs
and the monastery of St. Cyran were both
levelled to the ground, and their pious in-
v
INTRODUCTION.
habitants exiled or imprisoned. Dom Claude
Lancelot was banished to Quimperley in
Lower Brittany. He lived to witness the
final destruction of those places so endeared
to him ; and the banishment or death of all
the pious friends of his youth whom he most
fondly loved. Yet God enabled him to re-
joice amidst persecution, to bless his ene-
mies, and to endure unto the end. He died
in the odor of sanctity, rich in faith and good
works. His life was stormy, his latter end
peaceful and glorious. He entered into his
eternal reward 15 April, 1712, at the ad-
vanced age of ninety-seven. The inhabitants
of Quimperley still treasure up his habit as a
precious relic. Dom Lancelot composed se-
veral learned treatises on the rule of St.
Bennet. They are highly esteemed, but are
not interesting to general readers.
LIST
OF THE
AUTHORITIES
CONSULTED IN THIS WORK.
ME MOIRES de St. Cyran, par Dom Claude Lancelot, re-
ligieux de 1'ordre de "S. Benoit, 2 vols. 12mo.
Essais de morale et oeuvres de Nicole, 25 vols. in 12mo.
Vie de Nicole, 1 vol in 12mo.
Vie du Grand Arnauld, 1 vol. 12mo.
Histoire du Jansenisme, par le pere Gerberon, en 3 vols.
in 12mo. avec portraits.
Dictionnaire historique (edit. 1804), 13 vols. in Svo.
Dictionnaire de Bayle, 5 vols. in folio.
Dictionnaire de Moreri.
Vie de Dom Muce, religieux de la Trappe, 1 vol. in
12mo.
Vie de Dom Palemon ou du Comte de Santera, religieux
de la Trappe.
Vie de Dom Alexis ou du Hon. Robert Graham, religieux
de la Trappe, 1 vol. in 12.
Vie de Ranee, par Marsollier, 2 vols. in 12mo.
Vie de Ranee, par Maupeaux.
Lettres choisies, par de 1'abbe de la Trappe, 2 vols. in
12mo.
Vies et Morts de quelques religieux de la Trappe, 6 vols.
in 12 mo.
XX11
Saintete* des devoirs Monastiques, par Tabbe de la Trapp«,
Dom Armand de Ranee, £ vols. in 12mo.
Instructions chretiennes, par Dom Armand de Ranee,
2 vols. in 12mo.
Reglements de 1'abbaye la Maison Dieu Notre Dame de la
Trappe, par Dom Armand de Ranee, 1 vol. in 12mo.
Carte de visile et exhortations faites £ Notre Dame des
Clairets, par Dom Armand de Ranee*, R. P. Abb6 de la
Trappe, 1, vol. in I2mo«> "*
Precis de 1' Histoire de la Trappe, 1 vol. 8vo.
Fleury histoire ecclesiastique, 40 vols. in 12mo.
Racine histoire ecclesiastique Vie de Fe"ne*lon, par Beausset
3 vols. 8vo.
Memoires du Due de St. Simon, 13 vols. 8vo.
Memoires de M. de Montpensier.
Lettres provinciales, par Pascal, avec des Notes par Ni-
cole sous le nom de Louis de Montalte et Wendrock, 4 vols.
in 12 mo.
Lettres de la Mere Angelique, 3 vols. 8vo.
Histoire abrege"e de Port Royal, par Racine, 1 vol.
in 12mo.
Memoires de Port Royal, par du Foss6, 1 vol. in 12mo.
Memoires de Robert Arnauld d'Andilly, I vol. in 12mo.
Memoires de Port Royal, par Nicolas Fontaine, 4 vols. in
Precis de PHistoire de Port Royal, 1 vol. in 12mo.
Relation surles petites e" coles de Port Royal, 1 vol. in 12mo.
Histoire de 1'Institut du Saint Sacrement, 1 vol. in I2mo.
Histoire du Retablissement de Port Royal, J vol. in 12mo.
Vie de la tres haute et tres puissante Princesse Anne Ge-
nevieve de Bourbon, Duchesse de Longueville, par Villefore,
2 vols. in 12mo.
Abreg6 de la Vie de du Fosse", 1 vol. in 12mo.
Vie de Sebastien le Nain de Tillemont, 2 vols. in 12mo»
Abrege de la Vie de Lancelot, 1 vol. in 12mo,
xxni
Abreg6 de la Vie de N. Fontaine, 1 vol. in 12mo.
Lettres spirituelles, par Saci, 2 vols. 8vo.
Lettres spirituelles de S. Cyran.
CEuvres completes du Grand Arnauld.
Vie de la bienheureuse et venerable m£re de Chantal, par
Marsollier, 2 vols. 12mo.
Vie de S. F. de Sales, par le m£me.
Si6cle de Louis quatorze, par Voltaire.
Causes celebres et interessantes, 26 vols. in 8vo.
De vera causa secessus St. Brunones en Eremum.
Voyage d'Alet, par Dom Claude Lancelot.
Pens6es de Pascal, 1 vol. in 12mo.
Vie de Pascal, par Madame Perrier.
Relation sur Port Royal, 1 vol. in 12mo.
Memoires de la Bastille, 3 vols. Svo.
La Bastille devoil£e, 4 vols. 8vo.
Histoire ecc!6siastique, par Tillemont, 12 vols. 4to.
Dissertation sur TH^mine de Vin, par Lancelot, 3 vol.
12mo.
Religieuse parfaite, par la Mere Agnes de S. Paul Ar-
nauld, 1 vol. 12mo.
Les Heures de Port Royal.
Histoire de la Destruction de Port Royal des Champs,
1 vol. in 12mo.
Causes secrettes de la Conversion de M. de Ranee.
Santeuil Hymnes de Port Royal.
Vie de Bourignon.
Vies des Empereurs, par Sebastien le Nain de Tillemont.
Vies des Peres du Desert d'Egypte, par Arnauld d'Andilly,
I vol. in 4to.
Vie de St. Th6rese, par le meme.
Necrologe de Port Royal.
Vie de Vincent de Paul, 1 vol. in 12mo.
Butler's Lives of the Saints, ]2 vols. Svo,
Vie de Nicolas Pavilion eveque d'Alet
xxiv
Description de Paris.
Nouveau Testament, par Quesnel.
History of the Eleventh Century, 1 vol. 4to.
Unpublished Tour to La Trappe and to the South of
France.
NARRATIVE OF A TOUR
TO THE
GRANDE CHARTREUSE, fee.
Alet, Christmas Eve, 1667*
MY REVEREND MOTHER,
I LOOK upon it as a most peculiar
blessing of God, that after calling me out of the
world by his grace, his kind providence placed
me in so close a connexion with your honored
house. The Lord bestow upon me a grateful
heart to appreciate such mercies ! May he be-
stow that preparation by which it may not only
receive the seed of the word, but like good ground,
retain it! May it, by the fulness of his grace,
bring forth fruit an hundred-fold- to his glory !
And may he grant the understanding heart, that I
may discern the mercies of his providence, as well
as the awakened eye, to behold the wonders of
his law*
It is the earnest wish of my heart, that every one
of my dear friends at Port Royal, should become
partakers of all the Lord's benefits to me. I can
indeed teach nothing new, to my dear and ho-
nored fathers and mothers in Christ. A relation
of my little tour, may perhaps, however, interest
you, and beguile some tedious hours of your long
and cruel captivity.
We left Paris on the sixth of August, 1667-
We passed through Auxerre, Vezelay, and the ce-
lebrated Clugny. We also went to Lyons, where
we visited the church of the great Irenseus.
We afterwards proceeded to Annecy, where we
had the favour to see the mortal remains of the
great St. Francis de Sales. They remain in their
natural position, and are placed in a shrine by the
grand altar ; very near to the tomb of the celebrated
Baroness de ChantaL Thus has God in his pro-
vidence ordered, that these two blessed saints, so
united in spirit during life, should, like Saul and
Jonathan, not be separated after death. Both their
bodies sleep in the same church, whilst both their
redeemed spirits rejoice together, before the throne
of the same Savior.
I forgot to mention, that whilst at Lyons we went
to see the monastery of Bellecourt, where St. Francis
spent his last hours.
We visited the room where he died ; and poured
out our souls in prayer close to the very bed, from
which the soul of this eminent saint departed from
earth, to behold the glory of his Lord. This place
3
might indeed be termed a garret, rather than any
thing else. It is now a sort of lumber-room, in the
roof of the gardener's lodge, who still occupies the
lower apartments, and talked, with tears, of the
blessed St. Francis, often repeating his last words,
" O ! my God, my desire is to thee. As the hart
panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my
soul after thee, O God! Yes, mine eyes shall be-
hold thee, and not another ; my heart and my flesh
rejoice before the living God ! I shall enter his gates
with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise ! I
will sing the mercies of the Lord for ever and ever.
O, when shall I appear before my God in Zion.
He, Jesus, is a faithful God, and a Savior ! He
was the Lamb slain for the sins of the whole world.
He shall wash out my sins, and blot out my trans-
gressions 1"
Whilst contemplating his earthly remains, a
little incident concerning this truly venerable father
in Israel, occurred to my remembrance. Perhaps
you may not have heard it, though it relates to
your father M. Arnauld d'Andilly. Whilst M.
d'Andilly had an office at court, he was in the
King's suite at Lyons. St. Francis had been sent
to Paris on an embassy, by the Duke of Savoy ; and
it so happened that just at this period, he passed
through Lyons, on his way back. He celebrated
mass before the King, and M. d'Andilly communi-
cated at his hand, with the rest of the court. It is
needless to remind you of the deep humility and
devotion always expressed in your father's man-
aer on this solemn ordinance. M. Robert Ar~
nauld having been formerly acquainted with St.
Francis, on his first visit to Paris, M. d'Andilly
thought himself sufficiently authorized to call upon
him. Accordingly he waited on the Bishop after
dinner.
As soon as M. d'Andilly entered the room, be-
fore he was announced, St. Francis rose to meet
him, and addressed him in these remarkable words,
" My son, for such I knew you to be in the
breaking of bread." The venerable Bishop then
lifted up his hands to heaven, and gave him a most
solemn and affecting blessing. St. Francis three
days after entered into the joy of his Lord. So
that your father was favored with the dying be-
nediction of this truly eminent and blessed saint.
This circumstance has often put me in mind of a
favorite remark of M. de Balzac. He used to
say, " That amidst the corruptions of a court, M.
Arnauld d'Andilly was the only man, who set an
eminent example of all the moral virtues, without
pride, and who dared be conspicuous for all the
Christian graces, without false shame."
From Annecy we proceeded to the Grande Char-
treuse, near Grenoble.
All I had heard of this astonishing seclusion
falls infinitely short of the reality. No adequate
description can be given of the awful magnificence
of this dreary solitude.
We travelled for some hours through a very
thinly inhabited country. Here and there a few
scattered huts are interspersed. At length even
these were no longer to be seen. Nothing met the
eye but barren wastes, or dark forests, which
seemed of an almost interminable length, and which
were nearly impervious to the light. We saw
during the morning many herds of wild deer, with
hares and foxes in great numbers ; and not unfre-
quently we were alarmed at the howling of wolves.
Gradually the forests become hilly, then rocky.
Our attention was solely taken up with the ro-
mantic beauty of the scenery, when the forest sud-
denly opened, and we saw before us, what 'is pro-
perly the entrance to the desert of the Grande
Chartreuse.
Imagine a gloomy forest abruptly terminated by
immense mountains. The tops covered with snow,
and the sides presenting a bare front of naked rock,
and beetling brows, undiversified by the least
symptom of vegetation.
The desert of the Chartreuse is wholly inacces-
sible but by one exceedingly narrow defile. This
pass, which is only a few feet wide, is indeed
truly tremendous. It winds between stupendous
granite rocks, which overhang above ; arid appear
ready every moment to fall with a dreadful crash,
and overwhelm the awe-struck traveller. Indeed
the crags above project so far beyond the perpen*
dicular ; that they, appear literally suspended with-
out support.
They cast such an awful gloom on the path,
that our horses as well as ourselves, seemed im-
6
pressed with fear, and ready to start back at the
strangeness of the scene, and the sullen hollow
echo of every footfall.
At the farther end of the defile is a most ro-
mantic mountain torrent. We crossed it on a
rude stone bridge ; and by a sudden wind in the
road, immediately saw before us the tremendous
Alp, on which the monastery is placed. In order
to give you any idea of its position, I should ob-
serve, that the mountain on which it is situated,
though apparently of an inaccessible height, is yet
surrounded on every side by rocks still more ele-
vated, whose summits are covered with perpetual
snows.
No sooner is the defile passed, than nothing
which possesses either animal or vegetable life is
seen.
No huntsman winds his horn in these dreary
solitudes ; no shepherd's pipe is allowed to dis-
turb the deep repose. It is not permitted the
mountaineers ever to lead their flocks beyond the
entrance ; and even beasts of prey seem to shrink
back from the dreaded pass, and instinctively to
keep away from a desert, which neither furnishes
subsistence nor covert.
Nothing meets the eye but tremendous pre-
cipices and rude fragments of rock, diversified with
glaciers in every possible fantastic form.
Our mules began slowly to ascend. The path
is rocky, and winds round the mountain. How to
describe the terrors of the ascent I know not.
Sometimes it was only a narrow ledge, scarcely
affording footing for our mules, and overhanging
dizzy precipices below. At others the rocks, jut-
. ting out above, overhung till they formed a com-
.plete arch over our heads, and rendered the path
so dark, that we could scarcely see to pick our way.
Frequently huge fragments of rock fell with a tre-
mendous crash from above, always threatening in-
stant destruction, and occasionally wholly block-
ing up the road. We were then obliged to use
tools which we brought on purpose, to make fresh
stepping places. Once we had to pass over a nar-
row pine-plank, which shook at every step; this
was placed by way of bridge over a yawning
chasm, which every moment threatened to ingulph
the traveller in its marble jaws. We often passed
close by the side of abysses so profound as to be
totally lost in darkness ; whilst the awful roaring of
the waters struggling in their cavities, shook the
very rocks on which we trod.
We laid the bridle on our mules' necks in si-
lence ; lifting up our hearts to that great and in-
scrutable Being, who has created so many won-
ders, and whose eternal Godhead and almighty
power are thus awfully and clearly written, even
from the creation of the world, in the things which
he has made.
As we ascended still higher, we were every now
and then disturbed by the hoarse screams of the
eagles (the only tenants of these deserts), who
started from their eyries at the sudden disruption
8
of the masses of rock above, and wheeled in long
circles round the mountain.
After some hours' toiling in this manner, and at
the height of about half-a-league, we reached the
precincts, or rather outward court of the monas-
tery. This building is not a part of the Con-
vent itself, but is, a distinct establishment, com-
posed of lay-brothers, or other persons, who wish
to be under the direction of the Chartreux, with-
out wholly conforming to the severity of their
rule. These persons chiefly manage the temporal
concerns of the community ; and by their industry
their few wants are easily supplied. All round
the court are cells, for the residence of those
amongst them who occupy their working hours in
the various handicraft labours necessary to the
whole community.
Here we gladly partook of some refreshment.
Our journey, however, was not so soon termi-
nated. We ascended a quarter of a league far-
ther, before we came to the monastery itself.
The difficulties in the first part of our ascent,
appeared mere trifles to those we had to encounter
in the latter. The snow rendered the path so du-
bious, and the ice made it so slippery, that we
scarcely took a step but at the imminent hazard of
our lives. The constant sliding of loose stones
under the snow added to the risk. Our gracious
Lord, however, preserved us from painful fear;
how often have we experienced his kind protection
and mercies, even before we knew him, and before we
had devoted our hearts to him. In your long capti-
vity he still spreads beneath you his everlasting arms !
and in our journeyings for his sake, he who keeps
Israel without slumbering or sleeping, blessed our
coming in, as he had our going out. He mercifully
preserved us from all evil; and above all, he pre-
served our souls. Before sun-set we reached the
Convent grate.
The monastery itself is as striking as the ap-
proach ; its prodigious strength and high anti-
quity give it a singularly venerable appearance.
The circumstances of its position increase the sen-
sation of awe.
The Chartreuse, though situated a whole league
above the base of the mountain, is yet placed in
a bottom, as it respects the summit. Nay, so far
are the rocks elevated above its highest turrets,
that it takes two hours more good travelling to at-
tain the highest practicable point. In fact, the
stupendous rocks which enclose it on every side,
reach far above the clouds, which mostly indeed
rest upon their summits ; here they form a dense
shade, which, like a dark awning, completely
conceals the sun from the view.
Were this not the case the fierce reflection of
its beams would be almost insupportable. Even
on the brightest day, the sun is only visible (ow-
ing to the proximity of the rocks), as from the
bottom of a deep well. On the west, indeed,
there is a little space, which being thus shel-
10
tered, is occupied by a dark grove of pine trees ;
on every other side, the rocks, which are as
steep as so many walls, are not more than ten
yards from the Convent. By this means a dim
and gloomy twilight perpetually reigns within ;
and it is difficult to read small print but by lamp-
light, even in the noon of the brightest summer's
day.
The church belonging to the monastery is ex-
ceedingly neat ; it is kept in beautiful order, and
is wainscoted throughout. The stone floor is en-
tirely covered by another, formed of woods of dif-
ferent colours, and arranged in compartments.
This precaution is absolutely necessary as a pre-
servative against the damp; it likewise rtends to
mitigate the cold, which is intense. I think the
inside of their chapel appears about the size of
that at Port Royal. The inside of their choir too
very nearly corresponds with yours. Their clois-
ter is much longer than that at Port Royal ; it is
however exceedingly narrow, not more than two
cells in width. The cloisters have the appear-
ance of two very long streets; they are nei-
ther parallel, nor on one uniform level ; it was
a matter of necessity to accommodate the build-
ing to the inequalities of the rocks. It has there-
fore been impracticable to form the passages in
right lines, or upon a plain level ; owing to this,
a person at one end of the cloister cannot discern
any one who may be standing at the other.
11
Their cells are peculiarly small and poor; the
chimneys are placed in the angle formed by the
corner of the room. By this method a large por-
tion of heat is reflected, and equally diffused
throughout the room, at a very small expense
of firing. This contrivance appears absolutely in-
dispensable in a situation where fire-wood is so
remote, and the cold so extreme. The snow is
generally during six months of the year higher
than the tops of their garden walls. The season
is considered peculiarly favourable whenever the
depth of the snow does not make it unsafe to ven-
ture out during eight months in the year.
In the midst of summer they are exposed to
precisely the opposite inconvenience ; for about
a month the heat is intense. The sun's rays are
reflected on every side from bare limestone and
granite rocks; and as no shade intervenes to screen
them,, they are concentrated in the hollow in
which the monastery stands, as in a focus. At
these seasons the heat may literally be compared
to that of an oven ; the snow and ice meanwhile
melt from the heights above, and frequently fill
all the lower part of the building with water.
Occasionally the inundation is so rapid as to
carry with it all the soil which at immense la-
bour they have brought from below, to form little
gardens on the bare rock.
We were much pleased with our visit, and edi-
fied by the learned and pious discourse of these
excellent men. We prolonged our stay above a
week. Their general, or to speak more correctly,
their prior, entertained us with the greatest cor-
diality. The repasts of the Carthusians are ex-
ceedingly slender ; every thing is served up in
wooden bowls, consequently all they eat is either
lukewarm or completely cold. The monks take
it in turn to read during every meal ; the pas-
sages are selected by the prior, and are always
either from scripture or the lives of the fathers.
At table every motion is regulated by signal ; the
community sit in perfect silence, with their eyes
cast down the whole time. A brother takes it in
turn to stand at the head of the table with a
slight wand in his hand ; to its stroke, though al-
most imperceptible, the servitors and guests are
equally attentive. At one instant every bowl is
lifted up, at once they are all set down. The
table is served and disserved in the same manner.
The repasts of the whole community are conducted
with the precision of a regiment going through
its military evolutions. By this means very little
noise is occasioned, and as each person performs
his part, as softly as possible, not one syllable of
the whole lecture is lost.
The Carthusians have a very extensive library;
it is indeed equally valuable and magnificent.
Many of the members of the community are men
of deep learning and extensive information. Much
of their time is occupied both in composing and
13
in transcribing books, and the world is indebted
for many valuable works to the pious labours of
these recluses.
I was much struck with the expression of set-
tled peace and deep devotion visible in their
countenances ; this indeed is by no means ex-
clusively peculiar to the monks belonging to
this individual monastery. It is said to be gene-
rally characteristic of the whole order. I remem-
ber the blessed St. Francis de Sales frequently
mentioned with pleasure a little anecdote on this
subject ; and I rather think the hero was one of
his early acquaintance. He was however a young
man of large expectations, but unfortunately dis-
tinguished not only for gaiety but for profligacy.
After spending the evening in gaming with se-
veral young persons as wild as himself, he. be-
came completely intoxicated ; the party broke up
at a very late hour in the night, or rather at a
very early one in the morning. The youth re-
turned home, groping his way through dark and
empty streets, when the deep tolling of a bell
caught his ear ; the sound apparently proceeded
from a building at no great distance. From a
desire of frolic he entered, wondering what per-
sons could be watching at such an hour. What
was his surprise at finding himself in the choir
of a Carthusian monastery ; the whole community
were assembled at matins. Each one sat in his respec-
tive place in silence, his eyes cast down to the ground
14
in the deepest recollection and humiliation ; not an
eye was lifted up to observe who had entered.
One solitary lamp cast a dim light over their
figures. He attempted to smile, but the peace and
deep devotion written on their countenances, struck
his heart with an unknown awe, as though God
were of a truth present with them ; he stood i i-
vetted to the spot, whilst the solemnity of the
place, and the deep silence which reigned around,
increased his sensations. He was motionless, not
only with surprise but with reverence ; after some
minutes the organ struck up, and every one
arising joined in an anthem of praise. His tears
began to flow. " Alas !" thought he, " how very
different the purpose for which I watched to that of
these saints ; I watched not to give praises but to
blaspheme his holy name. God be merciful to
me a sinner ! Yes ; whilst I was even engaged
in wilful, deliberate sin, that merciful and holy
God was watching over me in pity, to bring me
to this place, to give me one more chance of saving
my wretched soul. Surely it was in mercy he
brought me here ! and on that mercy, though
my sins are grievous, I will yet cast myself."
The anthem being ended, prayers began. By an
irresistible impulse the youth prostrated himself
with them, and no doubt but his prayers, with
theirs, were accepted at the throne of grace.
From that hour he became a different man. He
lived an happy and valuable member of the church
15
of Christ ; and died, in full assurance of faith, in
that very convent which had witnessed his conver-
sion. Thus he who came to scoff might be eminent-
ly said, to remain to pray. I cannot relate the above
anecdote with the energy of St. Francis ; but I will
add a concluding observation. " This circumstance
plainly shews, of how much importance it is ; not
only to retain Christian principle in its integrity ;
but also to let it appear externally ; and allow it to
model every the least circumstance of countenance,
manner, dress, in short the whole demeanor. A
Christian appearance speaks irresistibly, though si-
lently, to those who would not listen to Christian
conversation. It requires an exercised Christian
eye to discern grace in another ; where no external
livery (if I may so say) indicates what master we
serve ; and to whose power alone our help is to be
attributed. The world is ever ready to attribute to
nature, the fruits of grace. Without an external sign,
it can scarcely discern the internal spiritual grace."
The world is ever ready to apply to religion, a
maxim of law ; " De non apparentibus } et de non ex-
istentibus, eadem ratio est"
The order of Carthusians was originally founded
by St. Bruno, a native of Cologne. He was de-
scended from noble, and religious parents, and
completed his academical course with brilliant
success. After having held the highest offices in
the church, both at Cologne and Rheims, he
suddenly resolved to quit the world, and to spend
16
the remainder of his days in monastic seclusion-
He imparted his resolution to six young men,
who determined to be the companions of his re-
tirement. They withdrew to a seclusion, named
Saisse Fontaine, in the diocese of Langres. After-
wards Bruno went to Grenoble, in order to look
out for a still more sequestered and inaccessible
situation. Hugh, Bishop of that city, strongly
recommended the desert of the Chartreuse. It
was, he said, effectually precluded from intrusion 5
by the frightful precipices, and almost inaccessible
rocks by which it was surrounded. He added,
as a still more forcible inducement, that for some
time before Bruno's request was made known to
him, he had continually seen seven brilliant and
supernatural stars hovering over the mountains,
and pointing them out by a divine indication.
Accordingly, in the year 1084, Bruno, with his
companions, retired to the Chartreuse. He was
then three and twenty. He did not institute any
new rule; but only revived the disused rule of
St. Bennet, in all its primitive austerity. The
Bishop had scarcely allowed his friend time to
establish himself in this desert, when he passed
a law, that no huntsman, no shepherd, nor any
woman, should ever pass its confines. The situa-
tion of La Chartreuse seems to render the latter
precaution perfectly superfluous. Bruno lived
six years in this spot. He was afterwards sent
for to Rome, by Urban the Second, who had for-
17
tnerly been a disciple of Bruno's, and who had the
highest opinion of his judgment. After arranging
all the affairs of his monastery, Bruno obeyed. Dis-
gusted by the vice and intrigues of a court, he
soon quitted Rome. He retired into the desert
of Squillace, in Calabria. There he founded ano-
ther monastery, at which he expired on the 6th
of October, 1101.
The original Chartreux far exceeded the pre-
sent ones, in the austerity of their discipline.
Peter the venerable, was Abbot of Clugny, at the
very period in which St. Bruno established his
order. Both he, and Guigues the first prior, have
left an ample account of them. Each member o£
the community had a cell, with a little garden
adjoining. In this cell he ate, slept, and worked;
excepting during the hours of out-door exercise,
which each passed in cultivating his own little
garden. By this means the recluses, however
numerous, had no communication with each other.
They never saw each other, but in the hour of
public service ; excepting on a Sunday, when they
were allowed to go to the proper officer, who gave
them their portions of food for the week. Every
one cooked his provision in his own cell.
Their only sustenance is coarse brown bread?
and vegetables. They are likewise allowed to re-
ceive fish, whenever it is given them. In case of
illness, they are allowed two spoonfuls of wine to a
pint of water. On high festivals they are allowed
cheese. The cells are provided with water by a
c
IS
brook, which runs close by, and which enters the
cells through holes left in the wall for that purpose.
They always wear hair cloth next the skin. When-
ever it is necessary to make any communication
to their brethren, they do it by signs, if possible.
Every cell is furnished with skins of parchment,
pens, ink, and colours ; and each one employs
himself, for a certain time, every day, in writing
or transcribing. No one is admitted to take the
vows, till the age of twenty. Such were the origi-
nal customs of the Carthusians.
We did not ascend the utmost practicable height
of the mountain. We went, however, half a league,
at least, beyond the monastery. Here we saw two
beautiful chapels. The first is dedicated to the
Holy Virgin, and the latter to St. Bruno. This is
said to be the original spot which was selected by
him when he first made his retreat in this desert.
It is almost uninhabitable, from the intense cold,
and the great depth of the snow. When St. Bruno
went into Italy, his six companions were buried in
one single night, by a heavy fall of snow. Only
three of their bodies were ever discovered.
The cause to which tradition ascribes St. Bruno's
conversion is singular. Some, however, are in-
clined to deem it fabulous. Whilst a Canon at
Paris, Bruno formed a peculiar intimacy with
another Canon, of the name of Raymond Diocres.
The latter is said to have been exceedingly social
and agreeable, but not a decidedly religious cha-
racter. One day they both dined together at a
19
Jarge party; after a very convivial meeting;, Ray-
mond was suddenly seized with an apoplectic fit,
and fell on the floor, without any signs of life.
Bruno was deeply distressed. Preparations were
made for the funeral; and, as a particular friend of
the deceased, he was of course invited. The body
was brought on a bier, in an open coffin, covered
with a pall, by torch light. It was placed in the
chapel, which was hung with black, and illuminated
with a profusion of tapers. A solemn anthem was
sung, and the priest began the service. After a
little while, the pall which covered the body ap*
peared to heave, and the supposed corpse slowly
raised itself out of the coffin. Its eyes were glazed
and fixed, and the paleness of death overspread its
stiff and sharpened features, whilst, with a look of
deep anguish and horror, it uttered, in a slow and
hollow voice, the following words; : — " Justo judicio
" Dei appellatus sum ! Justo judicio Dei judicatus
" sum ! Justo judicio Dei condemnatus sum !"
(By the just judgment of God I am cited ! By
the just judgment of God I am judged ! By the
just judgment of God I am condemned !) With
these last words, he sent forth a groan of unut-
terable anguish and despair, and fell down dead !
The assembly were petrified with horror: the
book fell from the priest's hands : each one stood
motionless. In the midst of this awful silence,
Bruno, then a youth, stepped forward, and pros-
trating himself on the ground, prayed aloud for
mercy, and pronounced a solemn vow, dedicating
c 2;
himself henceforth entirely to the service of God,
who had given him to witness so unspeakably awful
a judgment.
There are now above forty religious in the mo-
nastery of the Grande Chartreuse. Fourteen mules
are continually employed in bringing provisions,
firing, and other necessaries. These sure-footed
creatures are so well trained, that they are never
known to make a slip, or lose their way, though
unaccompanied by any guide. During the winter,
indeed, the road is absolutely impracticable, other-
wise they regularly go down the mountain, and
atop of their own accord at the porter's cell, in
the forest. It is this man's sole business to provide
for the convent, and to accommodate those who*
visit the monastery with mules, and receive their
horses. At this well-known door they stand till
their panniers are re-loaded, and at the signal of a
whistle they spontaneously set out on their return.
It was on some of these mules we ascended. It
is really curious to observe these creatures in bad
vreather. Their sagacity is truly wonderful. They
scrape the snow first with their hoofs as they go
along, that they may every time ensure safe footing,
I am told that in some places, where the road is so
exceedingly slippy that it is impossible to stand, they
will even squat down on their hind legs, and slide
down the mountain, balancing themselves, by lean-
ing either way, with the nicest precision. They
practise the same, I am informed, in the descent of
the Andes. I have heard they will slide with incre-
dible rapidity, down precipices almost as steep as
the ridge of a house ; and that even where the path
was so narrow, and turned so suddenly, that it
seemed impossible but they must instantly be pre-
cipitated down the precipice before them. Nay,
it is even said, by persons of unquestioned veracity,
that the path is sometimes not quite so wide as their
bodies- At such times it is only by leaning, to
preserve the equilibrium, and by the velocity with
which they move, that they avoid instant destruc-
tion.
In these courses, they stop themselves by striking
one of their fore feet into the snow. Even in this
respect, these sagacious animals exert their usual
ingenuity. They put the hoof several times on the
surface of the snow, to slacken their course, before
they finally strike, lest they should break their leg
by the concussion which on a sudden stop at the
brink of a precipice sometimes happens.
After leaving the Grande Chartreuse, we passed
through Grenoble, and Avignon. From thence we
went to Limoux, which is only about one and
twenty miles from Alet, the place of our desti-
nation.
The ride from Limoux to Alet lies through one
of the most beautiful and picturesque countries I
ever beheld. The ground is beautifully diversi-
fied with green hills and fertile dales, with corn-
fields and cottages. We rode many miles through
vineyards and groves of pomegranate, olive, and
odoriferous orange trees. The air was in many
places quite perfumed with their fragrance. The
peasants' cottages too are remarkably pretty. They
are generally white, and are either covered with
roses and woodbine, or with jasmine and myrtle in
full blossom.
On approaching Alet, the scene became still
more romantic and diversified. Alet is situated at
the foot of the Pyrenees. The diocese, which was
formerly an abbacy belonging to the order of St.
Bennet, extends itself as far as Spain. The reve-
nues were so vast, that Pope John XXII. was in-
duced to divide it into three distinct Bishoprics,
viz. those of Alet, Mirepoix, and St. Papulphus.
Even after this division, a considerable portion
yet remained, which was given to the Chapter of
Narbonne.
On drawing near to Alet, we were much struck
with the variety of the prospects. The beauty and
richness of the scenery bordering on the Pyrenees,
together with the endless change of landscape,
is beyond description. Sometimes the mountains
rise in gentle slopes, covered with green herbage,
and innumerable herds and flocks feed on their
sides. At others, the mountains were wild and
rocky, but covered with orange-trees in full blos-
som, together with olive, citron, myrtle, arbutus,
and innumerable other trees, exhibiting the richest
variety of flower, odor, and foliage. Frequently
the steep precipices were clothed with thick
wood, down to the very foot of the mountains ; at
others, a bold front of rock would appear, enriched
with lichens of every different tint, and ornamented
with elegant festoons of creeping shrubs, or with the
wild flowers of the soil, which are very luxuriant
and beautiful. We often saw wild goats browsing
in the most inaccessible places, and amused our-
selves in watching them skip from rock to rock.
Now and then we were surprised by openings in
the trees, unexpectedly discovering the most pic-
turesque waterfalls that can be imagined. They
fall from the summits of the mountains, sometimes
in one continued sheet, and sometimes broken by
the projecting rocks into a number of distinct falls,
till reaching the foot, they give rise to limpid
streams, which wind amongst the valleys, and at
which the cattle quench their thirst.
The entrance to Alet is through a defile of rocks.
Though not very narrow, it is yet difficult to pass,
because the whole width is occupied by a rapid
river. To remedy this inconvenience, a road suf-
ficiently wide for a small two-wheeled cart, is hol-
lowed out of the side of one of the rocks above the
level of the water. A similar mode was adopted to
make a foot or horse path on the opposite side. Nei-
ther of the roads are very safe, but the latter is far the
most dangerous, both on account of its narrowness
and of its greater elevation above the stream. On
this road the truly venerable Bishop of Alet very
nearly lost his life, some years ago, as he was
passing it on his litter, in one of his visits round
his diocese. The circumstance occurred as follows.
A horse which was following his litter, by some
accident struck against the hindermost mule. The
animal lost its balance, and slipped over the edge of
the precipice. By a providence, almost miraculous,
the fore-mule singly sustained fora considerable time,
the weight of his fallen companion, together with
the whole burden of the litter, in which were two
persons, M. d'AIet, and his attendant ecclesiastic.
M. d'AIet was praying, and did not therefore im-
mediately see the full extent of the danger. His
companion however instantly perceiving it, ex-
claimed, " My lord, there is nothing left but in-
stantly to commend our souls to God." The Pre-
late, to whom death had long lost its sting, replied
with his wonted calmness, " Let us do so then.'*
At that moment the mule, by some means or other,
contrived to find footing on some projecting points
of rock, and raising up the litter, gave both the
gentlemen an opportunity to get out in safety. M.
d'AIet no sooner saw the danger to which they had
been exposed, than he immediately knelt down to
give thanks to God. He has since erected a cross
on the spot. At the foot he has inscribed the fol-
lowing words, from the 1 18th psalm, " I have been
thrust at sore that I might fall, but the Lord helped
me." Thus we see that the Lord still gives his
angels charge over his servants, to keep them in all
their ways ; at his command, they still bear them up
in their hands, lest they should dash their feet
against a stone.
The defile winds between the rocks for the full
space of half a league. The pass is fearful.
Though not so magnificent, it is far more dan-
gerous than that of La Chartreuse. At the termi-
nation of the passage, the rocks suddenly expand,
forming a grand, and vast amphitheatre, covered
with forests. In the bottom, is an extensive and
fertile plain, watered by the river Aude, and full of
herds and flocks. Immediately in front, about the
centre of the valley, appears the noble archiepis-
copal palace of Alet. The town itself is inconsi-
derable. It might with more propriety be termed
a neat village. The appearance, however, ^of the
palace, is truly magnificent, both in point of size
and antiquity. It was built by the ancient abbots,
and is surrounded by very extensive, but old fa-
shioned gardens. In one of them is a noble raised
terrace, which commands the whole course of the
Aude through the town. The whole appearance
of the palace, rising in the midst of its double ter-
races and gardens, with the magnificent double
avenues to every entrance, and a noble stone bridge
thrown over the Aude render the approach to Alet
very striking. The first view, however, comprises
the whole of the objects which are worth seeing.
On our arrival, we were surprised to find the
gates of the town shut, like the doors of a private
house. We have since understood that they have
orders to keep them closed on Sundays, in order to
prevent carriages from unnecessarily passing. The
modest sober appearance of the persons we saw in the
streets was really striking. By that only we should
have known ourselves to be in the neighbourhood
56
of the good Bishop of Alet The streets are won-
derfully neat and clean. We could see into the
houses as our carriage passed along. I think there
was scarcely a family who were not either collected
reading the scriptures, or in prayer.
On reaching the palace, I was much struck
with the primitive Christian simplicity which dis-
tinguished the interior. Although the episcopal
residence is so magnificent a building, yet nothing
is to be seen within, but what corresponds with the
strictest humility and self-denial. I could have
fancied myself at the house of that first of Chris-
tian Bishops, who needed the authority of an
apostle to persuade him, for his health's sake, to add
a little wine to his usual beverage.
The entrance-hall and anti-chamber are both
noble apartments. They have been much admired
on account of their size, and the accuracy of their
proportions. Neither of them are furnished or de-
corated with hangings : a large scripture piece in
each, by one of the best masters, is the only orna-
ment. Long wooden benches are placed down the
sides, close to the wall, for the convenience of those
who call. At one end is a spacious fire-place,
with seats for the old and infirm. An immense
blazing wood fire on the hearth, effectually diffuses
warmth over the whole apartment.
The Bishop's study is actually not larger than
one of the cells in your monastery at Port Royal.
It is only furnished with a table, a reading-desk,
book-shelves, and a few joint-stools.
27
The venerable Prelate received us with the most
affectionate and truly paternal kindness. His great
age, and the very severe illness, from which he is
just recovering, prevented him from speaking much.
His countenance and manner, however, were full of
holiness and love, mingled with apostolic gravity
and sincerity.
I never saw a person whose appearance more
strongly expressed his true character. His first as-
pect shews the apostolic pastor of a Christian church,
the venerable dignitary of a potent realm, and the
humble saint rejoicing in persecution for Christ's
sake.
But I forget that I have not yet introduced this
truly admirable man to your acquaintance.
Nicholas Pavilion, Bishop of Alet, is son to
Stephen Pavilion, who held a civil office under
government, and grandson to Nicholas Pavilion, a
celebrated advocate of the parliament of Paris. He
was born in 1597 ; his assiduity at his studies was
soon remarked, though not that genius which since
independently of his piety, would have distin-
guished him for eloquence in the pulpit. It is a
remarkable fact, that several orators, who were af-
terwards considered most noted for brilliant elo-
quence, were in early youth considered as men of
slow parts. The celebrated Bossuet, was more dis-
tinguished at school, for perseverance, than for ta-
lent. Though he seldom joined in the amusements
of his comrades, he also seldom obtained the re-
28
gard of his teachers : nay, he was so noted amongst
them for a mere plodder, that his school fellow*,
in derision, were wont, by a wretched pun, or
quibble upon his name, to call him, " Bos suetus
aratro" As M. Pavilion grew up his talents un-
folded. Placed under the direction of Vincent de
Paule, institutor of the missions, his zeal, his piety,
his erudition, and his eloquence soon became con-
spicuous. Satisfied with being made useful, he
always shunned preferment. About this period he
became acquainted with your excellent uncle M.
Arnauld d'Andilly. He, without consulting M.
Pavilion, recommended him in a particular man-
ner to the Cardinal de Richelieu. The minister
well knew M. d'Andilly's piety, and the value of
his recommendation. He soon after invested M.
Pavilion with the Bishopric of Alet. This diocese
was in a peculiarly deplorable state. Ravaged by
the bloody civil wars, which had so long desolated
France : cruelty, selfishness, and ignorance, over-
spread the whole face of the country, and seemed
indigenous to the soil. Whilst the rest of France
recovered from her wounds, and tasted the bless-
ings of peace and civilization, Alet was still left in
its wretched state. Too remote from the capital
for the great, too barbarous, and too ignorant for
the man of letters ; none but a Christian would have
undertaken the charge of reforming it : and as none
unconstrained by the love of Christ, would have
undertaken it ; so, none unassisted by his almighty
29
power and Spirit, could have effected it. At this
juncture, God, in mercy to Alet, raised up M.
Pavilion, and established him in the episcopal see.
The new Bishop immediately began a reform,
which he has carried on ever since, with indefati-
gable zeal. The instruction both of clergy and
laity, equally occupy his attention. Not content
with establishing colleges for the one and schools
for the other, in every part of his diocese, he has,
at a great expense, instituted an establishment for
the sole purpose of educating masters and mis-
tresses. The good effects of M. d'Alet's plans
were soon conspicuous. His diocese seemed com-
pletely transformed. Alet became distinguished
for piety, sobriety, industry, and regularity. M.
de Richelieu was complimented on every hand for
his wise choice, and France bestowed on M. d'Alet
the honourable titles of Father of the Poor, Coun-
cellor of the Good, Light and Support of the
Clergy, Defender of Truth, and of Christian
Discipline. Lastly, he was esteemed the most
humble, although the most highly valued character
in the kingdom.
Such was then the opinion of France. Well might
we have inferred, that after a long night of Cim-
merian darkness, the kingdoms of this world were at
length becoming the kingdoms of our Lord, and of
his Christ. It was however soon evident, that now,
as in the apostle's days, the carnal mind is still
enmity against God, and that he who will be a ser-
vant of Christ, cannot long please men. The pow-
30
erful, whose vices he attacked, raised a cabal, and
preferred very serious charges against him at court.
On examination, his innocence was fully proved.
Soon after the persecutions of the Jansenists took
place, M. d'Alet was invited to countenance them,
by his signature. This he steadily refused to do.
In consequence of his integrity, he has himself be-
come obnoxious to the persecutors. Wearied out
by the cabal and intrigue of the Jesuits, the court
has publicly disgraced the holiest prelate in the
realm, and the first reformer now living. Instigated
by ambition, Cardinal Richelieu deliberately under-
took the unrelenting persecution of a man, of whom
he has repeatedly declared, that in the pulpit, he
exhibited the zeal of St. Paul; at the altar, the devo-
tion of St. Basil; that with princes, he had the wis-
dom of St. Ambrose ; with the poor, the charity of
St. Nicholas. That in the midst of the world, he
had always the guilelessness of Nathaniel; and
that the recesses of his heart, at all times burnt with
the love of St. John.
The Bishop of Alet's house, exhibits a model of
true Christian hospitality, as well as of primitive
simplicity. Each guest is left at liberty, without
being ever neglected. Matters are so arranged,
that every one has some hours in retirement, and
that for the occupation of others, objects of useful
employment spontaneously present themselves.
Some considerable portion of every day is devoted
to cheerful, yet pious and instructive conversation:
and to social, yet beneficial occupations.
31
The Bishop possesses the art of directing dis-
course usefully, without constraint. He never
forces the subject, but always gives even to the most
remote, a tincture of his own piety. His conversation
appears to me a true model of social intercourse,
directed by Christian piety, and spiritual wisdom.
He equally avoids the error of those worldlings
who always shun religion, and of those unwise re-
ligionists, who, by making it the sole subject of
discourse, are often led into formality and hypo-
crisy. Here is no religious chit-chat. He never
utters a sacred truth without appearing deeply pe-
netrated by the awful reality.
The topics of discourse at Alet have always truth
of some description for their object. Philosophy,
natural and experimental, history, mathematics, in
all its branches ; and mechanics, afford frequent re-
creations at the episcopal palace. Nor are the
languages or sacred music neglected. The Bishop
generally avoids introducing poetry, or works of
imagination : I believe he thinks they are useless,
as not having truth for their object ; and deleterious,
by tending to inflame the passions. With this ex-
ception, he is usually remarkable for the happymode
in which he takes a part in any subject which may be
started. Only, he conscientiously directs it to useful
ends ; managing so as to converse, without trifling
on any.
When the Bishop himself leads the conversa-
tion, it is mostly of a religious nature, for out of the
abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.
When with those whose religious sentiments
permit him freely to unfold ; then indeed his lips
seem touched with a living coal from the altar.
I have often seen his hearers wrapped in astonish-
ment and awe at the apostolic zeal and sanctity with
which he declared divine truths, in the name of him
who sent him.
His wisdom, information, and good sense, render
his conversation instructive on all subjects. Yet
it is evident this is the one on which his heart di-
lates, and that this is the point in which all his
other studies centre. Though not always convers-
ing on religion, it is at all times apparent, that it is
the medium through which he views every other
thing ; and I think his deep piety is almost as per-
ceptible in the spirituality with which he speaks of
temporal things, as in the wisdom which he dis-
plays in spiritual ones. Every subject on which
he discourses, I might almost say, every sentence
which he utters, receives a tincture from his piety.
The Spirit dwelling in the heart, as on an altar,
sanctifies in some sort, whatever gift has been upon
it, and imparts to it a sacred character. His piety
so modifies his learning, that the most religious
might edify ; and his learning so adorns his piety,
that the most sceptical might be convinced.
Contrary to the manner of some, he seldom
speaks of religion to determined infidels. But
where it is possible, he rather joins in their sub-
jects of discourse, only speaking in a Christian spirit.
The unbelief of the head, he says, is mostly found-
33
eel in the enmity of the heart ; he therefore thinks
the persuasion of the affections ought to co-operate
with the conviction of the judgment. On this ac-
count he thinks it most judicious, to let them feel
the excellency of Christianity in its practical effects,
before he recommends it as a general principle.
When he speaks to those who ask his advice, he
is very careful to address each one according to his
own degree of light. He thinks the work is often
ruined by indiscreetly urging persons beyond the
step, the divine Spirit is then pointing out to the
conscience.
M. d'Alet has often in his mouth that text. Cast
not your pearls before swine. Though far indeed
from comparing any individual of his fellow-crea-
tures to those animals, yet he often calls the expe-
riences of Christ's love his people's pearls, and says
they should not be lightly cast before those who
will not only trample them under foot, but who will
endeavour by turning upon Christians, with futile
sophisms, to rend their peace and comfort. He ra-
ther advises, that the common experiences of men,
such as convictions of sin, repentance, 8cc. be
dwelt on, till the fallow ground is fully broken up,
and prepared to receive the seed of the kingdom.
What I have seen at Alet has convinced me that
it is much more common and easy to speak well on
religion, than to speak of temporal things at all
times in a religious spirit.
The Bishop of Alet's repasts are truly Christian.
His table is moderate and frugal. Nay, I think I
54
may add, that the whole of his household expenses
are, evidently, self-denying: they, however, stop
short of ascetic severity.
He eats but little himself. The bread at dinner
is served up in six-ounce rolls. He seldom took
more than half of one. Besides this, he either
takes the wing of a fowl or some small piece of
meat, of a similar size, and a little soup. At the
desert he takes either a baked pear or a roasted
apple, with a few almonds, which are in this
country served up in the shell, just as walnuts are
with us.
Some religious work is read during the whole of
the repast. One of the clerks of the cathedral per-
forms the office of lecturer. This he does standing,
because it is the table of a Bishop. He reads slowly
and distinctly. The holy Prelate listens the whole
time with the docility of a child, who attends to the
voice of his master. His eyes are mostly bent
downwards, with the greatest reverencer or else
closed, with his head a little turned to the reader,
that he may not lose one single syllable. On this
account he never helps at his own table, unless it
be handing fruit to the person next him. He is
exceedingly exact in never allowing any dish to
appear a second time at table. All the remnants
are distributed to the poor. The bishop never
suffers any thing to be served by way of delicacy,
the remains of which cannot be made, in some way,
beneficial to the necessitous, the sick, or the infirm.
For the same reason, he insists on every thing being
35
carved in the neatest and nicest manner, so that
nothing may be rendered disgusting. People, he
says, are but half charitable, who, whilst they
supply the wants, never consider the feelings of
others.
The Bishop is so conscientiously exact in these
particulars, that I never saw a fowl, or any
poultry, or game, at his table, unless he knew of a
sick neighbour, to whom the remains might be ac-
ceptable. Even then they were always presents
from his friends ; for he himself never bought any
thing but plain butchers' meat. On the same
principle, no made dishes, second courses, or even
removes, or pastry are ever served up.
We could not help smiling at a little incident
which occurred during our visit: the Bishop is
exceedingly particular on every occasion, in al-
ways employing some of his own flock in prefer-
ence to sending to Paris. The Bishop a little while
ago wanted a cook ; those in this remote province
are miserably bad : the Prelate, however, pursued
his usual plan, and consequently got a very indif-
ferent one. After a few weeks the man, who had
been treated with the greatest kindness, gave warn-
ing ; the Bishop sent for him up : — " What, my
good friend, can be the cause of your learing me.?"
" Sir," replied the man, " I have nothing to do
all day long. I was ignorant enough when I
came, but," added he, with great indignation, " I
shall become fit for nothing at all, if I stay any
longer at such a place as this,"
36
The Bishop of Alet's table, often puts me in
mind of some anecdotes, related by the Bishop of
Bellay, concerning Cardinal Frederic Borromseo,
nephew and successor to the great St. Charles,
in the Archbishopric of Milan.
During the Bishop of Bellay's tour in Italy he
very frequently dined at his house, and always
found him a close imitator of the frugality and
temperance of his uncle. His income is estimated
at about fifty thousand crowns ; with this sum he
does so much for the church and for the poor,
that it might be imagined he had the riches of
Croesus. The foundation of that noble and mag-
nificent institution, the Ambrosian library, is but a
small sample of his munificence.
With regard to his own person, house and
furniture, nothing appears but what is indispen-
sably necessary. He one day spoke to the Bishop
of Bellay with tears in his eyes, of the increasing
luxury of the clergy. " Alas !" said he, " when
will ail Christian bishops conform to the whole-
some regulations of the Council of Trent? When
will the houses of dignified clergy be recognized
by seeing there " frugalem mensam et pauperem
suppellectiiem ?" the frugal table and mean fur-
niture ?
One day trie Bishop of Bellay dined at Cardinal
F. Borromaeo's with the Bishop of Vintimiglia and
Count Charles Borromseo ; it was on the 4th of
November, 1616.
" I had often heard,0 said Mr. de Bellay, " that
37
the Cardinal disapproved of seeing the starving
poor naked at the doors of bishops, whilst their
insensible walls were hung with the richest ta-
pestry and velvet ; and their tables groaned under
the load of superfluous viands. Yet," continued
he, " I was astonished at seeing nothing but bare
whitewashed walls and w$x)den furniture. There
were neither hangings or any silk furniture
throughout the whole house ; every thing was ex-
ceedingly nice and clean, but without any such
thing as an ornament, except a few paintings
from sacred history,' the work of the first masters.
The dinner was served entirely without either
plate or china ; the plates, salt-stands, cruets, See.,
were of white delft ; the knives and forks were of
the best steel; only the spoons and ladles were
silver.
After grace was over, one of the Cardinal's al-
moners read in the scriptures till dinner was half
over ; the remainder of the time was left for con-
versation.
The first course consisted of an equal portion
to every guest, as at religious houses : two deep
covered dishes were set before every guest. In one
were five or six spoonfuls of vermicelli, boiled in
milk tinged with saffron. In the other was a very
small boiled chicken floating in broth. This was
the whole of the first course.
The second, which might be termed the bulk of
the feast, also consisted in like manner of two co-
vered dishes each. The first contained three balls
38
balls of chopped herbs, bread, and mince meat
about the size of a poached egg; the other dish
consisted of a snipe, accompanied by an orange.
Next succeeded two more dishes each, by way
of desert, one of which contained a remarkably
small pear, ready peeled ; the other a napkin very
nicely folded, in the centre of which was a piece of
Parmesan cheese, as large as a sixpenny piece.
This was the whole of the dinner. No sooner
\vas it ended than a finger-glass was brought to each,
and rose and orange water poured over the hands of
every guest.
The Bishop of Bellay used however to add,
that these Borromaean feasts were not in vogue
with all the dignified prelates in Rome.
A French Cardinal, a man of great piety and
learning, who was newly arrived at Rome, once
invited Cardinal Bellarmin to dine with him.
He had heard much of his celebrity and holi-
ness, and concluded he could not pay him a
higher compliment than by treating him after
the manner of St. Carlo Borromaeo, instead of
giving him a sumptuous entertainment in the
French style.
Accordingly the dinner was conducted with the
greatest frugality. As soon as the cloth was re-
moved, the French Cardinal, wishing to compli-
ment him, observed, that knowing his exalted
piety, he thought it would give him pleasure to be
receiyed thus, in so plain, and familiar a manner.
Cardinal Bellarmin, who was of a very lively,
39
gay temper, notwithstanding his solid piety, smiled
very good hunioredly at the other's simplicity, and
replied, — " Assay, assay, Monsignor illustrissimo,
assay;" that is, " Quite familiarly or plainly
enough ;" or, according to the idiom of the lan-
guage, implying rather too much so.
Our good Cardinal, who knew French better
than Italian, was quite delighted by this reply.
He concluded that the words " Enough so, enough
so," twice repeated, meant that he had provided quite
sumptuously enough, or rather exceeded his wishes.
He therefore bowed, and with many apologies, as-
sured Cardinal Bellarmin that when he next should
be honored with his company, he would cer-
tainly order his usual dinner to be reduced to half
its quantity.
The Bishop of Alet never sits at dinner longer
than half-an-hour, on any pretext whatever. As
soon as dinner is over, when the weather admits of
it, he walks on the terrace, or in the garden.
When any friends are staying with him, he mostly
converses with them during his walk. If no sub-
ject arise, he occasionally gives orders relative to
the culture of the garden, or the disposal of its
produce amongst the poor.
When the weather is unfavourable, he sits with
his friends a little while after dinner. The bulk
of the afternoon he devotes to the business of his
diocese. If his friends be persons of sufficient
piety and judgment, he frequently consults them.
In his mode of transacting business, the Bishop
40
seems guided both by wisdom, humility, and faith.
The two former lead him to ask every body's opinion
whom he judges capable ; the latter causes him to
decide nothing without consulting scripture, and
laying the matter before God in prayer ; by this
rule he is steadily guided.
M. d' Alet often regrets that the Scriptures are so
superficially perused, by those who make a religious
profession: " Many,'* he says, " are well acquaint-
ed with the outline of religion, and can adduce
texts in support of the general scheme of salvation,
who have yet never given that minute attention to
scripture which is indispensably necessary to those
who desire to be well versed in every part of
Christian practice.
" May we all," says the good bishop, " be-
come more and more of Bible Christians ; as every
branch of our faith is immutable, so may every
part of our walk become more and more modelled
by Scripture. We are commanded to eat, to
drink, and to do all to the glory of God. Surely
then, the law of Christ should regulate all these
things ; for how but by that shall we know what
is for his glory ? The natural man knows as little
of a Christian walk as of a Christian faith.
Though many professing Christians suppose they
walk according to the mind of Christ in these re-
spects, yet it is evident, that they frame the rule in
their own imaginations, and suppose it to be that
of Christ; instead of truly studying the Scripture
in every individual practice, and carefully tracing
41
the connexion between every precept and doc-
trine of the gospel.
" One reason indeed of studying the Scripture
is, that we may grow in the knowledge of God in
Christ Jesus ; another, that we may be able to give
an answer to every man concerning the hope which is
in us: but, let us remember, that a third, and not
a less important one is, that the man of God
may be thoroughly furnished to every good work.
The office of the Holy Spirit is to apply Scripture
to the heart, and not to supersede it. This is a
truth as essential as it respects a Christian walk,
as with respect to a Christian faith."
The Bishop of Alet is a great friend to self-
denial and mortification, both external and internal.
He thinks many persons deceive themselves in
supposing they take up the inward, whilst they re-
fuse the outward cross. He has very frequently
in his mouth the words of our Lord, '
Agonize to enter in at the strait gate ;
for many shall seek to enter in, and shall not be
able. " Surely," says M. d' Alet, " this ago-
nizing must as much relate to that vile body, which
even St. Paul kept under, for fear of becoming a
cast-away, as to those high imaginations and tem-
pers of soul which are to be brought down and sub-
jected to the law of Christ.
The bishop is extremely abstemious. He is
therefore just as ready for business after dinner as
before. He saves himself a great deal of per-
42
plexity, by rather aiming at acting on true princi*
pies, than at being anxious respecting conse-
quences. I have observed that he endeavours in
every undertaking to keep close to God, in his Spirit,
his providence, and his word. He never enters on
any matter without prayer, nor unless both the
ends and means are sanctioned by Scripture. Yet
our Lord has shewn him the necessity of wholly
leaving the success to him ; and in a great mea-
sure enables him, when any error in his own
judgment causes the thing to fail, to humble him-
self before the Lord, under that, as under other
cross providences. Thus he is enabled to bear his
own mistakes with the same patience and resigna-
tion as other men's, and every one of his infirmi-
ties (not his sins) affords fresh source of humilia-
tion in himself, and of rejoicing in the goodness
of his Lord.
By this means M. d' Alet is favoured with a
great deal of freedom from care and needless per-
plexity. Peace and serenity are written on his
countenance. How seldom we reflect, that the
peace which passes all understanding, is not only
the privilege of Christians to enjoy, but that it is
also one of those fruits of the Spirit by which
those are distinguished who are the children of
God and joint-heirs with Christ. Even good men
are too apt to let their peace be interrupted by
dwelling on effects they cannot command, in-
stead of calmly reposing all by faith on Christ,
whose promises stand on an immutable basis.
43
He attends with the greatest love and patience all
those who open to him their spiritual wants. He,
however, wishes to accustom them rather to seek
aid of God, than of men. In this respect, he fol-
lows the examples of M. de St. Cyran, of St.
Austin, and of St. John. He thinks the practice
of constantly unbosoming ourselves to men, creates
religious gossipping, and extinguishes vital piety ;
and accustoms young believers to consider men
as more necessary to them than God. Fre-
quently too, he thinks, that by creating human at-
tachments, it weakens divine love. Jesus says,
he is both the Alpha and Omega of Christianity.
W^th him then let us begin, as with him we must
end. From first to last all is of him. to him, and
through him. He it is who is exalted, a Prince
and a Saviour in Israel, to give repentance as well
as remission of sins. He it is who is come a
great light into the world, that whosoever follows
him, should not walk in darkness, but should have
the light of life. He is the Lamb that taketh away
the sins of the whole world ; yea, that bore our sins
in his own body on the tree. He is the good Shepherd
who goes before, and calls his sheep by name. He
is the good Physician, who makes whole those
who touch the hem of his garment ; and the re-
sidue of the Spirit is with him. Whatever then
may be our wants from first to last, we must come
to him. However vile we may be, we must re-
solve to come to him ; for he expressly terms
44
himself the door, through which we must infer, if
we would find pasture. He has promised that he
will not cast out, but will save to the uttermost,
those who come to God by him ; and he has de-
clared, that there is no name given under heaven,
by which men can be saved, but by that which is
given ; Emmanuel, God with us, God manifest in
the flesh, Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day,
and for ever.
When M. d'Alet gives pastoral instructions,
he does it as nearly as possible, in scripture lan-
guage. The road to the kingdom he observes is
narrow. It is best taught in scripture language,
for the glosses of men do but widen it.
I never knew a man so well versed in sacred writ.
He is quite an Apollos, mighty in the scriptures.
He quotes the originals as familiarly as we do
the vulgate. And on whatever subject he speaks,
he seems to have all the parallel passages before
him.
M. d'Alet's patience, both in illness and under
the faults of others, is exceedingly great. He seems,
through mercy, continually kept low at the foot of
the cross. He is favoured with a deep sense of his
own unworthiness, and of his merciful Saviour's
infinite condescension and long-suffering towards
him ; by this means he is enabled, from the heart, to
forgive others, and to think all too good for him.
One day being exceedingly heated by preaching,
he returned to the palace to rest himself. The
archdeacon was with him, The porter had always
45 ,
strict orders neyer to keep any one waiting at the
gate: nevertheless, they repeatedly knocked in
vain. It was in the depth of winter. After a full
quarter of an hour had elapsed, the Archdeacon,
who feared the consequences for M. d'Alet, began
to grow angry. " Softly, my dear friend," replied
the bishop, " we indeed see he does not come, but
we do not yet know the reasons which detain him."
During the last thirty years, it is astonishing
how many persons have applied to M. d'Alet, re-
specting their spiritual concerns. Some of the
most eminently pious characters in the present
century have been formed under his direction. You
well know the part he took in the conversions of
Madame la Duchesse de Longueville, and the
Prince and Princesse of Gonti. Their high rank
equally extended M. d'Alet's celebrity, and aggra-
vated his disgrace and persecutions.
Perhaps, however, the most remarkable character
under the direction of M. d'Alet, (or of almost
any other) is the celebrated Dom Armand Jean le
Bouthiilier de Ranee, the regular abbot, reformer,
and first institutor of the astonishing austerities of
La Trappe.
I heard a variety of anecdotes concerning him,
whilst here, which I think may be relied on. His
character is so singular, and the circumstances by
which it was unfolded so remarkable, and, I will
add, that the institution to which it gave birth is so
wonderful, that I cannot refrain from setting down
all I have been able to collect ; though I fear, even
46
now, my letter is large enough to fill M. de Bri-
enne's pocket-book.
Dom Armand Jean le Bouthillier de Ranee de
Chavigni was born at Paris on the 9th of January,
1626. He was nephew to Claude le Bouthillier de
Chavigni, Secretary of State, and Comptroller of
the Finances. He was of a very ancient house in
Brittany. His ancestors were formerly cup-bearers
to the Dukes of Brittany. Hence it was they
assumed the name of Bouthillier. Cardinal Riche-
lieu was godfather to M. de Ranee. Mary of Me-
dicis honoured him, as he grew up, with her pecu-
liar protection, and he was a knight of Malta from
his early youth.
From early childhood his figure was singularly
noble, and his countenance remarkably beautiful.
He was above the common stature. His features
were on the finest model of Roman beauty. His
hair of a beautiful auburn, curled with profusion
over his shoulders. He united regular beauty,
and masculine strength, to an expression of vigo-
rous intellect, delicacy of taste, acute sensibility,
and noble and generous passions. Ncrone could
see him without admiration,
His talents were as remarkable as his beauty.
At eleven, he arranged a new Greek edition of
Anacreon's Odes, with notes of his own composing.
It was published before he was twelve. M. de
Ranee's paternal inheritance was very considerable.
His ecclesiastical benefices were still more so. He was
designed to succeed his uncle in the Archbishopric
47
of Tours. By a common abuse, he enjoyed the
emoluments, even during childhood. From the
Belles Lettres, he proceeded to the study of Theo-
logy. He took up all his degrees at the Sorbonne,
with the greatest distinction. Nevertheless, the
Abbe de Ranee forms a melancholy instance, how
the head may be enlightened, whilst the heart
still remains altogether dead in trespasses and sins.
The pride of the universities of Paris and Sor-
bonne ; the fame of his talents, erudition, fortune,
birth, beauty, eloquence, and accomplished man-
ners, was spread throughout all France. Yet his
heart was abandoned in secret to almost every spe-
cies of disorder. To all those at least which the
world deems not incompatible with honor. That
part of his time, which was most innocently em-
ployed, was consumed at public places of amuse-
ment, or in hunting, and in company. The im-
mense revenues of his ecclesiastical benefices, were
destroyed by deep gaming, and by every species
of extravagance most inconsistent with his sacred
profession.
De Ranee gave an unbridled loose to all his pas-
sions and inclinations. He seemed for a time,
equally averse from the duties of his religious pro-
fession, and from every useful and honorable mode
of employing his exalted talents.
In vain were the remonstrances of his friends.
His wit and unfailing good humor always found
means to parry all their attacks. Too often he even
made his crying sins appear amiable to those whose
duty it was to reprove them. Thus his heart re-
1 mained obdurate as adamant, and slippery as po-
lished marble. He continued in this course of
life some years. At Jength God, the father of
mercies, interfered in his behalf; and now ceased
to persuade him through the medium of his fellow-
creatures, and spoke to him through the instrumen-
tality of his awful providences.
Thus, after Elihu had in vain called Job to re-
pentance, God himself spoke from the whirlwind,
and he abhorred himself, and repented in dust
and ashes.
Ambition had always been the distinguishing cha-
racteristic of M. de Ranee. In several of his projects
he was disappointed. He had formed an intimate
friendship with the Cardinal de Retz, and quar-
relled with the Cardinal Mazarin on his account.
The misfortunes of the Cardinal de Retz, and the
premature death of Gaston Duke of Orleans, deeply
affected him.
A failure in one or two plans, undertaken on
behalf of his friends, gave him a sensible mortifica-
tion. He quitted Paris in disgust ; and retired to
his seat at Veret. Though it is probable these in-
cidents were the first seeds of his subsequent con-
version ; yet they were not, at that time, effectually
watered by a free reception of God's good Spirit.
.They remained dormant, and it was not till long
after, that they germed and fructified. The Abbe
de Ranee was a disappointed, not an altered man.
Foiled in the object of his wishes, he bade adieu, for
4P
a season, to literature ; and collecting his gayest
friends, sought to drown his disappointmentat the
table, and to dissipate his sorrows at the chase.
Amongst other objects, wholly incompatible with
his sacred functions and vocation, he had formed a
most ardent attachment to a young lady who re-
sided not far off, and who was highly accomplished.
Though restricted by his ordination from marriage,
he had persuaded both himself and her, that the cul-
tivation of their mutual affection by frequent visits
and correspondence, was entirely free from ob-
jection. She reposed as much confidence in his
opinion, as she felt charmed by his society.
It happened, that in autumn he had proposed
taking a shooting excursion of a few weeks, and
terminating it by a visit at her father's house. He
was accompanied by one of his gay companions, to
whom he never scrupled to converse with great la-
titude on religious subjects. As they were roaming
together over the mountains, their discourse took
the usual turn. The Abbe, goaded by the remem-
brance of his late disappointment, gave no bounds
to the freedom of his observations. He even
seemed, at times, doubtful of a particular Provi-
dence, and let fall some expressions so improper,
that his companion was shocked. He reminded
him, that he was a minister of the gospel, and that
the God whom he denied might one day call him
to a severe account. The Abbe shrugged up his
shoulders with a contemptuous smile. They were
both silent. Almost at that very moment, the sud-
50
den report of a gun was heard ; and a ball from
some unseen hand, struck the Abbe de Ranee's belt.
The blow bent in the buckle of his belt, and the
ball fell harmless at his feet. This circumstance
saved his life. The Abbe's mind was deeply im-
pressed by this occurrence, with the reality of a
particular Providence, though he abounded too
much in human pride to confess his sins and to
return ; yet he was exceedingly thoughtful and si-
lent all the remainder of his tour.
He seemed to feel that his life was not what it
should be, and that God had shewn infinite mercy
in forbearing with him so long. The rest of his
journey was occupied in forming resolutions of
reformation. Impressed by these sentiments the
Abbe reached his journey's end. He still did not
appear to be struck with the culpability of his con-
duct relatively to the young lady. It was late in the
evening when he arrived, and the house was con-
lequently shut up. He knocked several times,
but in vain. He then recollected a little back door
leading to a private stair-case, by which the family
often let themselves in. Wishing agreeably to
surprise his friends, he hung up his horse, and
went in. He eagerly ran up the stair-case. At
the top was a little library dressing room, in which
the young lady and her father mostly sat. After
tapping at the door, and hearing no reply, he softly
opened it. The first object that struck his eyes
was her corpse, stretched in a coffin. The head
was severed from the body, and placed at its foot
51
In a dish full of clotted blood. The countenance
was ghastly to look upon. The teeth were set,
and the lips drawn back, told, amidst the silence of
death, that the last moments had witnessed an hor-
rible conflict of body or of soul. The eyes wide
open and glazed by death, were immovably fixed
upon him as he entered the room ; and the dreadful
conviction shot across his heart, as though a voice
had spoken it, " This soul thou hast eternally
lost."
His agony of mind was indescribable. In vain
did her friends attempt to sooth him by relating
her sudden death, and by explaining the horrible
circumstance occasioned by a mistake in the length
of the coffin. The words " Eternally lost ! eter-
nally! eternally!'* seemed perpetually sounding
in his ears. For a short time he seemed almost
frantic. He wrung his hands, and even rolled on
the floor, writhing with agony. O ! that I could but
suffer the torments, even of hell itself, for thou-
sands of years, if at last I could but deliver her !
O ! that I had been faithful ! O ! that I could now
but surfer for, or with her. But it is past ! The
time in which I might have helped her is fatally,
irrevocably past ! She once sought God, and I
misled her ! Such were some of his expressions.
They sufficiently shew the misery of his heart.*
* M. de Ranee's grief indeed almost bordered upon mental disease.
It has been said, that he not only wandered amidst remote forests,
calling aloud on her name, but it is also confidently asserted by
52
To this state of frantic despair, succeeded a black
melancholy. He sent away all his friends, and
shut himself up at his mansion at Veret ; where he
would not see a creature. His whole soul, nay,
even his bodily wants seemed wholly absorbed by a
deep and settled melancholy. Shut up in a single
room, he even forgot to eat and drink ; and when
the servant reminded him it was bed-time, he started
as from a deep reverie, and seemed unconscious
that it was not still morning. When he was
better, he would often wander in the woods, for
hours together, wholly regardless of the weather.
A faithful servant, who sometimes followed him
by stealth, often watched him standing for hours
together on one place, the snow and rain beating
on his head ; whilst he, unconscious of it, was
wholly absorbed in painful recollections. Then at
the fall of a leaf, or the noise of the deer, he would
awake, as from a slumber, and wringing his hands,
hasten to bury himself in a thicker part of the
wood, or else throw himself prostrate with his face
in the snow, and groan bitterly.
Thus the winter wore away in hopeless despon-
dency, or black despair. As spring advanced,
he appeared somewhat better. Though unable to
some, that he had the weakness of persuading himself that there
existed methods of evoking the dead, and that he studied the oc-
cult sciences for that purpose. Finding them chimerical, he was
seized with despair. It brought on an illness which reduced him to
the last extremity.
53
resume any avocation, he yet walked out oftener,
and seemed more conscious of surrounding objects.
On one of the brightest days in May he was
wandering, in his usual disconsolate manner,
amongst the wooded mountains that skirted his
estate. Suddenly he came to a deep glen, which
at length terminated in a narrow valley. It was
covered with rich green herbage, and was sur-
rounded on all sides with thick woods. A flock
was feeding in the bottom, and a clear brook watered
it. Underneath the broad shade of a spreading oak
sat an aged shepherd, who was attentively reading
a book. His crook and pipe were lying on the
bank near him, and his faithful dog was guarding
his satchel at his feet. The Abbe was much struck
by his appearance. His locks were white with age,
yet a venerable and cheerful benignity appeared in
his countenance. His clothes were worn com-
pletely thread-bare, and patched of every different
colour, but they were wonderfully neat and clean.
His brow was furrowed by time ; but as he lifted
up his eyes from the book, they seemed almost
to beam with the expression of heart-felt peace and
innocency. Notwithstanding his mean garb, the
Abbe de Ranee involuntarily felt a degree of re-
spect and kindness for the man. " My good
friend," said he, with a tone of affectionate sym-
pathy, " you seem very poor, and at a very ad-
vanced age ; can I render your latter days more
comfortable ?"
The old man looking at him stedfastly, but with
54
the greatest benignity, replied, " I humbly thank
you, Sir, for your kindness. Did I stand in need
of it, I should most gratefully accept it ; but,
blessed be God. his mercy and goodness have left
me nothing even to wish."
" Nothing to wish !" replied M. de Ranee (who
began to suspect his shepherd's garb to be a dis-
guise), " I shall suspect you of being a greater phi-
losopher than any I know ! even Diogenes could
not be easy, unless Alexander stood out of his
light. Think again."
" Sir/' replied the shepherd mildly, " this little
flock, which you see, I love as if it were my
own, though it belongs to another. God has put
it in my master's heart to shew me kindness more
than I deserve. I love to sit here and meditate on
all the goodness and mercies of God to me in this
life ; and above all, I love to read and meditate on
his glorious promises for that which is to come. I
will assure you, Sir, that whilst I watch my sheep,
I receive many a sweet lesson of the good Shep-
herd's watchful care over me, and all of us. What
can I wish, Sir, more ?"
" But my good man," returned the Abbe, " did
it never come into your head, that your master may
change, or your flock may die. Should you not
like to be independent, instead of trusting to for-
tuitous circumstances ?"
" Sir," replied the shepherd, " I look upon it,
that I do not depend on circumstances ; but on
the great and good God, who directs them. This
55
it is that makes me happy, happy at heart. God
in mercy enables me to lie down, and sleep secure,
on the immutable strength of that blessed word,
AH things shall work together for good, to them
that love God. My reliance (being poor) is in the
love of God ; if I were ever so rich I could not be
more secure; for on what else but on his will can.
the most flourishing prospects depend for their sta-
bility r
The Abbe felt some emotion at this pointed ob-
servation ; he however smothered it, and said,
" Very few have your firmness of mind."
" Sir," returned the man, " you should rather
say, few seek their strength from God." Then,
steadily fixing his eyes on M. de Ranee, he added,
" Sir, it is not firmness of mind. I know misfor-
tune, as well as others ; and I know too, that where
affliction comes close, no firmness of mind only,
can or will carry a man through. However strong
a man maybe, affliction may be yet stronger, unless
his strength be in the strength of God. Again,
Sir, it is not firmness of mind. But it is a firm and
heartfelt conviction, founded on scripture, and ex-
perience of God's mercy, in Christ. It is faith ;
and that faith itself is the gift of God."
The man paused ; then looking at M. de Ranee
with great interest, he added, " Sir, your kindness
calls for my gratitude. Permit me to shew it in
the only way I can. Then I will add, that if you
do not yet know this gift, he calls you to it as much
as me. I see by your countenance, that though so
56
young, you have known sorrow. Would to God
you could read on mine, that though at so ad-
vanced and infirm an age, I enjoy the blessing of
peace. Yet though you are probably learned,
whilst I am unlearned, I believe that the secret of
true happiness is the same to all. Let me then
shew my gratitude, by telling you what the teach-
ing of God, on his word and providence have
taught me. I was not always blessed with the hap-
piness I now enjoy. When I was young, I had a
farm of my own. I had a wife, whom I dearly-
loved, and I was blessed with sweet children. Yet
•with all these good things I was never happy, for
I knew not God, the supreme good. With every
temporal blessing, I never reaped pure enjoyment,
for my affections were never in due subordination.
My eyes being turned to the channels of temporal
blessings, instead of to God their source. I was in
a continual anxiety, either to grasp more, or lest I
should lose what I had already got. God had
compassion upon me, and in mercy sent misfortune
to lead me to him. I once had a son, the pride of
my heart ; a daughter, and she began to be the
friend and comfort of her mother. Each was
grown up, and began to yield us comfort beyond
our fondest hopes. When each we had succes-
sively to watch, through a slow and lingering dis-
ease. Blessed be God, that taught them to live the
life of his saints, and gives them now as the angels
in heaven, to behold his glory face to face. They
were taught, but not of us ; it was the work of
57
God : of that God, whom as yet we knew not.
Their deaths, but, O ! how unspeakably bitter did that
pang seem, which came in mercy to call us to God,
and give us spiritual life ! Till we fainted under
the stroke, we did not remember that our insensible
hearts had never yet been thankful for the bless-
ings, whose loss we were ready to repine at. We
can now in mercy say, that we know afflictions do
not spring out of the dust. Blessed be God, I can
now from my very heart thank him, for uniting me
to all the ages of a blissful eternity ; with those dear
and angelic spirits towards whom I only thought of
the short intercourse of time. O how short my
views ! how long his love ! Surely his mercy, and the
fruit of it, endureth forever. This was our greatest
affliction ! besides this, I have, through a variety
of accidents, lost my relations and my possessions,
and I now, in my old age, serve in the house
where I was once master. Yet I find indeed, that
to know the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom
he has sent, is indeed life eternal. A man's life
does not consist in the abundance which he pos-
sesses ; but in that peace which passes all under-
standing; and which the world can neither give
nor take away. I desire to live by faith, day by
day, and trust to the Lord to provide for the mor-
row. In short, Sir, I have found by experience,
that every worldly gift without God is empty, and
that God without any worldly good is, as of old,
all-sufficient."
This discourse, which has, however, been vari-
5*
oitsly related, struck* M. de Ranee to the very
heart. It was as a ray of light from above, and he
was not disobedient to the heavenly vision.
These circumstances, together with several
others, which occurred about the same period, were,
I understand, the real causes of that astonishing
revolution which took place in the mind and heart
of M. de Ranee.
A deep sense of the supreme majesty and holiness
of God, and of his own utter unworthiness, seemed
at once to rush upon his mind, and to cover him
with terror and confusion. The language of his
inmost soul was, " I have heard of thee by the
hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee;
I utterly abhor myself, and repent in dust and
ashes."
All the glorious perfections of God, and his
adorable nature, together with all his own enormi-
ties, and his own sinful nature, seemed gathered in
battle-array around him. Like the cherubim's
sword, their keen edge met him on every side.
His heart was full of sore amazement and sunk
•within him. For a season he appeared completely
overwhelmed with the awful sense of his guilt. He
shut himself up for many months, scarcely dar-
ing to taste any of the temporal blessings around
him. He felt himself unworthy of light or life.
* This discourse is not accurately related : the substratum of it
is mentioned in various accounts of M. de Ranee.
59
Immured in one darkened room, and scarcely al-
lowing himself food enough to support life, he
spent his time in the most rigorous austerities, and
the most sanguinary macerations. Hoping, in
some measure, to appease the wrath of God, before
he dared to ask for mercy. Still his despair con-
tinued unabated.
In this distress he wrote to M. d' Alet, and laid
open his situation. He described his remorse and
his despair in the most lively colors.
M. d'Alet, as a wise pastor, immediately pointed
out to him the crucified Lamb of God, who can
alone take away the sins of the world ; and who
has tasted death for every man. He led him to
the good Physician, who can alone heal the sin-
sick soul, and who has promised, though their sins
were as scarlet, to wash them white as wool.
M. de Ranee did not need much persuasion. He
had long been weary and heavy-laden. With deep
humility and thankfulness, he accepted his Sa-
vior's proffered rest. By faith he laid hold on
the hope set before him. He now knew God as
the God of love, as well as of truth; of mercy, as
well as of holiness. The Spirit of God witnessed
with his spirit that he was the son of God : and he
received the spirit of adoption, enabling him to
cry Abba, Father ; and the peace of God, in Christ,
which passes all understanding, continually kept
his heart and mind.
Thus was M. de Ranee passed from darkness into
60
God's marvellous light, from the power of Satan,
into the kingdom of the Son of God.
The new tree of the planting of the Lord was
soon known by corresponding good fruits.
Deeply was he humbled at the shameful use
he had made of his ecclesiastical revenues. He
resolved to part with every one of them, and to
bestow them on the most pious men in France.
All his paternal estates he likewise determined to
dispose of; and to lay out the money, as far as it
would go, in charitable purposes, that he might,
as far as was in his power, make restitution. He
accordingly parted with his noble estate of Veret,
in Touraine,and vested the money in L'hotel Dieu,
and other charities. Veret was the most magnifi-
cent estate in Touraine, and one of the finest in
all France.
Of all his ecclesiastical benefices he only re-
served to himself the single abbacy of La Trappe.
Of this monastery he had long been the commen-
datory Abbot ; that is, he had long borne the
name of Abbot, and received the emoluments ;
though only one of the secular clergy, and though
the whole direction was conducted by the prior.
At this period he resolved no longer to conti-
nue to receive a stipend for an office which he did
not himself fulfil.
He determined to enter himself amongst the re.,
gular clergy, to embrace the monastic life, and to
become the regular Abbot of La Trappe.
The monastery of La Trappe is of consider-
61
able antiquity; it belongs to that branch of the
Order of St. Bennet, which has adopted the rule of
Citeaux.
To give some idea of this celebrated peniten-
tial seclusion, it will be necessary to say a few
words on the institution of the order which gave
it birth.
St. Bennet was born in the year 480, in the dis-
trict of Nursia, in the Duchy of Spoletto. His
father's name was Eutropius ; his mother's, Abun-
dantia. They were noble and pious. Scarcely was
he born, when with reiterated prayers and supplica-
tions, they devoted him to God, and with tears
and bended knees, implored his peculiar blessing
on this their only child. In full assurance of
faith, that their prayers had been heard, they gave
him by anticipation, the name of Benedictus
(blessed), which his maturer years so fully justi-
fied. He was sent to Rome, for the purpose of
finishing his education. He was shocked at the
corruptions prevalent amongst every rank of so-
ciety ; and above all, he was disgusted to see that
even youth were not untainted by dissipation.
Grieved to the heart, he suddenly took a resolu-
tion to renounce the world he had seen so beset
with snares, and to spend his life in prayer, for
those who forgot to implore the divine mercy for
themselves.
He secretly quitted Rome, and retired to a
desert, named Sublacci, about forty miles from
Rome. Here he concealed himself in a dark and
at
desolate cavern amongst the rocks, for three years.
This cave was situated in the side of a lofty moun-
tain. The mouth overgrown with thick brush-
wood, was imperceptible, either from the project-
ing brows of rock above, or from the valley be-
low, and a river which wound round the base of
the mountain, effectually precluded all access.
Here St. Bennet passed his days in the most pro-
found solitude. Prayer, meditation and study di-
vided his time. His food was the wild fruit of the
desert ; his refreshment, the mountain streams.
His garments were the skins of wild beasts. One
friend alone knew of his retreat; faithful to his
trust, he never invaded his repose himself, or com-
municated his secret to another. One day in a
month St. Romanus retired to the summit of the
rock above the hermitage, and winding an hunts-
man's horn, gave notice to his friend of his ap-
proach ; then, standing at the edge of the rock, he
let down by a cord a basket, containing bread, ve-
getables, a little wine, and also some books. On
receiving this fresh supply, St. Bennet regularly
put up those books he had already perused, and
the basket was drawn up again. Afterwards the
two saints waving their hands to each other, knelt
down, the one at the entrance of his cell, the other
on the mountain, and fervently poured out their
hearts in prayer for each other. Then rising,
each again waved a farewel, and departed till the
ensuing month. For three years was this secret in-
violably kept. At the end of the fourth, an hunt-
63
ing party, who were pursuing their game in the
recesses of the mountains, discovered his retreat ;
St. Rennet was asleep when they entered his cell.
Clad in the skin of a bear, they at first took him for
some wild beast of the desert. On rising and en-
tering into conversation with him, they were much
struck by his sanctity. They implored his bene*
diction, and spread over the whole country a re-
port of the treasure they had discovered. All the
inhabitants of the district flocked to his cell. It
was said that another John the Baptist had arisen in
the desert, and all the people came forth confess-
ing their sins ; even children seemed anxious to
have a share in his prayers, and to participate in
his instructions. A surprising reformation took
place in the whole neighbourhood.
His celebrity grew more extensive every day,
and his reputation was hourly more exalted. Tra-
dition relates, that at the voice of his prayer the
elements became still, and the laws of nature were
diverted from their course ; and it has been said,
that at his venerable yet youthful aspect, the wild
beasts of the desert would forget their wonted fe-
rocity ; and crouch down at the feet of a man, in
whose eye they beheld the power of their Maker
rested. Such traditions sufficiently prove the
esteem in which St. Bennet was held. His con-
verts were so numerous, that he founded twelve
monasteries not far from Sublac ; for them he
composed his celebrated rule. After establishing
these religious houses, he left his retreat and
64
went to Gassini. This town is situated on the
side of a steep mountain. The inhabitants were
at that time idolaters ; they were converted by the
preaching of St. Bennet. Their temple, dedi-
cated to Apollo, was soon converted into a Chris-
tian church. He established a monastery at Mount
Cassini, which he himself superintended many
years. This monastery is properly the mother of
the Benedictine Order, which soon spread with the
name of its founder into every part of Europe.
Even Totila, King of the Goths, who was pass-
ing through Campania, came to pay him a visit.
Benedict spoke to him as a Christian ; accustomed
both in his words and actions to forget men, and to
see alone Him who is invisible, he spread before
Totila all his sins, and urged him to repentance
and restitution. The Goth trembled. We do not
hear that he was converted to God ; but it is said,
that he was far less sanguinary after this interview ;
and that, like Herod, he did many things. In less
than a year after, St. Bennet died. He departed
on the 21st of March, 543, at the age of 63.
Such was the life of St. Benedict, the founder of
the celebrated Benedictine Order. An order
(which although it did not form a rapid extension
till the 8th century) has yet since that time spread
over the whole Latin church, and extended its
numerous ramiBcations into the remotest corners of
the west. An order, which has in extent and ce-
lebrity far exceeded every other, which has been
equally useful by the important services it has ren-
65
dered to civil society and to literature ; and which
the archives of the order record to have given the
church 40 popes, 200 cardinals, 50 patriarchs, 1,600
archbishops, 4,600 bishops, and 3,000 canonized
saints. So says the chronicle of the order ; it
should, however, be observed, that the learned
Mabiilon retrenches several of the saints from the
catalogue.
The four grand orders in the Latin church are,
the Augustinian, Dominican, Franciscan, and Be-
nedictine. Of these, the latter is by far the most
celebrated. The three first of these religious or-
ders are Friars : the latter only are monks. The
Friars (fratres or brethren] may be termed societies,
formed of religious men ; whose object is to with-
draw from the world, in order to enjoy religious
fellowship, and reap spiritual instruction together.
The Monks (monachi or solitaries] may be defined,
men whose object is to worship God in solitude
apart from all human society ; men, who whilst they
reside in one house, from the necessity of providing
mutual subsistence, are yet as much separated from
each other's intercourse, as though the antipodes
divided them. The houses of the first are termed
convents, those of the latter monasteries. The
first, as the name imports, implies a society of bre-
thren coming together, whilst the latter denotes a
cluster of independent and isolated recluses.
St. Bennet probably bore in mind the hermits of
Egypt, and the monks of the eastern church, in
the institution of his order. His objects were, how-
F
66
ever, more useful ; and the means he made choice
of better adapted to human nature, and to secure
the benefit of civil society.
Whilst the eighty thousand hermits who peo-
pled the deserts of Egypt, and the monks of Pa-
lestine, consumed their lives in fruitless contempla-
tions ; the recluses of the western church were
commanded not only to seek the salvation of their
own souls, but to labor with their head and hands
for the benefit of society. Seven hours every day
are devoted to manual or mental exertion. Seven
more to religious services and contemplation.
Four hours are regularly appropriated to religious
studies. The six remaining suffice for food and
sleep. The industry of the Benedictines soon
proved a source of that opulence for which the
order has been so much censured ; and opulence
soon drew after it the attendant evils of luxury
and relaxation. Yet amidst all its abuses, society
is on the whole, highly indebted to the institution
of St. Bennet.
Whilst prostrate Europe was desolated by the
ravages of the Huns, the Goths, and the Vandals,
the Benedictine monasteries alone opened their
hospitable doors, and afforded a safe and vene-
rated asylum, amidst the surrounding horrors of
barbarism ; nor did their utility cease when tran-
quillity was at length restored. During the Cim-
merian darkness of the middle ages, the cloisters
of St. Bennet were the alone repositories of classic
lore, and the monks were the faithful and only
67
guardians of the literary treasures of ancient Greece
and Rome. To them we are obliged for all the
originals, or transcriptions of the works of the an-
cients ; and we are indebted to them for the only
histories extant of their own times. Nor do we
alone owe them literary obligations. The restora-
tion of agriculture originated with them ; and
to their almost unassisted labor Europe owed its
culture during a long succession of barbarous and
warlike ages.
Many flourishing towns and proud cities which
formerly only presented bare rocks, or dark fo-
rests, are now grown fertile and habitable by their
pious and laborious hands. Many of the most luxu-
riant provinces of Europe received the first furrows
of the plough, accompanied by the hymns of the
Benedictine fathers ; and various of our most famed
commercial marts were retreats consecrated by
them to prayer and holy rites.
The Benedictine Order soon acquired extensive
influence ; they were beloved for their beneficence,
respected for their learning, and revered for their
piety. In addition too to their influence, immense
donations, and personal industry soon exalted them
to vast opulence. The rule of St. Bennet, which
in the fifth century was submitted to by the few,
who were distinguished for eminent sanctity, was
in the eighth century, resorted to by the am-
bitious, as the easiest road to preferment ; by
the avaricious as the richest source of emolu-
ment; and by the negligent and indolent, as
F 2
68
offering a means of luxurious and slothful sub-
sistence.
In the tenth and eleventh century, the declen-
sion had attained such a pitch, that, whilst the
order and emoluments of the Benedictines still re-
mained, their salutary rule was wholly disregarded.
The name and riches alone distinguished them
from the world.
God, however, reserves to himself a people in
every age, and his servants will ever shew their
abhorrence of the spirit of the world, by coming
out from amongst it, and being separate. To-
wards the middle and end of the eleventh cen-
tury, several good men were raised up, who be-
gan to testify against the abuses of the religious ;
and who endeavored to lead back the professors
of godliness through faith to an holy life. Peter,
the venerable abbot of Clugni,. Robert d'Arbrissel,
the self-denying founder of Fontevrauld, and Nor-
bert de Premontre, were all in their seasons preach-
ers of righteousness.
Amidst the constellation of eminent men who
arose at this period, several lights began to be
kindled amongst the cloisters of the Benedictines.
St. Bruno, St. Robert de Molesme, and various
other excellent men, both in this and succeeding
ages, witnessed with grief, the declension of reli-
gion in their order. Living in remote countries
or ages, they had no communication with each
other, but were taught by God alone. Being con-
verted themselves, each undertook to use every en-
69
deavor to restore the order to its pristine purity ;
and each added, as circumstances directed, many
new statutes and customs to the original rule.
Thus each of these good men, became the founder
of a secondary order ; all of which, whilst they be-
longed to the rule of St. Bennet, yet differed in
many of their own peculiar and subordinate ob-
servances. By this means the grand Order of
Benedictines includes a vast variety of distinct ge-
nera. Amongst some of the most celebrated are
the Carthusians, founded by St. Bruno ; the Ca-
maldules, the Carmelites, the Celestins, the Monks
of Grammont, the learned congregation of St. Maur,
and the Order of Cisteaux or Cistertians ; to which
last belongs the Convent of La Trappe.
The Cistertian Order was founded in 1075, by
St. Robert, abbot of Molesme, in Burgundy.
Himself and twenty-one of his monks being deeply
convinced, of the degeneracy of their order, re-
solved, by divine grace, to dedicate their hearts
wholly to God ; and literally to follow the rule of
their convent, in the strictest observance of St. Ben-
net's code. Expelled on this account by their non-
conforming brethren, they retired with their ab-
bot, to a wilderness called Citeaux (anciently Cis-
teaux Lat. Cistercium], on account of the aqueducts
and reservoirs in its neighbourhood. This desert,
which is about sixteen miles from Dijon, presented
nothing but a vast forest, intermixed by dreary
commons ; it was haunted by bears, foxes, and
wolves, and infested by bands of assassins. Here
70
the first monastery of the Cistertian Order arose,
under the auspices of Eudo, the first Duke of Bur-
gundy. In the beginning they simply adhered to
the rule of St. Bennet; it was -not till some years
after, that St. Stephen, their then abbot, framed
the new statutes and constitutions of the Gistertian
Order. An Englishman by birth, his high rank
and education were concealed by the deepest hu-
mility, and the most childlike simplicity; weaned
from the world, all the articles of the new insti-
tute breathed his own spirit of self-denial. Si-
lence, poverty and renunciation of self, reigned
in every part of his establishment. Their crosses
were of unhewn wood ; their censers of copper,
and their lamps of iron. All the ornaments of
the church were of coarse woollen, and the mo-
nastery itself resembled a collection of miserable
huts. One of their statutes was, that they should
never receive any donations but from those whom
they believed to be truly religious. Their revenues
were consequently exceedingly limited. Reduced to
subsist on the labor of their own hands, it was long
before the ungrateful soil yielded any increase ade-
quate to their wants. The primitive fathers of the
Cistertian Institute often sat down to a dinner of
parched acorns, and beech nuts ; and their colla-
tion was wild sorrel and nuts which spontaneously
grew in the forest. Thus the statutes of Gisteaux,
as far exceeded in austerity those of St. Bennet, as
the original Institute of St. Bennet surpassed that
of other religious houses. The monastery of La
71
Trappe, was one of the most ancient abbeys of the
Cistercian Order. Scarcely, however, had a few
centuries elapsed, \vhen the same relaxation which
had pervaded the Order of St. Bennet, also spread
its baneful influence over that of Gisteaux. Human
nature is the same in every age, and under every
circumstance. Nor can the propensities of the
fallen soul ever be arrested by any system of hu-
man regulations, till the heart itself be thoroughly
renewed by an operation of divine power. Even
the divine precepts and rules of Scripture can only
point out the road. The law given by God him-
self, is only a lamp to our feet, and a light to our
paths ; but the knowledge of Christ and him cru-
cified, by an experimental faith, is alone the power
of God, and the wisdom of God to salvation.
What Christ has done for us, can alone draw us
near to God ; and what he does in us, can alone
enable us to keep a conscience void of offence.
When the law of God itself professes only to give
the knowledge of sin, vain indeed must it be
for any human regulations to expect to work righ-
teousness. Thus the monastic rule, which so many
men of true piety have found a valuable help, has
proved to others wholly nugatory and insufficient,
when rested in for strength, or for a ground of ac-
ceptance with God. As no rule can quicken the
soul dead in trespasses and sins, so no rule can
maintain it in spiritual life. God alone, can be the
means of holding our soul in life. The same
faith by which the Saviour is received into the
72
f
heart can alone maintain him there, \vho is indeed
the resurrection and the life.
The same faith by which we receive Christ alone
can enable us to walk in him.
Such was the state of the Cistertian Order, at
the period when M. de Ranee determined to be-
come the regular abbot of the monastery of La
Trappe.
This celebrated abbey was one of the most an-
cient belonging to the Order of Cisteaux. It was
established by Rotrou the second Count of Perche,
and undertaken to accomplish a vow made whilst
in peril of shipwreck. In commemoration of this
circumstance the roof is made in the shape of the
bottom of a ship inverted. It was founded in the
twelfth century, and was therefore coeval with the
great St. Bernard, the first abbot of Clairvaux.
This extraordinary man, whose zeal, whose piety,
whose beauty, gave him such great influence in
France, was celebrated in all Europe, for the
prominent part he bore in preaching the cru-
sades. Nor was he less renowned for the multi-
tude of miracles tradition ascribes to him. He
was indeed the Thaumaturgus of the twelfth cen-
tury. Under his auspices the monastery of La
Trappe was first founded.* Many ages, however,
* It was established under the pontificate of Innocent the Se-
cond, and in the reign of Louis the Seventh, in the year 1140.
It was therefore built 42 years after the foundation of Cisteaux
and 25 after Clairvaux.
73
had elapsed since its first institution ; and at the
time that M. de Ranee undertook its superinten-
dence, it exhibited a melancholy and awful picture
of the general declension. Its state was corrupt
indeed.
Whilst M. de Ranee was projecting plans of the
strictest reform, his friends with one voice dis-
suaded him from an undertaking, which they be-
lieved equally hopeless and dangerous.
The monks of La Trappe were not only im-
mersed in luxury and sloth, but they were aban-
doned to the most shameful and scandalous ex-
cesses. Most of them lived by robbery, and se-
veral had committed assassinations on the passen-
gers, who had occasion to traverse their woods.
The neighbourhood shrunk with terror from the
approach of men, who never went abroad unarmed,
and whose excursions were marked with blood-
shed and violence. The banditti of La Trappe,
was the appellation by which they were most
generally distinguished.
Such were the men amongst whom M. de Ranee
resolved to fix his future abode. Unarmed, and
unassisted, but in the panoply of God, and by his
Spirit, he went alone amidst this company of ruf-
fians, every one of whom was bent on his destruc-
tion. With undaunted boldness, he began by pro-
posing the strictest reform, and not counting his
life dear to him, he described the full extent of his
purpose, and left them no choice but obedience or
expulsion.
74
Many were the dangers M. de Ranee underwent.
Plans were formed, at various times, to poison him,
to waylay and assassinate, and even once one of his
monks shot at him ; but the pistol, though ap-
plied close to his head, flashed in the pan, and
missed fire. By the good Providence of God all
these plans were frustrated, and M. de Ranee not
only brought his reform to bear, but several of
his most zealous persecutors became his most sted-
fast adherents. Many were, after a short time, won
over by his piety, and by the Spirit of God striving
in their hearts. The others left the monastery.
Of these, several afterwards returned completely
altered characters. The one especially who shot
at M. de Ranee became eminent for distinguished
»
piety and learning. He was afterwards subpnor of
La Trappe. This man proved one of M. de
Ranee's most attached friends, and one of his
greatest comforts. He lived many years a monu-
ment of the divine blessing which accompanies for-
bearance, even to the vilest characters, and under
the greatest provocations.*
* Many of those who became most eminent for piety in this mo-
nastery, were, originally, persons of the most extraordinary pro-
fligacy and wickedness. The accounts of the lives of the Trappests
are most of them interesting. It is curious to observe the steps by
which so wonderful a change was effected. How men of like pas-
sions with ourselves could ever feel it either an inclination or a
duty to enter upon a mode of life so alien to common ways of think-
ing or feeling. Some of these accounts contain passages truly edi-
fying.
75
The same ardor and vehemence of character
which had distinguished the abbot of La Trappe in
the world, now characterized him equally in the
cloister. The zeal of ihe founder was visible in
every part of his discipline. The astonishing aus-
terity of tfiis reform at La Trappe may well make
nature recoil. Yet, improbable as it may appear,
scarcely was the institution completed before it
became continually crowded with votaries. Nor
have the numbers ever diminished, notwithstanding
the perpetual violence it imposes on every human
feeling.
The situation of the monastery is well adapted
to M. de Ranee's views. It originally received the
name of La Trappe, from the intricacy of the road
which^ads to it, and the great difficulty of dis-
covering any access or egress.
This abbey is situated not far from Evreux and
St. Maurice.
On descending an hill near the latter village, the
traveller suddenly finds himself at the skirts of a
dark forest, which extends further than the eye can
reach, over an immense tract of country. Here it
becomes necessary to take a guide, for the way is so
exceedingly intricate, that even those best acquainted
with it, are in perpetual danger of losing their road.
The whole of the way is inexpressibly dreary.
It is only diversified by a few lone huts, or solitary
dilapidated chapels. Here and there are seen be-
neath the spreading trees, a few decaying crosses,
jaised by pious hands. The squirrels, hares, and
76
foxes, seemed, undisturbed, to possess the whole
domain.
After traversing these lone roads for some hours,
the trees become thicker, and tangled with under-
wood, and the traveller reaches a thick wood, cloth-
ing the sudden slope of a hill. Here a most ro-
mantic prospect opens. Hills of every variety of
form, present themselves to the eye on every side,
and they are completely covered with forests,
offering the most fanciful variety of tint and fo-
liage.
On penetrating the midst of this thicket, a little
path, or rather track, is pointed out by the guide,
if indeed one may call by that name a way where no
vestige of any human footstep appears. A little
blaze here and there on particular trees, is £e only
direction. Even this is so faintly marked, that
to others but the guide, it would be nearly imper-
ceptible. After pursuing this path for about three
miles, through a maze of the most intricate turnings
and windings, and through every diversity of rise
and fall, the traveller again finds an opening in
the trees. Here he discovers himself to be on the
overhanging brow of a hill; the descent of which
is clothed with wood, and so perpendicular, as to
appear impracticable, till led by the guide to a
zig-zag path, concealed by the trees, and hollowed
out of the side of the rock ; it appears impossible
to advance a step, without tumbling headlong into
the valley beneath.
The prospect is truly awful and striking. On
77
all sides nothing is visible but hills, rising one be-
yond another, and completely covered with dark
forests. These extend in endless continuity, with-
out the least apparent vestige of any human foot-
step having ever trod them before. An almost
deathlike silence and stillness reigns all around.
Directly under the feet, but at a great depth, is a
long and steep valley, so narrow and so thickly
wooded, as to be almost impervious to the rays of
the sun.
This valley is interspersed with eleven lakes.
The waters are completely stagnant, their hue is
dark and dismal. These lakes connecting one with
another, in two circles, form a double moat about the
monastery. In the middle of the day the venerable
abbey j£ La Trappe appears rising in the centre.
Jn the morning and evening the exhalations arising
from the waters are so thick, that only its dark grey
towers, above the curling vapour, or the deep
tone of its bell, announces to the traveller that he
has reached his journey's end.
Perhaps there is not a situation in the whole
world more calculated to inspire religious awe,
than the first view of the monastery of La Trappe.
The total solitude, the undisturbed silence, and the
deep solemnity of the scene, is indescribable. The
only adequate comparison of sensation I can make
is that excited by the sight of death.
In descending the steep, through difficult and
intricate by-paths, the traveller again loses sight
of the abbey, till he has actually reached the bot-
78
torn of the hill. Then emerging from the trees, the
following inscription immediately before him ap-
pears in stone work, above the grate of the con-
vent.
" CTcst ici que la mort et la verite
" Elevent leurs flambeaux terribles
" C'est de cette demeure au monde inaccessible
" Que Ton passe a I'eternite."
The general scope of which might be thus ren-
dered : —
" Here truth, with death and silence reigns;
" Their dread light shines within this grate:
u Far from the world, no change remains
ct From hence, until the eternal state."*
•
Such is the external appearance of La Trappe.
It soon became the theatre of the most astonishing
reform, which has perhaps ever been witnessed. I
think I said that M. de Ranee at first met with many
difficulties from the monks, and that they made
frequent attempts on his life. Four different times
-•• The abbey of La Trappe is immediately surrounded by a ve-
nerable grove of aged oak trees. 'Over the gateway is a statue of
St. Bernard. He holds in one hand a church, and in the other a
spade: the emblems of devotion and labor. This door leads
into a court, which opens into a second enclosure, full of luxuriant
fruit trees. Around it are granaries, a stable, a bakehouse, mill,
brewhouse, and all other offices necessary to the monastery.
79
he was on the very point of being assassinated.
The Lord, however, whom he served, preserved
him, arid delivered him out of the hands of his ene-
mies. His power accompanied his servant ; and at
length he succeeded, even beyond his most san-
guine expectations. So that the institution may
now justly prove a wonder to all succeeding ages,
though perhaps not to be viewed as a pattern, by
those who have not received the same peculiar call.
In considering the contradictions M. de Ranee at first
met with, I often had brought to my mind that pro-
mise, that one who fears the Lord, shall, in his
strength, overcome a thousand of his enemies.
The abstinence practised by the monks of La
Trappe is truly wonderful. Neither meat, fish,
eggs, or butter are ever allowed, even in cases of
extreme sickness. Vegetables, water, and bread,
in very limited quantity, is what they mostly par-
take of. On grand festivals, a little hyssop, salt,
and cheese, are added to the usual repast. They
only eat twice a day. They have a slender meal
at about ten in the morning, and a collation of two
ounces of bread in the evening. Both meals to-
gether are not to exceed twelve ounces. The
same quantity of water, is likewise allowed.
The same spirit of mortification is observable in
their cells. They are very small, and contain very
little furniture. A bed, as hard as iron, and as
knotted as a crabstick ; one rug, a few good books,
and a human skull, comprise the whole of their
inventory.
80
The bare floor would be infinitely preferable to the
knotted straw rope of which their bed is composed.
When any one who is ill, reaches the last ex-
tremity, he is placed on a bed made of dust and
ashes on the brick floor, to expire.
An unbroken silence is maintained throughout
the whole monastery, excepting during one hour
on Sunday. Then a convocation of the brethren
is held, and those who feel inclined, may make
a short speech, on religious subjects. No such
thing however as conversation, is ever allowed.
With respect to any* intercourse, each member is
nearly as much insulated, as if he alone existed in
the universe. If two of them are ever seen standing
together, or pursuing their daily work near each
other, even though they should observe the strictest
silence, it is considered as a violation of therule.
Perhaps some facts could scarcely be credited
concerning them, which are however strictly and
literally true. None but the abbot and prior know
the name, age, rank, or even the native country of
any of the different members of the community.
Every one, at his first entrance, assumes a new
name. \Vith his former%ppellation, each is sup-
posed not only to quit the world, but to ab-
jure every recollection and memorial of his for-
mer self. No word ever drops from their lips
which can possibly give the least clue, by which
the others can guess who they are, or where they
come from. Often have persons of the very same
name, family, and neighbourhood, lived together
81
in the convent for years unknown to each other;
nor have they suspected their proximity, till at the
death of the one, the name on the grave stone re-
vealed the secret to the survivor. Some years ago
a youth of great talents entered himself at La
Trappe. His early and deep piety edified the
whole society. After a few years the austerities he
had practised at so early an age, undermined his
health. He fell into a slow decline. One of the
monks was appointed to attend him. He was se-
lected as having himself left the world at a very
early period. The youth died. About a year
after his death, one of the monks happening to go
rather earlier than usual into the burying ground,
their usual walking place ; he saw the monk who
attendee! the youth standing with his arms folded,
contemplating his tomb. On hearing him, he im-
mediately fell back into the walk : no more notice
was taken, the burying ground continued the daily
walking place, nor did any other symptom ever
escape. Ten years after the monk died. His
grave-stone unfolded the secret. It was his only
son whom he wept, and whom, though unknown
to him, he had so diligently attended.
Though the monks of La Trappe do not as-
sociate together, their behaviour to each other is
marked with the most attentive politeness. W^hen
one of them, by any chance, meets another, he al-
ways uncovers himself, and bows. At the hour of
repast, they wait by turns at table. The servitors
always bow as they present each person with
8S>
any thing. Yet as they always keep their eyes
fixed on the ground, unless necessarily obliged to
raise them, they in fact scarcely know each other's
faces.
Their attention to prevent noise is very great.
If any thing be by chance spilt at dinner, or thrown
down, the person accidentally doing it, quits his
seat, and prostrates himself on the ground, in the
middle of the hall, till commanded by a signal from
the abbot to rise.
The abstraction of mind practised at La Trappe
is so great, that some of them have even forgotten,
the day of the week ; and their thoughts are so ex-
ercised in holy meditations, that, like the Thera-
peutae of old, they have been said often in their
sleep to have broken out into the most beautiful
prayers and thanksgivings.
One fact is certainly true, which is, that their
abstraction from every worldly concern is so great,
that none but the superiors know under what king's
reign even they are living.
The hardships undergone by the monks of La
Trappe, appear almost insupportable to human
nature.
They are allowed a very small fire in the com-
mon hall in winter. But no one is to go nearer
it than his business indispensably requires ; much
less are they permitted, on any account, to sit down
for the purpose of warming themselves.
On grand festivals the brethren rise at midnight,
otherwise they are not called till three quarters
83
past one. At two they meet in the chapel,
where they perform different services, public and
private, till seven in the morning. At this hour
they go out to labor in the open air. Their work
is always of the most laborious and fatiguing kind.
It is never intermitted winter or summer. Nor
does their rule admit of any relaxation from the
state of the weather.
Neither is any change of dress allowed them
from the variation of the season. They are never
permitted either to change or take off their thick
woollen clothes, either by day or night, summer or
winter.
Whether they be frozen by the winter's snow or
drenched by rain, and by the excessive perspira-
tion they occasion, the monks are not permitted to
take them off to dry them night nor day, till they
are so completely worn out as to be laid aside.
Hence, probably, the numbers who die from
rheumatic, and other painful complaints.
Persons on entering La Trappe, not only re-
nounce their worldly possessions, but they write to
take leave of all their connexions, and immediately
break off all intercourse with their very nearest
relations.
When a relative of any one of the community
dies, information is never given to the individual
most immediately interested. It is only mentioned
publicly and in general terms thus : " A father, or
sister, of one of our members is departed ; the
prayers of the whole community are requested."
05
84
The Abbe de Ranee turned out a novice, as not
having the spirit of the order, because he observed
him in weeding put by the nettles, to prevent being
stung.
Their labor being over, they go into chapel for
a short time, till half-past ten, which is the hour of
repast. At a quarter after eleven they read till
noon. They lie down and rest from twelve till
one, which is the hour of nones. Half an hour
after they are summoned into the garden, where
they work till three.
They then read for three quarters of an hour,
and retire for one quarter to their private medita-
tions, by way of preparation for vespers, which begin
at four and end at five. They next sup, generally on
bread and water, and afterwards retire to read in
private, till half-past six. Then the public read-
ing begins, and lasts till seven, the hour of com-
plin. At eight they leave the chapel, and retire
to rest.
The common-hall where they assemble, both in
their private and public readings, is hung with
paintings of the most awful description.
The representation of a corpse; the same in a
state of decomposition ; and also as a skeleton ; a
soul in purgatory; and another writhing in the
flames of hell, are amongst those which I particu-
larly recollect.
At La Trappe they have continued a custom,
which was very prevalent in the middle ages. That
of placing little inscriptions, or moralities, as they
85
used to be called, over the door of almost every
room. That belonging to the eating hall, I thought
peculiarly apposite. u Melius est, ad olera, cum
charitate vocari, quam ad vitulum saginatum, cum
odio" (Better is a dinner of herbs, where love is,
than a stalled ox and hatred therewith).
The establishment of such a reform, in opposi-
tion to the rooted purpose of every individual
monk against it, is truly astonishing. Most of those
who were most violently against it were completely
won over. But it is still more surprising that not-
withstanding the great austerities of La Trappe,
perhaps there was never any rule more zealously
upheld by its proselytes, or which has ever been
more numerously resorted to.
Notwithstanding the immense number of deaths
occasioned by these rigorous austerities, there are
seldom less than two hundred, and even two hun-
dred and fifty inmates in this monastery. They do
not however all belong to the regular clergy. The
brethren may be classed under three different de-
scriptions ; the monks, properly speaking, who are
all priests, and who wear a white woollen dress ;
the lay-brothers, who take the same vows, arid fol-
low the same rule, but who act as servants in trans-
acting the temporal concerns of the abbey. They
are distinguished by a grey gown and cowl. The
third class are the freres donnes, or brothers given
fora time. These last are not properly belonging
to the order. They are rather religious persons,
whose business or connexions prevent their joining
86
the order absolutely. But who wishing to renew
serious impressions, or to retire from the world for
a season, come and stay for a given time, during
which they are subject to all the rules, without
wishing to join the order for life. Many persons
on their first conversion, or after some peculiar
dispensation of Providence, come and retire for six
months, or a year, for the purposes of meditation ;
others only come for two or three months. The freres
donnes form a considerable portion of the community
at all times, though the individuals composing them
continually fluctuate. They conform to all the
rules, without adopting the monastic habit, only
they dress in grave colours, with broad hats, and
flaps to their coats.
The monks of La Trappe will not exhibit their
institution to those who wish to see it from curio-
sity. They are, however, truly courteous and hos-
pitable to all who wish to visit them, from motives
of piety. Nobody is allowed to stay as a mere
guest longer than three days. During the limits
of their visit the greatest kindness and respect is
shewn them. Their visitors are treated with nearly
the same fare as themselves ; so that notwithstand-
ing the kindness of the good fathers, a stranger un-
accustomed to their rules, is nearly starved, before
the expiration of the visit.
On the arrival of every stranger, the monk who
receives him, prostrates himself at his feet, and
makes a benedictory prayer. He is treated with
the greatest respect, and two of the fathers are im.
87
mediately appointed to attend him. They are al-
ways willing to give every information to strangers,
if they are careful to ask in the proper places ; but
there are certain parts of the convent, where they
are neither allowed to speak at all themselves, nor
to suffer others to do it. Though they are very
ready to answer questions in proper places, yet the
rule of the order enjoins, that even to strangers
they shall not voluntarily enter into conversation
but for the use of edifying. I believe that very
few even amongst protestants have visited La
Trappe, without being deeply struck with the hea-
venly countenances of these recluses, and with the
truly angelic discourse which flows from their lips,
as from a fountain of living water.
Perhaps the most astonishing part of M. de
Ranee's reform is, not the mere introduction of a
new rule, but the total change, which is so soon
visible in the manners, the inclinations, and the
very countenances of his disciples. This, no doubt,
proves that God was of a truth with him ; for this
is a change his Spirit alone could have wrought.
Few enter La Trappe, who do not in a short time
acquire a totally new countenance and demeanor.
It is impossible to describe the gravity, benignity,
peace, and love visible in most of their aspects, or
the humility and yet self-possessed politeness and
attention in their manners. I remember when I was
there, being most peculiarly struck with one of
them. I think I never saw such venerable holy
gravity, and yet celestial joy and love irradiate any
88
human countenance. I could not take my eyes off*
a countenance the most angelic I ever beheld, or
conceived. I concluded he had been twenty or
thirty years an inmate of this seclusion. It so
happened that he was next day appointed our con-
ductor. I asked his age ; what was my astonish-
ment at the reply ! " Six and twenty." I inquired
how long he had been an inhabitant of La Trappe.
" As a monk two years." I then asked what he
was before. " Do you then forget me ?" said he,
smiling. I cannot express the surprise I felt at
finding that this venerable saint, apparently fifty,
was no other than a gay young captain in the
French guards, whom I well remembered, five or
six years before, to have been one of the most ele-
gant and dissipated young men in Paris.
A visitor at La Trappe one day expressing some
admiration at their self-denial ; the brethren lay-
ing their hands on their hearts, with a look of deep
humiliation, replied, " We bless God that we find
him all sufficient, without those things you speak of.
JVs for our giving them up, we can claim no merit.
Our deepest penances need to be repented of.
We should have been here to little purpose, had we
not learnt, that our polluted righteousnesses, our in-
sensible penitences, as our blackest sins, are altoge-
ther unholy, and unclean. Through the precious
blood of Christ ; for his sake, and through his
Spirit, they can alone find mercy, much more ac-
ceptance, with God.
When the monks of La Trappe are asked why
they chose this seclusion ? their answer is uniform.
" To glorify God, to repent of our sins, and to
pray for the unhappy world, which prays not for
itself."
M. de Ranee having been asked, why he alone
enjoined so many austerities which no other reli-
gious order practises ? is said to have replied to the
following import. I by no means consider them
as practices to be adopted by all, yet I dare not
aver they might be safely neglected by us. The
grand peculiarities of the gospel are alone essential
to all collectively ; yet no doubt, an attention to
our own peculiar call, is equally essential to each
individually. I can give the right hand of fellow-
ship, or rather can sit at the feet of all those who
have an experimental knowledge of what Christ
does for us by his atonement, and in us by his
Spirit. Whether they be called to missions, with
the Jesuits ; to acts of mercy like the order of La
Charite ; to enlighten the world, like the congre-
gation of St. Maur ; to preach, like the Dominicans ;
to humiliation, like the Minimi ; or to contempla-
tion, like the order of La Visitation ; I can still
honor the work of my Lord, in them all ; and
recognize from my heart, that *E» <™^* *«* *v ««£/**,
xuSaq xal JxTw&jle tv />ua iXtricli T»J$ xAijcrews vpuv* EK K^pto?, /-ua
trinf; EK /3a7r1i<r/Aa, «T? 0io? ttotl wotlng tffot,v\uv, o itri ttrdvlav notl Six.
*BU,V\UV xa» iv laZcriv ^Tv (There is one body and one
spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your
calling ; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God
90
and father of all, who is above all, and through all,
and in us all.) Nevertheless, I must also add with
the apOStle, Ataip£0-Ei$ 31 xagio-poiTUv ei<r», TO §1 etvro YLvtvpa.' xa»
ctafpEo-EK $iax.oviuv EtV*, xoi o auro? Kupto;* xa* hctipe<Tti$ Ivt^yyif^oiruy
ticrlv, o & atvro?, Iri ©e°? o lj/6p ywv ret, vraflce, iv «r«?n/. (There are
diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit, and there
are diversities of administrations, but the same
Lord; and there are diversities of operations, but
it is the same Go»l which worketh all in all.) For
assuredly, unto every one of us is given all grace,
according to the measure of the gift of Christ: yet,
as we are all called to be living members of the
church of Christ, which is joined and compacted
by that which every joint supplieth ; no one can
safely neglect his own peculiar call.
The words which God employed to effect my
conversion, were spoken to me by a very poor man.
Yet ever since the change I experienced, I have
believed it our calling, in particular, to shew the
Christian world, that as every worldly gift without
God is empty, so God, without any worldly good,
is, as of old, all sufficient.
The piety and patience of the brethren of La
Trappe are truly astonishing and admirable. One
of them, owing to intense labor, had suffered
from the rheumatism, till a mortification on his
back and shoulders had actually taken place. Al-
though a wound had existed for two years, yet
not a word of complaint escaped his lips ; nor did
he by any gesture indicate the exquisite torture
91
he endured from the rough woollen garment he
wore next his skin. At length the blood oozing
through betrayed him. A surgeon was sent for.
On examination the mortification had proceeded
so far that it was impossible to save his life, but
by actually cutting off the flesh to the very quick,
so as to lay his bones entirely bare. The surgeon
pronounced it to be one of the most painful opera-
tions possible. He desired the subject might be tied,
as nothing else could enable him to endure it. The
patient replied, with a look of deep humility and
thankfulness, — " Of myself I know I could not bear
it, but God, I trust, will enable me." The patient
accordingly sat down and the operation began.
None of the assistants could refrain from tears.
The holy man did not, however, once change coun-
tenance; the same peace and composure sat upon
his features. The surgeon was perfectly asto-
nished. He told M. de Ranee who was by, that
the torture which the patient underwent was so
great, that the effort he made to refrain from
groaning, was sufficient to kill him on the spot,
and that he must sink under it. M. de Ranee
commanded him to give way to his feelings. The
poor man raised his eyes with a look of exquisite
suffering, but yet with a benignant peaceful joy,
and said, " That through the infinite mercy of
God, his soul was kept in perfect peace. That he
never had such a view of the goodness of God in
the extremity of the Savior's sufferings ; that he
92
was favored with such an inexpressible sense of
the depth of his love, that he found as much dif-
ficulty in refraining from tears of joy, and songs
of thanksgiving, as he thought he should have
found in refraining from groans ;" then, with a
fervent voice, and clasping his hands together, he
added, " O ! the unsearchable depth of the riches
of the love of God in Christ." So saying, he fell
back and expired !
Nor was this spirit at all uncommon at La
Trappe. I think you would find great pleasure
and edification in reading " Memoires touchant la
vie et la mort de plusieures religieux de la
Trappe.'* It is a deeply pious work, published by
Dom Pierre le Nain, sub-prior of La Trappe ; in
which he gives an account of the lives and blessed
ends of many of these truly excellent men. He
has also published an account of M. de Ranee,
which many prefer to M. de Meaupeaux, and to
M. Villefores. I suppose you know that Dom
Pierre le Nain is brother to our friend the cele-
brated M. Tillemont. Both were in the school of
Chenet How truly thankful and joyful should
we be in the midst of our persecution, that it has
pleased God, so to bless our endeavors, and to
make our little schools the means of producing such
excellent and valuable men.
M. de Ranee does not encourage learning in his
monastery. Some persons think he discourages it
too much ; perhaps it arose from having so long
93
experienced the effects of unsanctified learning
himself, that made him not sufficiently appreciate
the value of that which was sanctified. His contro-
versy on the subject with the amiable and learned
Mabillon is well known. The congregation of St.
Maur was at this time at the height of its celebrity
for its deep erudition. Distinguished by the la-
bors of Menard, D'Acherri, Mabillon, Ruinart,
Germain, Montfaucon, Martin, Vaisette, le Nourri,
Martianay, Martenne, and Massuet ; its splendid
and learned editions of the fathers of the Chris-
tian church, had already spread its fame over the
Christian world. They were at this very period
engaged in some of their most laborious and va-
luable works. These pious and learned Benedic-
tines felt themselves therefore called upon in a pe-
culiar manner to reply to M. de Ranee's work.
They selected Father Mabillon as the fittest mem-
ber of their body to defend their cause. The con-
troversy continued for some time. Perhaps M. de
Ranee's replies shew that even the very best of
men too often find it difficult to distinguish their
individual experience from that universal obser-
vation, on which alone general rules can be justly
founded.
Blessed be God, he has shewn us, by the ex-
amples of both these excellent societies, that with
him it is neither learned nor unlearned, Greek nor
barbarian, which avails any thing, but only a new
creature, an heart renewed after his image in righ-
teousness and true holiness; even his grace in a
94
crucified Redeemer, apprehended by faith, and
working by love.
Whilst the deeply holy but unlettered fathers
of La Trappe exemplified to the world that God
is all-sufficient, and that the way of holiness is so
plain, that even a fool need not err therein : the
equally pious, but more learned congregation of
St. Maur, shew forth in all the earth, that with
every advantage of talent and science, it is yet pos-
sible, by the grace of God, so to learn Christ, as
with St. Paul, to count all things but loss for the
excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ.
I believe I ought to apologize to you, my reve-
rend Mother, for this long digression concerning
M. de Ranee; but the institution is so unparalleled,
and has lately excited so much curiosity, that I
thought you might be interested in knowing the
steps which led to its establishment
M. de Ranee is not the only disciple of M. d' Alet.
Many other persons equally eminent, though not
so singular, also owe their spiritual birth to him;
especially the learned antiquarian Montfaucon, of
St. Maur.
I confess, however, that I was still more struck
with the more than paternal care M. d'Alet takes
of his flock, than even with the luminous pastoral
instructions he has addressed to celebrated and
eminent men. The latter might have been attri-
buted to a desire of having disciples, who might
establish his reputation, did not the former shew,
that his chief care is bestowed on those whom God
95
alone has given him. He very often says, — " Souls,
my brethren, are of equal value, O ! that we were
but deeply persuaded of it ! A poet in a neigh- ,
bouring island has said, that the beetle which is
crushed unheeded, feels a pang as great as when a
giant dies. Though this is more poetic than phi-
losophic as it respects the body, how true is it in
the second death, in the death of the soul ! There
the wretch who expires on a dunghill, or the prince
who departed from a silken couch, alike feel the
relentless gnawing of the worm that dieth not; and
writhe in equal torture on the bed of flames that
will never be quenched ! An equal hell awaits
sinners of every rank ; an equal Heaven invites
every seeker ; an equal Savior died for every in-
dividual soul. O ! let us go to Calvary and Gol-
gotha, to learn how very precious is the very least
and meanest in the sight of Christ our Savior. Let
us go daily to Gethsemane and to the sepulchre,
to learn how we ought to love and bear on our
hearts every soul of man !"
I was astonished to find it a literal fact, that M.
d'Alet knows both the temporal and spiritual
wants of every single individual throughout the
whole of his extensive diocese. This is actually
the case respecting even children above ten years
old ; and I am told, there is not one, the meanest
shepherd's boy, whose situation he does not tho-
roughly inquire into once every year. If any
lads appear to have good parts he places them in
seminaries, which he has established in every town.
96
He keeps a peculiarly watchful eye over any that
appear seriously disposed, and if they shew talents,
he places them in the ministry. He often watches
over them for years ; nor does he ever regard ex-
pense in their education, when they seem likely to
prove a real blessing in the church. Perhaps it
cannot be said with truth of many other bishops
besides M. d'Alet, that he never ordained any in-
dividual who was not a decidedly religious cha-
racter. He often says, that he considers that
bishops can have no power to ordain but where
they see those fruits, which prove the Spirit of God
to have first called.
M. d'Alet's information respecting the female
part of his flock is equally extensive and correct.
This accurate investigation is accomplished by
means of numerous societies, which he has insti-
tuted, and to which he has given the name of re-
gents or teachers.
One of the female societies of this description
I shall give you an account of. I was introduced
to the superior by M. d'Alet, and I understand,
that all the others, both male and female, are formed
on a similar plan.
In the one which I saw, all the ladies were of
high birth and fortune ; indeed it is necessary they
should be persons of some independence, Because
the society is not endowed, and has no funds appro-
priated to its use, like a convent. For though all
live in one house, and are boarded at a common
table, yet the expense is furnished by each one
97
separately paying her quota. Hence, though it so
happened that all those I saw were noble, yet per-
sons of every rank are equally accepted, though 3
competency is indispensable. Some of them, how-
ever, are of a very elevated rank. Amongst them
is Madame de Pamiers, widow of the Baron cle
Mirepoix, of the house of Levi, of which the
noble family of Ventadour is but the younger
branch.
Good health, good sense, independent circum-
stances, conciliating manners, and deep piety, are
essentially requisite to gain admittance into the
society of Regents.
These ladies take no vows, yet they live much
in the same manner as religious orders ; they only
maintain the laws of the cloister in their own house.
There, as in nunneries, no men ever enter without
an absolute necessity. They do not wear a mo-
nastic dress ; yet they are all clothed exactly alike.
They wear dark stuffs which reach up close to the
throat with long sleeves down to the wrists. Their
handkerchiefs also come up close to the throat ;
and their caps, which are very neat, cover the
whole of their hair, excepting a little on the fore-
head, so that they are directly known in the street,
whether they go out to visit the sick or to attend mass.
Whenever they appear either singly or together,
they are always treated with the greatest respect.
All the passengers stand aside to let them pass ;
and when they go to church the crowd instantly
divides to let them take the best seats.
H
The object of this society is peculiarly that of
instructing and relieving their own sex ; it unites
the offices of nursing the sick, instructing the igno-
rant, and giving spiritual help to the distressed.
Two of its most important aims are, teaching do-
mestic management to poor families, and forming
schools for girls. To accomplish these ends each
society of Regents have a large house at'Alet, which
may be termed its head quarters. Here the supe-
rior and prioress always reside, an,d are immedi-
ately under the bishop's inspection. They have
\vith them an assistant committee, chosen half-
yearly out of the whole society. Here all instruc-
tions are given by the bishop, and all orders are
issued to the rest of the body ; all information is
received from them, and all their wants are sup-
plied by the superior and committee. In this house
is a very good library : it is composed of every
work of piety and valuable information, which can
possibly be useful either to give or lend to any of
their own sex, from the cottage to the palace.
They have also an extensive apothecary's shop
and surgery. All the regents receive regular in-
struction in dressing wounds, nursing, and in mix-
ing and dispensing medicines from the first profes-
sional men in the place. The upper story of the
house consists of one large magazine, stored with
flannel clothing, blankets, sheets, and every thing
which the poor and sick can want.
They have also a very neat little chapel ; it is
only furnished with plain wooden benches and straw
99
hassocks. They have a remarkably sweet-toned
organ, with many harps and lutes. Most of the
ladies have not only sweet voices, but are perfect
mistresses of music. By this means the playing
and singing is such, that even the first connois-
seurs might receive delight from the superior ex-
cellency of their performance.
The regents have not separate cells like nuns,
but one exceedingly large dormitory. Down each
side are deep recesses, wide enough to contain a
small bed, a book shelf, a chair and a table. In
each recess is a window. At the entrance to every
one is a thick woollen cloth curtain, which being
let down, leaves the individual in private ; and
deadens the sound which would otherwise be per-'
ceptible from so many people.
The superior is a woman of fine understanding,
great strength of mind, and great activity. She is
highly respected by the whole society ; indeed the
love, unity, and perfect intelligence which reign
amongst all the members of this little community is
truly admirable.
The establishment I have now described is at Alet,
where I must observe all the regents spend about
six months in every year. The whole community
reside together from the week before passion week
till the middle of September. This season they
devote to prayer, studying the Scriptures, work-
ing to supply the stock of poor's clothes ; nurs-
ing and instructing the people, and attending on
the lectures given them by M. d'Alet; in short.
H 2
100
their chief object in the summer months is to in-
struct themselves, and to prepare against winter.
Early in the autumn the good bishop selects a
large detachment of them, and appoints the dis-
trict where they are to labor till the next Easter.
Accordingly, in September they set out for the
country, where they spend the winter ; this being,
though the least convenient to them, the most fa-
vorable season for instructing the poor. In sum-
mer the poor are obliged to labor in the fields so
assiduously that they have but little time for
learning. In winter the case is different. Their
wants urge them to implore the assistance of the
rich, and their increased leisure affords more op-
portunity of profiting by their instructions.
As soon as the ladies reach the district appointed
for the year, six of them go to the principal town
and take possession of a house, provided on pur-
pose for them, by the bishop ; the rest of the de-
tachment proceed two and two to houses appointed
for them, in like manner in all the villages imme-
diately circumjacent.
In these houses the ladies remain the whole
time. No man ever enters, nor do they ever go
out but to chapel, and as it falls to the turn of each
to visit the sick in the town. A medicine closet,
and clothes for the poor, are immediately provided,
and they are themselves supplied with every re-
quisite from Alet.
As soon as they arrive at any town, they imme-
diately deliver a letter of recommendation to the
101
principal clergyman in the place ; and also an or-
der from the bishop, that he should immediately
give the whole town notice of their arrival. Ac-
cordingly a printed paper is put up in the market
place, and in the corners of the streets, with an in-
vitation to all females, of every age and denomina-
tion to wait on them.
In a hall appropriated for the purpose, they re-
ceive all the women and children who choose to
come, and immediately hegin a regular and settled
plan of instruction, which fully occupies them from
morning till night.
The morning instruction is generally of a tem-
poral, and the evening of a spiritual nature. One
day in the week is devoted to teach the young
women to cut out clothes to advantage, cheap
cookery, and many things of the like nature.
Every other day a school is held for the girls.
They are instructed in reading, writing, working
and accounts. Part of every day is devoted to
religious reading and catechetical instruction. It
is expected that no book shall be read, nor any ca-
techism used, which has not been prescribed by
the bishop. The ladies are, however, expected to
use their own discretion in commenting and ap-
plying their instructions to existing circumstances.
At these meetings all of their own sex are invited
to be present ; there are, however, other meetings^
which are more particularly designed for those
who have made farther advances ; or who have
manifested a disposition decidedly serious, In
102
these they have readings of a more spiritual nature,
to which they add exhortation, and a little free
spiritual conversation, in which each person, who
is inclined, relates her experience, or asks advice.
Besides this, the regents have once a fortnight pri-
vate conversation with every individual who at-
tends them. So that there is not a single person
with whose state of mind they are unacquainted.
Once a month they all assemble from the neigh_
bouring villages in their house in town. Here
they give an account of their mutual labors, state
their difficulties, encourage each other, arrange
their plans for the ensuing month, and draw up
a statement of their progress, and a catalogue of
their wants, which is sent to the superior and com-
mittee at Alet; and is by them transmitted to the
bishop. In this account every individual is men-
tioned, and it is by this means M. d'Alet acquires
so extensive an acquaintance with his diocese.
After the regents have been two or three months
in a place, and are well acquainted with the peo-
ple, they make choice of some of the most pious
and intelligent, whom they take into their house,
and to whom they give instructions, to qualify
them to conduct every thing on the same plan,
after their departure. They also select some of
the most pious ladies to take the superintendence
of the whole. Thus little schools and religious so-
cieties are formed all over the diocese. They also
instruct in mixing medicines, attending the sick,8cc.
By this regular system stability has been given to
103
their institution. Wherever they have once ob-
tained footing, not only a total, but a permanent
reform, has mostly succeeded their labors.
It is astonishing how much the regents are be-
loved and respected. If they are seen in the streets,
each one in passing is sure to pull off his hat and
stand aside. Not seldom have I seen the rough-
est boors bless them with tears in their eyes. Even
the little children are delighted with their winning,
affectionate, and cheerful manners.
" We had the regents last year !" is a sentence
often pronounced with great exultation in the dio-
cese of Alet. I have often seen the words, — " The
regents are come!" diffuse the same joy over a
whole village, as though it had been a public
festival.
The labors of these ladies are by no means
solely confined to the poor ; those amongst the
rich and noble, who want their advice, are per-
fectly at liberty to ask it, whilst they reside in their
district.
It has nevertheless been found necessary to make
strict, or rather inviolable rules. Otherwise the ac-
cumulating multiplicity of acquaintance would sub-
ject them to a degree of intrusion, which would
effectually defeat the object of their labors.
The established rules are therefore never de-
parted from. Whilst the regents wholly devote
themselves to their own district, and receive every
one there who chooses it ; they, at the same time?
never allow, on any pretext whatever, of any cor-
104
respondence, either by letter or visits, with any
individuals whose quarter they have left.
Should any letter be sent, a short but polite
answer from the superior states their rule and the
reason for it ; and the writer is referred to the
established superintendence of the district. Nor
is any intercourse resumed, till in the course of
their rounds they again return to the same place.
\Vith the superintendents and the ladies* commit-
tees they keep up a constant communication. The
bishop also takes care that they shall be regu-
larly inspected by the minister of the place.
On the regent's return to Alet in spring, they
render an account of all they have done ; they are
peculiarly careful to mark all the errors and mis-
takes they have fallen into, and appoint solemn
seasons of retirement, fasting and prayer, to implore
the divine forgiveness.
It is astonishing how great a blessing has ac-
companied the works of these truly devoted
women. Their footsteps throughout the diocese
may be almost traced by the reformation visible.
Perhaps few since the days of the apostles, have
better fulfilled the object they have in view, a con-
formity, through a loving faith, to both the active
and contemplative life of Christ.
A gentleman on a visit at Alet, being much sur-
prised at the great reform he witnessed, said one
day to the superior, — " All your sisters must be
persons of very extraordinary talents." " God
forbid we should think so," replied she ; " or that
105
we should suffer you to remain in such a delusion.
We do not generally find those of the greatest
talents the most useful. Those sisters amongst us
have been most eminently blessed who have had
the deepest experimental knowledge of their own
unworthiness, and of Christ's fulness, we find
that Christ is our all in all, and that we are no-
thing. All depends on looking at him continually
with a lively loving faith. My sisters are so
destitute of every good thing, that they are mo-
ment by moment compelled to go to him, and to
draw out of his fulness. From him who never
spake as man spake, do we seek a mouth and ut-
terance ; from him who is a Wonderful Counsel-
lor, and who is made unto us wisdom, do we ask
spiritual wisdom. On him that is strong, do we
wait to renew our strength ; and from the Lamb,
without blemish, and without spot, who bore our
iniquities, and who was slain for us, from him alone,
do we seek true love and patience. He only is our
strength ; nor is he only so, but also our Redeemer
likewise. \Vhilst we desire every moment to rely
on his strength, we also feel every moment the neces-
sity of fresh forgiveness through his precious blood.
A gentleman at M. d' Alet's, who was much pleased
with their union of activity and recollection, used
often to smile, and call them, " Sisters of the Order
of Martha and Mary." One of them replied,
We do indeed desire to serve our Lord with
cheerful Martha's busy hands, and to sit at his
feet with Mary's loving heart: yet as our Lord
106
himself was the source of both Martha's industry
and Mary's humiliation, if you will call us any
thing, we had rather it were sisters of the order of
the love of Christ
The Bishop of Alet has formed very similar in-
stitutions amongst the men ; nevertheless, as he
must himself be accountable for his charge, he
does not blindly trust the report of any persons,
however excellent.
He has divided his diocese into ten districts.
Though now upwards of seventy, he always re-
sides one month in the year in each. So that he is
every year three months at Alet, and nine months
in making the tour of his diocese. During these
pastoral visits his labor is almost incredible. He
sees and speaks to every single individual himself.
He also lays down a plan of instruction for the
ecclesiastic of the place till next year.
The difficulties through which M. d'Alet is car-
ried in these visits, are fresh proofs of the unspeak-
able love of our Savior; of his pity to the poor of
his flock, and of his faithfulness to those who put
their trust in him, and who have been sent forth by
his Spirit to preach his dying love and quickening
power to poor ignorant sinners.
The diocese of M. d'Alet is situated near the
foot of the Pyrenees. Whoever has seen the dread-
ful passes' in these mountains, will be immediately
convinced that grace and not nature could alone
induce an aged man, of above seventy, to tempt
them every month. Some of the places have no
107
road, but a path scooped out of the rock ; in others
the footing is washed away by torrents, and only a
few loose stones remain. Over these tremendous
passes the litter of M. d'Alet is constantly seen to
traverse. Frequently the road is too narrow for
its width, and it is seen overhanging precipices
a quarter of a mile in perpendicular depth; in
which one false step of either mule must have in-
fallibly precipitated him.
On such occasions it is delightful to see the
people's love for their aged pastor ; the young
shepherds beneath falling on their knees in prayer
for his preservation, whilst the hoary headed ones,
whose faith is stronger, seem to chide their doubts,
exclaiming, " God is with him ! his footsteps shall
not slide."
Notwithstanding M. d'Alet' s deep piety, he fre-
quently invites to his house promising young men
of less decided characters, in hopes of gaining
them over. His cheerful and pious conversation
has often been the means of their conversion. How
far that may ever be the case with our friend, the Abbe
Gagliani, who is at present here, I will not venture to
say. He was always rather inclined to be self-opi-
nionated, and fond of novelties in religion, from the
unhappy effects of unsanctified learning ; but lately
the young man's head seems completely turned by the
good success of one of his sallies, which I could wish
his holiness had rather repressed than encouraged.
You know Gagliani's learning, and especially his
mineralogical talents. His holiness, who is a great
108
patron of science, gave him a commission to exa-
mine the fossil productions of Vesuvius, and send
him specimens. Gagliani, who delights in these
researches, but who would have been too poor to
have undertaken the tour for his own amusement,
was glad enough of the commission. He soon
formed a most beautiful and rare collection ; and
arranging it in the most elegant and scientific order,
he sent it to the pope with a note. The prelate,
on opening the seal, only found this line. — " Die
ut lapides isti panes fiant," (" Command that these
stones be made bread/') The pope, who is a great
lover of wit, notwithstanding his piety, immedi-
ately enclosed an order for a very considerable
pension in return, with a note, which in allusion
to Gagliani's suspected heresy, is as follows : " The
pope is rejoiced to see, that the Abbe Gagliani
seems at length convinced that to the successors of
St. Peter belongs the exclusive prerogative of seiz-
ing the true spirit of texts of Scripture. His holi-
ness never gave any explanation with greater plea-
sure, since he is fully convinced that the interpre-
tation herewith sent will perfectly satisfy the Abbe
Gagliani's remaining doubts as to his infallibility."
M. d'Alet looked rather grave when he heard
this anecdote, and said, — " I could be well satisfied
if we had a pontiff of less wit, and more reverence
for God's revealed word."
Notwithstanding M. d'Alet's extreme age, he is
equally remarkable for his humility, attentive po-
liteness, and an amiable temper.
109
There are several hamlets belonging to the vil-
lage of Alet, which are both remote and difficult
.of access. A poor woman who was exceedingly
ill, desired her husband to go to the curate, and
request him to come and to administer the sacra-
ment immediately. It was very late in the evening,
and quite dark. As the roads were besides co-
vered with snow, and exceedingly dangerous, the
curate did not like to go at such an hour. " My
good friend," said he, " perhaps your wife may
not be so ill as you imagine. You see the weather ;
besides at this late hour consider the imminent
danger of failing over the precipices. I will wait
on your wife early to-morrow, but it is out of the
question to night.
The poor man, almost in despair, ran to the epis-
copal palace, and stated his case. M. d'Alet was
gone to bed. He, however, immediately rose. On
looking out of the window and seeing that the
weather was really bad ; he ordered the torches to
be lighted, and prepared to go himself. The grand
vicar, astonished, asked if he had not better order
the curate to go, and do what was in fact his duty.
" No," said the Bishop, " not for this once ; a
Bishop, a Christian overseer at the head of his flock,
like Caesar at the head of his legions, should, if he
mean to succeed, oftener say venite (come) than ite
(go).
The Bishop possesses a very happy way of ex-
plaining himself in a few words.
A person who had long practised many auste-
110
rities, without finding any comfort or change of
heart, was once complaining to the bishop, " Alas !"
said he, " self-will and self-righteousness follow me
every where ; only tell me when you think I shall
learn to leave self. Will it be in discipline, in study,
in prayer, or in good works?" " I think," replied
the prelate, " that the place where you will lose
self will be that where you find your Savior."
Another person pleading in behalf of uniting
worldly acquaintance with religious profession,
said, " Believers are called to be the salt of the
earth." "Yes," said M. d'Alct, " and yet if salt
be cast into the ocean from which it was originally
drawn, it will melt away and vanish entirely."
A person once excusing his non-attendance at
public worship, by pleading the disagreeable ap-
pearance and manner of the minister, " Let us look
more at our Savior, and less at the instruments,
said M. d'Alet: Elijah was as well nourished, when
the bread from heaven was brought by a raven, as
Ishmael, when the spring of water was revealed
to him by an angel. Whether then we are fed
immediately from God, as the Israelites, with manna
in the wilderness, or by the glorious instrumenta-
lity of those who may seem to us as angels, or by
the base one of those who seem to us contemptible,
let us be content and thankful, if they are but ap-
pointed of God, and if it be the bread and water of
life they bring.
M. d'Alet's own manners are uncommonly
sweet and prepossessing, and he strongly recom-
Ill
mends Christian politeness to others ; as a constant
exercise of love, patience, humility, and self-denial.
I believe he looks as constantly to Christ in little
things, as in great. Nevertheless, nobody bears
with greater kindness the entire want of these
things in others ; or is more united in heart to
them where they are so with Christ. " My dear
friends," says he to his flock, " never forget it is
your glorious privilege to be a chosen generation ;
an holy nation ; a peculiar people ; and a royal
priesthood. Let us then resemble the high-priest,
who when he was anointed with that sacred unction ;
let the oil run down to the very hems and fringes of
his garment, that even the smallest parts might shed
the fragrant perfume of the sanctuary. Neverthe-
less, do not cultivate a fastidious delicacy towards
others, in making requisitions you find it so hard
to comply with yourselves. Be content, if, by a
living faith, they cleave in sincerity to Christ our
Savior ; even if their manners are sometimes
rough and unpolished. Remember though their
hands be those of Esau ; you will find their voices
and their hearts are still belonging to Jacob.
J think I have never been so fully convinced, as
since my visit here, that Christ does, indeed,
enable his disciples to become the salt of the earth,
and to season whatsoever they come near.
All M. d'Alet's household appear to partake in
different degrees of the same spirit. The ecclesi-
astics who reside with him, are all men of genuine
112
piety. Some of them possess deep learning. These
chiefly assist the bishop, in drawing up instructions
for his diocese. Others are men of equal excel-
lence, but whose talents rather fit them for the exe-
cutive part of the business.
Even the very servants breathe the same spirit.
They might all be taken by their appearance, to be
members of some religious community. Their re-
collection, silence, humility, obedience, and ex-
actness, is truly edifying. The porter is esteemed
a real saint. I have often conversed with him with
much profit It is astonishing how much a fer-
vent faith, not only inspires good affections in the
heart, but likewise enlightens and strengthens the
natural judgment. It seems impossible to receive
the centre of all truths, without in some measure,
participating in the rays which emanate therefrom.
All the servants perform their business, with won-
derful attention.
It is striking, to see the contrast between the
hair-cloth and penitential shirt some of them wear,
and the spirit of prayer and praise in which they live.
Such is the house of the Bishop of Alet. Such
is that excellent man, whom the great of this world
have treated as the very offscouring of the earth,
and that because he refused to sign an iniquitous
formulary of persecution. A formulary which
denounces banishment, imprisonment, and death,
against the true servants of our Lord Jesus Christ.
A formulary, which whilst it has been the means
113
of bestowing the crown of martyrdom on some, has
been a stumbling-block to thousands.
M. Alet, M. de Pamiers d' Angers and de Beau-
vais and your honored house, at Port Royal, alike
suffer in one common cause, the pretended impu-
tation of Jansenism.
AVell may you rejoice at being favored to
suffer in the Lord's cause, and that, in company
with the most excellent of the earth. For of such
assuredly are these great men.
The Bishop of Bellay paid a visit to M. d'Alet
some years ago. I felt great curiosity to hear of a
man, so long esteemed the luminary of France for
erudition, and her example for piety. Above all,
I longed to know something of a man, who for so
many years, was the intimate friend of St. Francis
de Sales. This excellent prelate was never receiv-
ed into favor, since his disgrace by Cardinal Riche-
lieu, above twenty-seven years ago, for refusing
to conceal the disorderly conduct of the religious
orders. This ambitious and unprincipled minister,
felt it an object to retain his influence over them.
Threats and promises were lavished in vain, to
induce the bishop to withdraw his accusations.
M. de Bellay steadily refused. " Sir," said Riche-
lieu, '7 had you not refused me this, I could have
canonized you." " Would to God, you had,"
replied the pious, but acute prelate; " we should
the.n each be possessing our supreme desire!
You would be encircling your brows with the
papal tiara on earth ; and I should be casting a
i
114
crown of immortal amaranth at the feet of my ado-
rable Savior in heaven t
M. ci'Alet was mentioning an anecdote, which
at once proves the influence of the Jesuits, and the
inveteracy of the court prejudices against us. He
had it from the Duke of Orleans. Some time ago
a gentleman was proposed to the King as a proper
travelling companion to the dauphin. The King
(Louis XIV) mistaking him for another person of
the same name, objected to him as being a Janse-
nist. i; Sire," said his informant, " he is so far from
holding grace and election, that he doubts if there
be even a God." " O," returned the King, " that
is another affair ; I really thought he had been a
Jansenist; I have not the least objection !"
The Duke of Orleans was almost convulsed with
laughter as he related this specimen of the king's
zeal for orthodoxy. To us, may this additional
proof of the blindness of the human heart be a fresh
call, diligently to examine our own. How pos-
sible is it, to hold the strongest sectarian preju-
dices, and yet be wholly destitute of all vital god-
liness, and of all respect for the very first princi-
ples of divine truth.
May we continually pray, for an understanding
heart; .a heart renewed in divine knowledge, by
the Spirit of God; that we may discern between
the polar truths of the gospel, and the doubtful in-
ductions of unassisted human reason upon them.
Such, my dear, and very reverend Mother, is the
short narrative of my little tour. May it beguile
115
some of the dreary hours of your tedious capti-
vity. M. de Brienne, who will deliver my packet
to you, will give you an account of our proceed-
ings. Well, the Lord is still with us! Though
some of us are in exile, and some in prisons ; though
you are surrounded by an armed guard, and we
wander over the face of the earth, without house or
home, we all know in whom we have believed ! In
our prosperity we believed in him as our redeemer,
in adversity we experience him indeed to be our
strength. Though separated far from each other,
he the Lord is present to every one. May we all
renewedly look to that blessed God and Savior,
who is above ail, and over all, and in us all, and
by whom alone we spiritually live, and move, and
have our being.
Blessed be God ! he has given faith and love
to all his suffering children, to bear each other
on their hearts ; and he has promised, that where
two agree on earth, touching any thing, it shall be
done for his sake in heaven. Let us then pray in
faith, that all his holy will be wrought in us ;
that waiting on him, we may daily renew our
strength, and experiencing his faithfulness, that
we may be more deeply rooted arid grounded in
the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge. My
venerable mother, and dear sisters !.-. be not faith-
less but believing. The Lord increase in us that
faith which is the subsistence of things hoped for,
•tan{optw» wworao-K, and the evidence of things not
seen.
i 2
116
Though armed men guard your walls, and keep
you in on every side, yet the Lord is. with you, and
God, even your God, dwells within in the temple
of your hearts. Cut off from the world, who hates
us, let us rejoice, that we can more constantly com-
mune with that Savior, who loves us, and gave him-
self for us. Interdicted the sacrament by an arbi-
trary decree : rejoice, that whilst deprived of the
external sign, the invisible grace is stiil your's ; and
you may still feed by faith in your hearts, on the
true bread from heaven, and on the true wine of the
kingdom. If no outward ministry be allowed you;
if your oppressors abolish every outward ceremony
in which ye seek Christ in* the desert, or in the secret
chamber, still I trust you will know by experience,
that the kingdom of God is within you ; even righ-
teousness, and peace, and joy, in the Holy Ghost.
Be not discouraged that your chapel is levelled
witrt the ground, your gardens torn up, and that
serpents infest your retreats. God is a spirit, and
his true worship is in spirit and in truth. If your
ministers be dispersed over the face of the earth,
and the anthem of praise be heard at Port Royal
no more, submit it all to Christ our Savior. To
the priests of Baal and not of Christ are repetitions
of words indispensably necessary. Christ dwells in
the heart of true believers, in silent faith, speaking
only by active love.
* The desert of Port Royal.
117
Whilst the pastors who have been accustomed to
distribute to you the bread of life are far off, re-
member that legions of the angels who minister to
those who are heirs of salvation, wait tmseen upon
you. But above all, Jesus, the great angel of the
covenant, is ever with you. Ever does his precious
blood plead in your behalf, 'at the throne of God ;
and ever is his blessed Spirit with you, to guide you
into all truth. .Especially, will it guide us into
that fundamental one ; a deep sense of our own
utter vileness,: emptiness, and nothingness. Then
only can we know his $1- sufficient fulness. No
doubt the day is hastening, which shall make these
polar truths fully manifest* Whilst we pray for
our unhappy persecutors, may our own theme of
rejoicing ever be: not that we have already
attained, but that we live in the day of atonement.
That the Lord has in infinite mercy revealed him-
self to us as the Lord, long-suffering, and gracious,
full of mercy and loving- kindness, and whose
mercy endureth for ever.
On this free grace, on this boundless mercy, on
this precious blood, as the only plea, or hope of
sin-polluted souls, I cast myself, you, and all our
friends in Christ. Nay, I would that the whole
world, and even our enemies, should draw near
and partake with us.
And now, my dear and honored mother and sis-
ters, farewell! If the heat of persecution should
still continue, and if (according to the flesh) we
should see each other's face no more. Still am I
118
well persuaded, that none of the dispersed members
of our Jerusalem can ever forget each other before
God. The same Lord who heard Jonah cry from
the depths of hell, will listen to the prayers of his
servants from the dungeons in which they are im-
mured. Nor shall we suffer in vain. Our trust is
in the Lord, and our chastening shall bring forth
the peaceable fruits of righteousness, and make us
happy partakers of his holiness. Though our
living stones are now so dispersed, and though
so severe the blows by which they are fashioned,
yet let us not grieve. Soon shall they be taken
from the desert of this world, and transplanted to
the heavenly Jerusalem. Then shall they grow
into an holy temple to the Lord, and he shall dwell
in the midst of them for ever and ever.
Again, farewell ! and now I commend you to
God, and his blessed keeping.
The Lord bless and keep you, the Lord make
the light of his countenance shine irpon you, and
bestow his peace which surpasses all understanding,
to keep your hearts and minds.
Your assured friend and disciple
in the close, indissoluble, and
eternal bonds of Christian love,
CLAUDE LANCELOT.
Christmas Eve, Z\lh Dec. 1667.
APPENDIX.
JVb. /.
JEAN DU VERGER DE HAURANNE,
THE ABBE DE ST. CYRAN,
WAS born at Bayonne in 1581. His family was
both noble and ancient. The Du Vergers origi-
nally carne from Thoulouse. Two brothers of
that name were appointed by the King to establish
a mint at Bayonne. The family afterwards di-
vided into three branches. The eldest subsisted at
Bayonne long after the destruction of Port Royal.
It is mentioned by Lancelot, in his Memoires de St.
Cyran, as one of the most considerable in the place.
The third centered in an heiress of immense wealth,
who intermarried with the noble house of Urthubie.
The second branch was engaged in extensive com-
mercial concerns. From it sprung M. Jean du
Vergier, afterwards the celebrated Abbe of St.
Cyran.
M. du Vergier, although heir to the estate of
Hauranne, received an academical education. He
accomplished his studies with the greatest distinc-
tion at the universities both of Paris and of
Louvain.
120
In 1620 M. Du Verger was appointed to the
abbacy of the monastery of St. Cyran (or Serigan-
nus). This benefice was resigned to him by
Henry de la Rochepozay, Bishop ofPoitiers, under
whom he officiated as Grand Vicar, and \yho was
also his zealous patron.
The Abbe de St. Cyran had formed one early
and intimate friendship. Cornelius Jansenius was
only four years younger than himself. Both had
been educated at Louvain. The similarity of their
pursuits, and a coincidence of circumstances, ce-
mented 'an union which their mutual piety had at
first formed.
The health of Jansenius had suffered by intense
application. He was advised on leaving college
to try the air of France. The house of M. de
St. Cyran at Bayonne was soon opened to him.
Both parties embraced with pleasure so favorable
an opportunity of continuing their intimacy. Al-
though their education was completed, the ardour
of each for improvement was unabated. They ap-
plied themselves to the study of the fathers. Their
assiduity was unremitting, their researches were ex-
tensive. The industry which distinguished their
theological studies was alone exceeded by their per-
severance and fervor in prayer. The foundation
of their subsequent greatness was laid in a deep
sense of their own insufficiency, accompanied by a
firm reliance on divine goodness and power.
The profound erudition for which they were
afterwards so celebrated, they never pursued as
121
an ultimate object. It was a means to something
better, not an end. To renew the heart by a tho-
rough conversion from all creatures to the Creator ;
to enlighten the spiritual understanding by the
study, not of human opinions, but of revealed
truth ; these were the two grand objects of M.deSt.
Cryan and of his friend. These were their motives
in studying the works of men whose reputation for
sanctity the church has so long acknowledged.
These ends too they thought mutually assisted each
other. All that knowledge of religious truth which
is really spiritually discerned, must kindle divine
love in the heart ; and whenever divine love is
kindled in the heart, the spiritual understanding
will be opened to the perception of divine truth.
The word of God never separates genuine spiritual
light from genuine spiritual heat. Hence perhaps,
it was that they adopted their favorite motto, " Unde
ardet undet lucet" They only wished to be shin-
ing lights, from the heat by which they were burn-
ing lights.
Perhaps it was the conformity of their minds, as
well as a similar degree of growth in grace, which
led them to view the writings of the fathers in the
same light. However this may be, at that period
it was they mutually adopted that system after-
wards so celebrated under the name of Jansenism.
With which of them it originated would be diffi-
cult to decide. By the world it was ascribed to
Jansenius, because it was first made public by his
commentary on St. Austin.
122
By M. de St. Cyran and his friend, this system
was not considered as their own, but as the funda-
mental doctrine of the Christian church. They
imagined themselves amongst the small number who
faithfully adhered to St. Augustin, in the midst of
a corrupt and degenerate age.
The object of this little work is not controversial.
Even were it so, it would not be possible to give
an accurate delineation of this celebrated system
in the short compass of a note. Will the follow-
ing compendious definition be accepted? It is
cursory and far from accurate. Yet it will pro-
bably present a sufficiently clear view of the subject
to a merely general reader. Jansenism may then
be said to be in doctrine the Calvinism, and in prac-
tice the methodism of the Romish church.
Both the Genevese reformer and the Bishop of
Ypres derived their sentiments from the same
source. Both ascribed their system to St. Austin ;
though each adopted it under different modifica-
tions. Again, both the disciples of Jansenius,
and the most strict orders amongst modern dissen-
ters, are distinguished for the disuse of personal or-
naments. Both have been remarked for being
in prayer, in watchings, and in fastings oft. In
many respects indeed the comparison does not
apply.
After six years of close study, M. de St. Cyran
and Jansenius separated. The latter returned to
Louvain ; the former established himself at Paris.
After an interval of some years, Jansenius was
123
elected to the see of Ypres, of which he was seventh
Bishop.
M. de St. Cyran mean while gained an extensive
reputation at Paris. His simple mortified air, and
his humble garb, formed a striking contrast with the
awful sanctity of his countenance, the holiness of his
demeanor, and his native lofty dignity of manner.
The Parisians were struck with astonishment. M de
St. Cyran was especially eminent for that force of
character, by which men of strong minds, silently
but certainly govern those of weak ones. His ap-
pearance no sooner arrested the eye, than his
character began to gain a powerful but irresistible
ascendency over the mind and heart. Every one
felt the strength of his influence, and the conscience
of each bore witness that it came from God. Holy,
wise, and strictly sincere, none could know him
and not feel the value of such an adviser. Gentle,
courteous, and discreet, few could be with him
without wishing to repose their confidence in so
valuable a friend. On the other hand, a perfect
calmness and self-possession, a coolness, equally
the result of native strength of character, and of an
heart elevated above sublunary things, a certain
elevation in his manners, equally the result of tem-
perament and of education, inspired even his
nearest friends with a reverential deference. His
firm and penetrating eye, and his majestic counte-
nance are adverted to by most of his biographers.
Lancelot mentions this expression as peculiarly
striking, even after his death. "The corpse,*' said he,
124
" was so full of gravity, and solemn majesty, that
even hi enemies must have been seized with .awe on
b nolding- it." M. de St. Cyran's deep self know-
ledge gave him equal penetration in discovering,
zn.ci patience in bearing the infirmities of others.
He united the rare talents of bemg a most' dis-
cerning, and yet a most wise and faithful director.
He was resorted to on every hand as a spiritual
guide.
Nor was M. de St. Cyran esteemed alone by the
religious. The polite and learned equally valued
his society and attainments. Cardinal Richelieu,
whilst Bishop of Lugon, had known him at Poitiers.
At that early period he had justly appreciated
M. de St. Cyran's merits. He now introduced
him at court as the most deeply learned man in
Europe. His celebrity daily increased. Eight
bishoprics were successively offered him. It was
not however preferment which M. de St. Cyran
sought.
He industriously shrunk, on the contrary, from,
popular observation. The more fortune courted
him, the more assiduously did he seek the shelter
of obscurity.
Their early acquaintance had given him a tho-
rough knowledge of the character of the minister.
He received all Cardinal Richelieu's civilities with
respect, but with firmness withstood his advances.
He at the same time renounced all unnecessary
visits.
M. de St. Cyran retired to a remote lodging op-
125
posite the convent of the Carthusians, where all
his time was occupied in prayer, study, acts of
chanty and spiritual direction. He was never
to be met with at the tables of the great, nor was
he visible in the streets but on errands of piety or
of mercy.
Though no more to be seen in society, the in-
fluence of M. de Cyran began to be sensibly felt.
Effects originating in him were soon perceptible in
every circle. The number of those under his di-
rection had increased continually. The fruits of
his instruction began to appear. His disciples
were soon sufficiently considerable to fix the atten-
tion of the public. They were of that variety of
description, that caused their influence to be felt in
circles of every denomination.
In the midst of a capital distinguished for pro-
fligacy, a multitude out of every class were sud-
denly seen to withdraw from the dissipations of
the world, whilst they became doubly assiduous in
every duty. Persons, pampered in luxury and self-
indulgence, all at once became self-denying, ab-
stemious, and temperate. Others, characterized by
the lawless vices attendant on protracted civil
wars, were in the course of a few months distin-
guished for regularity, charity, humility, andgenile-
ness. All of them became remarkable for un-
feigned devotion, prayer, alms-deeds, and all
the good fruits produced by a firm faith, working
by zealous love. Persons were astonished at see-
ing even the manners and expression of counte-
126
nance of their nearest relations wholly changed.
TSor did this metamorphosis take place in a few-
instances only. Many in every rank and every
order of society seemed inspired by a new influence.
Religious houses, dignitaries in the church, pri-
vate individuals, men of the first eminence in the
faculty, the law, and the army, ministers of state,
peers of the realm, princes of the blood royal ; each
could produce several out of their number who
began truly to fear and love GOD. Their savor
began to be diffused all around.
About this time, M. de St. Cyran became ac-
quainted with the celebrated monastery of Port
Royal. M. Zamet, Bishop of Langres, had been
induced by Louisa, first wife of the Duke of Lon-
gueville, to establish a religious house in honor of
the blessed Eucharist. The abbesse of Port Royal,
Maria Angelique Arnauld, was a lady greatly dis-
tinguished for the depth of her piety, and for her
uncommon strength of mind. She had also acquired
a great portion of celebrity, by the astonishing re-
form she had recently established at Port Royal ;
and was then occupied in effecting, throughout a
variety of religious houses of the same order.
M. Zamet was persuaded he could not make choice
of any person so well qualified to establish his new
institution. The house was scarcely founded, when
it was involved in numerous and unexpected diffi-
culties, from the enmity which the Bishop of Sens
entertained towards M. Zamet. M. de St. Cyran
was unacquainted with either party. A small tract,
1*7
said to be written by one of the new society, had
been much handed about in Paris. It was entitled
" Chapelet secret du Saint Sacrement" and consisted
chiefly of prayers, or spontaneous effusions of
heart, on the blessed sacrament. It was character-
ized by much fervent piety on the one hand, whilst
on the other, many passages were expressed with
an enthusiasm, and an unguarded latitude, which
rendered them susceptible of a malicious construc-
tion. This little work was in reality a private
meditation, surreptitiously obtained from its author.
M. de Sens most vehemently declared himself
against it, and endeavoured, in a little pamphlet
which he published, to hold it up to the ridicule of
the public. M. de St. Cyran had indeed perceived
the unguarded expressions in the Chapelet secret,
but he also appreciated the deep piety which
breathed through the whole. Seeing that piety
itself was attacked, he wrote a very able defence,
which completely decided the public mind in
favour of the work so much patronised by M. de
Langres. The Bishop was much pleased with the
work. He introduced himself to its author, and
the acquaintance, thus casually begun, soon im-
proved into a high veneration and esteem. M. Zamet
was soon after appointed to a post out of Paris.
He requested M. de St. Cyran to direct the new
institution in his absence. Other difficulties how-
ever arose, and a short time after M. de Zamet's
Institut du St. Sacrement was dropped. The nuns
returned to Port Royal. They did not fail to speak
128
of M. de St. Cyran's extraordinary merit. During
his residence at Paris also, he had formed an inti-
macy with M. Arnauld D'Andilli, eldest brother
to the abbess of Port Royal. He introduced M. de
St. Cyran personally, to his sister, the Rev. Mother
Mary 'Angelica.
Such was the origin of M. de St. Cyran's ac-
quaintance with Port Royal ; he was soon after
instituted director of that monastery, since so dis-
tinguished for talent, learning, and piety, and so
persecuted, as the head quarters of the reputed
Jansenists.
At this period, however, the recent reform at
Port Royal was the theme of general admiration.
Both M. de St. Cyran and his followers appeared
at this season to grow in favour equally with GOD
and man.
The calm was not of long duration. About this
period was announced the intention of Jansenius
to publish a translation of St. Austin, with an ample
commentary. This celebrated work occupied its
venerable author twenty years. On the very day
of its completion he was seized with the plague,
and expired.
The Jesuits had long entertained a secret enmity
against the bishop of Ypres. Many years before
a contest had taken place between the Jesuits and
the university of Louvain. Jansenius was, from his
office in the university, deputed to plead in its
behalf. Jansenius proved successful. It is said
the Jesuits never forgave him. In their enmity to
129
Jansenius, they soon included M. de St. Cyran, his
early friend.
The dislike of the Jesuits was fomented also by
the opposition of their theological sentiments. The
Jesuits did not agree with the disciples of St. Austin,
in holding the doctrines of grace. So far, no doubt,
but many wise and good men might have united
with them in opinion, though at the same time they
would have shrunk from taking part in the perse-
cutions by which it was afterwards maintained.
Of this number it is well known was Fenelon. In
anolher point likewise the Jesuits differed from
the friends of Jansenins. M. de St. Cyran was
charged with having inculcated, that a mere absti-
nence from outward sin, from the dread of divine
vengeance, was by no means a proof of genuine
conversion. A deep sorrow for sin, arising from a
genuine love of GOD, and an heartfelt grief for
having offended him, were, he insisted, indispen-
sably necessary to a truly evangelical repentance.
This the Jesuits observed was a heresy of the
first magnitude. The writings of several of their
doctors had demonstrated the love of GOD to be
superfluous. Cardinal Richelieu, when bishop of
Lugon, had written a catechism for the use of his
diocese. This catechism maintained the same doc-
trine. Father Seguenot too, of the oratoire had
recently been imprisoned in the Bastille, for assert-
ing the love of God to be indispensably essential.
Nor was this the only heresy alleged against M. de
Cyran. He was accused of having asserted that
130
the priest cannot in fact absolve from sin. He was
said to have declared, that absolution and remission
of sins belong to GOD alone. He indeed allowed
that a competent discernment of spirits, was a grace
conferred by the sacrament of ordination. He
believed, therefore, that where the priest was truly
faithful to the grace imparted, he might (where an
evangelical repentance and faith were evidenced by
corresponding fruits) pronounce an absolution
truly declaratory of the will of GOD. Otherwise and
of itself, he believed it could not avail an impeni-
tent sinner, to procure absolution from an uncon-
scientious priest. This heresy was esteemed of
equal magnitude with the preceding.
The enmity which the Jesuits exhibited against
M. de St. Cyran, was by no means attributed wholly
to theological doctrines. Many ascribed a great
part, if not the whole of their apparent religious
zeal, to literary jealousy, and to personal pique.
The religious writers amongst the Jesuits had
long been esteemed as bearing a decided pre-emi-
nence. Several works had, however, lately appeared
which divided the public opinion. Although ano-
nymous, they were soon traced to Port Royal.
Others succeeded, equally distinguished for pro-
found erudition, fervent piety, and attic elegance
of style. A great sensation was produced on the
mind of the public. Us sont marques au coin de Port
Royal became the fashionable phrase of literary or
religious commendation. Nor was their eulogy
confined to empty popular applause. It was soon
131
observed, that the diffusion of these publications
was attended with corresponding fruits. Men
began every where to turn to GOD. Many of the
most blasphemous, rapacious, and voluptuous, be-
came holy, just, and temperate. Several, whose lives
had caused a public scandal, became eminent ex-
amples of devoted piety. It was remarked, that
whilst the works of the Jesuits were clothed with
wisdom, those of the Port Royalists seemed accom-
panied by divine power. The perusal of the
former furnished matter for conversation ; that of
the latter terminated frequently in deep compunc-
tion and solid conversion.
The Port Royalists arose indeed at a time unfor-
tunate for the Jesuits. .
The excellent authors their society had produced
were gone. They had not been succeeded by
others of equal piety and wisdom. Their places
were indeed filled up by men of learning. But
that learning was unfortunately exercised at this
time, chiefly in the subtilties of casuistic divinity.
The main object of this society was to extend the
power of the Romish see. It was founded by
Ignatius de Loyola, just at the very time when
Luther began his Reform*. Whilst one of these
* It is singular, that in the same year that Luther maintained
his apostacy in the diet of Worms, and retiring himself into his
monastery of Alstat, wrote a book against monastic vows, Ignatius
consecrated himself to God in the church of Mountserrat, and in
his retreat of Manreze, wrote the spiritual exercises which after-
K 2
132
great men, beholding the deep corruptions of the
church, endeavored to shake the papal domination
to its very foundation ; the other, who had in the
same church, first tasted the goodness of God,
was laying the foundations of a society whose chief
object was to strengthen its power and extend iU
influence. The company founded by Ignatius had,
in the space of a century, sensibly degenerated in
piety. Their object was still the same; but the
means they took to accomplish it were not so pure-
Their learning and their talents had obtained for
them a high rank in public esteem, which the re-
gularity of their lives enabled them to preserve.
Their numerous seminaries for the education of
youth ; and their filling up the posts of confessors,
to all the great families, gave them a very powerful
influence. This influence it was their grand aim
to preserve and extend. To this end, it became
necessary to frame a system of morality, which
should, in fact, be so lax, as to give no offence to
the multitude, who were resolved to continue in
sin ; whilst on the other hand, it skilfully main-
tained those appearances of sanctity, which would
wards served to model his order. At the time Calvin began to ga-
ther disciples in Paris, Ignatius, who also was there to study, began
to assemble his company ; and lastly, at the very same time when
Henry the Eighth assumed the title of head of the church, and
commanded all his subjects, under pain of death, to raze the
Pope's name from their papers and books, Ignatius de Loyola laid
the foundation of a new society, in a peculiar manner devoted to
the service of the holy see. — Vide Bouhour's Life of Ignatius.
133
save their reputation with the truly pious. Such
was the origin of that famous system of casuistic
divinity, which was afterwards so fully exposed,
and so ably refuted in Pascal's inimitable Lettres
Provinciales *. Almost all the best writers amongst
the Jesuits, were at this time engaged in defending
the subtilties of casuistic divinity. It was perceived
that their works were rather distinguished for ela-
borate sophistry, than for solid and valuable truths.
Nay, in some of them, it was but too obvious, that
the main object of the writer was to sanction im-
morality, and to disarm even natural conscience of
its sting. The disciples of St. Augustin exposed
these fallacies. The society of Jesuits had been
sufficiently distinguished for men both of exalted
piety and profound learning. It is then to be re-
gretted, that the whole body thought themselves
involved by the just censure of a few unworthy
individuals.
Another cause likewise is mentioned as having
greatly contributed to incense the Jesuits against
the reputed Jansenists.
There were many persons of rank and fortune
amongst M. de St. Cyran's friends. Several of
them had numerous families. They consulted with
M. de St. Cyran respecting their education. They
* The reader is referred to the edition of Lettres Provinciales,
with Wendrock's notes, especially Lettre 5, sur la Probabilite ;
Lettre 6, Artifices pour eluder les Gonciles ; Lettre 7, sur la
Methodc de diriger 1'intention ; Lettres sur 1'homicide 13 et 14.
134
wished to unite a liberal and extensive plan of
instruction, with an enlightened piety, and well-
grounded Christian education. They were desir-
ous to combine that public education, which would
capacitate them for an enlarged sphere of patriotic
usefulness; with those guarded and strict habits,
which might preserve an uncontaminated innocence
of mind.
A number of little schools were immediately
instituted under M. de St..Cyran's inspection. A
vast and luminous system of instruction was di-
gested. Men of the first piety and learning were
invited to accept the office of instructors. Nicole,
Lancelot, and Fontaine, taught in these seminaries.
The great Arnauld and Saci employed their pens
in their service. These schools were under the
direction of Port Royal. The Port Royal Greek
and Latin grammars, the Greek primitives, and
the elements of logic and geometry soon made their
appearance. In a short time they were not only
to be found in every school in France, but they
were diffused throughout all Europe.
The reputation of these schools very soon en-
grossed the public esteem. The seminaries of the
Jesuits had long enjoyed a deserved celebrity. On
them hitherto had almost exclusively devolved the
education of the higher classes. They now felt
considerable mortification at seeing themselves ri-
valled, if not far excelled, by the recent establish-
ments of Port Royal.
With so many grounds of dislike, it is scarcely
to be wondered at, that the Jesuits felt piqued ; and
that they were little disposed to think well of their
rivals. Even a truly pious individual would find
a large portion of grace necessary to preserve Chris-
tian love, under such circumstances. A body of
men may profess orthodox principles, but it can
never be expected that the majority should be ac-
tuated by unmixed evangelical tempers. A few
deeply religious individuals may be found in per-
haps all professing societies ; but even as it respects
them, the temptation will be found strong, where
party spirit solicits, under the disguise of unfeigned
love of our own brethren. Hence even the best
men may be expected to act more consistently when
they act singly, than collectively.
The Jesuits exerted every effort first to get the
work of Jansenius suppressed, and afterwards to
quash the little company of his disciples. The
friends of M. de St. Cyran had with his virtues,
imbibed his peculiar opinions. Whilst 'they stea-
dily maintained the grand doctrines of the Gospel,
they were also strenuous advocates for the system
of grace. They published in defence of the work
of Jansenius. The Jesuits as vehemently renewed
the attack. At length they appealed to Rome,
hoping finally to crush a system, which has always
had some of the most pious persons on its side;
and which, in this instance, had the most learned
and the most spiritual body of men then extant,
amongst its professors.
Such was the beginning of an unfortunate contest,
136
which in its progress levelled Port Royal with
the ground. Nor did those who aimed the blow,
themselves escape its recoil. Port Royal indeed
was annihilated; but the tide of public opinion
was turned against its cruel and relentless oppres-
sors. They had calumniated the reputed Jansenists.
But those calumnies had provoked the " Lettres
Provinciates" which rendered them at once the
object of ridicule and contempt to Europe. They
had successfully wielded the arm of secular and
ecclesiastical authority to the destruction of the
Port Royalists. But they were recompensed with
that abhorrence and execration, which attends those
who are supposed to have used the mask of sanctity,
for the gratification of private interest and personal
malice. It is more than probable that during this
period, were sown those seeds which afterwards
matured in the suppression of the order of Jesuits.
So terminated a quarrel, which perhaps originated
in an innocent difference of sentiment, on an ab-
struse point, which has divided the opinions of
mankind in every age. A point, however, which?
whilst in all ages it has divided men of the first
talents in opinion, has not in any separated the
most truly pious in mutual esteem and Christian
love.
This controversy soon engaged the attention of
all France. Nor was an active part in it long
confined to the ecclesiastics only.
It was before observed that Cardinal Richelieu
had formerly, when Bishop of Luc,on, had some
137
acquaintance with M. de St. Cyran. He respected
his piety, for he had then no projects with which
it could interfere. He admired his talents, for they
were not called forth in competition with his own.
He well knew the high estimation in which M. de
St. Cyran was held in the church. He wished
therefore to gain him over as a powerful engine of
ecclesiastical influence. With this view, the mi-
nister sought his early friend. He courted his
intimacy, and offered him benefices. M. de Cyran
was aware of his views. He treated the Cardinal
with that respect his situation demanded ; but he
declined his overtures. The Cardinal's esteem was
converted into dislike. It was increased on the
publication of the catechism of Lugon. M. de Riche-
lieu piqued himself on being yet more eminent as a
theologian than as a politician. He considered it
presumptuous in M. de St. Cyran to teach the ne-
cessity of the disinterested love of GOD, after he
had published that it was superfluous. It was not
long before M. de St. Cyran experienced the effects
of his resentment.
The Cardinal was exceedingly anxious to an-
nul the marriage of his enemy Gaston Duke of
Orleans, with his second wife Margaret, Princesseof
Lorraine. He had long had this project at heart.
It was necessary to strengthen his influence by some
powerful sanction, in order to overcome the scru-
ples which consc ence suggested to Louis XIII.
He applied to the court of Rome. Both the apos-
tolic see and the foreign universities declared, to
his great disappointment, the marriage to be valid.
Highly incensed but unabashed, the Cardinal re-
mained firm to his purpose. Far from yielding
the point, the undaunted minister called a general
assembly of the most celebrated amongst the regular
and secular clergy in France. He proposed the
question. They had not courage to brave the
weight of his displeasure. An unwilling assent
was extorted, and the marriage was declared null
by parliamentary edict, (arret de parlement).
The vindictive temper of the minister was well
known. Many of the French clergy, intimidated
by his despotic power, gratuitously vindicated this
iniquitous decree.
M. de St. Cyran maintained an unbroken silence.
Cardinal Richelieu was very anxious to obtain the
assent of so distinguished a character. He wished
the sanction of a man who was well known to pos-
sess so extensive an influence. The strict morality
of M. de St. Cyran would not bend to the will of
the minister. On the other hand, his prudence
prevented him from uttering a rash censure, which
he knew would not only be fruitless, but would
serve as a pretext for his own ruin.
The Cardinal mean while was resolved either to
extort M. de St. Cyran' s assent, or to involve him
in destruction. Magnificent offers were made on
the part of the minister to obtain his sanction,
whilst secret emissaries were at the same time
employed in proposing artful questions to him.
They hoped under the pretence of religious scruples.
139
to surprise him into a censure which would effect
his ruin. Both these methods were alike ineffec-
tual. M. de St. Cyran's silence was inviolable.
The Cardinal's enmity was thus bereft of every
ostensible plea, when most opportunely for him,
the contest on Jansenism arose. The pretext he
had so long assiduously sought was now sponta-
neously presented. The Cardinal espoused the.
cause of the Jesuits. No less than fifteen new ac-
cusations appeared against M. de St. Cyran.
The Cardinal declared himself ready to exercise
his -authority in behalf of the church. M. de St.
Cyran's friends were for a time expelled from Port
Royal. He was himself seized as a heretic, and
immured in the dungeon of Vincennes.
His house was beset on the evening of ascen-
sion-day, by two and twenty armed guards. They
kept watch all night, with the hopes that some
circumstance might transpire, to which a malignant
interpretation might be affixed. For the Cardinal
felt very anxious to fabricate a cause which might
justify the detention of a man so highly respected.
In this however he was foiled. A perfect stillness
reigned within the house, which was the habitation
of peace and prayer. They therefore entered the
house and went to the room of M. de St. Cyran.
He was sitting in his study meditating over a pas-
sage of St. Augustin, whose works lay open before
him. The Captain told him he had orders that
he should immediately follow him. u Sir," replied
M. de St. Cyran, " calmly, it is equally my duty and
140
my pleasure to obey the King." So saying, he
stepped into the carriage, which was immediately
surrounded by a company of archers. They took
the road to Vincennes. As they were crossing the
forest in which the fortress was situated, they met
M. D'Andilly, who was going to his country seat
at Pomponne. The guards who attended M. de
St. Cyran had received orders to turn back the
facings of their regimentals, so as to excite no
suspicion. M. d'Andilly, astonished to see his
friend so numerously attended, rode up to the side
of the carriage, and cheerfully said. " Where can
you be travelling with such an escort of ser-
vants?" M. de St. Cyran replied with a smile,
" You should rather ask them where I am tra-
velling to. They lead me, not I them. How-
ever, my dear friend," pursued he, seriously^ " I
consider myself, and trust all my dear friends will
consider me as the prisoner rather of God than of
men." M. d'Andilly happened to have in his
hand the confessions of St. Austin. He gave it
his friend, saying, " You first taught me the worth
of this book ; I am glad I can restore it to you at
a time when it can be of as much value to you, as
the gift of it was to me." They then embraced as
friends who expect to see each other's face no more,
till the morn of the resurrection of the just. M .
de St. Cyran pursued his journey. His imprison-
ment took place on the 14th of May, 1638. In
this instance Cardinal Richelieu eminently justified
the character hegave of himself. Speaking to the
141
Marquis de la Vieuville, he once said, " Je riose
rien entreprendre sans y avoir bien pense mais quand
une fois fai pris ma resolution^ je vais a mon but,
je renverse tout^jefauche tout et tnsuiteje couvre tout
de ma soutane rouge."
M. de St. Cyran suffered much at Vincennes.
His books, papers, pens, and ink, were for a con-
siderable time withheld from him. He was not only
deprived of seeing his friends, but by the avarice
of his jailer, was frequently destitute of an ade-
quate supply of food. The dungeon in which he
was immured was damp, and exposed to all the
inclemency of the seasons. Nor had he to contend
alone with outward sufferings. He had not only
to encounter foes without, but likewise fightings
within. Whilst worldly men only suffer from
the deprivation of worldly comforts ; the true ser-
vant of God is chiefly cast down by a fear lest he
should in any degree betray his master's cause, by
not walking worthy of his vocation.
The first thing M. de St. Cyran did on entering
his dungeon, was to throw himelf on his knees,
and to beseech his Lord to give him the grace to
profit by it. He implored him to accept both his
soul and body as a living sacrifice, wholly de-
voted to his service ; and he entreated him so to di-
rect his heart, that he might from his inmost soul
have no other will than his.
Nevertheless, the Lord saw fit at first to try this
highly-favored servant, by withdrawing from him
all sensible perception of spiritual comfort* He
142
might truly be said to accompany his divine master
in the garden. His soul was troubled and sore
amazed. All joyful sense of the divine presence
left him : grievous temptations assailed him on all
sides, and the subtle enemy of his soul, the accuser
of the brethren, was permitted continually to ha-
rass his heart by accusations, best suited to the
tenderness of his conscience.
God knows the souls that are his. And when
he sees fit to try them, he can suit those trials to
probe the very inmost heart, and to try the very
ground of the soul, in a manner which no
other can. All that men can inflict upon us is
merely external, and is therefore comparatively
light. But when the Father of Spirits searches
the heart, as with candies, when the 'messenger of
the covenant comes as a refiner's fire, who shall
stand the day of his appearing, or who shall not
shrink under that word which is as a two-edged
sword. Then indeed it is felt to be a discerner
of the thoughts and intents of the heart, and to
divide between the joints and marrow, anatomizing
the very soul and spirit.
During the first fortnight of his imprisonment
the Lord permitted his faithful servant to be deeply
exercised, that the trial of his faith, more precious
than that of gold, though it was tried with fire,
might be found to the praise, and honor, and glory
of God, at the appearing of Jesus Christ. A deep
sense of his own utter un worthiness humbled him to
the dust; and the awful judgments of God seemed
143
impending over him. He was indeed traversing the
valley of the shadow of death. Even the scriptures
failed to give him comfort. Every passage which
was presented to his mind seemed not applied by
the Spirit of God, but wrested by the powers of
darkness to his farther-perplexity. Ail the curses
of God appeared levelled against him; nor was he
enabled to rely with joyous faith on any promise.
It appeared that he who was to lead so many souls
to God, was appointed to undergo the same trials
as Peter, the rock on whom the Jewish and Gentile
churches were built ; and Satan was permitted to sift
both these eminent servants of the Lord as wheat.
It was indeed the hour of the powers of darkness.
Still, however, though deeply tried, his faith
failed not. He could appeal to the Lord that
he had kept his integrity : he could say, Thou
knowest, Lord, the way that I would take, and
after I am tried I shall come forth like gold. He
endeavored to follow the exhortation of the pro-
phet, who commands those who obey the voice of
the Lord, and walk in darkness and have no light,
to trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon
their God. He therefore steadily walked in his
precepts, waiting for his re-appearance. This state
of desolation did not continue long. His faith
having been tried, the Lord again appeared from
heaven, and his Spirit again returned into his heart
as the comforter. He had been spending some
time in prayer, when these words, from the 1 19th
psalm were powerfully applied to his heart.
144
" Princes have persecuted me without a cause, but
my heart stood in awe of thy word only." The
whole of the 9th psalm too was immediately after
presented to him with a degree of light and unction
which he had never before experienced. He was
instantly enabled to feel joy and peace in believing,
to suffer long, seeking not his own, and not being
provoked, to bear all things, to hope all things,
and to endure all things. And trying the spirit
by its fruits, he knew it to be of God. From that
hour M. de St. Cyran experienced uninterrupted
peace. The joy in his Lord was his strength,
and during the whole of his imprisonment he was
uniformly enabled to rejoice evermore, to pray
without ceasing, and in every thing to give thanks.
As soon as his books were restored, he resumed
his studies. His hours were divided between
prayer, study, and acts of charity. Some of his
most valuable works were composed whilst in the
fortress of Vincennes. To his charity also many
amongst his guards and fellow-prisoners were in-
debted, not only for a supply of temporal necessi-
ties, but under God for the salvation of their souls.
The governor of the fortress himself became soon
a converted character. Those committed to his
charge soon felt the good fruits of his piety.
M. de St. Gyran's charity was fervent and ge-
nuine. It not only consulted the necessities, but
the feelings of others. It was the custom at Vin-
cennes that all the prisoners should attend mass
once a day. He observed that several of them,
145
amongst whom were two or three persons of dis-
tinction, were very thinly clad. M. de St.Cyran im-
mediately packed up some of his books, and sent
them with a letter to a lady of his acquaintance in
Paris, requesting her to sell the books, and with
the money to buy a supply of clothing for the
prisoners ; " I will also thank you, madam," con-
tinued he, " to buy some clothes for the Baron
and Baroness de Beausoleil. Pray let the cloth
be fine and good, such as suits their rank. I do
not know what is proper, but I think I have some-
where heard that gentlemen and ladies of their con-
dition cannot appear without gold lace for the men,
and black lace for the women. If so, pray get the
best, and, in short, let all be done modestly, but
yet sufficiently handsomely, that in looking at each
other they may for a few minutes, at least, forget
that they are captives." To this letter the lady
returned a remonstrance, observing that this money
ceconomized might be better employed, and more
suitably to his ecclesiastical character. To this he
answered, " I do not believe that the Lord who
commands me to give to Caesar that which is Caesar's,
will account me a bad steward for giving modestly
to each according to that rank in which he placed
them. The deepest rivers cause the least noise ;
and the most enlightened piety is generally the
least singular. The Christian rule is to do as we
would be done by ; and if you ask me how we
should act towards ourselves in expenses which
custom alone has rendered necessary, I shall an-
L
146
swer, Never give to your rank 'what it only allows;
and never refuse to it what it indispensably exacts.
The violator of the first rule is a bad steward, the
violator of the second wants that Christian humi-
lity which makes the true child of God submit
for his sake, to the powers and ordinances that be.
Now the rule which decides what we should allow
ourselves, regulates also what we should give others ;
for we are to love our neighbour as ourselves ; and,
therefore, the degree in which we are to consult
our own rank, is that also in which we are to regard
his." The lady immediately bought the things.
They were conveyed into the prisoners' apart-
ments, who never suspected whence they came.
They only observed that M. de St. Cyran himself
was destitute of those comforts, and concluded that
his having been alone forgotten, was a judgment
upon him for his heresy.
The beneficial influence, however, of M. de St.
Cyran was not bounded by the narrow limits of
his prison walls. From the gloom of his dungeon
a light arose, whose beams extended to the re-
motest parts of France.
Schools were constantly established on the plan
he had traced. He could, indeed, no longer per-
sonally inspect them ; yet, through the medium
of correspondence, they were still carried on under
his auspices.
A constant epistolary communication on reli-
gious subjects was also maintained between him
and his friends. The unreserved devotion and en-
147
lightened piety that breathed in every line of his
letters, added to their love and veneration. The
profound learning which furnished his ideas; the
luminous perspicuity with which they were ar-
ranged ; and the animated eloquence with which
they were expressed ; filled them with admiration.
Of his exhortations it might be truly said, in the
language of Solomon, that they were as apples of
gold, made visible through a network of silver.
M. de St. Cyran's letters were handed about
amongst his disciples as sacred treasures. Every
line of his writing they honored with the sanctity
of a relic ; whilst it also united with it the charm
and zest of novelty. They viewed each with a ten-
der reverence, considering it as perhaps the last
gift of a friend who will be seen no more. Each
letter at the same time possessed the advantage of
being adapted to the exigency of the moment, and
of being the advice of a friend, who, though not
visible, was yet at hand. The number of M. de St.
Cyran's disciples increased, whilst at Vincennes,
with accelerated progression. Some of them were
afterwards eminent as the champions of Jansenism.
Of this number was the great Arnauld. Few, how-
ever, comparatively speaking, engaged in contro-
versy. Most of them purposely avoided any con-
versation on the contested points.
All meanwhile were distinguished for righteous-
ness of life, and sanctity of manners. Their devo-
tion was eminent, their patience under persecution
invincible. The charity of some amongst them so
L 5
148
profuse, as to heal whole provinces of the wounds
and desolations of a hloody civil war. As a body,
they eminently shone forth as bright and burning
lights, in the midst of a crooked and perverse ge-
neration.
Nor were these things doubtful, nor could their
genuine fruits of piety be called in question by
their very enemies. These good works were not
wrought in a corner. His disciples were not con-
fined to the seclusion of Port Royal. This monas-
tery was, indeed, in constant correspondence with
M. de St. Cyran. It was also through the medium
of Port Royal, that his influence was chiefly dif-
fused. Still, though beginning at that Abbey, it
extended itself throughout all France.
Persons of the first rank, and filling the highest
political situations, persons not only at the foot of
the throne, but on the throne itself, gloried in fol-
lowing him, even as he followed Christ.
M. de St. Cyran endured five long years' impri-
sonment. At length, Cardinal Richelieu expired.
On the 4th of December, 1642, this minister, from
the plenitude of despotic power on earth, was cited
to appear before his final judge in heaven. He
died aged fifty-eight. The friends of M. de Hau-
ranne observed, that the day on which he departed,
was that of the festival of St. Cyran.
This event was soon succeeded by M. de St.
Cyran's release. He never recovered his health.
He had often deprived himself of both fire and
clothing to relieve his fellow-prisoners. His con-
149
stitution was broken by the hardships he had under-
gone. He survived his enlargement only a few
months.
M. de St. Cyran quitted Vincennes on Friday,
the 6th of February 1643, during the week of the
purification. This M. de St. Cyran often men-
tioned with pleasure. He was willing to consider
it as a sign that he had been heard in the prayer
which he continually offered up, that he might not
be released from prison till this affliction had
wrought its perfect work in the purification of his
soul. His friend M. d'Andilli came in his car-
riage to take him from Vincennes. No captive
had ever received such demonstrations of esteem.
His guards and fellow-prisoners threw themselves
at his feet, to implore his parting benediction ; and
they mingled tears of joy at his release, with those
of sorrow for his departure. His guards especially
mourned his loss, and all the garrison wishing to
shew their respect, spontaneously arranged them-
selves in two rows to let him walk out, to the sound
of fifes and drums, and discharges of musketry. It
was afterwards found, that several of the prisoners,
won by his piety, had taken notes of many of his
actions and sayings, from which they had derived
peculiar edification. On this occasion, M. Lance-
lot makes the following observations: " We often
wished that M. de St. Cyran could have had a per-
son continually with him to note down all his ac-
tions, and to portray all his holy discourses, his
eminent virtues, and even the eloquence of his
150
silence, which has so often spoken to our hearts.
God, however, no doubt for wise purposes, has not
permitted it. Perhaps, indeed, it might not be a
thing so easily done. The most eminent graces,
like the deepest rivers, generally pursue a silent
course. They possess, in degree, the peace and
immutability of their divine author. It is immedi-
ately felt in its effects, though it cannot be described
in its source. It is that powerful and constant ef-
fusion of the Spirit of God which transforms the
heart of the new man, and continually abides there-
in. Which does not dazzle by brilliant and re-
markable actions, so much as it imparts a living
unction and a Godlike dignity to the most common
ones. It produces throughout the whole soul,
mind, and heart, a certain simplicity, profound
peace, gentle love, and immutable calmness, that
charms and elevates the heart of the observer,
though he scarcely knows why. He is filled with
awful reverence in contemplating the whole, whilst
he is yet unable to discover any thing extraordinary
in each part. As to its effects, the perfection of
saints on earth is, perhaps, more perceptible in what
they do not, than in what they actually do.
So far as it may be said of man in his fallen state,
it consists in a perfect silence of all human passions,
and in a total extinction of every movement of
earthly pleasures and desires. The silence of the
man of God differs from the tumult of the world,
as the still expanse of the ocean differs, and yet ex-
ceeds, in sublimity, a roaring summer torrent, which
151
lays waste all in its way, and disappears for ever.
It consists in that spotless holiness which is best
comprehended when we contrast with it our own
disorder and impurity. It is a participation on
earth of the happiness of the blessed in heaven. It
is the beginning of that ineffable union with God,
which, though begun on earth, can only be consum-
mated in heaven. Happy, indeed, are those to
whom it has pleased the Lord to exhibit such mo-
dels of virtue. " Yea, rather more blessed are
those, that hearing, keep their sayings !"
A few months after his release, M. de St. Cyran
was seized with apoplexy. He was at the same
time reduced by the effects of a surgical operation.
Owing to the unskilfulness of some of his attend-
ants, his sufferings were extreme. Yet no unkind
reflection escaped his lips. What the Lord has
permitted, we must receive with the same submis-
sion, observed he; as what he has appointed, bless-
ed be the name of the Lord. In the intervals,
between the lethargy and high delirium, from which
he alternately suffered, he spoke much to the edi-
fication and comfort of the few friends whom the
sudden nature of his illness had permitted to be
sent for. After a few hours' illness, he expired in
perfect peace, in the arms of his assistant and friend
M. Singlin. He died on the llth of October,
1643» He was aged sixty-two.*
* One of his disciples thus portrays his character. It ap-
pears colored by the warmth of Christian love, and yet painted
with the most exact Christian truth. It is inserted, notwithstand-
152
By his followers, M. de St. Cyran was reve-
renced as a saint. Numbers of persons crowded
to see his corpse, and to preserve some of his relics.
ing its length, on account of the useful instruction it conveys.
** M. de St. Cyran was a saint indeed. It had pleased God to be-
stow upon him a rich assemblage of those qualities which are ge-
nerally met with separately. Though called to the sacred function
of the priesthood by men, he was yet sanctified for it by a large
measure of the Holy Spirit of God, and he appeared truly fitted to
the rank of those chosen servants, whom the Lord himself has
called out to be as lights to the world. Of him it might emi-
nently be said, that he offered no false fire upon the altar. His
light, indeed, shone before men with a clear and steady brightness,
illuminating and diffusing a vital heat in the church of God. But
the flame was kindled from heaven, arid its brilliancy arose from
the fervor of his love, even more than from the superiority of his
understanding. ' Unde ardet unde lucet.' He drew every senti-
ment and every principle from the inexhaustible and rich mine of
Scripture. Nor did he merely hear much, and read much of
Scripture, but, above all, he prayed much, and meditated much
over it. Diligently comparing scripture with scripture, his mind
became enlightened with divine truth ; and meditating and praying
over every part, his heart became kindled with divine love. He
studied each passage till he clearly understood its sense ; he dwelt
upon each till he was thoroughly penetrated by its force. He
thought that he but half knew what he only knew with his under-
standing; and he therefore studied as every Christian ought to do,
that is, both with the head and with the heart ; letting light and
heat increase with an equal progression, and mutually assist each
other. Christianity is, in an eminent manner, the science of the
heart ; and he who does not receive it into his heart, studies it to
very little purpose. And, whereas, in all other studies, informing
the understanding is the principal ; in Christianity it only forms
the subordinate part. Nor is the science of the head of any other
153
The peace of God, says Lancelot, was sensibly
felt in the chamber of death, and the majesty of
glorified immortality seemed to rest in awful solem-
use, but as it enables men to distinguish the workings of their own
imaginations, from the genuine operation of the Spirit of God.
Hence he not only studied, but sought to nourish his soul with
Scripture ; knowing that it is said of Christ's words, that they are
spirit, and they are the life ; and that till they are experienced to
be so, the soul remains dead in trespasses and sins. Nor did he
rest in the letter of Scripture. He knew that the reason why they
are to be searched, is, because they are they which testify of
Christ ; and he knew that the Spirit of God can alone take of the
things of Christ, and shew them unto us ; for no man can, in truth,
call Christ Lord, but by the Holy Spirit. Hence, from reading
of Christ, he went to Christ; and, from being with Christ, he
went forth amongst men for Christ. He knew one thing was
needful, even to know the only true God and Jesus Christ whom
he hath sent. He therefore sought him in faith, and with his
whole heart, and seeking, found him. He knew that it was by
looking to him only, that the ends of the earth can be saved ; he
therefore looked at him continually, who was the author, and
whom he knew must be the finisher, of his faith ; and he consi-
dered him continually, who set us an example that we should tread
in his steps. Thus he sought wisdom, and God gave it him. He
sought it at first with prayers and tears, and renewed supplication,
when he sought it to save his soul ; and when he had found peace
with God, he pursued it with equal earnestness, though with re-
newed confidence, that he might, by a farther increase, abundantly
glorify that God whose mercies he had experienced. He was far
from the awful delusion of those selfish professors, who seek the
salvation of their own souls, independently of a disinterested love
of God. Hence he did not rest in a half conversion. The love of
God was truly shed abroad in his heart ; Christ really dwelt in his
heart by faith ; and if he enlightened the church, it was chiefly
154
nity on the mortal remains. The concourse was
so great, that it became necessary to lock up his
room till the interment. The funeral was attended
owing to the singleness of his eye that his mind was so full of
light. One thing he had desired of the Lord, that he might dwell
in the house of the Lord for ever, and his divine master gave to
him three things; he blessed him with abundant faith, and abun-
dant hope, but, above all, with superabundant love. He waited
on thee, O Lord, in the sanctuary of his heart, and thou taughtest
him unutterable things. He communed with thee in secret, and
thy power went forth with him, and thy glory visibly rested upon
him. His sound went forth throughout the land, so that the deaf
heard, and thy life manifested in his life, has, in many instances,
awaked the dead in trespasses and sins ; and the voice of thy Spirit
speaking through him, has bid them live to life eternal. His
fruiis declared the root whence they sprurg. But the multitude
of those he was instrumental in converting, were his chief glory.
A few, indeed, of these have been known by writings, whose fame
will long endure as public benefactors, not only to their own age,
but to the world ; many more, unheard of by men, walk before
God, content in spreading a sweet odour in the humble walks of
private life. Thus has God blessed this eminently favored servant
with the privacy he sought ; till, at the great and awful day, when
every secret of the heart shall be unveiled, they shall start from
the long slumber of the tomb, and decorate with jewels the rich
crown which the righteous Judge shall then give him.
This man of God entertained an exalted riew of the greatness
and holiness of the Christian profession. How unspeakably high
would he say, must be that holiness, of which God himself made
man set us the example. How diligent should be our exertions,
when the light of God is given to point our way; the strength of
God to hold our feet in life. How exalted should be the standard
of those men, who expect the God of purity and holiness itself to
judge them. And how confident and sure a trust should they
155
by an unusually numerous assemblage of the most
distinguished and eminent personages. Almost
every dignitary of the church then in Paris was
maintain, when God himself, their judge, has suffered to purchase
their immortal felicity, and to find place for exercising mercy con-
sistently with justice. Surely if the love of compassion drew
down God himself from heaven to earth ; gratitude, for so un-
speakable a mercy, should lead men from earthly desires, to dwell
in heaven in their spirits. As the apostle Paul was, whilst he
dwelt on earth, present with Christ in spirit, though absent in
body, so M. de St. Cyran was perpetually anxious that his disciples
should not merely be professing Christians, but that their conver-
sation should really be in heaven, and that their whole heart and
mind should be thoroughly cast into the gospel mould. He
dreaded the curse of Ezekiel against those false prophets, who
build with untempered mortar, and thus raise a wall without
strength, which falls at the first storm.
As M. de St. Cyran received the scriptures from his heart, so
he accepted them as they are, without any foreign mixture or com-
ment of his own. Before he began to build, he had counted
the cost ; and when he weighed the price, it was in the balance of
the sanctuary. Hence he never sought an easy road to heaven;
for he knew that there is no such thing. He recommended to
others the road that he himself walked in, viz. the straight road
mentioned in scripture as the highway of the kingdom. He knew
that Christ set us an example, that we should tread in his steps,
and he therefore looked to Christ, and to none else. He knew
that Christ pleased not himself, nor did he expect that the servant
could find an easier path than his master. He had no new light,
whereby to accommodate the world with Christ ; he had no new
and ingenious contrivances to save men, without obliging them to
take up their cross, their dally cross, inward as well as outward,
and to follow their Saviour in the same narrow road which he had
trod. He had discovered no new mode of widening the narrow
156
there. Nobles, men of letters, and even princes of
the blood, were present. Amongst the vast con-
course of his disciples at the ceremony, were parti-
way ; of lightening the daily cross ; or of reconciling together God
and Mammon. In this modern science, he was profoundly igno-
rant. His systems were not traced on the mutable sand of human
opinion ; but they were engraven on the immutable rock of God's
word. He conducted souls to God only by that royal highway of
repentance, evidenced by mortification, and faith evidenced by
obedience, which all the patriarchs, saints, prophets, and martyrs,
had trodden before. Nor did he ever step aside where he saw the
print of their footsteps, though it were a path rough with thorns,
or even dyed in blood. Whilst most professors were labouring to
mitigate the rule of Christ, he was solely taken up in seeking that
powerful help of the Holy Spirit, which renews the strength of the
fainting soul, like the eagle's ; and enduing her with power from
on high, shall, in truth, make the most rigid practice easy. Whilst
others strove to accommodate the road to their strength, he, relying
on God, sought from them strength, adequate to the difficulties of
the way.
Whilst M. de St. Cyran avoided the errors of softening down
Christianity to the low standard of general practice, he equally
avoided the subtle refinements of a false and mystic imagination,
which, soaring on wings of her own creating, rises into regions of
speculation and fancy, widely different from those which the word
of God marks out. He formed no system of ideal perfection, aim-
ing at being wise above what was written. But he rather aimed
with superior fidelity, to transcribe into the heart the exact repre-
sentation which the word of God had drawn. He neither softened
the practice of Christianity to suit modern effeminacy of life ; nor
refined her system to coincide with modern flights of philosophy
and imagination. His foundation of faith was Christ; his foun-
dation of practice, the prophets and apostles. His heart was
curbed with rigid self-denial, as he steadily walked on towards
157
cularly observed his faithful friend Lancelot, Ma-
dame de Rohan, princesse of Guimenee, and Louisa
of Gonzas;ue, the intimate friend of the Reverend
the mark of Christian, not angelic perfection. Deeply sensible of
the fallen state of the human heart, and of the continual need of
cleansing anew in the fountain opened for all sin ; his heart, his
life, his words, were clothed with humility; and hence he perpe-
tually grew in the double love both of the Lord who had bought
him, and of his fellow men, for whom the like precious price had
been paid.
M. de St. Cyran's mode of conducting souls was solid and sub-
stantial. He aimed as much to cure them of a merely superficial
devotion, as of sin. He was aware of the thorough corruption of
body, soul, and spirit ; and he endeavoured to subdue each by its
own weapons.
The body he conquered by a strict, but not a rigorous disci-
pline; the soul he convinced by grounding it in the truth; the
spirit he well knew could only be renewed by faith.
He knew that religion consists in a change which God alone can
work in the heart ; but he knew also, that where such a change is
really wrought, it will assuredly be visible in the life. Hence he
expected conviction to bear its proper fruit of confession, repent-
ance, and mortification, just as much as faith that of good works.
Hence his converts were generally solid. They were like trees
bearing their fruits in due season ; trees of righteousness, the plant-
ing of the Lord. Hence their piety bore the traces of a long and
exercised humility, their fortitude of a firm faith, their self-denial
of an heartfelt renunciation of the world, their good works of a
genuine love of God. Their religion was substantial ; a piety not
of phrase and gesture, but of heart and life. Hence his con-
verts shew forth that it was in the school of Christ, and not of
men, that they had been taught. When during the tempestuous
reign of Louis XIV. sweeping hurricanes and lowering tempests
burst upon the Galilean church, and threatened the professing
158
Mother Angelica, and afterwards Queen of Po-
land.
His body was interred in Paris, at the parochial
world with swift destruction; they generally stood as towers,
immutable amidst the wide desolation, being at once marks for
the vengeance of the adversary, and yet proving firm fortresses
of refuge, for the shelter of weak, but sincere brethren.
M. de St. Cyran patiently bore the reign of the proud. Dur-
ing a season of violence and injustice, he preserved heartfelt peace
and humility. He prayed for his enemies, and his prayer was
unfeigned, because his heart, deeply christianized, in truth felt
the lightness of the evils they could inflict on him, and the unut-
terable abyss of woe into which they were plunging themselves.
Therefore his heart truly compassionated their deplorable case.
The captive, from the depth of his dungeon, shed tears which
God alone witnessed, over the awful case of his thoughtless op-
pressor; and his prayer for the man who loaded him with chains,
parted from a pure heart, and unfeigned lips. When the dis-
ciples were commanded to forgive until seventy times seven ; they
said not, increase our love ; but increase our faith ; and our
blessed Lord approves their request, by telling them that faith
can remove mountains ; for it is by faith we realize the lightness
of temporal woes, and the weight of those eternal ones to which
the wicked are hastening.
Such was M. de St. Cyran, a man originally of like passions
with us ; but who, by contemplating the ineffable glories of God
in Jesus Christ, was gradually transformed into his image of
righteousness and true holiness. In a dark age, he was a light to
the church, for God gave him his light. In an age teeming with
error, he upheld the truth, because he was himself upheld by
God's truth. In a faithless age, he stood firm in the faith, be-
cause he leaned on God's faithfulness. In an age of relaxation,
he was holy because God vouchsafed to make him partaker of his
holiness, in an age when the church was rent by division, his
soul
159
church of St. Jacques du Haut pas. His entrails
were deposited at Port Royal des Champs. An
appropriate epitaph was placed over each. At the
final destruction of Port Royal des Champs, the
urn containing his ashes was removed to St.
Jacques. His heart he had some years before
bequeathed to his intimate friend M. Arnauld
d' Andilli.
M. de St. Cyran's private life proves him to have
been a most eminently pious man. The extensive
effects which he produced on his age, prove him to
have been a truly great one. It is however by
those effects, that this greatness is chiefly percepti-
ble to posterity. The talents in which he super-
soul beamed with love, because the flame of God's love glowed
in his heart.
When I look at the reverend father of so many holy spiritual
children, whose shoe latchets I am unworthy to unloose, I could
cast myself at his feet in the dust ; but when I contemplate the
great and merciful Lord, who alone wrought all these wonders
for his servant; I must say to him, and to him alone, be all the
honor and glory now and for ever.
The Psalmist, after contemplating the beauties of the natural
creation, exclaims, " O Lord, how manifold are thy works, in
wisdom hast thou made them all." Yet surely to a Christian eye,
the creation reflects as a shadow the glory of God; the heart of
his saints alone presents a lively image of it. For whilst the one
only shews forth his boundless power and his unsearchable
wisdom; it belongs to the other only, not only to display these
attributes in a yet more perfect manner; but above all to give
some faint image of the unutterable sanctity of his holiness, and
riches of his love.
160
eminently excelled, were those rather calculated to
obtain a powerful influence over his contempora-
ries, than to secure a brilliant posthumous fame.
His distinguishing talents were spiritual direc-
tion and conversation. In these he eminently ex-
celled. But the peculiar characteristic of M. de
St. Cyran was a firmness and strength of character,
by which he not merely attracted the hearts, but
gained a most powerful ascendency over the minds
of all with whom he conversed.
It has already been sufficiently observed, that M.
de St. Cyran was a man of extensive, theological
learning, and of profound research in ecclesiastical
antiquity. As a writer, he held a very respectable
rank. With such exalted piety and deep erudition
he could scarcely do otherwise. Nevertheless,
he possibly owes his literary reputation chiefly to
the unbounded affection and veneration of his dis-
ciples.
Perhaps M. de St. Cyran's works might have
ranked more highly, had they not been so com-
pletely eclipsed by those of his followers. Most
readers recollect that the Lettres Provinciales
became the standard of the French language. Their
expectations of M. de St. Cyran's works are formed
from the writings of Pascal, Nicole, Arnauld,
Racine, Saci, Tillemont, le Nain, St. Beuve, Lance-
lot, d'Andilli, Hermant, St. Marthe, Du Fosse,
Fontaine, Quesnel, St. Amour, 8cc. Accustomed
to the splendor of these great lights of the Port
Royal school, and habituated to the classic elegance
161
with which their erudition and piety is clothed ;
the world naturally, though perhaps unreasonably,
expects to meet these excellencies united in a trans-
cendent degree, in the writings of the man who
formed such disciples.
Only one or two of M. de St. Cyran's works are
yet generally read. Those most likely to profit
persons who seek rather to grow in piety, than to
enter into the controversies of the times, are as
follows, " Lettres Spirituelles," reprinted at Lyons,
16793 in 3 vols. in 12mo. Another volume, con-
taining little tracts, have since been added. They
are chiefly brief explanations of Christian doctrine,
and thoughts on Christian poverty.
A pseudonymous publication in folio, under the
name of Petrus Aurelius^ has been generally attri-
buted to M. de St. Cyran. Others have considered
it as a joint production of himself and his nephew
M. de Barcos. This work obtained in its day an
high reputation, and a very extensive celebrity.
The clergy of France published an edition at
their own expense, in 1642.
In the eye of the world, the greatest glory of M.
de St. Cyran is doubtless this. He was the founder
of the wide celebrity of Port Royal, and he had
both the Arnaulds, the le Maitres, Nicole, and
Pascal, for his disciples. His greatest glory in the
sight of Christians is, that he was the blessed instru-
ment of gaining such an innumerable company
(whose names are with his own inscribed in heaven)
M
162
to that experimental knowledge of the only true
God, and of Jesus Christ our Lord, which is life
eternal.
CORNELIUS JANSENIUS
was a native of the village of Acquoy, near
Leerdam, a small town in Holland. He was born
on the 58th of October, 1585; his father's name
was John Otto. Both his parents were zealous
catholics. He first studied at Utrecht, and after-
wards at the university of Louvain. He soon
became the first student. It was at Louvain he first
received the appellation of Jansen, or the son of
John. It was afterwards Latinized, according to
the custom then prevalent amongst authors. He
has been ever since known by the name of Jansenius.
His constitution, naturally weak, suffered by un-
remitting study. The physicians recommended a
tour through France. Jansenius went to Paris in
1604. There he formed a close intimacy with M.
du Vergier de Hauranne, afterwards the celebrated
Abbe of St. Cyran.
Both had studied at Louvain. Abelli and Ley-
decker describe them as cotemporaries there; and
Dupin represents them as studying theology toge-
ther under Fromond. Dom Lancelot asserts the
contrary. He says that Jansenius, who was four
years younger than M. du Vergier, immediately
succeeded him at the university, and states their
personal acquaintance as having commenced at
Paris, However this may be, they soon became
163
closely united. They studied together Greek,
Hebrew, and Philosophy; nor was it long before
they acquired a high reputation for their theologi-
cal learning.
Jansenius still continued in ill health. His
friend proposed to him to quit Paris, and to become
an inmate of his house at Bayonne. There they
remained together six years. M. cle Hauranne was
chosen canon of the cathedral, and Jansenius was
appointed head master of the college, newly esta-
blished in that city. Their leisure hours were
dedicated to the study of the fathers. On the
works of St. Austin they bestowed an especial
degree of labor and attention. In the pages of this
great luminary of the church, they soon either saw,
or else fancied they saw, those doctrines of inamissi-
ble grace, which were the ground work of their sub-
sequent system. They imagined themselves ar-
ranging into one harmonious and well combined
fabric, sentiments scattered throughout the pages of
the venerable bishop of Hippo ; whilst they were
in fact organizing that system, afterwards so -distin-
guished by the name of Jansenism. A system
which, when published, was denounced to the
church as heretical. Nor did it only stigmatize
the name of Jansenius with the odious appellation
of Heresiarch ; but it likewise subjected his friends
to a long series of cruel persecutions.
The studies of M. de St. Cyran and his friend
were indefatigable. Madame de Hauranne, who kept
her son's house, often interposed, " I am really
M 2
164
afraid, my dear son," she continually said, " you
will kill your good Fleming with so much hard
study."
At the expiration of six years, they returned to
Paris. They continued together a short time.
Jansenius afterwards, in 1617, returned to Louvain.
Two years afterwards he obtained a doctor's
diploma. He was invested also with the direction
of the college of St. Pulcheria. It was completed
under his inspection, and the regulations were in-
stituted by him. In the course of the years 1624
and 1625, he was twice deputed by the university
to the Spanish court. The object of this deputa-
tion was to oppose the Jesuits. They had attempt-
ed to establish professorships of their own at
Louvain. which should have a power of conferring
degrees, valid in the university. The college of
Louvain succeeded in repressing their encroach-
ments. The Jesuits never forgave Jansenius.
About this period the reputation of Jansenius
began to be diffused throughout Europe. He pub-
lished several theological works. They were labo-
rious, and discovered an uncommon depth both of
piety and learning. They were consequently
highly esteemed.
One indeed of the works of] Jansenius, entitled
Mars Gallicus, gave a mortal offence to Cardinal
Richelieu. At the King of Spain's request, he had
drawn a parallel between the state of the church
in France and in Spain. The result was decidedly
in favor of the latter. This work appeared at the
165
most unfortunate moment. It was just then sus-
pected that Cardinal Richelieu wished to erect
France into a patriarchal, and to become himself
patriarch. Perhaps at no other juncture could it
have been so unwelcome. Some have thought it
was principally this circumstance which laid the
foundation of that unrelenting animosity with which
Cardinal Richelieu afterwards persecuted the Jan-
senists.
The reputation of Jansenius increased rapidly.
His learning had already obtained him the chancel-
lorship of the university of Louvain. Bishoprics
were often designed for him, but the influence of
the Jesuits always prevented their being bestowed.
At length his uncommon merit prevailed. His
piety, notwithstanding all their cabals, gained him
the bishopric of Ypres. He was consecrated on
the 28th of October, 1636.
Scarcely was Jansenius seated in the episcopal
chair, when the influence of his superior merits was
felt. His piety, his humanity, his assiduity, his
self-denial, and his learning, were topics of univer-
sal observation. His erudition, indeed, had long
obtained celebrity ; but men forgot to notice his
Christian virtues, till he was placed in a situation
where themselves became partakers in their benefi-
cial influence.
The day he devoted to acts of charity, religious
instruction, and visitations of his diocese. The
night he dedicated, as he was used, to prayer and
study. Even whilst at Bayonne, he seldom went
166
to bed. A large old-fashioned chair, fitted up with
cushions, and a writing-desk, was long exhibited at
M. de St. Cyran's as the study of Jansenius. In
this chair he was accustomed to read, to write, and
to sleep. He usually passed the night in it. When
overtaken by fatigue, he leaned back, dozed for a
short time, and then resumed his studies.
He scarcely ever slept more than four hours out
of the twenty four.
Jansenius was a man of remarkably abstemious
and ascetic habits. Grace had entirely subdued
his naturally warm temper, and had converted the
impetuosity of a lion, into the patience and gentle-
ness of a lamb. He was a man of primitive inte-
grity, fervent faith, and a solid understanding. His
learning was not unworthy of comparison with that
of the doctors of the Christian church; and his
piety was worthy a true successor of the apostles.
Yet the quality for which he was most peculiarly
distinguished was, Christian watchfulness and cir-
cumspection. His piety attained to its uncommon
growth and depth, not so much from any superior
brightness of divine illumination, as by his peculiar
assiduity in strictly attending to that light he had.
Whilst at Bayonne, both himself and M. de St,
Cyran had been peculiarly struck with the charac-
ter of Abraham. This great patriarch had neither
the advantages of the Christian, nor even of the
Mosaic institution. The command he received
from the Lord was, Walk before me, and be thou
perfect. Abraham obeyed the command, and be*
167
came the father of the faithful, and the friend of
God. Owing to a contemplation of this passage,
both M. de St. Cyran and Jansenius were pecu-
liarly attentive at all times to entertain a sense of
the divine presence, and to walk as before God.
The immense plenitude of spiritual riches which
afterwards distinguished these great men, was al-
most entirely accumulated by a constant watchful-
ness over their own spirits, and self-denial in what
are termed little things.
The charities of Jansenius were extensive, but
discriminating. His measure and mode of assisting
his flock united an episcopal munificence with
Christian humility, simplicity, and love. He never
seemed fatigued with serving the poor.
Jansenius was no sooner elevated to the see of
Ypres, than he occupied himself in tracing a plan
for effecting a permanent reformation in his dio-
cese. His scheme was said to have been as lumi-
nous, as his end was pious and benevolent.
His beneficent projects were never executed.
A raging plague broke out in Flanders. It more
particularly desolated the neighbourhood of Ypres.
The inhabitants, seized with consternation, fled in
every direction. Motives, neither of humanity nor
lucre, could induce them to assist those afflicted
with the distemper.
In the midst of this fiery trial, the faith of Jan-
senius was clearly manifested. It stood unmoved,
because it was founded upon Christ the rock.
Calm amidst the dismayed multitude, he was seen
16S
in every place where the devouring contagion had
spread. Every where he appeared as a guardian-
angel amidst the sick and dying.
Their most loathsome wounds he dressed with
his own hands. The most infected abodes of
wretchedness he entered in person, bringing food
and medicines, when ail others refused the task.
Wretches abandoned by all, plundered and strip-
ped of every thing, lying in the agonies of death,
found in the Bishop of Ypres the most tender
friend and compassionate benefactor. He was ever
ready to pour divine truth into the heart, and to
attempt to save the soul, even whilst the body lay in
the very jaws of death. Wherever the infection
raged, there was the good bishop to be seen. If
for a short time he was missed, it was well known
that he retired, not for the purpose of relaxation,
but of intercession and of prayer.
The Lord, who remembers even a cup of cold
water bestowed in his name, beheld the labours of
his faithful servant. His loving kindness honored
with a martyr's crown, him who had performed a
martyr's work.
Jansenius was suddenly struck with the conta-
gion.
The Lord whom he served, saw he was prepared.
He does not causelessly grieve the children of men,
nor willingly afflict with needless sufferings. A
few hours sufficed this highly-favored servant to
leave a glorious testimony behind. Then the Lord
was pleased immediately to remove him from per-
169
secutions on earth, to an incorruptible and unde-
filed inheritance amongst his saints in heaven. He
died on the 6th of May, 1638. He was buried in
the cathedral church of Ypres. His tomb was
placed in the centre of the choir. A monument
was erected over his remains, on which was in-
scribed an epitaph, which, on account of its singu-
lar beauty, is here inserted.
D. O. M.
CORNELIUS JANSENIUS HIC SITUS EST
Satis dixi
Virtus eruditio fama caetera loquentur
Lovanii diu admiration), fuit
Hie incepit tantum
Ad episcopale fastigium evectus
ut Belgio ostenderetur
Ut fulgur luxit et statim Extinctw est
Sic humana omnia
etiam brevia cum Longa sunt !
Funera tamen suo superstes
Vivet in Augustino
Arcanarum cogitationum ejus
Si quis unquam ndelissimus interpres
Ingenium divinum studium acre vitam totam
huic operi arduo et pio dederat
et cumeo fiuitus est
Ecclesia in terris fructum capiet
Ipse in Coelis jam Mercedem
Sic vove et apprecare lector
Extinctus est contagio anno J 638
Pridie nonas Maii aetatis anno uoudum 53.
170
The general meaning of this beautiful epitaph
might be thus rendered. The following is not,
however, an exact translation.
HERE LIES CORNELIUS JANSENIUS
Enough
His virtues erudition and celebrity speak the rest
Long the admiration of Louvain
He only here began to be so
Raised to the episcopal dignity
That he might astonish Flanders
As lightning he shone and was Extinct
So brief all human glory
So short the longest course
Yet shall he survive corruption
His Spirit lives in Augustinus
He penetrated into the soul of his author
and (if any mortal ever did) he
as a most faithful interpreter
unfolded his recondite depths of thought
To this sole pious and arduous undertaking
he dedicated
Affections most spiritual Researches most laborious
and the whole of a life most precious
He effected his work and with its completion expired
The Church reaps the fruit of his labors on Earth
Whilst he enjoys their full reward in Heaven.
Reader
Render thanksgivings and pour out thy soul in prayer.
He died of the pestilence
Anno 1638 on the 6th of May
in the 53d year of his age.
171
Jansenius was scarcely dead, when it was an-
nounced to the public that he had completed his
Augustinus. A report too was circulated, that it
was preparing for publication. It had, indeed, for
some time, been generally known that the Bishop
of Ypres had been engaged in this work. The
piety and erudition of the author had raised men's
expectations very high. His enemies, on the other
hand, anticipated its completion as the moment of
malicious triumph.
The little flock of M. de St. Cyran had began to
be more known in France. Their holy lives and
deep devotion were indeed more ostensible than
the peculiarities of their dogmas. Nevertheless,
sufficient was known of the latter to inspire the Je-
suits with a hope of being able to affix some impu-
tation of heresy on the work of Jansenius.
The Bishop of Ypres had, however, taken pre-
cautions which ought to have effectually disarmed
the malice of his enemies. Whilst he had always,
with the most undaunted boldness, defended the
Christian faith, it soon appeared that he felt the
most profound humility respecting his own exposi-
tion of contested dogmas.
The work of Jansenius was entitled Augustinus
-Cornelii jfansenii episcopi, sen doctrina sancti Angus-
tini de humana natura sanctitate agriludina, medica
adversus Pelagianos et Massilienses Louvain 1640,
and at Rome 1652, in fol.
This work is divided into three parts. In the
first, the learned author presented a luminous and
173
very detailed exposition of the errors of the Pela-
gians, and semi-pelagians. In this part of it, he
frequently attacked Molina, Lessius, and all the
theologians of the day, who came under the de-
scription of quietists. In the second part, he treats
of divine grace: he speaks of the happiness en-
joyed by angels in heaven, and by man in paradise.
Every thing which St. Augustin has said relative
to these subjects, is here arranged and combined in
one whole ; and all those objections are discussed
which are generally opposed to those doctrines,
called by their partisans, the doctrines of grace.
From thence he proceeds to describe the state of
man after the fall: he describes his guilt and mi-
sery, and explains, in the words of St. Austin, the
nature and fatal consequences of original sin. He
declares that all men are born in sin, and are, by
nature, children of wrath. That all are guilty be-
fore God, and that they remain under the dominion
of sin, dead in trespasses and sins, and sitting in
thick darkness, till the grace of the Savior shall
arise to give them light ; and till he, who is the
resurrection and the life, shall call them from a
state of spiritual death, and command their bonds
to be loosed. He then enters at large into the va-
rious arguments, by which many excellent men
have been led to think that grace irresistible and
inamissible.
In the third part of this elaborate work, Janse-
nius treats of the remedy of the fallen soul, and of
its re-establishment in the liberty of the children
173
of God. This division of his subject exhibits
uncommon erudition. Every sentence scattered
throughout the voluminous works of St. Austin,
which could possibly bear on the subject, is here
collected into one focus, and arranged with the ut-
most perspicuity and exactness.
The outlines of this work had been traced in
conjunction with M. de St. Cyran at Bayonne. Its
completion occupied the venerable author above
twenty years. During this period, he had ten times
read through the whole of St. Augustin's works,
and thirty times carefully perused and compared
those parts of them relating to the Pelagian contro-
versy.
In addition to this immense labor, Jansenius had
also thoroughly studied, and accurately collated,
every passage throughout the voluminous works of
the fathers, which has any connexion with the doc-
trines in question. When we consider that Janse-
nius digested and arranged in twenty years the
whole mass of sacred literature accumulated in thir-
teen centuries, it excites astonishment that so short
a period could have sufficed to the execution of
such a performance.
To this grand undertaking his life had been de-
voted : he lived to finish it. This great work, so
long meditated, so deeply studied, so assiduously
revised ; this work, doubtless so sincerely intended,
(though, in the event, celebrated almost alone for
the evils it occasioned) this work was completed
the very day on which Jansenius expired.
174
Its truly admirable author acted as though he
hsd foreseen the ferment to which it would give
rise. His very last act manifested his deep humi-
lity, and his entire submission to a church, which
he believed, guided by the immediate influence of
the divine Spirit.
With his dying hand he wrote a letter to Pope
Urban VIII., submitting his unpublished work to
his inspection. In this letter he gave up the whole
manuscript to the decision of the Romish see, and
authorized the pontiff to alter or to rescind any
part of it. Some of his expressions are to the fol-
lowing effect : " The expressions of St. Augustin
are peculiarly profound. The various modes in
which his writings have been interpreted, prove at
once the difficulty of the exposition, and the in-
competence of the expositors. Whether I have
been more fortunate, whether I speak according to
truth, or whether I am deluded by my own conjec-
tures, can only be known b^submitting my whole
work to the test ; to that true and infallible light
before which the illusive glare of false splendor
disappears ; to that divine touch-stone, at whose
touch every thing is ground to powder which pos-
sesses not the solidity of truth. — I therefore now
lay my work at the feet of your holiness. I sub-
mit its contents implicitly to your decision, ap-
proving, condemning, advancing, or retracting,
whatever shall be prescribed by the thunder of the
apostolic see."
Persons will differ in opinion as to the propriety
175
of choosing such an umpire. None probably will,
however, disagree as to the propriety of such an
one having been chosen by Jansenius, a catholic
bishop. Whatever conclusion be formed of the
measure itself, there are surely none who name the
name of Christ, but what must venerate the truly
Christian humility of heart, by which it was dic-
tated.
The letter of Jansenius was suppressed by his
executors. They probably foresaw the opposition
of the Jesuits, and feared, lest through their influ-
ence, the work should be suppressed "altogether.
However this may be, the existence of such a letter
was never suspected, till the reduction of Ypres by
the arms of Louis XIV. It then fell into the hands
of the great Conde. He first made it public.
Jansenius had taken a double precaution. Just
before his death he made a will. By this instru-
ment he unreservedly abandoned both himself and
his book to the judgment and authority of the see
of Rome. The following are his very words.
He dictated them half an hour before his death.
" Sentio aliquid difficulter mutari. Si lamen
Romano, sedes aliquid mutari velit ; sum obediens
films; et illius ecclesia in qua semper vixi usque ad
hunc lectum mortis obediens sum. Ita postrema voluntas
mea est Actum sextd Mail 1638.'* That is, "I feel
that it will be difficult to alter any thing. Yet,
if the Romish see should wish any thing to be
altered, I am her obedient son; and to that church
in which I have always lived, even to this bed
176
of death, I will prove obedient. This is my last
will. Done 6 of May, 1638."
Such were the sentiments entertained by Jan-
senius to the end of his life. It is not a little sur-
prising, to find him erected into an heresiarch
immediately after his death.
Scarcely had Jansenius expired, when his exe-
cutors hastened to disregard his will, and his op-
ponents to insult his memory.
The Jesuits used all their influence to obtain the
suppression of the work. The executors, on the
contrary, strained every nerve to expedite the
publication. They dreaded the credit of the Je-
suits with the court of Rome. On this account
they wished the book to appear, before Rome had
given her decision.
Meanwhile, numberless pamphlets were circu-
lated on either side.
Whilst all good men must deplore the inveterate
virulence which instigated the persecuting Jesuits,
may not many persons join the wise and amiable
Fenelon in regretting the ardor of zeal with which
the Jansenists were animated in defending an ob-
scure, and merely speculative doctrine ? It might be
observed, that good men are never likely to espouse
a cause which has not some important truth for its
ground work: but, on the other hand, that they
are never so likely to exaggerate it, to misapply it,
and to overlook -the antagonist truths which keep it
in its due sphere of action, as when they are de-
fending it against an opponent who is engaged in
177
its overthrow. If this be the case, it may, perhaps,
be thought that Jansenius would have done more
wisely, had his system been founded on the works
of St. Austin, previous to his discussions with Pela-
gius, and had he received with a prudent caution
what that great saint wrote under the heated influ-
ence of a warm and animated controversy.
The church of Christ is separated from infidels
by holding truth in opposition to falsehood. But
the members of Christ are severed from each other
generally, by holding distinct truths exclusively;
and by thus placing in opposition those truths they
should hold in combination. Thus has it been
with the grand principles of divine grace, which
honors God, our sovereign benefactor ; and of free-
will, which glorifies God our impartial judge.
Concluding, that if the one of these great truths
were admitted, the other must be combated, the
bulk of the professing world has continually been
vibrating between the alternate extremes of anti-
nomian fatalism, and pharisaic self-righteousness.
And whilst each party has reaped the benefit of the
truth it held, each has suffered from the equally
important one it unadvisedly rejected. From the
times of the Pharisees and Sadducees, the Pelagians
and Augustinians, the Jesuits and Jansenists, to the
Arminians and Caivinists of the present day, the
evils of such discussions have been sufficiently ma-
nifest. Whilst the true Christian deplores the mis-
chiefs these controversies have occasioned to the
speculative controvertists on either side, he rejoices
N
178
to see the most eminently pious on both sides led
by the grace of God to receive in their hearts, even
those very truths which formed the stumbling block
to their understanding. Who that has chosen that
more excellent way of love the apostle speaks of,
will not join in saying with St. Austin in his epis-
tles, 6V non est gratia Dei quomodo salvat mundum?
Si non est liberum arbitrium quomodo judicat mun-
dum? If there be not (sovereign) free grace, how
does God (graciously) save the world? If there be
not (unrestricted) free will, how can God (righte-
ously) judge the world?
When points terminating in speculation divide
Christians, the church may well mourn. To all
such controversies are dangerous. On merely car-
nal professors, they operate as a blind, veiling from
their own mind the real motives which induce
them to attack their more spiritual brethren. Whilst
the mind is occupied in combating the speculative
opinions of good men, the heart which instigated
the attack is often set on by a lurking enmity against
the piety connected with them. The corruption
of the carnal heart is really kindled against divine
truth. Its blows are in reality aimed against her?
whilst it screens itself under the specious pretence
of attacking the extraneous opinions casually con-
nected with her. The word of God itself cannot
be broken. It is only when good men unwarily
connect their own speculations with revealed truth,
that they present a point vulnerable to the attacks
of their adversaries. Nor is controversy perhaps
179
less dangerous to the truly pious. With them it
is but too apt to prove a snare. They forget the
comparative importance of primary truths, whilst
their strength is expended in maintaining opinions
alike doubtful and unimportant. It is lamentable
to employ the arms with which men should combat
for Christ, in fruitless contentions against their
brethren. In controversies vain as they regard
truth, but fatal as they respect love. How often
have theological disputations on non-essential
points, proved the breach of the church, and the
strong hold of infidelity !
Two years after it was first announced, the work
of Jansenius made its appearance. War was im-
mediately re-kindled by the Jesuits with redoubled
animosity. Multitudes of publications appeared
against the Augustinus. Had they stopped there,
it had been well.
Some amongst the Jesuits were not content with
attacking the reputation of Jansenius, and with tra-
ducing as an heresiarch, a man who had lived the
life of a saint, and who had died, not only in com-
munion with the church, but exercising the sacred
functions of a bishop. Their rancorous malice
even pursued his remains beyond the grave.
About midnight, on the loth of December, 165 7»
the inscription over the grave of Jansenius was sur-
reptitiously removed, and the tomb itself so com-
pletely demolished, that not a vestige remained.
Next morning the chapter of Ypres discovered the
indignity offered to their bishop. They were highly
ISO
incensed, both at this treatment of their pastor, and
at the insult to their authority. There was, how-
ever, no remedy, as it appeared, on inquiry, to
have been done by the bishop succeeding Janse-
nius, at the instigation of the Jesuits.
In the year 1672, a second epitaph, written on a
plain white marble slab, was placed where the mo-
nument had stood. This latter inscription con-
sisted merely of the two first lines of the former
one, with the age and date. Yet, although it con-
veyed no eulogium, it was not suffered to continue.
The Jesuits were so inveterate in their animosity,
that they had it removed in less than a month after
it was placed. A simple cross pattee on the paving-
stone which covered his grave, was the only mark
which distinguished the place of his interment. In
the year 1733, a fact was revealed to the world,
which had never till then been suspected. It was
announced in the Histoire du Baianisme, page 344»
published by Father du Ghesne. This Jesuit as-
serts, that when the monument of Jansenius was
first destroyed, his body was torn from the grave,
and disposed of elsewhere. A few years after-
wards the cathedral was fresh paved. No trace now
remains to mark the sepulchre of Jansenius. His
arms, indeed, on one of the pillars of the church,
still record his burial to have been within its pre-
cincts.
Notwithstanding the efforts of the Jesuits, the
work of the Bishop of Ypres appeared in print
about two years after the death of its author. The
181
* *
name of Jansenist was now for the first time heard.
It was affixed to the friends of M. de St. Cyran,
by those who wished to imply that their system was
a new heresy first broached by Jansenius. They
called themselves the disciples of St. Augustin.
Much had been written on both sides. Many
vexatious and oppressive proceedings had been re-
sorted to on the part of the Jesuits, and much had
been endured on that of the Jansenists.
At length, Father Cornet, a Jesuit, and syndic
of the faculty, produced five propositions. They
were, it was insinuated, extracted from the work of
Jansenius. These propositions were worded with
the most artful ambiguity. The phrases were so
contrived, as to be capable of two constructions,
•widely differing from each other. Taken in one
point of view, the terms employed had a consider-
able resemblance to some used by Jansenius. On.
the other hand, they were affixed to such different
ideas, and applied so differently, that the meaning
obviously conveyed was, in some instances, abso-
lutely, opposite to his. This paper, so carefully
worded and maliciously constructed, was laid be-
fore the Sorbonne, and before the apostolic see, as
containing dangerous, false, and heretical doctrine.
It underwent a long and animated discussion. At
length, the desired verdict was obtained. It was
pronounced heretical, first by the Sorbonne, and
afterwards by a bulle of Innocent X. A general-
assembly of the French clergy was summoned.
Almost all the dignitaries of the Gallican church
182
attended. With a very few exceptions, they united
in the proscription of the new heresy.
The Jesuits had now gained their point. It was
proposed and determined to draw up a formula,
recapitulating the five propositions, and subjoining
to them a declaration, that they were heretical. A
decree was then issued, commanding the formulary
to be signed by all religious houses, by all the
clergy, by all who instructed children, and by all
who pretended to benefices or orders.
The Jesuits already anticipated a triumph. They
congratulated themselves on having laid a snare,
into which they thought it impossible the friends of
M. de St. Cyran could avoid falling. Should they
sign the insidious formulary, it would involve the
condemnation of their own works, and conse-
quently of themselves. If, on the contrary, they
refused their signatures, their heresy would be ma-
nifest. They would incur the most serious conse-
quences by setting at nought the bulle of Pope In-
nocent. The measures of the Jesuits were already
laid. They only awaited a refusal of signature on
the part of the Jansenists, as the expected signal to
begin a vigorous persecution. In this calculation
they were disappointed. The Jansenists unani-
mously signed the paper ; each at the same time
adding a line to his signature, denying the proposi-
tions to be in the book of Jansenius, and pointing
out wherein they differed-
The Jesuits were enraged at having been thus
fpjled. They \vere not, however, deterred from
183
their aim. A second application was made to the
court of Rome. Another bulle was prepared, the
terms of which were more explicit than those of
the former. On the 16th of November, 1656, a
bulle was fulminated by Alexander VII. confirming
that of Innocent. It likewise proceeded to declare^
that the propositions were not only heretical, but
that they were likewise extracted from Jansenius*
It concluded by expressly declaring, that the sense
in which they were condemned, was the one in
which they were stated in his Augustinus.
This buile was no sooner published, than the
bishops, under the influence of the Jesuits, drew up
a second formulary. The words were express. It
was calculated, they thought, to afford no means of
escape. It was conceived in the following terms :
44 I condemn from my inmost soul, and by word of
mouth, the doctrine of the five propositions which
are contained in the work of Cornelius Jansenius.
A doctrine which is not that of St. Augustin, whose
sentiments Jansenius has misinterpreted."
Such was the celebrated formulary, dictated by
the malice, and extorted by the intrigue of the Je-
suits. It proved the signal of all the persecutions
that ensued.
\Vhen presented to the Jansenists, they all with
one accord refused their signature.
They unanimously declared, that the catholic
church, whilst she asserts the divine authority of the
Apostolic see on subjects of faith, yet allows her
only a human judgment as to matters of fact. The
184
scripture, which cannot be broken, promises that
divine influence of the Holy Spirit which enables
the church infallibly to distinguish true from false
doctrine. But whence is the authority, and where
is the necessity of divine revelation to instruct her
in matters of fact ? From their very nature they are
objects of sense, not of faith; and therefore belong
to the province of reason, not of revelation. The
heresy of the propositions was, they admitted an
object of faith; their having been advanced by
Jansenius they contended to be a matter of fact.
With respect then to their heretical nature, they
cordially united with their brethren, and they im-
plicitly submitted to the paramount authority of the,
apostolic see. With regard to the alleged fact,
that such propositions were actually contained in
the work of Jansenius, they could not but consider
it as coming solely under the cognizance of indivi'
dual judgment.
Whilst then they yielded a blind obedience to
Rome as to the former; they preserved the liberty
of maintaining a respectful silence regarding the
latter.
No sooner was this answer returned, than the
persecution burst forth from every quarter. The
court, the Jesuits, and the Clergy, united with one
consent to oppress the Jansenists. Excommunica-
tions, fines, and cruel banishments, and rigorous
imprisonments were every where inflicted. The
state prisons became thronged. The threats of fire
and of poison were not withheld. The bastille was
1S5
crowded with victims. Even recesses in the pas-
sages were converted into temporary cells.
Many of the peaceful inhabitants of Port Royal
were torn from their beloved seclusion. The re-
cluses underwent cruel sufferings in the bastille;
and a number of the nuns were separately imprl-
soned in different convents. There they were con-
fined in narrow cells, and closely guarded. They
were not only deprived of the necessary comforts of
life, but were otherwise treated with disgraceful
inhumanity. The nuns to whom they were com-
mitted, were misguided by those blind guides, of
whom the scripture declares, that they compass sea
and land to make one proselyte, and at length
render him tenfold more the child of error than
themselves. They forgot their religious characters
and commenced ruthless jailers. They persecuted
the children of the Most High, and they deluded
themselves into the idea that they were doing GOD
service.
A short respite was at length obtained. In this
pacification Madame de Longueville took the most
distinguished part. This princesse was possessed of
extensive influence ; her political talents procured
her great respect, and her beauty and wit rendered
her generally beloved. At her instigation, and
under her patronage, the Archbishop of Sens, and
the Bishop of Chalons and some others, drew up a
plan for an accommodation. The duchesse of
Longueville wrote on the occasion a long letter to
the Pope. Clement IX., who had just ascend-
186
ed the chair of St. Peter, was a man of a benevolent
and pacific spirit. He had long deplored the agi-
tated state of the Gallican church. In this disposi-
tion he rejoiced that an opportunity was offered to
effect a reconciliation without compromising the
authority of the papal jurisdiction. A pacification
was effected. The prison doors were opened, the
ecclesiastical censures were removed, and those
valuable persons, who so eminently belonged to the
church of God, had rest for a season.
The peace however was not of long duration,
Madame de Lons;ueville died. A month after her
o
decease the persecution began with redoubled vio-
lence. The short suspension of eleven years ap-
peared only to have embittered the adversaries of
the Jansenists without curtailing their power.
Persecuted on all hands, some perished in prison,
others died in banishment.
The great Arnauld, who had refused a Cardinal's
hat, died an exile in a remote part of Flanders,
without one servant to attend him. Some wan*
dered about in disguise, others expired, worn out
with fatigue and anxiety, praying for their afflicted
brethren and their still more unhappy persecutors.
Port Royal was the fountain whence Jansenism
had spread over France* That monastery felt the
heaviest shock of the storm. For one century and
two years, it stood in the midst of its enemies; and
its bright light shone with undiminished lustre. It
gave a splendid and rare example of profound
learning, united with every Christian virtue. The
187
ear that heard its instruction blessed it, and the
eye that saw its inhabitants, bore witness to them.
It shone as a great light in the land, and its good
works turned the hearts of men to glorify their
Father ia heaven. Its fame spread over the land,
and its good report went forth abroad. Its blessed
influence extended to the remotest parts of Europe.
Several generations of its peaceful and pious inha-
bitants had indeed perished amidst persecution;
but others still arose, endued with a double portion
of their spirit. At length the measure of their
sufferings was complete. These living stones, so
carefully fashioned by reiterated strokes, became
fitted for the temple of the living GOD. They
were ready to occupy that place in the church
triumphant, they had so long and so faithfully
maintained in the church militant.
Their adversaries were at length in wrath allow-
ed to triumph. They were permitted at once to
finish their sufferings, and to complete the mea-
sure of their own iniquity. In October, 1709,
Port Royal was destroyed. Its venerable abbey was
levelled to the ground, and its innocent inhabitants
were imprisoned for life in separate monasteries.
Few of them long survived their dispersion. Their
removal was attended with circumstances of peculiar
cruelty, and they soon expired from the hardships
of their journey and the ill usage experienced in
their prisons.
The site where Port Royal had stood was
ploughed qp, from its very foundation, so that not
188
one stone remained upon another. Yet though the
great and powerful were leagued together, to extin-
guish that burning and shining light, of whose illu-
mination they were not worthy; yet its memory was
still held in benediction. The peasants were accus-
tomed to visit its ruins, and even the very children
endeavored to pick up some fragment of its sacred
remains. The poor, as they returned from their
labor, frequently turned out of their path, to visit
the valley where Port Royal stood. They traced its
lakes and its gardens; they pointed out to each
other the places where they had seen its saints, and
in the warmth of their affectionate gratitude, they
recounted the beneficent miracles they imagined its
hallowed ruins had wrought. The profound
veneration expressed by the inhabitants for Port
Royal, rekindled the malice of its enemies. The
ashes of the saints who reposed there were torn
from their graves, and scattered by sacrilegious
hands. Five years after not a vestige remained of
an institution, whose well earned and extensive
celebrity was only to be exceeded by the profound
veneration and fervent admiration, of those inti-
mately acquainted with its rare endowments.
The destruction of Port Royal des Champs, may
be considered as the death blow to Jansenism.
Many Jansenists indeed still continued in Flanders.
And the subject was agitated for some years subse-
quent to this event. The expiration of Jansenism
as a matter engrossing public attention, may be
dated about the time of Father Qtiesnel's death.
189
He succeeded the great Arnauld as the champion
of Jansenism, and may be considered as the last of
that brilliant constellation, whose genius and piety
had shed so splendid and beneficent a light over the
end of the seventeenth, and beginning of the eigh-
teenth century.
The principal leaders of the Jansenistic cause,
succeeded each other as follows :
The death of Jansenius took place in the
year - - 1638
M. du Vergier de Hauranne, Abbe de
St. Cyran, died in * 1643
The great Arnauld then took the lead, ac-
companied by his friend and assistant Nicole,
, , f Arnauld - - 1684
whose deaths occurred -< _ _. .
(Nicole - - 1695
The great Arnauld was succeeded by his intimate
friend Father Quesnel, who vigorously maintained
the cause by his writings, and at the court of Rome
by delegate, till he expired at Amsterdam, in 17 19-
The above mentioned are some of the chief con-
troversial writers, who maintained the cause of the
Jansenists. Their most valuable authors are per-
haps those who have entered but little into the dis-
puted points. Those who have contributed to im-
prove the world by their learning, or who have
edified the Christian world by their moral and ex-
perimental works. A library of this description
might be collected, from the numerous and valuable
writings of the recluses of Port Royal.
The principal works of Jansenius are Comment*-
J9O
ries on the Evangelists in quarto, on the Pentateuch
in quarto, on the Psalms, Proverbs, and Eccle-
siastes, at Antwerp, 1614, in folio. These works
all manifest the deep erudition of their author, and
are written with correctness and perspicuity. Be-
sides this, he has written some works of contro-
versy, now little read, and his celebrated commen-
tary on St. Augustin, in folio, Louvain, 1640; and
at Rouen, 1652. The latter edition is the best and
contains some essays omitted in that of Louvain.
Leydecker has written the life of Jansenius in
Latin, octavo, Utrecht, 1695- See also Histoire
Ecclesiastique du dixseptieme siecle by Du Pin,
and 1'Histoire des cinq propositions de Jansenius,
par Dumas.
191
PORT ROYAL.
THIS celebrated monastery is about six leagues
distance from Paris. It is situated in a wooded
valley, near Chevreuse, and is within view of the
little villages of St.. Lambert and Vaumurier.
The Abbey of Port Royal is one of the most
ancient belonging to the order of Giteaux. It was
founded in 1204, by Elides de Sully, Bishop of
Paris. The discipline of this monastery, like that
of most others, declined in process of time. Like
the generality of religious houses of the same or-
der, it exhibited, towards the close of the sixteenth
century, a lamentable and awful degree of relaxa-
tion. The rule of St. Bennet was scarcely known
there. The retirement of the cloister was unob-
served. The revenues, which ought to have been
diffused in charity, were converted to purposes of
luxury. Self-indulgence had banished all regu-
larity, and a worldly spirit influenced the whole
community.
At this juncture the Abbess died. It was at this
period a very common abuse to appoint children to
ecclesiastical offices, in order to secure the revenue
to the family.
Maria Angelica Arnauld was nominated Abbess
of Port Royal, before she had completed her ele-
venth year. She was scarcely eight years old when
she assumed the habit of the order. At nine she
made her profession before the General of Giteaux.
He gave her his benediction eighteen months after-
wards.
How deep are the judgments of God, and his
ways past finding out ! How little probability did
there appear, that the child thus iniquitously elect-
ed, should prove the very instrument in the hands
of God, to restore discipline in the order, and to
lay the foundation of the celebrity of Port Royal !
The nuns rejoiced at the appointment; they
promised themselves a long period of unbounded
liberty. Their joy was not of .very long duration.
The young abbess at first, indeed, only thought
of devising means of passing her time agreeably.
Yet it was soon observed, that if her occupations
bore no marks of piety, her very recreations, how-
ever, were such as indicated a powerful and vigor-
ous mind, a sound judgment, and a superior degree
of intelligence.
Scarcely had she attained the age of seventeen,
before God was pleased to effect her conversion.
It was accomplished by means most unlikely.
A capuchin, wearied of a religious life, had
emancipated himself from his superiors. His con-
duct had, in many respects, been reprehensible-
He therefore determined to quit France, and to ab-
jure the catholic religion. It so happened, that he
passed through Port Royal in his way. This abbey
is also the parish church.
Being entirely ignorant of this man's misconduct,
193
the abbess, from motives of civility, requested him
to preach. The capuchin meanwhile was as little
acquainted with the character of the nuns, as they
were with his. He imagined them to be eminently
pious. He therefore preached a most alarming
discourse. He expatiated largely on the misery
and dangers of sin, and on the power and blessings
of true religion. He also dwelt forcibly on the
dangers of the world ; and portrayed, in the most
lively manner, those peculiar advantages which are
furnished by a monastic life.
The young abbess was forcibly struck. From
that hour she formed the resolution to devote her-
self wholly to God. And not only so, she re-
solved, by divine grace, that as soon as she was
converted herself, she would strengthen her sisters,
and, reform every abuse in the monastery committed
to, her charge.
At this period she was taken dangerously ill.
During a confinement of several months, her re-
solution strengthened, and her piety and experi-
ence deepened. Meditation, prayer, and reading
the scriptures, divided her solitary hours.
She came from her chamber a new person. Her
habits, her manners, her views, were totally
changed ; her mind was always powerful ; those
powers were now exercised, not in the gratification
of self, but in establishing a solid and beneficial re-
form.
She had some difficulties to encounter ; but no-
thing could shake her perseverance. In five years
o
194
the monastery was entirely changed. The whole
community presented a pattern of piety, charity, in-
dustry, self-denial, regularity, and every good work.
Port Royal was the first house that was reformed
in the order of Citeaux. The change consequently
excited considerable attention. As usual, opinions
were divided.
The Rev. M. Angelica had a sister, named
Agnes, of St. Paul, two years younger than her-
self. This lady was, at six years old, nominated
Abbess of St. Cyr. M. Agnes was of a very dif-
ferent disposition from her sister. She was not
distinguished for the same masculine energy of
mind and resolute spirit, as the Mother Angelica.
She rather possessed passive, than active strength
of character. But her understanding was solid,
though not brilliant; her mind was well stored by
studies not common to her sex ; her judgment was
clear and accurate; her heart and affections tem-
perate, and well balanced. Her disposition was
placid ; and she had feared God from her earliest
youth. The Mother Agnes had always felt averse
to assume the office of Abbess. She knew it in-
volved a heavy responsibility, and she was aware
of her incapacity worthily to fulfil it. She had
ever been distinguished for unfeigned humility, and
for a warm admiration of her sister.
No sponer was the reform established at Port
Royal, than she resigned the office of Abbess in her
own monastery, to become a simple nun under the
direction of the M. Angelica.
195
Not long after, this lady took her as coadjutrix
in the direction of the monastery of Port Royal.
Thus was the reform solidly established.
Meanwhile, the fame of Port Royal and of the
M. Angelica extended itself over all France. Num-
bers of pious individuals, in different convents, had
long been mourning in secret over the relaxation of
their own communities. They earnestly desired
a restoration of the ancient discipline ; yet they
knew not where to begin.
In this perplexity they applied to the M. An-
gelica. Petitions were sent from various convents
to the Abbess of Port Royal ; she was entreated to
undertake the establishment of the reform they so
anxiously wished for. At first, she replied that
she had no authority to quit her own monastery.
Requests were, however, presented by such a mul-
tiplicity of houses, that she was, at length, ordered
by the General of Citeaux, either to go in person,
or to send some of her community, in order to
establish the reform wherever it was desired.
The M. Agnes had now been for some years
initiated into the plans of her sister. She was at
this time equally competent with herself, either
to supply her place at Port Royal, or to carry on
the reform elsewhere.
These ladies, or some of their principal assist-
ants, successively visited the monasteries of Mau-
buisson, Lys, St. Aubin, St. Cyr, Gomerfontaine,
Tard, the Isles d'Auxerres, and many other places.
In several of these houses they met with ren-
o 2
196
counters, which might furnish the subject of vo-
lumes. In none did they meet with more difficul-
ties than at Maubuisson. The M. Angelica was
on the point of being murdered by the former ab-
bess, Madame d'Estrees, sister to the celebrated
Gabrielle d'Estrees.
In every one of the monasteries, however, a solid
reform was, at length, effectually established. Both
the nuns and abbesses considered their visitors from
Port Royal, as angels descended from heaven. The
M. Angelica became a blessing, not only to her
own abbey, but to the whole order of Citeaux.
Meanwhile, the celebrity of Port Royal had oc-
casioned a prodigious increase in the number of its
inhabitants. Thirty nuns of Maubuisson besought
the M. Angelica to allow them to return with her,
after her visit to their convent: besides which, a
great many ladies from every part of France were
continually applying for admittance. This rapid
increase began to be a serious inconvenience.
The abbey had been originally destined for
twelve nuns. It now was inhabited by eighty.
It ought to have been observed, that the monas-
tery was situated in a deep, and thickly wooded
valley, watered by two extensive lakes. For want
of being properly drained, they had spread in one
continued marsh over the whole vale. The vici-
nity of the wood increased the evil. The situation
became exceedingly damp and unhealthy. The
whole monastery was continually enveloped in a
thick fog. The situation was rendered still more
197
noxious by the want of proper accommodation for
so large a family.
The house, at length, became a complete infir-
mary. Deaths continually succeeded each other.
Yet numbers of fresh postulants were perpetually
offering.
In this difficulty, Providence did not abandon
the M. Angelica. A resource was afforded by her
own family. Her mother, Madame Arnauld, was
a lady of very considerable affluence. She was
daughter to the celebrated M. Marion, advocate-
general. This lady had been the mother of twenty
children. Ten had died in their youth ; the others
were amply and honourably provided for.
She was herself, at this period, left a widow, with
a very considerable fortune at her own disposal.
There happened, at this very juncture, to be a
noble house with magnificent gardens, offered for
sale at Paris.
It was situated in the Fauxbourg St. Jacques, and
was called the hotel Clagny. This house Madame
Arnauld purchased at a very considerable expense,
and presented to her daughter. It was soon pre-
pared for the reception of the community. A
church was added to it, by one of the first archi-
tects, and the interior was properly fitted up.
The permission of the Archbishop of Paris was
obtained, and the whole community was transferred
to this new habitation. A chaplain only was left
at Port Royal, to supply the parish-church, and to
take care of the house.
198
Both these monasteries were considered as form-
ing one abbey ; but thenceforward, they were dis-
tinguished by the appellations of Port Royal de
Paris) and Port Royal des Champs.
The removal of the nuns took place in 1625.
The M. Angelica seeing her reformation so tho-
roughly effected, began to consider the best mode
of giving it solidity and permanence. She at length
obtained a royal grant, declaring that the abbess,
instead of being appointed for life by the king,
should be elected trienniallyby the nuns. In 1630,
the M. Angelica and the M. Agnes resigned their
offices, and restored the monastery to a free elec-
tion. They were, however, very frequently ap-
pointed abbesses afterwards.
It has been mentioned, that the M. Angelica had
nine brothers and sisters living. Six of her sisters
were nuns at Port Royal. Her brothers all filled
distinguished posts, in a manner most honourable
to their reputation.
Her eldest brother, M. Arnauld d'Andilli, oc-
cupied the office of commissary-general to the
army. His duties obliged him to an almost conti-
nual attendance at court. The great integrity and
fidelity for which he was distinguished, procured
him universal respect; and his amiable disposition
rendered him exceedingly beloved. The queen
particularly honored him with the highest esteem.
But, above all. he was remarked for his deep piety,
so that, whilst yet in his early years, he was vene-
rated even by courtiers as a saint.
199
Another of her brothers was M. Henry Arnauld,
Bishop of Angers. This gentleman was esteemed
one of the most pious prelates in France. He was,
at an early age, sent as envoy from the court of
France, to that of Rome. His talents and piety
were so highly esteemed there, that medals were
struck in his honor, and a statue was erected to him
by the noble house of Barbarini. When he became
Bishop of Angers, he was so assiduous in perform-
ing his pastoral duties, that he never but once in
his life quitted his diocese; and that was, to con-
vert the Prince of Tarentum, and to reconcile him
with the Duke of La Tremouille, his father.
The city of Angers, in opposition to all his ef-
forts, revolted in 1652. The Queen mother was
advancing, in order to take signal vengeance. The
good bishop had been appointed to say mass be-
fore the royal army, a few miles from the entrance
of the city. The queen, after service, advanced to
the altar. " Madam," said he, giving her the con-
secrated host, " receive your God — your God who,
whilst expiring on the cross, pardoned his ene-
mies!" The city was spared. These merciful
maxims were not merely on his lips, but resided
in his heart. It was said of him, that the infallible
claim to the Bishop of Angers' good offices, was to
use him ill.
He was truly the father of the poor and the
afflicted. His whole time was taken up in prayer,
reading, and the affairs of his diocese. A friend
fearing that his health might be injured by inces-
200
sant labor, requested him to set apart one day in
every week for rest. " I have no objection," re-
plied M. d'Angers, " provided you fix on one in
which I am not bishop."
The other brother of the M. Angelica, was the
great Arnauld, Dr. of Sorbonne, who was after-
wards so distinguished a champion of Jansenism.
He was the last of Madame Arnauld's children,
and was twenty years younger than his brother M.
d'Andilli. At a very early period he shewed
marks of that energy and fire, by which he was sub-
sequently so peculiarly characterized. When only
six years old, he was staying with his relation Car-
dinal Perron. One day, after dinner, he was in-
tently occupying himself with pen and ink and pa-
per, instead of amusing himself with his playfellows.
The cardinal asked him what he was about? " Sir,"
returned the child, " I am assisting you to refute the
Hugonots" Afterwards, when he was admitted as
a member of the Sorbonne, instead of the oath or-
dinarily tendered, he, with great energy, swore
not only to abide by the doctrines of the church,
but to defend them to the last drop of his blood.
Whilst at Maubuisson, the M. Angelica had
been introduced to the venerable St. Francis de
Sales, and by his means to the Baroness de Chantal.
With both of them she formed a close friendship.
She introduced them both likewise to all the mem-
bers of her own family.
This acquaintance wrought a wonderful change
in every individual belonging to it. The family
201
of the Arnaulds were not only ancient, noble, and
affluent, but they had been noted during many suc-
cessive generations for the great superiority of their
talents. They now began to be as much celebrated
for exalted piety, as for the lustre of their intellec-
tual endowments. St. Francis went to his eternal
reward when the youngest Arnauld was but a
child. Nevertheless, the piety which his instruc-
tions had first implanted, progressively increased
throughout the whole family.
Such was the state of the Arnauld family when
M. de St. Cyran was first introduced to it. His
acquaintance began with M. Arnauld d'Andilli.
M. de St. Cyran had just parted with his va-
lued friend Jansenius. M. d'Andilly had lost a
most revered spiritual guide in the blessed St. Fran-
cis. Under these circumstances, a close friendship
was soon cemented between them.
When M. Angelica came to reside at Port Royal
de Paris, the acquaintance was consequently ex-
tended, in some measure, to her. She heard much
of M. de St. Cyran from her brother. In the course
of ten years he also called three or four times.
Not, however, being connected by any tie of duty,
their acquaintance did not appear likely to make
any farther progress.
About the year 1625, the M. Angelica was
desired to assist the bishop of Langres in organiz-
ing a new institution he had lately founded in
honor of the Euctyrist. M. de Langres at that
period entertained a high esteem for M. de St.
202
Cyran. On being sent for out of Paris, he there-
fore appointed him as director of his new insti-
tution.
By this means originated that friendship which
ever after so closely united M. de St. Gyran to
Port Royal.
In M. de St. Cyran the M. Angelica seemed
again to behold the blessed St. Francis de Sales.
Till then she had mourned his loss as irreparable.
She now, for the first time, met with one whose
growth in piety was equally extraordinary. Nor
could she avoid observing, that to the eminent ho-
liness which distinguished St. Francis, M. de St.
Cyran added a strength of mental powers, a lumi-
nous intellect, and an energy of character, peculiarly
his own. In these respects M. de St. Cyran and
the M. Angelica were especially congenial. The
Abbess soon observed, that whilst both these great
men seemed to possess a piety equally fervent, that
of the latter seemed far the most enlightened.
The effects which these excellent men produced
on the Arnauld family, were exactly those which
might have been expected, from the difference of
their characters.
From their intimacy with St. Francis, they had
rather received deep religious impressions, than
acquired clear religious views. Many years had
elapsed since his death, and at the time of their
acquaintance, the younger part of this numerous
family were quite children. Hence they had been
since rather distinguished for warm devotional feel-
203
ings, a respect for piety, and a horror of immo-
rality, than for that distinct light, which enabled
them at once to enter upon a religious course of
life and steadily to pursue it.
Their intimacy with M. de St. Cyran, exactly
supplied that which had before been wanting. He
became the means, not only of awakening, but of
enlightening their consciences. He clearly pointed
out to them the grand essentials of Christian doc-
trine. From these emanated a clear light, which
distinctly shewed the path of Christian practice.
The pious impressions of this excellent family had
lived unquenched, amidst the evil contagion of the
world. What might not now be expected, when
placed under the immediate influence of two such
powerful characters as the M. Angelica, arid the
Abbe de St. Cyran ?
One of the M. Angelica's nephews, M. le Maitre,
had, at a very early age, obtained a very high re-
putation for eloquence. He was esteemed at five-
and- twenty, the first advocate of the age. All
France thronged to hear him plead.
His brother, M. de Sericourt, had obtained
much military reputation. They were scarcely
thirty, when they suddenly quitted the world, and
withdrew into the most profound retirement.
Here they mourned with the most unfeigned sor-
row over their past sins, and spent their whole
time in devotion, and in acts of charity. M.
Claude Lancelot, and many other young men,
who were intimate with M. de St. Cyran, be-
204
came influenced in the same manner and joined their
party.
At the end of a few months they found their
house at Paris too small to accommodate their num-
bers. They determined to go to Port Royal des
Champs; and take possession of the monastery
the nuns had abandoned about fifteen years be-
fore.
This occurred in 1638.
At Port Royal des Champs they found every
thing bearing marks of the most complete desola-
tion. The lakes, for want of draining, were con-
verted into noxious marshes, overgrown with reeds
and other aquatic plants ; they continually ex-
haled the most pestilential vapors. The grounds
were in many parts completely overflowed. The
gardens were not only overgrown with weeds and
brushwood; but the very walks were infested by
venomous serpents. The house was in a com-
pletely dilapidated and ruinous condition. Great
part of it indeed had fallen down.
The hermits were not, however, to be deterred
by trivial inconveniences. Many of them were
young men of the first families in France, yet they
did not disdain to labor with their own hands*
The little company joyfully set to work, and the
aspect of the valley was soon transformed. The
surface of the swampy morass soon exhibited a clear
lake, whose waters reflected the hills around,
crowned with thick forests of oak. The tangled
brush-wood which choked up the avenues to the
205
house was felled. The spacious gardens blossomed
as the rose ; and the walls of Port Royal arose
from the ground, amidst hymns of prayer and
shouts of praise.
New associates were continually quitting the
world and joining themselves to this little band.
After a short period it became a numerous and
flourishing society. Regular plans, and an
orderly distribution of employments were soon
found necessary to the well being of the whole.
The recluses of Port Royal, unlike religious
orders, were not bound by any vows. Each, ne-
vertheless, sought to imitate his Lord, and follow
his steps, by a life of voluntary poverty, penance,
and self-denial. They assumed the dress of no par-
ticular order ; yet, they were easily distinguished
by their coarse and plain, but clean clothing.
Their time was divided between their devotions
to God, and their services to men. They all met
together several times, both in the (day and night,
in the church. Twice each day also, the whole
company attended the refectory. Some hours
were occupied by each in their own cells, in me-
ditation, reading the Scriptures, and private prayer.
The remainder of their time was taken up in la-
bors of love for their fellow-creatures. Yet, in
these was the greatest regularity observed. They
did not attempt to do each what was right
in his own eyes ; but each filled up that oc-
cupation for which it was judged his talents were
best fitted. Every one of these recluses were un-
206
der the direction of M. de St. Cyran. Though he
was all this time immured in the dungeon of Vin-
cennes, he maintained a constant correspondence
with his friend, M. Singlin. This ecclesiastic, under
his immediate direction, guided both the houses of
Port Royal. By this means, M. de St. Cyran was
acquainted with the character of every individual
in each of the houses. Every one of the recluses
at Port Royal des Champes, as well as every nun
in Port Royal de Paris, was placed in the exact of-
fice for which he or she was best qualified. Nor
did their unfeigned humility ever permit them to
murmur, at any appointment, however low. Each
one rather esteemed it an honor to be employed in
any way for his Lord.
The acts of mercy which occupied the recluses,
were divided into two departments, the internal
concerns, which related to their own community,
and the external ones, which regarded the public
at large ; again, some of their occupations de-
manded intellectual, whilst others only required
bodily labor. Such, however, was the mercy of
God, that persons were abundantly supplied, suited
to every necessity ; and so great was the humility
of the recluses, that each, with thankfulness, ac-
cepted his own post. None considered the place
his birth entitled him to, so much as in what mode
he might best serve his brethren.
Hence some were employed in manual labor,
some in assisting the poor, and others in study.
They cultivated the farms and gardens; they re-
207
paired the house and supplied every article of
clothing amongst themselves. There were car-
penters, ploughmen, farmers, gardeners, glaziers,
shoemakers, and vine-dressers, whose accurate
workmanship appeared, as though they had never
practised any thing else ; yet the recollection and
devotion visible in their countenances marked them
as saints, and their manners betrayed them as na-
tives of a court. Others contributed their talents
to the good of the public. Several studied physic
and surgery. Others became acquainted with the
law, in order to reconcile differences amongst their
poorer neighbours. Four of the recluses who prac-
tised as physicians were solely occupied in visiting
the poor. Two of them became the most eminent
practitioners of their age. Some supplied the pul-
pit, and ministered to the spiritual wants of their
brethren. Considerable numbers were devoted to
supply both the temporal and spiritual necessities
of the peasantry around. Some carried them food;
others nursed them and watched them even in the
most infectious complaints. Many bestowed their
care entirely on the education of children. Distinct
establishments were formed for the poor and the
rich.
Meantime the fame of Port Royal became more
widely diffused. Many noblemen and gentlemen
of fortune entreated the pious and learned recluses
to undertake the education of their children. Se-
veral persons of property, influenced by religious
motives, gave up their parks and houses to be ap-
propriated to school-houses and play-grounds.
By this means the Port Royal schools were fur-
nished with every possible accommodation. Many
of these little establishments were soon formed in
various places. One was situated at Chenet, ano-
ther at des Troux, a third was at Paris, and two of
them at Port Royal. These little academies were
organized by men of the first piety and learning.
Persons of the most eminent abilities devoted them-
selves to the children's instruction. M. de Saci,
Claude Lancelot, Nicole and Fontaine were amongst
the number of the preceptors. It were extraordi-
nary had not the pupils of such masters been emi-
nently distinguished. The plan of Tiilemont's im-
mense and laborious works was traced out and ar-
ranged at the early age of nineteen, whilst he
was yet at the school of Chenet. Some of the
finest verses in Racine's tragedies were meditated
whilst a boy at school in the woods of Port Royal.
Others of the recluses occupied themselves in study.
They composed works which not only enlightened
their own age, but to which ours is deeply in-
debted. Some of the best translations of the fa-
thers, and the most edifying accounts of the saints,
issued from the solitudes of Port Royal. The
controversial and theological works of Arnauld,
the thoughts and letters of Pascal, the moral es-
says of Nicole, the deeply spiritual letters of Saci,
were all composed in this seclusion. These works
gained the esteem of the religious, whilst the gram-
mars they had drawn up for the schools obtained,
209
and still maintain the universal suffrage of the
learned.
In a short time the recluses of Port Royal be-
came an universal theme of discourse and admira-
tion.
la the mean while the nuns at Port Royal de
Paris, had again greatly extended their numbers.
They now exceeded 180. It became necessary
again to divide them. It was resolved to station
a detachment of the community at their old habi-
tation of Port Royal des Champs. The rest it was
determined should remain at Paris.
The news of the nuns' intended return was soon
•pread at Port Royal. The whole neighbourhood
evinced the greatest joy. It was delightful again
to see them after twenty-five years' absence.
The recluses used every exertion to prepare the
house and gardens. They put them in the best
order for their friends. Their own books and fur-
niture were soon packed up. On the morning of
the very day the nuns were expected, they re-
moved from the monastery. They took posses-
sion of a farm-house belonging to it, which was
situated on the top of the hill.
The M. Angelica was at that time abbess by elec-
tion. She came herself to establish the nuns in
their former habitation. On the day she was ex-
pected all the poor flocked to the monastery in
their best clothes. As soon as the long file of car-
riages appeared through the woods on the top of
the hill, they all went to meet her. The bells were
210
immediately rung; shouts of joy and exclamations
of pleasure resounded on all sides. The procession
stopped, then the poor with tears implored their
good mother's benediction. She tenderly embraced
them. At the church door she was met by all the
recluses. They led the nuns into the choir, and
after service left them in possession of the mo-
nastery. The recluses retired to their new ha-
bitation of Les Granges.
The institution of Port Royal was now in a
flourishing condition.
The nuns and recluses never indeed saw each
other but at church ; even there a grate separated
them ; nor had they any intercourse, though so
nearly related, but by letter. Nevertheless both
the communities might be considered as forming
one body. Both were under the same spiritual
direction. Each was animated by one and the
same spirit.
The recluses continued all their former occupa-
tions ; they conducted the farms and gardens, and
performed every other laborious office. The nuns
superintended girls' schools, educated young wo-
men, fed and clothed the poor, instructed their
own sex, and nursed the sick. These two socie-
ties (which together contained eighteen of the Ar-
nauld family) were yet more closely united by
grace than by ties of blood. They were perfectly
joined together in one heart and mind, all saying
the same thing, and all having the same views of
love to God and love to man.
Both the societies maintained a constant cor-
respondence with M. de St. Cyran. The spiritual
instructions they derived from him, formed the
basis of the advice they themselves gave to a nume-
rous circle of religious persons who had continual
recourse to them. Thus, even during his confine-
ment at Vincennes, M. de St. Cyran was the means
of diffusing an enlightened piety over all France.
The time was now at hand when the generosity
and charity of these recluses, became as publicly
known as the spirituality of their writings.
Cardinal Richelieu died in 1645. The death of
Louis the Xlllth almost immediately succeeded to
that of his minister. Louis the XlVth came to
the throne in 1643. He was not quite five years
old. His mother, Anne of Austria, was appoint-
ed sole regent. She nominated the Cardinal Ma*
zarin prime minister. This choice was equally
odious to the nobility and to the people. The
latter found themselves oppressed by grievous
taxes ; the former beheld with indignation so large
a share of power invested in a foreigner. A
strong party was formed against him by the Duke
de Beaufort, the Duke de la Rochefoucauld and
Cardinal de Retz. This powerful faction was
headed by the Duchesse of Longueville, sister to
the great Conde. This lady was equally cele-
brated for beauty, accomplishments, and above all
for political intrigue. She soon gained over her
husband, and her brother, the Prince of Gonti.
They exerted every endeavor, and used every
P 2
212
means to render the royal party odious in the sight of
the people. At length they succeeded in raising a
revolt. The Queen, with the Prince and minister,
were compelled to flee from Paris. Troops were
raised on both sides. Madame de Longueville now
assumed the authority of a queen. She concerted
means of placing the capital in a situation to stand
a regular siege. This intrepid and enterprising
Princess was not in the least dismayed when she
beheld the royal troops advance, and the capital
in which she commanded, blockaded on every side.
Her brother, the great Prince of Conde, conti-
nued faithful to his allegiance. He led on the
attack. The Princess of Longueville, neither mol-
lified by the ties of blood, nor daunted by his mi-
litary fame, as resolutely maintained the defence.
Her spirit of intrigue furnished resources against
every exigency. At the solicitation of the rebels,
Spain lent her assistance. The Archduke, gover-
nor of the low countries, was ready to pour into
France 15,000 men. Gained by the united influ-
ence of the wit and beauty of Madame de Longue-
ville, the great Turenne abandoned his duty.
He took the field against his sovereign, and turned
his arms against his native country. France was
plunged into the horrors of a civil war. Violence,
rapine and desolation spread over the whole coun-
try. Famine began to make its appearance. Mi-
scry and iniquity pervaded the land ; but above
all, in the neighbourhood of the besieged capital
the sufferings were extreme.
213
Nor did religious houses escape the horrible ra-
vages of a desolating war. Many of these seclu-
sions were levelled to the ground. The abbey of
St. Gyran was ransacked; and Port Royal itself
threatened with a similar visitation. In this emer-
gency their friends advised them immediately to
send the nuns to Paris, and themselves to take
possession of the monastery, and to strengthen
it by those fortifications, and to assume them-
selves that military garb, which might, under pre-
sent circumstances, prove the most effectual mode
of preventing an attack.
On this occasion one of the recluses writes as
follows: " The day of St. Mark was chosen for
the translation of the community. Though so
many years have passed away, I seem still to see
the long procession of carriages driving from the
door, and forming a long line down the avenue.
I still remember the peace, silence, and good or-
der, which marked this trying hour ; and seem yet
to see the reverend mother, Angelica, presiding
every where, and superintending the most minute
details, yet with that expression of uninterrupted
peace and love which marked that even whilst she
was diligent in business, she was yet more fervent
in spirit.
" Scarcely had we watched the last carriage
down the avenue with fervent prayers for their
preservation, than we immediately took possession
of the abandoned monastery, and after removing
into it all our furniture, we began to examine how
214
far it would be possible to fortify it so as to render
its walls impervious to attack.
" It was resolved to strengthen the walls, and
to build a variety of small towers along them at
intervals, which should serve as strong holds. Ac-
cordingly we all set to work, and in a very few
days the whole aspect of the place was changed.
Some were occupied in digging the foundations,
others were busied in hewing stone, or in handling
the trowel. From a solitude of prayer and medi-
tation, Port Royal seemed suddenly transformed
into a scene of hurry and activity. Her forests
echoed to the harsh grating of the saw, or rever-
berated the reiterated stroke of the woodman's axe.
Nevertheless, though the occupation was changed,
the same spirit still pervaded every heart. Amidst
the dispatch of business, a heart watching to prayer
was written on every countenance. Surrounded
externally by the horrid alarms of war, an internal
peace reigned in the soul, and whilst the hands
were diligent in earthly concerns, the frequently
uplifted eye shewed that the conversation of every
heart was indeed in heaven. And at the intervals of
each stroke of the axe, the ear caught the songs of
praise, with which the recluses beguiled their hours
of labor. Often as I looked around, and as I con-
templated my companions laboring in the midst of
the forests which enclosed our seclusion, it brought
to my mind the times of Esdras, where the people
of God built the walls of Jerusalem with the sword
in one hand and the trowel in the other.
215
" In the mean time, however, the danger be-
came more pressing, and even before the walls
were completed, the peaceful inhabitants of our
seclusion, were sheathed in military armor. In-
stead of monastic solitude, Port Royal now exhi-
bited three hundred warriors armed cap-a-pee.
Spears and helmets glittered amidst the dark re-
cesses of her forests, and the din of arms was
heard for the first time, in a retreat so eminently
consecrated to prayer. Yet was not the character
of its inhabitants changed. The same devotion
reigned in their hearts, and though the occupation
of their working hours was altered, those de-
voted to exercises of religion or of charity were
never infringed on.
" Yet I must own, that the striking contrast be-
tween the genuine occupations of the disciples of
the Prince of Peace, and our present life, was
painful. Scarcely had the pealing anthem ceased,
when the harsh blast of the trumpet called us to as-
semble in arms. The forest which had never echoed
but to orisons or hymns of praise, was now disturbed
by the clash of arms and the trampling of horses*
hoofs. The wood-pigeons, hares, squirrels, and
other tribes of little animals, which were almost tame
from the undisturbed peace in which they lived, now
started with fear at volleys of musquetry. I remem-
ber feeling particular pain, when, instead of closing
our day with prayer, the deep thunders of the
evening-gun re-echoed from the distant mountains,
and as its blue smoke dissipated itself over the dark
216
and shagged forests, the awful grandeur of the
scene, and perhaps some other secret emotion, used
to fill my soul with deep melancholy. O ! blessed
time, my heart said, when our strength was alone
in the arm of the Lord, and when without trusting
to an arm of flesh, we securely rested under his
shadow !
" Yet surely arms were never wielded by hands
more pure. Whilst their armor proudly glittered
to the sun, the gold and silver with which they
were adorned, concealed the hair-cloth and the
penitential shirt beneath ; and the plumes which
towered over their martial fronts, hid the tear of
compunction which flowed down their cheeks.
Whilst the two-edged falchion glittered from their
side, the hands that wielded it were solely occu-
pied in pouring balm into the wounds of their
afflicted countrymen. The voices which called
to arms, were chiefly occupied in pouring forth,
the prayer of faith, or the thanksgivings of divine
love, by the beds of the dying ; and the gaily ca-
parisoned horses that seemed so eager for the field,
•were solely used in carrying food and raiment to
the distressed. It was an awful sight to see in the
midst of these uncultured solitudes this little troop at
the moment the bell rung for prayer. In one instant
every helmet was cast upon the ground, and with
their heads uncovered, and their faces prostrate in
the dust, a thousand hands cased in steel, were lifted
in suppliant adoration. Thus under the external
garbof war, these excellent menstill served thePrince
217
ofPeace ; and whilst their hands stmed rough like
those of Esau, their hearts and voicstill remained
those of Jacob. Yet I confess I defored the fatal
necessity by which the servants of ^od assumed
even the appearance of evil, and often ;\ve buckled
on bur arms, we could not restrain orvearsand
prayers to God, that he might be plevstl to do
away this direful necessity.
" Meanwhile our venerable minister, M. * Saci,
had not been consulted on the steps whi^ had
been taken. He said but little, nevertheless was
obvious that his heart mourned over us. low-
ever, he contented himself with being morehan
usual in retirement, and pouring out his he;t in
secret before God. Tranquil and recollecte* in
the midst of alarms, his very aspect said to ur
hearts, that he trusted not in an arm of flesh, ut
in the power of the living God. And in the mist
of three hundred armed men, M. de Saci, unanrd,
seemed a stronger defence to them than their unfed
force, if exerted, would have been to Port Roya.
" M. de Saci united in an eminent degree jri-
dence with faithfulness. His deep knowledge <f
the human heart, led him to see the danger cf i
departure, even in appearance, from the ways c€
God. Yet he still waited for the proper moment t>
speak, the moment at which their own experienc
should begin to corroborate the force of his
words.
" Then, and not till then, he spoke. ' My
dear friends/ would he say, 'examine yourselves; I
will not say prce your owriselves, whether ye be
still in the faitl? but try whether you increase with
the same incre^ as formerly, in the love and know-
ledge of God/ The enemy of our souls, who is al-
ways going ^out seeking whom he may devour,
is peculiar/T active in these times of external dis-
order anf ranger, when the soul is in an especial
manner/fcely to be thrown off its guard. Now do
you fin/ that whilst you practise your exercises of
earthlvvarfare, that your heart is solely engaged in
spiritvl combats ? Whilst you wield the arms of
man, oes your heart as fully and as singly as
form'ly depend on God alone for help ? Now
yourniinds are busy in contriving so many
schemes of defence, are your hearts as completely
resjned as formerly to whatever event it may
plee God to send ? My dear friends, if we
wold obviate the effects of public disturbances,
shald we not do well to apply the remedy to their
prhary cause. Now surely the primary cause of
pulic judgments can be no other than public sins.
Whilst then we are endeavoring by force of arms
to ixtirpate the branches, the baneful root still re-
na ns. O ! my dear brethren, should we not be
nuch more effectually serving our country by
ipreading the knowledge and love of the gospel,
ihan by aiming at the defence of any particular
spot, however consecrated ? Amongst the multi-
tudes who have taken up arms in this unhappy
cortest, how has the country been benefited ?
Believe me, we should be doing a greater service
519
to our country by setting an example of humbling
ourselves before God, of confessing our sins, of
walking in his precepts, of being resigned to -his
will, of trusting to his love, and therefore remain-
ing at peace amidst all the horrors and alarms of
war. Civil war is one of the most dreadful judg-
ments of God upon a guilty land. How is it pos-
sible that your minds should be taken up with tem-
poral interests, when you ought to be solely oc-
cupied in seeking a restoration to the divine favor ?
And how can it be, that in the midst of so awful a
judgment, that should only furnish you with amuse-
ment, which ought to be the cause of the deepest
humiliation ? I know, indeed, my brethren, what
human laws allow in such cases, nay what the
great law of nature, the desire of self-preservation,
universally recognizes. But, my dear friends, we
are in a peculiar manner, under divine and not hu-
man laws, we are under obedience, not to nature,
but to grace. Remember, my dear brethren, the
day you each consecrated yourselves to God. If
you did not then resolve to follow the Captain of
your salvation who was made perfect through suf-
ferings, and if you did not intend to have fellow*
ship with him in those sufferings, even to death,
you are not worthy of him. O ! my brethren, how
little did I expect when I received your vows, to
behold these very altars where you pronounced
them venerable by their antiquity, and by the
successive generations of saints who have for cen-
550
tunes surrounded them, imbrued and defiled, for
so they are, even by the mere semblance of blood
and carnage. The horrors of war are ever dreadful
to the Christian mind ; but surely this is as that
abomination of desolation spoken of by the prophet
Daniel, when that which is unclean, shall even
defile the holy places and the temple of the Most
High.'
" Such were the sentiments of our reverend
pastor. Nor did his children need to have them
twice repeated. Though the judgment had erred,
the heart had remained pure. Arms were ba-
nished Port Royal. The nuns returned to their
monastery. We resumed our former occupations,
and Port Royal became as heretofore an house solely
dedicated to prayer and praise."
Meanwhile the horrors of war raged all around
with redoubled fury. Pillage and assassinations
desolated the country on every hand. Incen-
diaries and marauding parties laid waste the
produce of the land, and famine and pestilence
depopulated the cities.
In this hour of exigency, the inhabitants of Port
Royal proved the guardian angels of the land.
This hospitable seclusion became an asylum to the
distressed. Their whole attention was turned to
assist their unhappy country. Several hundred
persons were every day supplied with food from
this monastery. Multitudes of sick and wounded
were attended by the recluses. They visited every
part of the district, to relieve the wants of the inha-
bitants, and to preach peace and concord. Their
houses were crowded with persons who sought an
asylum from the tempest. Many of their most
bitter enemies were entertained at Port Royal dur-
ing all the time of the siege. The whole of the
monastic enclosure was crowded with the effects
which their poor neighbours brought there as to a
place of safety. The Rev. Abbess Angelica writes
in the following terms to one of her friends: " We
are all occupied in contriving soups and pottage
for the poor. This is, indeed, an awful time. Our
gentlemen, as they were taking their rounds yester-
day, found two poor persons starved to death ; and
met with a young woman on the very point of kill-
ing her child, because she had no food for it. All
is pillaged around ; corn-fields are trampled over
by the cavalry, in presence of the starving owners ;
despair has seized all whose confidence is not in
God ; nobody will any longer plough or dig ;
there are no horses, indeed, left for the former, nor
if there were, is any person certain of reaping what
he sows ; all is stolen.
" Perhaps I shall not be able to send you a letter
to-morrow, for all our horses and asses are dead
with hunger. O how little do princes know the
detailed horrors of war! All the provender of the
beasts we were obliged to divide between ourselves
and the starving poor. We concealed as many of
the peasants and of their cattle as we could in our
monastery, to save them from being murdered, and
losing all their substance. Our dormitory and the
chapter- house were full of horses. We were al-
most stifled, by being pent up with these beasts.
But we could not resist the piercing lamentations
of the starving and heart-broken poor. In the
cellar were concealed forty cows. Our court-yards
and out-houses are stuffed full of fowls, turkeys,
ducks, geese, and asses. The church is piled up
to the ceiling with corn, oats, beans, and pease ; and
with caldrons, kettles, and other things belonging
to the cottagers. Every time we enter the chapel,
\ve are obliged to scramble over sacks of flour, and
all sorts of rubbish. The floor of the choir is com-
pletely covered with the libraries of our gentlemen.
Thirty or forty nuns from other convents have fled
here too for refuge. Our laundry is thronged by
the aged, the blind, the maimed, the halt, and in-
fants. The infirmary is full of sick and wounded.
We have torn up all our rags and linen clothes to
dress their sores. We have no more, and are
now at our wits' ends. The cold is excessive, and
all our fire-wood is consumed. We dare not go
into the woods for any more, as they are full of ma-
rauding parties. We hear that the Abbey of St.
Cyran has been burnt and pillaged. Our own is
threatened with an attack every day. The cold
weather alone preserves us from pestilence. We
are so closely crowded, that deaths happen conti-
nually ; God, however, is with us, and we are in
peace."
Such is war! How impossible does it appear
253
that any Christian should b? engaged in it ! How
wonderful that the perpetra^rs of such horrors,
should be so deluded, as to \magine themselves
amongst the children of the God of love !
Port Royal continued to be dist^guished for its
charity during the whole period of de war.
A society, such as Port Royal, couU not be long
without experiencing the truth of their livine Mas-
ter's declaration, that all who will live godly in
Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution. Inall ages,
as in that of the primitive church, the introduction
of the gospel is like bringing a sword on earth,
dividing between the good and the bad.
At the first institution of the reform at Port
Royal, the M. Angelica had experienced some ie-
gree of opposition. Whilst the excellent of lier
order availed themselves of so bright an example,
those who remained unconverted from the error of
their ways, counted her life madness, and her un-
dertaking to be without hope.
The recluses had not escaped a share of the same
aspersions.
M. le Maitre's conversion took place in 1638,
just before the imprisonment of M. de St. Cyran,
and the death of Jansenius. They shared in a
measure the persecution of their friends. Two
months after the recluses first arrived at Port Royal,
they had been compelled to flee from the researches
of Cardinal Richelieu. They escaped to La Ferte
Milon — there they lived concealed for some
months. After the sto'm was blown over, they
again returned to PorfRoyal.
These pages are r*her intended as a compendi-
ous explanation ofthe nature of the institution of
Port Royal, tha* as an history of the persecutions,
by which it w*s at length destroyed.
It may sufTce briefly to observe, that many causes
conspired *> render the Jesuits inimical to this in-
stitution. These causes may, perhaps, be referred
to three general heads : their enmity to M. de St.
Cyran,.he grounds of which are elsewhere related;
their jealousy of the growing celebrity of a society
\vhicr already eclipsed their own in literary fame
— a society which already outshone them in acade-
mical institutions, and which threatened to do so in
sp ritual direction. Thirdly, they were actuated
by a determined animosity against the family of
Arnauld, the motives of which were as follows:
The grandfather of the M. Angelica had been
the most eminent advocate of his day. He was em-
ployed by the university of Paris in an important
cause against the Jesuits. He gained his suit. Be-
sides this, a more recent cause of offence took place.
The strict morality and ascetic habits of the Jan-
senists, had been long interpreted as a silent reflec-
tion on the lax principles of the casuists. A pub-
lication of Dr. Arnauld's aggravated their divplea-
sure. He published a work on frequent commu-
nion, deploring the levity with which too many
persons approach that sacred mystery. He spoke
of the necessity of producing genuine fruits of re-
pentance, before the seed of a living faith can be
implanted. He urged the necessity of a real cessa-
tion from sin, and an heart-felt desire to relinquish
evil, previous to absolution. He concluded by ob-
serving, that no repentance could be termed evan-
gelical, whilst it arose solely from a fear of punish-
ment, unmixed with a true love of God. The*
whole work was supported by ample quotations
from the Scriptures, and the fathers of the church.
This book created considerable alarm amongst
the Jesuits. The chief object of their society was,
to obtain unlimited power by a very extensive spi-
ritual direction. They especially coveted to guide
the consciences of men in power. In this aim, their
success was proportioned to their assiduity. There
were very few princes on the throne, nobles in the
realm, dignitaries in the church, or religious houses
belonging to any order, which were not either di-
rectly or remotely under their influence. Amidst
so considerable a multitude of the great and power-
ful, there were many who, whilst they wished not
to lose heaven, were yet resolved to continue in
sin. Their ghostly fathers were hence reduced to
the alternative, either of wholly breaking with
them, or of finding out some accommodating system
of morality, by which they might at once retain
their influence, and yet in a measure save appear-
ances, as it respected their own spiritual reputation.
To this end they had framed their celebrated system
of casuistic morality.
Q.
2,26
A work could not then be acceptable, the very
object of which was to tear away every refuge of
lies. Should M. Arnauld succeed in establishing
the doctrine of penitence, they could only have a
choice of two evils. Either their reputation for
piety would sink for not requiring; them. Then
their direction would not be sought. Or else, if
they did exact rigorous penance, they well knew
that the bulk of their flock would instantly quit
them for milder pastors.
In this difficulty, nothing remained but to brand
M. Arnauld and his work with heresy. The ex-
tensive direction of the Jesuits gave them a very
wide influence, especially over the consciences of
the great. It began to be every where rumored,
and especially at court, that a new heresy was
sprung up. That unless Port Royal was extir-
pated, the most heavy judgments, and the most sig-
nal strokes of divine vengeance, would speedily
overwhelm the land. The Sorbonne, and all the
Gallican clergy, were appealed to by the Jesuits.
Rome itself was applied to, respecting M. Ar-
nauld's work.
Our Lord has declared, that the world will love
its own. A decision was accordingly given, such
as might have been expected. The Jansenists were
condemned.
In February 1656, the Jesuits obtained in the
Sorbonne, a censure of Father Cornet's five propo-
sitions. These celebrated propositions, it may be
remembered, had been artfully framed by the Je-
£27
t
suits, and were pretended to be extracted from the
Augustinus of Jansenius. They were not, how-
ever, contented by the empty honors of a triumph.
They resolved to reap some substantial fruit of
their victory. The Jesuits had long termed the
little schools of Port Royal, the seminaries of Jan-
senism, and hot-bed of heresy. They now obtained
an order from government to abolish them. The
officers of the police, accompanied by a troop of
archers were sent to Port Royal des Champs, where
they made a list of the schools. They then pro-
ceeded to each, and immediately turned out all the
masters and scholars, and sent all the recluses away
from Port Royal des Champs on pain of imprison-
ment.
Immediately after, an order of council was signed
against the nuns. It was resolved, that every scho-
lar, postulant, and novice, should be turned out of
both the houses of Port Royal. This decree had
been given : it was on the point of being carried
into execution, when, by a most extraordinary cir-
cumstance, a stop was put to the whole persecution.
The bare mention that this incident did occur, can-
not be omitted, because it forms an important epocha
in the history of the institution. It arrested the
arm of the secular power; it disarmed the ven--
geance of a powerful and despotic monarch ; it
stayed the thunders of the Vatican ; and it turned
the tide of opinion of a whole. nation. The parti-
culars are too long to be here inserted. The reader
is referred to the five followin accounts: Histoire
22$
du miracle de la sainte Epine, voyez le Seme vol.
des Memoires de Fontaine. Notes de Nicole au
4me vol. des Lettres Pi ovinciales. Racine histoire
abregee de Port Royal. Choiseul memoires sur la
Religion. Attestations des Grands vicaires de
Paris sur le miracle de la Sainte Epine. It will be
sufficient in these pages, to say, that such a cir-
cumstance took place at Port Royal des Champs.
A circumstance so numerously attested by eye-
witnesses of the most unsuspected piety, and most
distinguished intelligence, that no person who ad-
mits the possibility of miraculous interpositions,
can doubt it. On the other hand, it is so extraor-
dinary, and so opposite to the operations of nature,
that no one who disbelieves in occasional superna-
tural interpositions, can possibly admit it.
The circumstance alluded to was a miraculous
cure said to be operated on the niece of the great
Pascal. This event was the cause of his conversion.
He wore, ever after, a seal, the device of which was
a crown of thorns, from which emanated rays of
light. Underneath was this motto: " I know in
whom I have believed. Scio cui credidi"
Whatever opinion may be entertained, as to the
mode by which this cure was wrought, one thing is
certain. An attestation of the fact was obtained
from the very officers who had received the orders
for persecution. The first surgeons in Paris were
examined upon oath. Port Royal was thronged for
many weeks by persons who went to ascertain the
truth of their deposition. The consequence was,
229
that Port Royal was freed from any further perse-
cution. The storm was hushed for a season ; the
recluses gradually returned ; and the valley of
Port Royal des Champs flourished as before.
Though deprived of its schools, this solitude ex-
tended its usefulness, if possihle, more than ever.
Its fame had been increased by persecution, and its
piety was venerated from the patience with which
that persecution had been endured. Numbers came
to visit Port Royal from religious motives. Many,
whose duties still retained them in the world, yet
wished to profit by the pious example of this so-
ciety. They came to retire there for a season, con-
forming to the rules of the institution whilst they
stayed, and keeping up a constant correspondence
with its members when they were absent. Multi-
tudes of persons of this description placed them-
selves under the direction of Port Royal. Con-
versions without number were daily made. The
Queen of Poland, the Princesse Guimenee, the
Dukes and Duchesses of Luynes, Liancourt, and
Ponchateau, the Marqnisses of Sevigne and Sable,
were but a very small portion of the multitudes
who annually retired there, and who edified the
world by an upright and godly conversation. There
were at this time two hundred and fifty stated in-
habitants of Port Royal des Champs, including both
the nuns and recluses. The numbers of those who
were under their direction, and who occasionally
retired there, amounted to several hundreds.
At this period, a conversion took place which
230
astonished France. It ought to have convinced
their enemies of the real piety of the Jansenists.
It would no doubt have done so, had they attended
to our Lord's rule, to judge of the tree by its fruits.
Madame de Longueville, that haughty princess,
whose beauty, whose wit, and whose talents, had
hitherto been made subservient to the most bound-
less ambition ; that same person, who plunged her
country into the horrors of a civil war, to gratify
her own disappointed pride ; that heroine, who
had so long withstood the great Conde, Madame
de Longueville became suddenly an altered cha-
racter. She visited Port Royal. Her schemes of
dominion were renounced ; the haughty intrepidity
of her manner disappeared ; her restless and per-
turbed spirit became calm and peaceful. She sud*
denly became distinguished for piety, humility,
and the love of retirement. She brought with her
the Prince and Princess of Conti, her brother and
sister, and introduced them at Port Royal. The
same change was soon perceptible in them. They
deplored, with bitter tears, the widely extended
evils their ambition had occasioned. The immense
revenues they had expended, in maintaining a de-
gree of state more than royal, was now wholly de-
voted to charity. Their houses, retinue, and equip-
age, became marked with strict economy. Their
princely revenues were poured, with ample muni-
ficence, into the bosom of those whose fortunes had
been injured by the civil war. They did not re-
fuse to make the most humiliating and public ac-
231
knowledgments of their guilt. Nor did they ever
afterwards spend more than was absolutely needful
on themselves ; till, after a lapse of many years, all
the provinces injured by the war, had been fully
indemnified by their princely donations.
So splendid an example of the principles in-
stilled at Port Royal, ought to have disarmed the
malice of its enemies, and silenced their clamors.
It had, however, precisely the contrary effect. It
only fomented their envy, and strengthened their
resolution to conspire its utter ruin.
In 1660, a second formulary was obtained by the
Jesuits, an account of which has been given in the
article Jansenius. It was framed by the Archbishop
of Thoulouse. Not only all the clergy, but all
schoolmasters, and all the members of religious
houses, even nuns were required to give their sig-
natures. Four of the bishops refused their appro-
bation, viz. the bishops of Alet, Pamiers, Angers,
and Beauvais. The Jansenists too, unanimously
refused their subscription. The recluses alleged
the celebrated distinction between the duty of sub-
mission in matters of faith, and matters of fact.
The nuns declared, that the work of Jansenius be-
ing in Latin, it was impossible they could decide
on oath, upon the contents of a book they could
not even read. It might have been reasonably sup-
posed, that this excuse would have been sufficient.
It proved, however, the signal of immediate perse-
cation.
The novices and scholars were directly expelled
232
from Port Royal des Champs, and the directors and
confessors banished. The lieutenant of the police,
with a troop of horse, was sent to visit both houses.
M. Singlin, M. Arnauld, M. de St. Marthe, and
M. Saci, were obliged to flee for the preservation of
their lives.
At this period, the M. Angelica, exhausted by
a persecution of twenty-five years, was on her
death-bed. Yet, whilst her body yielded to the
stroke, the strength of her mind remained un-
shaken. She leaned on God by a firm faith. She
found him to be an immutable support. When
the novices were expelled, the Duchess de Chev-
reuse, came to take away Mes.lles de Luynes, her
sisters-in-law. She could not help complimenting
the M. Angelica on her fortitude. " Madam,"
replied the dying saint, " whilst there is a God in
heaven, I must trust in him." A reply truly
worthy the sister of the great Arnauld. It is, in-
deed, very similar to one he many years afterwards
made Nicole. They had been hunted from place
to place, on account of their religious publications.
Arnauld wishing Nicole to assist him in a new
work, the latter observed, " We are now old, when
do you intend to rest?" — " Rest!" returned Ar-
nauld, " why, have we not all eternity to rest in?"
At the time when the M. Angelica's death was
hourly expected, the lieutenant of the police was
sent into the house with an armed guard. He
brought a company of men, who were directed to
wall up every door of access to the convent. One
333
only was excepted, and at that four sentries were
placed on guard. The nuns who surrounded the
dying Abbess, wept bitterly. They saw their ho-
nored Mother bereft of every human comfort,
both spiritual and temporal, in her last moments.
" My daughters," said she, " I never placed any
man in the room of God : blessed be his goodness,
I have not now man, but God himself, to uphold
me. His mercies never fail to those who believe
in his name."
The nuns were every moment entering the room
with tidings of aggravated calamities and violence.
They spoke to each other in a whisper, supposing
the dying Abbess did not hear. She, however,
suddenly said, " My dear sisters, when I consider
the dignity of such an affliction, I tremble. How
unworthy are we of the honor of suffering for our
Lord and for his truth ! I am abased to the dust
in thinking of it!"
Mother Angelica died on the 6th of August,
1661, aged seventy. Her corpse was exposed ac-
cording to custom, at the grate which divided the
chapel from the nuns' choir. The news of her death
was soon spread over Paris. The common people,
who revered her as a saint, filled the church, and
came in crowds to look at her. For a whole day
and night, two nuns were continually employed in
distributing through the grate, little remembrances
of her to the multitude without, who were all
bathed in tears.
At the time of M. Angelica's death, M. Singlin
234
and M. de Saci, the directors of Port Royal, were
concealed in an obscure lodging in the neighbour-
hood. They heard the solemn stroke of her pass-
ing bell. They saw the crowds which thronged
the convent-door, and they heard the tolling for
her funeral. They guessed the occasion, but it
•was impossible to have any communication with the
monastery. Neither could they make any inquiry,
without betraying themselves, and, consequently,
exposing their lives.
A short time after the M. Angelica's funeral,
the lieutenant of the police, with two hundred
archers, went to both the houses of Port Royal.
They forcibly entered the chapter-house, and seized
eighteen of the nuns. They were placed in sepa-
rate carriages. Each was conveyed, under a strong
escort, to a different monastery. There they were
imprisoned in small cells, and treated with the
greatest rigor. Among these nuns, were the vener-
able Mother Agnes, then very infirm ; and the
sister Angelica of St. John Arnauid. This lady,
afterwards so celebrated as Abbess of Port Royal,
possessed all the strength of mind of her aunt, the
M. Angelica. She had, perhaps, a still superior
genius and intellectual cultivation. After a very
rigorous imprisonment for a considerable time, they
were all sent back to Port Royal des Champs. The
sister Angelica was chosen Abbess, and the com-
munity flattered themselves with the hope of a
peaceful enjoyment of their beloved seclusion. In
this hope they were mistaken. The house was
335
immediately surrounded by an armed guard, sen-
tries were placed at every door. They were for-
bidden from even taking the air in their own gar-
dens. They were deprived of their ministers ; in-
terdicted the sacraments ; and declared rebels and
heretics^
This iniquitous persecution lasted some years.
During that time great numbers died, in conse-
quence of the cruelties and insults they underwent.
They expired, praying for their persecutors, though
they were, even then, denied Christian commu-
nion, and were, after their death, refused the rules
of Christian sepulture. It was at this juncture
that M. Lancelot's letter was written to the M.
Angelica of St. John. He happened to have an
opportunity of sending it by M. de Brienne. Dur-
ing this heavy persecution, the constancy, pru-
dence, and piety, of the M. Angelica, was the stay
and support of the community.
The recluses, meanwhile, were exposed to suffer-
ings little less severe than the nuns. Hand-bills
•were pasted in the corners of every street, offering
rewards to those who should apprehend them.
Many of the clergy did not hesitate to express
their hopes of bringing them to the Bastile. or the
stake.
They wandered from one hiding place to an-
other, with their lives in their hands. Not unfre-
quently the police-officers searched the very rooms
in which they lay concealed. At length, M. Sin-
glin died from the extremity of suffering, M. de
236
Saci and M. Fontaine were seized, and put in the
Bastile. Their arrest was accompanied with many
circumstances of unnecessary cruelty. During their
stay in the Bastile, they were continually threatened
with poison. How often may the just retribution
of God be traced even in this life ! The officer, who
thus exceeded his commission, in unmercifully per-
secuting the servants of his Lord, himself died a
death of torture, two months after, by the hand of
his own child. This officer was M. Aubray, father
to the famous, or rather infamous, poisoner, the
Marchioness de Brinvilliers.
This persecution of the Port Royalists continued
for some years.
Meanwhile, that part of their friends, whom I
have described as only occasionally retiring to Port
Royal, escaped the extremity of the tempest. They
were, indeed, marked as Jansenists in the public
eye, but their high rank exempted them from vio-
lence, and their eminent virtue and integrity in dis-
charging the most important trusts, compelled uni-
versal respect and esteem. M. de Pomponne, son
to M. d'Andilli, and brother to the Abbess of Port
Royal, was minister of state. M. H. Arnauld was
Bishop of Angers ; the Duke of Liancourt was
Governor of Normandy. Whole provinces were
reaping the fruits of the munificence of the Duke
and Duchesse of Longueville, and the Prince and
Princesse of Gonti. However bigoted men might
be, they were too clear sighted to employ persecu-
tion against those with whose exaltation their own
iaterests was so immediately interwoven. Hence
these, and many other personages of equal merit,
still possessed considerable influence.
These excellent persons still entertained the most
warm affection and the most profound veneration
for the saints, whose piety had been instrumental
in their conversion. They only waited a favorable
opportunity to shew the firmness of their attach*
ment, by effectually serving them.
As soon as the first fury of the storm had a little
spent itself, they consulted together. They re-
solved to unite their strength, and to exert the
whole weight of their influence to serve their
friends. Madame de Longueville took upon her-
self to be the ostensible head of this party. All
deliberations were carried on at the hotel Longue-
ville. Under her protection, the Archbishop of
Sens, the Bishop of Chalons, with Arnauld and
Nicole, drew up a plan of pacification. They pro-
posed, that on their part, the signature of the for-
mulary should be conceded, on condition that on
the Pope's, an explanation should be accepted.
This explanation contained a full submission in
matters of faith, and promised, as before, a respect-
ful silence in matters of fact.
The Duchess of Longueville wrote herself to
the Pope on the subject. Clement IX. had then
just entered on his pontificate. He was a man of
a pacific disposition, and had long deplored the
divisions of the church. He immediately issued
a brief of reconciliation. This act was termed
the pacification of Clement IX. It took place
in 1668.
The prison-doors were immediately opened.
M. Arnauld was introduced at court. The re-
cluses returned in peace to Port Royal. The
nuns were released from their long confinement.
The confessors and directors were restored. Uni-
versal felicitations were made to the Jansenists.
Even the Gallican clergy and the Archbishop of
Paris, who had declared them rebels and heretics
joined in congratulations. They found no dif*
ficulty, at the King's request, in proclaiming their
perfect orthodoxy and sanctity. The joy of the
common people was unbounded ; for they had
always considered the Jansenists as saints. But
above all, the joy of the venerable directors was
great when they found that their flock, though
so long scattered, had individually deepened in
piety. They were as the three children coming
out of the furnace, not only with their clothes
unsinged, but loosed from the bonds with which
they entered.
The period which immediately succeeded this
persecution, was the brightest in the annals of
Port Royal. The fame of this seclusion was ex-
tensively spread. Its reputation, both for learn-
ing and sanctity, were firmly established. The
number of nuns and of recluses became augmented
in a degree far exceeding that of any former pe-
riod. Amongst several of the new recluses were
persons of very large fortune. Considerable sums
were expended in enlarging the monastery and
gardens. The Duke of Luynes and M. de Bag-
nals had each appropriated immense sums to add
to the abbey. The former of these gentlemen
alone built an additional dormitory containing
seventy-two cells. The Duke of Liancourt also
and Madame de Longueville built several ne\y
apartments. Port Royal des Champs became one
of the most spacious abbeys in all France. It con-
tained nearly two hundred nuns, besides a very
considerable number of ladies, who had apart-
ments in the monastery, and whose piety induced
them to wish to board there without assuming the
monastic habit. The recluses also had very con-
siderably increased their numbers, and the cele-
brity of Port Royal had trebly multiplied the
number of those friends, who wished to be under
their direction. Families of rank, affluence, and
piety, who did not wish to quit their avocations
in the world, built themselves country houses in
the valley of Port Royal, in order to enjoy the
society of its pious and learned inhabitants.
Amongst this class were the Duchess of Longue-
ville, the Duke and Duchess of Luynes, and of
Liancourt.
The Port Royalists might now be divided into
three general classes. The nuns who occupied the
monastery and followed the rule of Gisteaux.
The recluses, who led a retired life, free from all
luxury, or unnecessary intercourse with men, and
who each served the whole community by follow-
240
ing some occupation either manual or intellectual.
These were bound by no vows. They at this pe-
riod consisted of two companies. The men who
lived at the farm-house belonging to Port Royal
and other small cottages, and the ladies above men-
tioned, who boarded in apartments in the monastery.
The third class was composed of the innumerable
multitude of friends under their direction. Some
of them had country houses near Port Royal, and
others only occasionally retired to board there.
The institution now began to be a very consider-
able one. It had been long important in the eyes of
the world, from the literary celebrity and acknow-
ledged piety of its persecuted inhabitants. It now
began to be so from the magnitude of its numbers,
and from the immense wealth and exalted rank of
a large proportion of its members. For eleven
years it continued to flourish. Its prosperity and
usefulness seemed to increase day by day. On
every side it appeared blessing and blessed. The
same God who had given, them grace sufficient to
their day in adversity, now bestowed on them that
double portion which is needful to stand in pro-
sperity. Though so many rich, so many noble, so
many learned, were called, still Port Royal stood a
bright example of unfeigned humility and self-
abasement ; of self-denial, charity, daily taking up
the cross, and following a crucified Lord. For the
short space of eleven years they shone forth a bril-
liant example of the unison of almost every gift of
nature and of grace.
241
At the end of this period Madame de Longue-
ville died. Her death took place in 1679- It
then clearly appeared what had heen the real mo-
tive for suspending the persecution. The King's
respect for so near a relative, was the true cause
of the Jansenists being so long unmolested during
the life of that princess. She had scarcely been
deceased one month before the Jesuits openly re-
newed their hostilities.
That storm now burst upon them which finally
overwhelmed Port Royal. All the recluses received
an order from government finally and immediately
to quit Port Royal. Most of them died in
poverty and exile, but rich in faith and good works.
A lingering, but cruel persecution, was instituted
against the nuns, who were now deprived of their
protectors. They were first interdicted from re-
ceiving either scholars or novices. This alone
would have ensured the termination of the establish-
ment. But their enemies were riot content with
waiting what might be called its natural death. They
found means to wrest from them the house of Port
Royal de Paris and half their revenues. Although
thus unjustly deprived of their property, their
charity did not fail. They had formerly main-
tained four medical men on purpose to attend the
poor. Their funds were now inadequate to this
expense. They learned to dress their wounds them-
selves. As they had formerly poured forth cha-
rities out of their abundance, they now denied
themselves to continue them in their poverty.
E
242
They have frequently with a cheerful countenance
made a liberal donation, when at the same time
they had not wherewith to purchase food for the
next meal.
Thus affairs continued till the year 1710. At
that period its final destruction was resolved upon.
M. d. Argenson with 300 archers invested Port
Royal des Champs. The nuns were seized and
placed in separate carriages. Each was guarded
by armed men. They were not allowed even tea
minutes to take a last adieu of each other and of
Port Royal. They sat out at a very advanced sea-
son of the year, and without having broken their
fast. They were each conveyed to separate mo-
nasteries. There they were to be imprisoned for
life. Many of them only survived a few days the
hardship of their journey, and the brutality with
which they were treated.
Scarcely were the nuns out of the house, when
this abbey, so venerable for a succession of pious
inhabitants, was abandoned to pillage. An hun-
dred carts loaded with its spoils were taken away.
The poor stood around weeping. A considerable
sum was raised by the collection of the offerings
made by the villagers, to purchase little relics of
their beloved Port Royal.
Yet even this destruction could not satiate the
vengeance of their implacable enemies. They were
offended at the respect expressed by the neigh-
bouring peasants to the ruined remains of Port
Royal. They beheld with an envious eye the ve-
243
neration with which they visited the cemetery which
contained the ashes of so long a succession of
saints.
The house was razed to the ground ; and even
the very foundations ploughed up. The gardens
and walks were demolished, and the dead were even
torn from their graves, that not a vestige might be
left to mark the spot where this celebrated institu-
tion had stood.
Such was the end of Port Royal ! So terminated
an institution which had so long shone a bright ex-
ample of the union of piety and learning. It
is surprising that a society which engaged so
much attention scarcely a century ago, should now
be so little known, in a country which daily en-
joys the fruits of its labors. Whilst English youth
owe the rudiments of ancient literature to Lancelot
Arnauid, the formation of their taste to Racine
and Pascal ; whilst our countrymen derive learn-
ing from the labors of Tillemont, and piety from
the works of Pascal, Nicole and Quesriel, surely no
English reader ought to be indifferent to the un-
timely fate of Port Royal.
The following beautiful description of Port Royal
is translated from a work of the Rev. M. Petitpied,
entitled — " Obedientiae credulae vana Religio," vid.
2 vol. cap. 9. p. 21. It was written at the close of
1710, a very short time after the imprisonment of
the nuns and before the final demolition of the rno*
nastery in 1711.
" II n'y a point eu de monastere oh la discipline r£gu«
R 2
244
lieVe se soit mieux soutenue. Jamais on n'a eu une maison
plus sainte, plus eloignee de la corruption du monde, plus
attentive aux loix de 1'Eglise ; plus soumise aux pasteurs, plus
attached a toutes les regies.
" Le vceu de la pauvret6 religieuse s'y observoit dans toute
son 6tendue. Les soeurs ne possedoient rien en propre, tout
e"toit en commun parmi elles ; et encore dans Tusage de ces
biens qu'elles possedoient en commun, qu£lle admirable sim-
plicite, qu'elle moderation, quel 61oignement du faste et de la
vanit6 ! Tant qu'il leur a 6te permis de recevoir des filles a la
profession de la vie religieuse, jamais une riche dot n'a 6t6 le
prix du vo3u de la pauvrete et leur maison toujours fermee a
la faveur, a la recommendation, aux interets humains ne
s'ouvroit qu'a la vertu eprouvee et a la vocation clairement re-
connue. On les voyoit pleines de respect pour les meres,
mais de ce respect qui produit 1'amitie et la confiance. Elles
vivoient ensemble dans la plus parfaite union. Les entretiens
avec les personnes du dehors 6toient rares, mais sans familia-
rite, et toujours sous les yeux d'une assistante.
*' On admiroit ce profond silence qui regnoit dans la mai-
son, cette modestie serieuse, cette uniformite dans les exercises,
cette application contintielle a la pri6re, ces larmes si douces,
et si consolantes, qui en etoient le fruit, ces lectures egalement
pieuses et solides, eloignees de toute vaine curiosite, ces au-
moncs vers6es avec abondance dans le sein des pauvres. La
vie y etoit austere et frugale, le soiTieil court, les veilles
longues, et fr6quentes, les jeunes soutenus jusqu'au soir, la foi
pure, Tesperance anim6e, la charite brulante. L'mterieur de
la maison 6toit pour les jeunes filles, un ecole de vertu, et de
piet6 ; Texterieur etoit rempli de laiques vertueux, qui s'exer-
^oieut courageusement dans les plus rudes travaux de la peni-
tence. Helas, qui peut dire combien il s'y est forme de
saints qui ne sout connus que de Dieu seul, et dont les cen-
dres sont cach6es dans ces lieux jusqu* au terns de la ma-
nifestation !
245
" Que dirai je de Toffice public de TEglise! Quel concours
nuit et jour. Quelle assiduite ! Quelle perseverance ! Quelle
violence pour me servir de T expression de Tertallien, ne
faisoit on point £ Dieu, par 1'union de ces prieres si ferventes
et si animees ! Les ceremonies s'y fai&oient avec dignite, niais
sans pompe, et avec une simplicite e"difiante. Le chant ra-
vissoit : vous auriez cru entendre des Anges. C'6toit des voix
douces, distinctes, articu!6es, harmonieuses, touchantes, qui
attendrissoient jusqu'a faire repandres des larmes, et qui
remplissoient en meme te.Ls le creur dejoie et de conso-
lation.
" L'auguste majeste" de Dieu se faisoit sentir dans ces saints
lieux. Jesus Christ present sur 1'autel y etoit adore continu-
ellement, nuit et jour, sans interruption. Les saints mys-
teres y 6toient offerts avec une terreur sainte, religieuse, et
pleine de foi. L'ardent amour que ces pieuses filles avoient
pour Jesus Christ, leur faisoit desirer sans cesse et recevoir
souvent la divine Eucharistie, avec un empressement et un
feu, dotit I'activit6 pourtant 6toit quelquefois retenue pur un
vif sentiment d'humilite et de penitence.
" O sainte valle"e ! O sacree demeure ! O cendres des
saints qui reposent dans ces lieux ! Le monastere de Port
Royal peut bien etre renverse" : mais la posterite saura, ce que
ni la suite des siecles, ni I'iniquit6 des homines ue feront ja-
mais oublier, que cette maison si sainte, a peri enfin, non pas
par aucun crime qui s»'y soit commis, non par Fambition des
religieuses, non par aucun difFerend survenu entre elles, non
par de folles et excessives d6penses, non par des Edifices
somptueux t6merairemcnt entrepris, non par le relachement
de la discipline, qui depuis cent ans qu'elle a 6te etablie dans ce
monastere s'y est toujours egalement soutenue ; mais, ce qui
est incroyable, par un scrupule religieux, et par un attache-
ment inviolable a la sincerit6 chr6ti6nne. Chose inouie
jusqu'd nos jours ! Et quand m£me il n'en resteroit aucun
monument icrit ; les ruines raeme de ce lieu, si digne de vene-
546
ration, Reverent, pour ainsi dire leur voix, et s6rviront de
t6moignage eternel !"
This exquisitely beautiful passage could only be
spoiled by a translation.
The foregoing pages, though so long for a note,
yet only convey a general idea of the institution.
Many of the principal characters would each re-
quire a distinct account. Several very rare works
relative to Port Royal have fallen into the Edi-
tor's hands, who has completed a large compi-
lation from them. It may, perhaps, hereafter be
presented to the public.
NOTES.
NOTE— PAGZ 2.
ST. FRANCIS DE SALES was a native of the diocese of Geneva,
He was born in 1567, at the Chateau de Sales. The Count dc
Sales, his father, intended him for the law, in which his talents
soon procured him distinction. The early and deep piety of
Francis soon led him to entertain other views. At the early age
of eighteen he solemnly dedicated himself to the service of God,
and determined to renounce all secular pursuits. He relinquished
his title in favour of his brother ; and entered himself into the
church. His fervent piety soon rendered him conspicuous. He
was appointed to a laborious mission amongst the Calvinists and
Zuinglians. They chiefly inhabited the region immediately sur-
rounding the Alps. The hardships which St. Francis underwent
in this undertaking, were prodigious. His escapes at times appeared
almost miraculous. The success with which these missions were
crowned, was almost unexampled. He is said, in the short space
of twelve years, to have been instrumental in proselyting seventy
thousand persons.
St. Francis de Sales was nominated Bishop and Prince of Geneva,
in 1602. The piety of men of equally deep religion often assumes
distinct characters, according to the peculiar service they are
designed by God to render the church. St. Francis de Sales holds
one of the first ranks amongst enlightened mystics. The deep
piety and spirituality which breathes throughout his works, is said
by some, to have formed the early taste of Fenelon. It is certain
that the archbishop of Cambray was a great admirer of his writings.
It forms a singular coincidence, that he was not only named after
St. Francis, but bore so striking a resemblance, in every part of
his character, to the bishop of Geneva.
248 NOTES.
St. Francis de Sales, at the express desire of the Duke of Savoy,
had a long interview with Theodore Beza. They parted with
mutual esteem ; but neither convinced the other.
St. Francis had formed a peculiar friendship with the Baroness
de Chantal, a lady of deep piety, who had placed herself under his
direction.
In 1610 he instituted a new religious society, entitled The Order
of the Visitation. He placed his friend Madame de Chantal at
the head of it.
St. Francis was universally beloved and respected. Cardinal
Perron was used to say of him, " My arguments indeed convince
heretics; but his example alone converts them." This observation
is similar to that which the Queen of Poland afterwards made on
Bossuet and Fenelon. " Bossuet," said she, " convinces us of the
truth of Christianity ; but Fenelon makes us love it."
The Princess Christina of France once presented the bishop
with a very valuable diamond ring. She requested him to wear
it as a testimony of her esteem. Above all, she desired him
never to part with it. *' Not," said he, u unless the poor should
want it."
One day, his steward informed him that he had just gained a
very important law-suit. It had been instituted to recover the
revenues of the bishopric, which some persons in the diocese had
unjustly and fraudulently seized upon.
The steward told him, he was about to make them refund to the
uttermost farthing; the sum being very considerable. Faithfulness,
returned St. Francis, obliged me to begin a law-suit, which in-
volved the rights of my successor : Christian love obliges me to
remit the demand, for the pleasure of winning the hearts this
contest may have estranged.
He died 1622, after having led the life of an Irenaeus, or a
Polycarp.
His works have been the favorite companions of Christians
of all denominations. The most celebrated are, Traite de 1' Amour
de Dieu, 3 vols. in 12mo. well abridged in one, by Tricalet. Lettres
Spirituelles, 2 vols. folio. Solide et Vraie Pietc, 1 vol. I2mo.
His life is written by several authors. That by the Abbe Mor-
lollier (2 vols. in 12mo.), is most esteemed. It is well worth the
NOTES. 249
perusal. The abridgment of his Esprit (one thick vol. in 12mo.)
is also much valued. It is a scarce work, and is more esteemed
than the original, which was written by his friend Camus, Bishop
of Bellay. This work in 6 vols. 8vo. is wearisome, from its
tedious and minute details. The life of Madame de Chantal is
also very interesting. It is an almost indispensable accompani-
ment to that of St. Francis. It is likewise written by the Abbe
Marsollier, in 2 vols. 12mo. Several other accounts of Madame
de Chantal are indeed published, but this is the best.
NOTE — PACE 20.
THE Grande Chartreuse was burnt down a very few years after
the date of Lancelot's visit there. It was however soon rebuilt.
The popular legend of Raymond Diocres seems to require some
animadversion. First published by Gerson, it was in the middle
ages currently received as a fact. It has been since immortalized
by the pencil of Le Sueur, in his set of paintings for the Chartreuse.
It was necessary to mention the story therefore; although now
generally abandoned as a legend. May it not, however, be, that
modern incredulity is as much mistaken in wholly rejecting, as
ancient superstition was in unreservedly admitting this story. It is
well known that complaints, producing sudden seizures, were
not so well understood then, as they have been since. The symp-
toms too of death were not so infallibly ascertained. It is also
known that the customs, both of almost immediate interment, and
of exposing the body in open coffins, or biers, were formerly very
prevalent. These circumstances being combined, may it not be
possible, that Raymond was really seized with some sort of fit, and
that he might have been supposed dead ? Might not the strong
stimuli of lights and powerful music, have roused him from his
lethargy? If so, it does not appear impossible that an evil con-
•cience, and the horror of his situation, might have extorted some
exclamation which the tradition of a few centuries has since manu-
factured into the legend related by Gerson. This, however, is
offered as a mere conjecture. Possibly the whole incident may
be altogether fabulous.
250 NOTES.
It appears truly wonderful that so absurd a legend should have
been received, with an unqualified assent, near our own times.
Peter Poiret does not scruple, in his life of Antoinetta Bourignon,
to blame the Port Royal writers for having called in question its
authenticity.
NOTE— PAGE 27.
NICHOLAS PAVILION, Bishop of Alet {otherwise Alais or Aleth)
died in disgrace in 1677. The court never forgave him for refusing
his assent to the persecutions of the Jansenists. There are memoirs
of his life in 2 vols. in 12mo. They are well calculated for edifi-
cation. The Bishop of Aleth was uncle to Elienne Pavilion
the poet.
NOTE — PACE 38.
ROBERT BELLARMIN was born at Monte Pulciano, in 1545. He
was nephew to Pope Marcellus the Second. He entered the
society of Jesuits at eighteen. He did honour to their company
by his deep piety, his extensive learning, and his brilliant talents,
His abilities began to be developed at a very early age. So highly
was he esteemed, that he was commissioned to preach, even before
he entered into holy orders. In this respect he resembled Bossuet
arid Fenelon. They each delivered sermons in public before they
attained the age of fifteen. Bossuet's discourse being pronounced
at eleven o'clock at night, it was observed, that no sermon had
ever before been preached, either so early or so late.
Bellarmin entered the priesthood in 1569. He was consecrated
by Cornelius Jansenius, Bishop of Ghent. This Jansenius is not
to be confounded with the Bishop of Ypres. Bellarmin was then
professor of theology at Louvain. His preaching was highly
celebrated. Not only catholics, but protestants, continually
thronged his church. They even came from England and Holland
on purpose to hear him.
After seven years' residence in the low countries, Bellarmin re-
turned to Italy. He was appointed professor of polemic! by
NOTES. 251
Gregory the 13th, in the new college which he had just instituted.
Sixtus the 5th, afterwards raised him to the office of theologian to
the French legate. Nine years afterwards, Clement the 8th,
created him Cardinal. He received the purple in 1599. The
Pope gave the following reason for bestowing the Cardinal's hat
on Bellarmin ; " That he wished to have one man near his person,
who at all times spoke the truth." He was afterwards made
Archbishop of Capua, in 1601.
Bellarmin was equally conspicuous for piety and polemic ability.
He every year disposed of a third of his income in acts of charity.
He visited the sick in hospitals, and the prisoners in the most
loathsome gaols. The expedients to which he had recourse do
equal honour to his charity and humility. When he saw per-
sons in straitened circumstances, who might be wounded at
receiving alms, he frequently retained them at a large salary, to
distribute his charities to the poor. It appeared at his death that
a very considerable number of persons of this description were
employed by the Cardinal.
They were each under the strictest injunctions, neither by men-
tioning his name, or otherwise, to afford the least clue by which
he might be suspected as the author of the immense charities they
were employed to administer.
Cardinal Bellarmin's benevolence appeared at all times the
spontaneous result of a truly Christian heart.
He once gave his ring in pledge to relieve a distressed object.
He happened to have no money about him at the moment. Bel-
larmin died, exhibiting the most profound humility, and the most
fervent faith.
The controversial works of Cardinal Bellarmin may be con-
sidered as the arsenal, from which the Romish church has derived
her strongest weapons against protestantism.
Nevertheless, the works of this great man are not, in all respects,
to be adopted as a true criterion of the faith of that church which
he so ably defended.
His views of the supremacy of the Pope are widely different to
the opinions established in the Romish church. He is accused by
Catholic writers of insisting on the authority of the Pope, even
in opposition to that of general councils. They have also accused
25$ • NOTES.
him of extending the jurisdiction of the Papal see, from spirituals to
temporals. He has been much blamed by Catholic authors for
entertaining and expressing sentiments, on this head, in direct op-
position to those explicitly maintained by all the Catholic univer-
sities. Those indeed must be excepted which are under the im-
mediate influence of the ultramontane opinions.
Bellarmin died in 1621. His works are numerous and highly
valued. His life was published 1625, in octavo, by Fuligati.
A French and Latin translation of this work appeared in 1626.
Protestants have been accused of spreading very false accounts
respecting the latter end of this great and good man; such, not-
withstanding his mistakes in judgment, he certainly was.
/
NOTE. M. DE RANGE.
WHEN M. de Ranee began his reform, many little indications of
his early character were mentioned. It was remembered that,
when a child, he spoke with enthusiasm of the hermits of Egypt.
Whilst at Rome too, it was his favorite recreation to wander alone,
for hours, amidst the obscure and dreary recesses of the catacombs.
The life of the Abbe de la Trappe is well worth reading, from
its curiosity. Three accounts of him are published. One by
Villefore, another by Meaupeaux, a third by Marsollier. The
two last are the most esteemed. Meaupeaux's is thought the most
eloquent ; Marsollier's is esteemed the most correct. Meaupeaux
is the panegyrist of his beloved and intimate friend ; Marsollier the
faithful historian of a character, whom he represents as most emi-
nent for piety, but yet not devoid of some harmless frailties, and
many eccentricities more singular than needful.
The French say that Marsollier narrates t\& life, and Meaupeaux
pronounces the funeral panegyric of M. de Ranee. A fourth
written by Le Nain, is, however, the best.
DOM ARM AND DE RANGE is the author of several valuable works.
His chief publications are, Lettres Spirituelles, 2 vols. 12mo.
Saintete des etudes, et des devoirs Monastiques, also 2 vols. 12mo.
Instructions Chretiennes, also in the same number of vols. Regie-
ments de 1'Abbaye, notre dame de la Trappe, et les instruction!
NOTES.
donnees a Clairets, 1 vol. I2mo. Institutions de la Trappe. Viei
de plusicurs solitaires de la Trappe.
There is much in these works highly edifying. They are all
curious, inasmuch as they unfold the workings of a mind so
singular.
The Abbe de la Trappe was not free from trials in his own
convent. He was, like St. Paul, often tried by false brethren,
crept in unawares. His conduct on these occasions, with the
account of his death, is truly interesting to every Christian reader.
He completed the century; and expired, relying on the alone
merits of his Savior, in the year 1700.
The Abbe de Ranee's favorite books were, The Imitation of
Christ, commonly ascribed to Thomas d Kempis. The Lives of the
Fathers of the Desert, and Cardinal Bellarmin's Art of Dying
Well.
ADDENDA ON THE INTERIOR OF LA TRAPPI.
IN 1765, the number of religious, at La Trappe, amounted to
69 monks, 56 lay brothers, and 9 freres donnees. Silence is so
strictly observed, that it is said, some of its inhabitants have died,
rather than break it, by asking lor necessary assistance. The
author of the precis adds, that this practice is grounded on the
words " Sedebtt solilarius et tactbel."
The cells are furnished with a small table, a straw chair, i
wooden box without any lock, and two tressels, on which, at night,
they lay the plank which supports their mattress.
Invalids are not allowed to keep their beds. In the most severe
illnesses, they rise at three in the morning. Nor is it allowed
ever to lean against their chairs in the course of the day to rest.
M. de Nonancourt mentions a singular anecdote concerning
La Trappe.
Two brothers had lived together in the monastery for twelve
years without knowing each other. The eldest being at the point
of death, told the Rev. Father Abbe, that he had but one subject
of uneasiness ; which was, that he had left an only brother im-
mersed in the dissipation of the world. The Abbe immediately
sent for him, and they embraced each other with the greatest affec-
tion just before he expired.
254 NOTES.
The cemetery of La Trappe is quite unadorned. In the centre is
a small chapel, containing the monument of M. de Ranee. His
figure is carved at full length in a recumbent posture. The
graves of the brethren are without, in the burying ground. They
are marked by simple wooden crosses, inscribed with the names
and ages of the persons.
When Count Rosemberg became a monk at La Trappe, he
refused to see his own mother. The Chevalier Albergotti mani-
fested the same inflexibility towards an intimate friend. This gen-
tleman's affection was so strong, that he at length resolved to
become himself a monk, in the same convent with his friend.
Notwithstanding this prodigy of friendship, Albergotti never once
lifted up his eyes upon him.
The death of Louis the Fourteenth was not known at La Trappe,
for a very considerable space of time after it took place. It has
been said, that it was not known for years, but by the Rev.
Father Abbe.
It is said, on good authority, that a nobleman, having taken a
journey of five hundred leagues, purposely to see La Trappe,
could, in the neighbouring villages, scarcely find one person who
knew where it was situated.
This anecdote, as well as the difficulty of finding the path to
La Trappe (a circumstance mentioned in every account of this
monastery) appears very difficult to reconcile with other facts, also
related in the same works. It is repeatedly said, that, on an aver-
age, this seclusion is visited by six thousand strangers every year ;
and that from 12 to 15 hundred poor are fed there, and otherwise
relieved twice every week. It seems difficult to conceive how a
road can be untracked, which is passed a hundred and sixty thou-
sand times every year. The chant in use at La Trappe is the
Gregorian, or plain chant.
JAMES THE SECOND'S VISIT TO LA TRAPPE.
Amongst the most frequent visitors of La Trappe, was the unfor-
tunate James the Second. An account of his first visit may, per-
haps, prove not unacceptable to the English reader. It is supplied
NOTES. 255
in this note, instead of being inserted in the text, because it took
place some years subsequent to M. Lancelot's tour.
James the Second had heard of La Trappe in the days of his
prosperity. After his misfortunes, he resolved to visit a seclusion
he had so long felt a curiosity to see. This design was not exe-
cuted till after his return from his unsuccessful expedition to
Ireland.
He arrived at La Trappe hi the evening of the 20th of November,
1690. As soon as M. de Ranee heard he was come, he went
forth to meet him at the door of the monastery. The king was on
horseback. As soon as he alighted, the Abbe prostrated himself
before him. This is the custom with respect to all strangers.
Nevertheless, it was in this instance, performed in a manner ex-
pressive of peculiar respect.
The king felt pain at seeing the Abbe in this humiliating pos-
ture before him. He raised him up, and then entreated his bene-
diction. This the Abbe gave, accompanying it with a speech of
some length. He assured his majesty he thought it a great honor
to see a monarch who was suffering for the sake of Christ ; who had
renounced three kingdoms from conscientious motives. He added,
that the prayers of the whole community had been constantly
offered up in his behalf. They had continually implored heaven
to afford him renewed strength, that he might press on in the
power of God, till he should receive an eternal and immortal
crown.
The king was then conducted to chapel. They afterwards con-
versed together for an hour. James joined in the evening service;*
by which he appeared much edified and consoled.
The king's supper was served by the monks, and consisted of
roots, eggs, and vegetables. He seemed much pleased with all
he saw. After supper, he went and looked at a collection of
maxims of Christian conduct, which were framed and hung up
against the wall. He perused them several times ; and expressing
how much he admired them, requested a copy.
Next day the king attended the chapel. He communicated with
the monks. This he did with great devotion. He afterwards
went to see the community occupied at their labor for an hour
and an half. Their occupations chiefly consist of ploughing,
550 NOTES.
turning, basket-making, brewing, carpentry, washing, transcribing
manuscripts, and bookbinding.
The king was much struck with their silence and recollection.
He however asked the Abbe, if he did not think they labored
too hard. M. de Ranee replied, " Sire, that which would be
hard to those who seek pleasure, is easy to those who practise
penitence."
In the afternoon the king walked for some time on a fine terrace,
formed between the lakes surrounding the monastery. The view
from this place is peculiarly striking.
His Britannic majesty then went to visit an hermit, who lived
by himself in a small hut, which he had constructed in the woods
surrounding La Trappe. In this retreat he spent his time in prayer
and in praise; remote from all intercourse with any one, excepting
the Abbe de la Trappe. This gentleman was a person of rank.
He had formerly been distinguished as one of the bravest officers
in King James's army. On entering his cell, the monarch ap-
peared much struck and affected with the entire change in his
demeanor and expression of countenance.
In a short time he recovered himself. After a great variety of
questions on the part of the king, he at length asked him, " at what
hour in the morning he attended the service of the convent in
winter?" He answered, " at about half-past three."
But returned Lord Dumbarton, who was in the king's suite,
** Surely that is impossible.'' " How can you traverse this intricate
forest in the dark ; especially at a season of the year, when, even
in the day time, the road must be undiscernible from the frost and
snow?"
" My Lord," replied the hermit, " I should blush to esteem
these trifles as any inconveniences, in serving a heavenly monarch;
when I have so often braved dangers, so far more eminent, for
the chance of serving an earthly prince."
" You are right," returned the king. " How wonderful that
so much should be sacrificed to temporal potentates ; whilst so
little should be secured by serving him, the only King, immortal
and invisible, to whom alone true honor and power belong. That
Cod who has done so much for us 1"
NOTES. 257
*' Surely, however," continued Lord Dumbarton to the hermit,
" you must be thoroughly tired with passing all your time alone in
this gloomy forest."
" No," interposed the king; himself replying to the question,
" he has indeed chosen a path widely different to that of the world.
Death, which discovers all things, will shew that he has chosen
the right one."
The king paused for a reply. None being made, he continued.
" There is a difference," said he (turning to the hermit), " be-
tween you and the rest of mankind. You will die the death of
the righteous, and you will rise at the resurrection of the just.
But they" ....
Here he paused ; his eyes seemed full of tears, and his mind
absent, as if intent on painful recollections.
After a few moments, he hastily arose, and taking a polite and
kind leave of the gentleman, returned with his retinue to the
monastery.
During his whole stay, the king assisted at all the offices. In
all of them he manifested a deep and fervent devotion. His mis-
fortunes seemed to have been the means of awakening his heart,
to worship God, in spirit and in truth.
Next day the king prepared to depart at an early hour.
On taking leave, he threw himself at M. de Ranee's feet ; and
with tears requested his parting benediction.
The Abbe bestowed it in a most solemn and affecting manner.
The king, on rising, recognized the monk on whose arm he leant
to get up. He was a nobleman who had long served in his army
(The Hon. Robert Graham). " Sir," said the king, addressing
himself to him, " I have never ceased to regret the generosity
with which you made a sacrifice of a splendid fortune in behalf of
your king. I can, however, now grieve at it no longer ; since I
perceive that your misfortunes in the service of an earthly monarch,
have proved the blessed means of your having devoted your
heart to a heavenly one.
The king then mounted his horse and departed.
James the Second, from that period, repeated his visits to La
Trappe, annually.
258 NOTES.
On these occasions he always bore his part in the exercise* of
the community. He often assisted at the conferences of the monks,
and spoke with much unction. It is said that the king's character
appeared to undergo a strikingly perceptible, though a progressive,
change.
He every year appeared to grow in piety and in grace ; and he
evidently increased in patience and submission to the divine will.
In 1696, the queen accompanied the king to La Trappe. She
was accommodated for three days with all her retinue in a house
adjoining the monastery, built for the reception of the commen-
datory abbots. She was much pleased with her visit, and ex-
pressed herself to be not less edified than the king.
Both of them entertained sentiments of the highest veneration
for M. de Ranee. Their acquaintance, thus begun, was soon
matured into a solid friendship.
They commenced a correspondence which was regularly main-
tained on both sides till M. de Ranee's death.
There is reason to believe that a very considerable change was
wrought in the king's mind, in consequence of his intimacy with
the Abbe de la Trappe. Whether this change amounted to that
total renewal of heart spoken of by the apostle, there are, per-
haps, not data sufficiently clear to ascertain.
The following are the terms in which the king expressed himself
respecting M. de Ranee.
" I really think nothing has afforded me so much consolation
since my misfortunes, as the conversation of that venerable saint,
the Abbe of la Trappe. When I first arrived in France, I had
but a very superficial view of religion ; if, indeed, I might be said
to have any thing deserving that name. The Abbe de la Trappe
was the first person who gave me any solid instruction with respect
to genuine Christianity.
" I formerly looked upon God as an omnipotent creator, and as
an arbitrary governor. I knew his power to be irresistible. I
therefore thought his decrees must be submitted to, because they
could not be withstood. Now, my whole view is changed. The
Abbe de la Trappe, has taught me to consider this great God as
my father ; and to view myself as adopted into his family. I now
NOTES. 259
I
can look upon myself as become his son, through the merits of my
Savior, applied to my heart by his Holy Spirit. I am now con-
vinced, not only that we ought to receive misfortunes with patience,
because they are inevitable, but I also feel assured, that death,
which rends the veil from all things, will probably discover to us
as many new secrets of love and mercy in the ceconomy of God's
providence, as in that of his grace. God, who gave up his only
Son to an accursed death for us, must surely have ordered all
inferior things by the same spirit of love."
Such were King James's sentiments respecting M. de Ranee.
The Abbe, on the other hand, entertained as high an opinion of
him. The following passage concerning the unfortunate King of
England, occurs in one of M. de la Trappe's letters to a friend.
" I will now speak to you concerning the King of England. I
never saw any thing more striking than the whole of his conduct.
Nor have I ever seen any person more elevated above the transi-
tory objects of time and sense. His tranquillity and submission,
to the divine will are truly marvellous. He really equals some of
the most holy men of old, if, indeed, he may not be rather said to
surpass them.
" He has suffered the loss of three kingdoms ; yet his equanimity
and peace of mind are undisturbed. He speaks of his bitterest
enemies without warmth. Nor does he ever indulge in those
insinuations, which even good men are too apt to fall into, when
speaking of their enemies. He knows the meaning of two texts
of Scripture, which are too much neglected * It is given you to
suffer,' arid * Despise not the gift of God.' He, therefore,
praises God for every persecution and humiliation which he en-
dures. He could not be in a more equable state of mind, even
if he were in the meridian of temporal prosperity.
" His time is always judiciously and regularly appropriated.
His day is filled up in so exact a manner, that nothing can be well
either added or retrenched from his occupations.
" All his pursuits tend to the love of God and man. He
appears uniformly to feel the divine presence. This is perhaps
the first and most important step in the divine life. It is the
foundation of all which follow.
260 NOTES.
" The Queen is in every respect influenced by the same holy
desires.
" The union of these two excellent persons is founded on the
love of God.
" It may be truly termed an holy and a sacred one."
Such were M. de Ranee's opinions of King James. It is impos-
sible to doubt, but that the venerable Abbe de la Trappe was sin-
cere in his expressions. To the English reader they will, perhaps,
cause surprise.
Whatever sacrifices may have been made to any system of faith,
it will appear difficult to join the Abbe de la Trappe, in ascribing
them to the genuine influence of religion, whilst the person said to
have made them, authorized the decisions of a Jeffries, or the
executions of a Kirk.
Nor will it probably be thought that James's conduct respecting
the Duke of Monmouth, can ever be reconciled with a profession
of that religion, whose command it is, not to hide ourselves from
our own flesh.
The Christian reader will, however, not, perhaps, draw so
decisive a conclusion. Having himself experienced his blessed
influence, he knows that the Divine Spirit can wholly and radi-
cally change the heart. It can take away the heart of stone, and
bestow the heart of flesh. Old things may be wholly done away,
and all things may become new. He knows too, that temporal
misfortunes are often the method by which God, in mercy, in-
clines the human heart to listen to the voice of his Spirit. Never-
theless, where such a change really has taken place, it will be
evidenced by corresponding fruits. A real dedication of heart to
God must be evidenced by a devotion, not of forms and phraseology,
but of heart and of life.
Many degrees of alteration may take place in the human heart ;
which yet may fall far short of a saving change.
Perhaps none is more common, because none is more cheap,
than substituting a respect for religion and religious persons,
in the place of an assiduous mortification of our own corruptions,
a denying of ourselves, taking up the cross, and zealously follow-
ing Christ.
NOTES. 261
It may be probable, as it is pleasing, to have any reasons for
entertaining the hope, that this great change actually did take place
in the instance of the unfortunate James. A considerate Christian
would, however, join in M. de Ranee's eulogium with more full
assurance, had there been some more solid proofs of his conversion,
than a friendship for the monks of La Trappe.
FINIS.
J. M'CREERY, Printer,
Black-Horse-Court, London.
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