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NARRATIVE 
 
 OF 
 
 A TOUR TAKEN IN THE YEAR 16'67, 
 
 TO 
 
 Ha (iranUe Cijartreuoe antr 9iltU 
 
 BY 
 
 DOM CLAUDE LANCELOT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE PORT ROYAL GRAMMARS J 
 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 
 
 J. M'Creery. Printer, 
 Bkck-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- 
 
 K; -? <^- n n i i 
 
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, and 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 and 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, arc 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 dififerent 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 is, this little narra- 
 tive is yet offered, with some degree of con- 
 fidcDce, 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 
 
xil 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, who 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 
 theDictionnaire 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- 
 
Xiv 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 ohservations zvere suggested by the re- 
 marks of 507116 friends. The preface being already 
 printed, they are nozv 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. 
 
XVI 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 
 
 b 
 
Xviii INTRODUCTION, 
 
 as much distinguished for his philological, 
 as these great men were, for their moral and 
 theological works. Egually esteemed for 
 erudition, for piety, and for conciliating 
 manners, he was selected with Nicole, to 
 superintend the Port Royal school at Cheiiet. 
 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 167^, 
 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- 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 habitants exiled or imprisoned. Dom Claude 
 Lancelot was banished to Q^uimperley 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 I'ordre de S. Benoit, 2 vols. 12nio. 
 
 Essais de morale et oeuvres de Nicole, 23 vols, in 12ino. 
 
 Vie de Nicole, 1 vol. in 12nio. 
 
 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 8vo. 
 
 Dictionnaire de Rayle, 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 Ranc§, par MarsoUier, 3 vols, in 1 2mo. 
 
 Vie de Ranc^, par Maupeaux. 
 
 Lettres choisies, par de I'abb^ de la Trappe, 2 vols, in 
 12mo. 
 
 Vies «t Morts dc quelques religieux de la Trappe, 6 vols. 
 in 12aio. 
 
XXll 
 
 Saintet6 des devoirs Monastiques, par I'abbe de la Trappe, 
 Dom Armand de Ranee, 2 vols, iu 12mo. 
 
 Instructions chretiennes, par Dom Armand de Ranc^, 
 
 2 vols, in Hmo. 
 
 Reglenients de I'abbaye la Maison Dieu Notre Dame de la 
 Trappe, par Dom Armand de Ranee, 1 vol. in 12mo. 
 
 Carte de visite et exliortations faites a Notre Dame des 
 Clairets, par Dom Armand de Ranc6, R. P. Abbe de la 
 Trappe, 1 vol. in l2mo. 
 
 Pr6cis de I'llistoire de la Trappe, I vol. 8vo. 
 
 Fi^uiv histoire ecclcsiastique, 40 vols, in 12rao. 
 
 Racine jjistoire ecclesiastique Vie de F6nelon, par Beausset, 
 
 3 vols. 8vo. 
 
 Memoires du Due de St. Simon, 13 vols, 8vo. 
 
 ^lemoires de M. de Montpensier. 
 
 Leitres provinciales, par Pascal, avec des Notes par Ni- 
 cole sous le nom de Louis de Montalte et Wendrock, 4 vols, 
 in 12mo. 
 
 Lettres de la ^lere Angelique, 3 vols. 8vo. 
 
 Histoire abregee de Port Royal, par Racine, 1 vol 
 in l^mo. 
 
 M-moires de Port Royal, par du Fossg, 1 vol. in 12mo. 
 
 Memoires de Robert Arnauld d'Andilly, I vol. in 12mo. 
 
 Memoires de Port Royal, par Nicolas Fontaine, 4 vols, in 
 12mo. 
 
 Pr6cis de I'Histoire de Port Royal, 1 vol. in 12mo. 
 
 Relation sur les petites ecoles de Port Royal, 1 vol. in 12mo. 
 
 Histoire de I'Institut du Saint Sacrement, 1 vol. in 12mo. 
 
 Histoire du Retablissement de Port Royal, 1 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. 
 
 Abrege de la Vie de du Foss6, 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. 
 
XXIU 
 
 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 Amauld. 
 Vie de la bienheftreuse et v^n^rable mere de Chantal, par 
 MarsoUier, 2 vols. 12mo, 
 
 Vie de S. F. de Sales, par le m^me. 
 
 Slecle de Louis quatorze, par Voltaire. 
 
 Causes celebres et interessantes, £6 vols, in 8vo. 
 
 De vera causd secessus St. Brunones en Eremum. 
 
 Voyage d'Alet, par Dom Claude Lancelot. 
 
 Pensees de Pascal, 1 vol. in 12mo. 
 
 Vie de Pascal, par Madame Perrier. 
 
 Relation sur Port Royal, 1 vol. in l2mo. 
 
 Memoires de la Bastille, 3 vols. 8vo. 
 
 La Bastille devoilee, 4 vols. Svo. 
 
 Histoire ecclesiastique, par Tillemont, 12 vols. 4to. 
 
 Dissertation sur I'Hemine de Vin, par Lancelot, 1 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, 
 1 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, 12 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, &c. 
 
 Ateif 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 I 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 Irenaeus. 
 
 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 
 thins: 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 I my God, my desire is to thee. As the hart 
 panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my 
 soul after thee, O God I 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 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 I He 
 was the Lamb slain for the sins of the whole world. 
 He shall wash out my sins, and blot out my trans- 
 gressions!" 
 
 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 ofiice 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- 
 
 b2 
 
ner on this solemn ordinance. M. Robert Ar- 
 nauld havin^r 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 
 thmly inhabited country. Here and there a few 
 
scattered huts are interspersed. At length even 
 these were no longer to be seen. Nothincr met tlie 
 eye but barren wastes, or dark forests, which 
 seemed of an almost interminable length, and whicli 
 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 w^olves. 
 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 betw^een stupendous 
 granite rocks, which overhang above ; and 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- 
 
e 
 
 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, 1 should ob- 
 serv^e, 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 o;racious 
 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 captl- 
 vityhe still spreads beneath you his everlastingarms ! 
 and in our journeyings for his sake, he ^vho keeps 
 Israel without slumbering or sleeping, blessed our 
 coming in, as he bad our going out. He raercifLdly 
 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 Avest, 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, Avhich 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 tc» 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 tends to 
 mitisate 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 toDs of their Q;arden 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 lock. 
 
 We were much pleased with our visit, and edi- 
 fied by the learned and pious discourse of these 
 
12 
 
 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 tlie 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. 
 
 1 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, Avhen 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 tothe ground 
 
u 
 
 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 ri- 
 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 canne to scoff miglit 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 , ei de non ex- 
 istentibus, eadern 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 
 comoleted 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 youn^*- men, 
 Avho determined to be the companions of his re- 
 tirement. They withdrew to a seclusion, named 
 Saisse Fontaine, in the diocese of Lano-res. 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 ; 
 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 IO84, 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 
 
 merly been a disciple of Bruno's, and Avho 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 of 
 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 al\vays 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 transcribins. 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 
 
 large party; after a very convivial raeeting:, Rav- 
 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 
 de6p anguish and horror, it uttered, in a slow and 
 hollow voice, the following words : — " Justo judicio 
 *' Dei appellatus sum I Justo judicio Dei judicatus 
 " sum ! Justo judicio Dei condemnatus sum I" 
 (By the just judgment of God I am cited I By 
 the just judgment of God I am judged I 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 
 
 c2 
 
20 
 
 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 
 stop 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 
 tjj^ir 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 
 weather. 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 hav© heard they will slide with incre- 
 
31 
 
 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 
 
^2 
 
 pbces 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 
 
23 
 
 with lichens of every different tint, and ornamented 
 nith 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 roadsare 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 follo^Ys. 
 
 A horse which was following his litter, by some 
 
24 
 
 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'Alet, and his attendant ecclesiastic. 
 M. d'Alet 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'Alet 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. 
 
25 
 
 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 
 
i26 
 
 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. 
 
21 
 
 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 1 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, Avould 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 comradesj he also seldom obtained the re« 
 
2S 
 
 gard of his teachers : nay, he was so noted amongst 
 them for a mere plodder, that his school fellows, 
 in derision, were wont, by a wretched pun, or 
 quibble upon his name, to call him, " Bos suelus 
 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- 
 gablt 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 guiielessness of Nathaniel ; and 
 that the recesses of his heart, at all times burnt with 
 the love of St. John. 
 
 The BishopofAlet'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. 
 
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 happy mode 
 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. 
 
32 
 
 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 
 
 ed 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 deo-ree of lio-ht. 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- 
 tares 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, k.c, be 
 dwelt on, till the fallow ground is fully broken up, 
 and prepared to receive the seed of the kingdom. 
 
 What 1 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 1 
 
 D 
 
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 reverence, 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 
 
 ciii ved 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 o-reatest kindness, o-ave warn- 
 ing; the Bishop sent for him up:—" What, my 
 good friend, can be the cause of your leaving 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." 
 
 » 2 
 
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 misiht be imaQ;ined he had the riches of 
 Crcesus. 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 all 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 
 suppellectilem ?" the frugal table and mean fur- 
 niture ? 
 
 One day the Bishop of Bellay dined at Cardinal 
 F. Borromseo's with the Bishop of Vintimiglia and 
 Count Charles Borromaeo ; it was on the 4th of 
 November, 1616. 
 
 " I had often heard," 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 wooden 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, &:c,, 
 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 
 was 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 
 hi«^her compliment than by treating him after 
 the manner of St. Carlo Borromaso, instead of 
 ■aiving him a sumptuous entertainment in the 
 French style. 
 
 Accordingly the dinner was conducted with the 
 crreatest 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 
 received 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 humoredly 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 reliw;ion, 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 accordins; 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, 'Ayun(e<;^B £»o-ix- 
 
 xj ix »x;«5a-ou(ri». AgOTiize 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- 
 ples, 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 otlier 
 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 
 crreat 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. 
 
45 
 
 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. 
 With 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 
 ereat liaiht 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 ownbodyon 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. Howeyer vile we may be, we must re- 
 solve to come to him; for he expressly terms 
 
44 
 
 himself the door, through which we must enUr^ 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 never 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 Conti. 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 
 Bouthillier 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 
 
4t) 
 
 now, my letter is large enough to fill M. de Bri- 
 enne's pocket-book. 
 
 Dom Armand Jean le Bouthilller de Ranee de 
 Chavigni was born at Paris on the 9th of January, 
 1626. He was nephew to Claude le Bonthillier 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. No one 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, lie 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 
 
48 
 
 duty It was to reprove them. Thus his heart re- 
 mained obdurate as adamant, and slippery as po- 
 lished marble. He continued in this course of 
 life some years. At length God, the father of 
 mercies, interfered in his behalf; and now ceased 
 to peisuade 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 vuin 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 
 
49 
 
 a season, to literature ; and collecting his gayest 
 friends, sought to drown his disappointmental 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 Aveeks, 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 
 toorether 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 
 evenino- when he arrived, and the house was con- 
 sequently 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 1 " 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 I 
 O I that I had been faithful I O ! that I could now 
 but suffer for, or with her. But it is past I The 
 time in which I might have helped her is fatally, 
 irrevocably past I 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 
 
 E 2 
 
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 rai n 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. 
 
S3 
 
 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 hira stedfastly, but with 
 
54 
 
 the greatest benignity, replied, " I humbly thanlc 
 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 I even Diogenes could 
 not be easy, unless Alexander stood out of his 
 liffht. Think asain." 
 
 " 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, 
 All 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 ?" 
 
 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 ^ow 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 wilh 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 1 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, 1 how unspeakably bitter did that 
 pang seem, which came in mercy to call us to God, 
 and give us spiritual life I 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 tlie 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 I 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- 
 
5S 
 
 ously 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 2;ood 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. 
 AH 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- 
 
Hi 
 
 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 
 
6^ 
 
 ^rn amongst the rocks, for three years. 
 ,*as situated in the side of a lofty moun- 
 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 ofarments 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- 
 
€3 
 
 ing party, who were pursuing their game in the 
 recesses of the mountains, discovered his retreat ; 
 St. Bennet 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 Avith 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 Cassini. 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 
 Ciassini, 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 
 4md 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 v>rhole Latin church, and extended its 
 numerous ramifications 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 
 Mabillon retrenches several of the saints from the 
 catalo2;ue. 
 
 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 letter 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 opfened 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 asrriculture originated with them : and 
 to their almost unassisted labor Europe owed its 
 culture during a long succession of barbarous and 
 warlike aores. 
 
 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 ^ 
 
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 distinsiuished 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 Cistertlan 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 Cistertian 
 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 tr uly 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 Cisteaux, 
 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, when 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 
 
 heart can alone maintain him there, who 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 1 140. 
 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 bis 
 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- 
 £ast 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 subprior 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 erament 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. 
 
Tlie same ardor and vehemence of character 
 which had distinguished the abhot of La Trappe in 
 the world, now characterized him equally in the 
 cloister. The zeal of the founder was visible in 
 every part of his discipline. The astonishing aus- 
 terity of this reform at La Trappe may well make 
 nature recoil. Yet, improbable as it n»ay appear, 
 scarcely was the institution completed before it 
 became continually crowded with votaries. Nor 
 have the numbers ever diminished, notwithstanding 
 the peipetual violence it imposes on every human 
 feelin'r. 
 
 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 leads 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 h\\\ 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 bestacquainted 
 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, 
 raised by pious hands. The squirrels, hares, and 
 
7^ 
 
 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 the 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 haying ever trod them before. An almost 
 deathlike silence and stillness reigns all around. 
 Directly under the feet, but at a great depth, is a 
 lono- 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 of La Trappe appears rising in the centre. 
 In 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 hot- 
 
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 tlie con- 
 vent. 
 
 " C'est ici que la mort et la verite 
 
 *' Elevent leurs flambeaux terribles 
 
 " C'est de cette demeure au monde inaccessible 
 
 *' Que Ton passe a reternite." 
 
 The general scope of which might be thus ren- 
 dered : — 
 
 ** Here truth, with death and silence reigns; 
 *' Their dread light shines within this grate: 
 •' Far from the world, no change remains 
 " 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, and 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 
 inventorv. 
 
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. With his former appellation, 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 
 attended 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. When 
 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 iis they present each person with 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 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." 
 
 02, 
 
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- 
 ino- 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 
 
S5 
 
 used to be called, over the door of almost every 
 room. That belonging to the eating hall, I thought 
 peculiarly apposite. " 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 Avere completely 
 won over. But it is still more surprising that not- 
 withstanding the great austerities of La Trappe, 
 perhaps there Avas 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, and 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 
 lor a time. These last are not properly belonging 
 to the order. They are rather religious persons, 
 whose business or connexions prevent their joining 
 
S6 
 
 the order absolutely. But who Avishlng to renew 
 serious impressions, or to retire from the Tvorld for 
 a season, come and stay for a i^iven time, during 
 which they are subject to all the rules, without 
 wishing to join the order for liie. 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 
 donnesforma 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- 
 
S7 
 
 mediately appointed to attend liim. 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 I " 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. 
 As 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 
 
89 
 
 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 ''Ev aui^x x«< tv 'mvivfji.x, 
 
 wlrKj 'fv ^a.'TrlnTiA.a,, ek 0£o? xatt tfetivi^ >aa.v{uv, o iir) 'urxvluv xa» oicc 
 
 faxvlm xcci iv isciaiv 7>ix7t/ (There IS onc 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, AjaifsVfi; SI j^agKr^arwc tlat^ to 5e avTo IlvtviJi.ce.' xeii 
 ^tajffVsK StdKonuf »iV«, xa* o uiiroi K.vpio<;' vLxi oicttfiani; lv(^yfiyi,»ruv 
 i\a)v^ SI uiiTOi, irt @to<; b ivtpyuv to, laoivloe. tv tau<;iv, f 1 here 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 God 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 1 the unsearchable depth of the riches 
 of the love of God in Christ." So saying, he fell 
 back and expired ! 
 
 Kor 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 aives 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 
 eno-ao-ed 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 mio;ht 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 I that we were 
 but deeply persuaded of it I 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 1 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 oflcn 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 he 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'Alei'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 
 1 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, thou2;h ^ 
 competency is indispensable. Some of them, how- 
 ever, are of a very elevated rank. Amongst them 
 is Madame de Pamiers, widow of the Baron de 
 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 v\^ith 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 
 
gs 
 
 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 formino- 
 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, and are immedi- 
 ately under the bishop's inspection. They have 
 with 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 begin a regular and settled 
 plan of instruction, which fully occupies them from 
 morninff till nisht. 
 
 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, 
 bourino; villa2:es 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 astonishins; how much the reo;ents 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. 
 
 " JVe 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 
 
 responclence, 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. 
 
 With 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 among-st us 
 have been most eminently blessed who have had 
 the deepest experimental knowledge of their own 
 unwoithiness, 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 Wonderftd 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. Whilst 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 atM. 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'Al^t 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 I 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 
 imhappy 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 
 bis 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 o^lad 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- 
 incr 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,—" 1 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 liamlets belonging to the vil- 
 lage of Aiet, 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 falling 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 
 (§0). 
 
 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 1" 
 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- 
 
HI 
 
 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 
 Avith 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 belono-ins: to Jacob. 
 
 I 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, Ijas 
 been a stumblinsi-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. 
 
 Well 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 loncred to know somethins; 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, " had you not refused me this, I could have 
 canonized you." " Would to God, you had," 
 .replied the pious, but acute prelate; " we should 
 then each be possessing our supreme desire I 
 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 I 
 
 M. d'AIet 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 Kino- 
 (Louis XIV) mistaking him for another person of 
 the same name, objected to him as being a Janse- 
 nist. " 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, " th-at 
 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 kinp-'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, Avill 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 fiice of the earth, without house or 
 home, we all know in whom we have believed I 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 all, 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 otlier 
 on their hearts ; and he has promised that where 
 tw^o 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 and 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, 
 tXTTt^ofAsyuv liTOTKo-iz. ?iud tlic 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 still 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 w^iich 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 
 witli 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 
 rio more, submit it all to Christ our Savior. To 
 the priests of Baal and not of Christ are repetitions 
 of words indispefisabl?/ 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 leeions of the ansiels who minister to 
 those who are heirs of salvation, wait unseen upon 
 you. But above all, Jcsus, the great angel of the 
 covenant, is ever with you. Ever dcjes 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 allsiifficient 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 vvhole 
 world, and even our enemies, should draw near 
 and partake with us. 
 
 And now, my dear and honored mother and sis- 
 ters, farewell I If the heat of persecution should 
 still continue, and if (according to the flesh) we 
 ihould see each other's face no more. Still am I 
 
118 
 
 well persuaded, that none of the dispersed members 
 of our Jerusalem can ever fbro-et 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 upon you, and 
 bestow his peace which surpasses all understandins;, 
 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, 2Ath Dec. 1667. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Ko. I. 
 
 JEAN DU VERGER DE HAURANNE, 
 
 THE ABBE DE ST. CYRAN, 
 
 Was born at Bayonne in I58I. His fiimily was 
 both noble and ancient. The Du Vergers origi- 
 nally came 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 deSt. 
 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 
 Lou. am. 
 
120 
 
 In 1620 M. Dii Verger was appointed to the 
 abbacy of ihe monastery of St. Cyran (or Serigan- 
 nus). This benefice was resigned to him by 
 Henry de la Rochepozay, Bishop of Poitiers, under 
 whom he officiated as' Grand Vicar, and who \yus 
 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 unremittins:. 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 oi" human opinions, but of revealed 
 truth ; these were the two grand objects oi M. de St. 
 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 woild 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 beins; 
 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. Cyraii mean ^vhile 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. Everyone 
 felt the streno-th 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 fiill of gravity, and solemn majesty, that 
 even lii enemies must have been seized with awe on 
 b( holding it." M. de St. Cyran's deep self-know- 
 ledffe 2,ave him equal penetration in discovering, 
 and patience in hearing tlie infirmities of others.. 
 He united tlie rare talents of beino; a most dis- 
 cerning, and yet a most wise and faithl'ul director. 
 He was resorted to on every hand as a spiritual 
 guide. 
 
 Nor was M. de St. Cyran esteemed alone by the 
 relijiious. The polite and learned equally valued 
 his society and attainments. Cardinal Richelieu, 
 whilst Bishop of Lucon, 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. Cyraa 
 sou2;ht. 
 
 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- 
 roudi 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 
 
 poslte the convent of the Carthusians, where all 
 his time was occupied in prayer, study, acts of 
 charity 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, and gentle- 
 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 ccunte- 
 
126 
 
 nance of their nearest relations wholly changed. 
 Nor 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. 
 
 Reli2;ious 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 
 nduced by Louisa, first wife of the Duke of Lon- 
 eueville, to establish a relio;ious 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 diffir 
 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. 
 
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'AndiUi, 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 Ions; 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 
 
159 
 
 Janseniiis, 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 
 another point likewise the Jesuits differed from 
 the friends of Jansenius. 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 
 Lucon, 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 
 th:it 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 dechiratory 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. Its sont marques an 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 
 Avas attended Avith corresponding fruits. Men 
 be2;an 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 besan 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 
 liis 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 its 
 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 learnina: 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, whigh 
 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 thereto 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 among-st 
 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 Conciles ; Lettre 7, sur la 
 Methode de diriger I'intention ; Lettres sur rhoruicide 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 
 m 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 
 
135 
 
 to be wondered at, that the Jesuits felt piqued ; aud 
 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 
 Provinciales,'' 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 R jyalists. 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, whichi 
 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 
 kad formerly, when Bishop of Lugon, 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. deRiche- 
 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 
 o*f 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 
 
13-S 
 
 his great disappointment, the marriao:;e to be valid. 
 Highly incensed but unabashed, tlie 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 Avished 
 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 friend^ wer& for a time expelled from Port 
 Royal. Ke 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. " Sir," replied 
 M.deSt. 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 crossins: the 
 forest in which the fortress was situated, they met 
 M. D'Andilly, who was going to his country seat 
 at Pomponrte. 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'Andiily, 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'Andiily 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. Gyran pursued his journey. His imprison- 
 ment took place on the Hth of May, I638. In 
 this instance Gardinal Richelieu eminently justified 
 the character hegave of himself. Speaking to the 
 
141 
 
 Marquis de la Vieuville. he once said, " Je rHose 
 rien entreprendre sans y avoir bien pense mais quand 
 une fois fai pris ma resolution^ je vais a mon buf, 
 je renverse toui,jefauche tout el ensuiteje 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 season?. Nor had he to contend 
 alone with outward sufferings. He had not only 
 to encounter foes without, but likewise fiahtines 
 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. AH 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 candles, 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-edsied 
 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 unworthiness 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. All 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 119th 
 psalmi 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 feelin2;s 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 nhom 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 
 :ind 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 oet 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 
 oeconomized 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, JVever give io 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 iio^ht aro^e, 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 hira 
 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 S> 
 
148 
 
 profuse, as to heal whole provinces of the wounds 
 and desolations of a bloody civil war. As a body, 
 they eminently shone fonh 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 g-ood 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, I642, 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, tie 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 6'h of February I643, 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 hivs release, with those 
 of sorrow for his departure. His guards especially 
 mourned his loss, and all the earrison .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 seveiai of the prisoners, 
 won by his piety, had taken notes of many of his 
 actions and sayings, from which they had derived 
 peculiar edificiition. On this occasion, M. Lance- 
 lot makes the followins: 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 beorinning; 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 I" 
 
 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 oi" 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 difiTusing a vital heat in the church of God. But 
 the flame was kindled from heaven, and 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 rautiially 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, wim sensibly 
 felt in the chamber of death, and the majesty of 
 crlorified immortality seemed to rest in awful solem- 
 
 use, but as it enables men to distinguish the workings of their own 
 imaginations, from tlie 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 wilh 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 tliree things; he blessed him with abundant faith, and abun- 
 dant hope, but, above all, with superabundant love. He waited 
 on thee, O Lord, in tlie 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 hina, has bid them live to life eternal. His 
 fruits declared the root wlience they sprur.g. 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 yiew 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 ol 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 unterapered mortar, and thus raise a wall without 
 strength, which falls at the first storm. 
 
 As M. de St. Cyran received the scriptures Irom 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 daily 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 p^irti- 
 
 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, 
 bad 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 tlie 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 fHithful friend Lancelot, Ma- 
 dame de Rohan, princesse of Guimenee, and Louisa 
 of Gonzague, the intimate friend of the Reverend 
 
 the mark of Christian, not angelic perfection. Deeply sensible of 
 the fallen state of tlie 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 Callican church, and threatened the professing 
 
158 
 
 Mother Angelica, and afterwards Qiieen 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, be 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 whicli 
 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, Qiiesnel, St. Amour, 8cc. Accustomed 
 to the splendor of these great lights of the Port 
 Royal schoolj 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, 
 1679, in 3 vols, in l2mo. 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 28th of October, I585; 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 thronih 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 learninc;. 
 
 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. de 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 falheis. 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 reallv 
 
 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 I624 
 and 1625, he was twice deputed by the university 
 to the Spanish court. The object of tliis 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 conferrins; 
 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 
 higlily 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 patriarchat, 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 tlie 
 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, I636. 
 
 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 v/as 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 v.as 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 thing-s. 
 
 The charities of Jansenius were extensive, but 
 discriminating. His measure and mode of assisting 
 his flock united an episcopal munificence witli 
 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. Tiie most infected abodes of 
 wretchedness he entered in person, bringing food 
 and medicines, when all 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 v/hilst 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 imm-ediately 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, I638. 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 admirationi fuit 
 
 Hie incepit tantum 
 
 Ad episcopale fastigium evectus 
 
 ut Belgio ostenderetur 
 
 Ut fulgur luxit et statim Extinctus est 
 
 Sic humana omnia 
 
 etiam brevia cum Longa sunt ! 
 
 Funera tamen suo superstes 
 
 Fivet in Augustino 
 
 Arcanarum cogitationum ejus 
 
 Si quis uriquam fidelissimus interpres 
 
 Ingenium divinum studium acre vitam totam 
 
 huic operi arduo et pio dederat 
 
 et cumeo tinitus est 
 
 Ecclesia in terris fructum capiet 
 
 Ipse in Coelis jam Mercedem 
 
 Sic vove et apprecare lector 
 
 Extinctus est contagio anno 1638 
 
 Pridie nonas Maii aetatis anno nondum 63. 
 
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 63d 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, seu doctrina sancti Angus- 
 tini de humance natura sanctitate agritudina, medica 
 adversus Pelagianos et Massilienses Louvain I640, 
 and at Rome I652, in fol. 
 
 This work is divided into three parts. In the 
 first, the learned author presented a luminous and 
 
175 
 
 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 qnietists. 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 Avorks, 
 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 
 h^d 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 by 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 
 Eomana sedes aliquid mutari velil ; sum obediens 
 jilius ; et illius ecclesice in qua semper vixi usque ad 
 hunc ledum mortis obediens sum. Ita postrema voluntas 
 mea est Actum sexto, Maii I638." That is, " 1 feel 
 that it will be difficult to alter any thing. Yet, 
 if the Romish see should wish any thina; to be 
 altered, 1 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 lavSt 
 will. Done 6 of May, I638." 
 
 Such were the sentiments entertained by Jan- 
 senius to the end of his life. It is not a liitle 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 
 
 ks overthrow. If this be the case, it may, perhaps, 
 be thought that Jansenius would have clone more 
 wisely, had his system been founded on the works 
 of St. Austin, previous to his discussions with Peia- 
 gius, and had he received with a prudent caution 
 what that great saint v/rote 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 
 vibratino; 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 Pelagrians 
 and Augustinians, the Jesuits and Jansenists, to the 
 Arminians and Calvinists 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 
 
17S 
 
 to see the most eminently pious on both sides led 
 by the grace of God to receive in their heaits, 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, Si non est gratia Dei qiwmodo salvat mundum ? 
 Si non est liberum arhitrium quomodo judical 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 wiiich 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 I 
 
 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, 1657, 
 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 
 
180 
 
 incensed, both at this treatment of their pastor, and 
 at the insult to their authority. There ^vas, 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 Chesne. 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 autlior. The 
 
isl 
 
 name of Jansenisl was now for the first time beard. 
 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 Gallic.ui church 
 
\%2 
 
 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 
 concrratulated themselves on havins; 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 
 bes:in a vieorous 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 
 foiled. They were not, however, deterred from 
 
IS3 
 
 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 l6th of November, I656, 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 Aup^ustinus. 
 
 This bulle 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: 
 " 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. 
 
 When 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 
 
1S4 
 
 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 au 
 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 Jansenisls. 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 >Yithheld. The bastille was 
 
185 
 
 crowded with victims. Even recesses in the pas- 
 sages were converted into temporary cells. 
 
 Many of the peaceful inhabitants of Port Royal 
 xvere torn from their beloved seclusion. The re- 
 cluses underwent cruel sufferings in the bastille; 
 and a number of the nuns were separately impri- 
 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 witii 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 erior than 
 themselves. They forgot their religious characters 
 and commenced ruthless jailers. Tiiey 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 dnchesse of 
 Longueville wrote on the occasion a long letter to 
 the Pope. Clement JX., v»'ho 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 Galilean church. In this disposi- 
 tion he rejoiced that an opportunity was offered to 
 effect a reconciliation without conipronjising, the 
 authority of the pnpai jurisdiction. A pacification 
 was cff^ected. 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 hov/ever was not of long duration. 
 Madame de Lonsfueville died. A month after her 
 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 Avan- 
 dered about in disguise, others expired, Avorn out 
 with fatigue and anxiety, praying for their afflicted 
 brediren and their still more unhappy persecutors. 
 
 Port Rnyal was the fountain whence Jansenism 
 had spread over France. That monastery felt the 
 heaviest siiock of the storm. For one century and 
 two yeais, it stood in the midst of its enemies; and 
 its bright !i'»ht 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 in 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, io 
 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 sufierings, 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. Theii^ 
 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 Roval had stood was 
 ploughed up, 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 Qiiesnel's death. 
 
18^ 
 
 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 ns follows : 
 
 The death of Jansenius took place in the 
 year ----- 1638 
 
 M. du Vergier de Hauranne, Abbe de 
 St. Cyran, died in - . _ I645 
 
 The great Arnauld then took the lead, ac- 
 companied by his friend and assistant Nicole, 
 
 Arnauld - - ]684 
 Nicole - - I695 
 The great Arnauld was succeeded by his intimate 
 friend Father Qiiesnel, who vigorously maintained 
 the cause by his writings, and at the court of Rome 
 by delegate, till he expired at Amsterdam, in I7 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 
 mi^ht be collected, from the numerous and valuable 
 writings of the recluses of Port Royal. 
 
 The principal works of Jansenius are Commenta- 
 
 whose deaths occurred \ '. 
 
190 
 
 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, I64O; 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 I'Histoire des cinq propositions de Jansenius, 
 par Dumas. 
 
19! 
 
 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 villao-es of St. Lambert and Vaumurier. 
 
 The Abbey of Port Royal is one of the most 
 ancient belonaiino; to the order of Citeaux. It was 
 founded in 1204, by Eudes 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 
 
192 
 
 she assumed the habit of the order. At nine she 
 made her profession before the General of Citeaux. 
 He gave lier 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 mstrument 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 lite, 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. 
 
 Beino- 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, charily, 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 oflBce 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 sooner 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. Ano-elica extended itself over all France. Nuni- 
 bers of pious individuals, in different convents, had 
 lono; been mournins; in secret over the relaxation of 
 their own communities. They earnestly desired 
 a restoration of the ancient discipline ; yet they 
 knew not where to beo-in. 
 
 In this perplexity they applied to the M. An- 
 gelica. Petitions were sent from various convents 
 to the Abbess of Port Royal r 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 difficult 
 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. Ansrelica 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 besan 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 fos;. 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 
 offerinor. 
 
 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 triennially by the nuns. In I63O, 
 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 
 weie 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 Oiieen 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 I" 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'Aiidilli. 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 duriuo niuuy suc- 
 cessive generations for the great superiority uf iheir 
 talents. They now began to be as much celebrated 
 for exalted piety, as for the lustre of iheir intellec- 
 tual endowments. St. Francis went to his eternal 
 reward when the youngest Arnauld was but a 
 child. Nevertheless, the pietv 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 connt-cted 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 Eucharist. M. de Langres at that 
 period entertained a high esteem for M. de St. 
 
502 
 
 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. Cyran to 
 Port Royal. 
 
 In M. de St. Cyran the M. Angelica seemed 
 attain 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 unquenciied, 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, and 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 quilted 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 J and take possession of the monastery 
 the nuns had abandoned about fifteen years be- 
 fore. 
 
 This occurred in I638. 
 
 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 
 
i205 
 
 house was felled. The spacious gardens blossomed 
 as the rose ; and the walls ot" 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- 
 
506 
 
 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 hoth 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 cliildren. Se- 
 veral persons of properly, influenced by religious 
 motives, gave up their parks and houses to be ap- 
 
20S 
 
 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 Tillemont'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 trao;edies 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 edifvincr 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 INicole, 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. 
 
 In 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 
 spread 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 Ions: file of car- 
 riages appeared through the woods on the top of 
 the hill, they all went to meet her. The bells were 
 
^10 
 
 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 
 trrace 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. 
 
2il 
 
 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 
 Jcnown as the spirituality of their writings. 
 
 Cardinal Richelieu died in 1642. The death of 
 Louis the XUlth 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 Conti. 
 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 asiainst his sovereio;n, 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- 
 sery 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. Cyran was ransacked ; and Port Royal itself 
 threatened with a similar visitation. In this emer- 
 gency their friends advised them immediately to 
 5end 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 alonor 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 I 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 I 
 
 " 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-edsed falchion ^littered 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 
 garb of war, these excellent men still served the Prince 
 
217 
 
 oFPeace ; and whilst their hands seemed rough like 
 those of Esau, their hearts and voice still remained 
 those of Jacob. Yet I confess I deplored the fatal 
 necessity by which the servants of God assumed 
 even the appearance of evil, and often as we buckled 
 on our arms, we could not restrain our tears and 
 prayers to God, that he might be pleased to do 
 away this direful necessity. 
 
 " Meanwhile our venerable minister, M. de Saci, 
 had not been consulted on the steps which had 
 been taken. He said but little, nevertheless it was 
 obvious that his heart mourned over us. How- 
 ever, he contented himself with being more than 
 usual in retirement, and pouring out his heart in 
 secret before God. Tranquil and recollected in 
 the midst of alarms, his very aspect said to our 
 hearts, that he trusted not in an arm of flesh, but 
 in the power of the living God. And in the midst 
 of three hundred armed men, M. de Saci, unarmed, 
 seemed a strong-er defence to them than their united 
 force, if exerted, would have been to Port Royal. 
 
 " M. de Saci united in an eminent degree pru- 
 dence with faithfulness. His deep knowledge of 
 the human heart, led him to see the danger of a 
 departure, even in appearance, from the ways of 
 God. Yet he still waited for the proper moment to 
 speak, the moment at which their own experience 
 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 
 
518 
 
 will not say prove your ownselves, whether ye be 
 still in the faith, but try whether you increase with 
 the same increase as formerly, in the love and know- 
 ledge of God. The enemy of our souls, who is al- 
 ways going about seeking whom he may devour, 
 is peculiarly active in these times of external dis- 
 order and danger, when the soul is in an especial 
 manner likely to be thrown off its guard. Now do 
 you find, that whilst you practise your exercises of 
 earthly warfare, that your heart is solely engaged in 
 spiritual combats ? Whilst you wield the arms of 
 man, does your heart as fully and as singly as 
 formerly depend on God alone for help ? Now 
 your minds are busy in contriving so many 
 schemes of defence, are your hearts as completely 
 resigned as formerly to whatever event it may 
 please God to send ? My dear friends, if we 
 "would obviate the effects of public disturbances, 
 should we not do well to apply the remedy to their 
 primary cause. Now surely the primary cause of 
 public judgments can be no other than public sins. 
 Whilst then we are endeavoring by force of arms 
 to extirpate the branches, the baneful root still re- 
 mains. O ! my dear brethren, should we not be 
 much more effectually serving our country by 
 spreading the knowledge and love of the gospel, 
 than by aiming at the defence of any particular 
 spot, however consecrated ? Amongst the multir 
 tudes who have taken up arms in this unhappy 
 contest, how has the country been benefited ? 
 Believe me^ we should be doing a greater service 
 
219 
 
 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, Ma/ 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 1 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- 
 
220 
 
 turies surrounded them, imbrued and defiled, for 
 so they are, even by the mere semblance of blood 
 and carnage. Tlie 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 
 
221 
 
 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 siesie. The whole of the 
 monastic enclosure was crowded with the effects 
 Avhich 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 I 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 
 
222 
 
 losing all their substance. Our dormitory and the 
 chapter- house were full of horses. We wei^ 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, 
 we 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 
 
S23 
 
 that any christian should be engaged in it ! Ho\t 
 wonderful that the perpetrators of such horrors, 
 should be so deluded, as to imagine themselves 
 amongst the children of the God of love ! 
 
 Port Royal continued to be distinguished for its 
 charity during the whole period of the war. 
 
 A society, such as Port Royal, could not be long 
 without experiencing the truth of their divine Mas- 
 ter's declaration, that all who will live godly in 
 Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution. In all 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 de- 
 gree of opposition. Whilst the excellent of her 
 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 I638, 
 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 
 
224 
 
 months. After the storm was blown over, they 
 again returned to Port Royal. 
 
 These pages are rather intended as a compendi- 
 ous explanation of the nature of the institution of 
 Port Royal, than as an history of the persecutions, 
 by which it was at length destroyed. 
 
 It may suffice briefly to observe, that many causes 
 conspired to 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, the grounds of which are elsewhere related; 
 their jealousy of the growing celebrity of a society 
 which already eclipsed their own in literary fame 
 — a society which already outshone them in acade- 
 mical institutions, and which threatened to do so im 
 spiritual 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 tlieir displea- 
 sure. He published a work on frequent commu- 
 nion, deploring the levity with which too many 
 persons approach that sacred mystery. He spoke 
 
225 
 
 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-feU 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 Avhich 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. 
 
226 
 
 A work could not then be acceptable, the very 
 object of which was to tear away every refuo^e of 
 lies. Should M. Arnauld succeed in establishins: 
 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 I656, 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- 
 
527 
 
 suits, and were pretended to be extracted from the 
 Augustinus of" Jansenius. They were not, how- 
 ever, contented by the empty lienors oF a triumph. 
 They resolved to reap some substantial iruit 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 deciee 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 metition 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. Tlie parti- 
 culars are too long to be here inserted. The reader 
 is referred to the five following; accounts: Histoire 
 
 <15 
 
22% 
 
 du miracle de la sainte Epine, voyez le Seme vol. 
 des Memoires de Fontaine. Notes de Nicole au 
 4me vol. des Letties Piovinciales. Racine histoire 
 abre^ee de Port Royal. Choiseul memoires sur la 
 Relio^ion. 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 
 lioht. 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, 
 
S29 
 
 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 possible, 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 Marquisses 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 h:tve done so, had they attended 
 to our Lord's rule, to judge of the tree by its fruits, 
 ^ladame 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 brouo^ht 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 bitier 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 ti]e 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 A let, 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- 
 cution. 
 
 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."^* 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 1" 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 
 
233 
 
 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 I am abased to the dust 
 in thinking of it 1" 
 
 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 
 
2i34 
 
 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 
 Avas 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 Arnauld. 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 
 
535 
 
 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 I 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 Pompon ne, 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 Conti. However bigoted men might 
 be, they were too clear sighted to employ persecu- 
 tion against those with whose exaltation their own 
 
237 
 
 interests 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 
 n brief of reconciliation. This act was termed 
 
23^ 
 
 the pacification of Clement IX. It took pUce 
 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 
 
539 
 
 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 Lonscueville built several new 
 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. 
 Among-st this class were the Duchess of Loncrue- 
 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 Cisteaux, 
 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 o-iven them 2;race 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 been the real mo- 
 tive for suspending the persecution. The King's 
 respect for so near a relative, was the true cause 
 of the Jansenists beins; so Ions; unmolested durins: 
 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 not 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. Althoufrh 
 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. 
 
 R 
 
242 
 
 They liHve 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 17 10. At 
 that period its final destruction was resolved upon» 
 M. d. Aigenson with 300 archers invested Port 
 Royal des Champs. The nuns were seized and 
 placed in separate carriages. Each was guarded 
 by arm.ed men. They were not allowed even ten 
 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 tlieir 
 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 
 sura 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 vikh 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 wiiere this celebrated institu- 
 tion had stood. 
 
 Such was the end of Port Royal ! So terminated 
 an institution which had so lone; shone a brio-ht 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 
 Arnauld, 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 Q^uesnel, surely no 
 Eno;lish reader ouo-ht 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 wriltew at the close of 
 1710, a very short time after the imprisonment of 
 the nuns and before the final demolition of the mo- 
 nastery in 17 1 1. 
 
 *' II u'y a point eu de monastere oii la discipline r%u- 
 
 K 2 
 
^44 
 
 li6re se soit niieux soutenue. Jamais on n'a eu une maison 
 plus sainte, plus 61oign6e de la corruption du monde, plus 
 attentive aux loix de I'Eglise ; plus soumise aux pasteurs, plus 
 attacli6e a toutes les regies. 
 
 " Le voeu de la pauvret^ religieuse s'y observoit dans toute 
 son dtendue. Les sceurs ne possedoient rien en propre, tout 
 etoit en conimun parmi elles ; et encore dans I'usage de ces 
 biens qu'elles possedoient en commun, quelle admirable sim- 
 plicite, qu'elle moderation, quel eloignement du faste et de la 
 vanite ! Tant qu'il leur a ete permis de recevoir des filles a la 
 profession de la vie religieuse, jamais une riche dot n'a et6 le 
 prix du voeu de la pauvrete et leur maison toujours ferm6e a 
 la faveur, d la recommendation, aux interets humains ne 
 s'ouvroit qu'a la vertu eprouvee et a la vocation clairemerrt re- 
 connue. On les voyoit pleines de respect pour les meres^ 
 mais de ce respect qiii produit I'amitie et la confiance. Elles 
 vivoient ensemble dans la plus parfaite union. Les entretiens 
 avec les personnes du dehors etoient rares, mais sans familia- 
 rite, et toujours sous les yeux d'une assistante. 
 
 " On admiroit ce profond silence qui r^gnoit dans la mai- 
 son, cette modestie serieuse, cette uniformite dans les exercises, 
 cette application continuelle a la priere, ces larmes si douces, 
 et si consolantes, qui en etoient le fruit, ces lectures 6galement 
 pieuses et solides, eloign6es de toute vaine curiosite, ces au- 
 mones vers6es avec abondance dans le sein des pauvres. La 
 vie y 6toit austere et frugale, le soiiieil court, les veilles 
 longues, et frequentes, les jeunes soutenus jusqu'au soir, la foi 
 pure, I'esperance animee, la charite brulante. L'lnterieur de 
 la maison 6toit pour les jeunes filles, un ecole de vertu, et de 
 pi^te ; I'exterieur etoit rempli de lai'ques vertueu.x, qui s'exer- 
 coient courageusement dans les plus rudes travaux de la peni- 
 tence. Helas, qui pent dire combien il s'y est forme de 
 saints qui ne sont connus que de Dieu seul, et dont les cen- 
 dres sont cachees dans ces lieux jusqu' au tems de la ma- 
 nifestation ! 
 
245 
 
 " Quedirai je de I'ofBce public de TEglise! Quel concours 
 nuit et jour. Quelle assiduite ! Quelle perseverance ! Quelle 
 violeuce pour me servir de 1' expression de Tertuliien, ne 
 faisoit OH point d Dieu, par I'union de ces prieres si fcrventes 
 et si anini^es ! Les ceremonies s'y faisoient avec dignile, tnais 
 sans pompe, et avec une simplicite editiante. Le cliant ra- 
 vissoit: vous aurloz cru entendre des Anges. C'etoit des voix 
 douces, distinctes, artlcul^es, harmonieuses, touchantes, qui 
 attendrissoient jusqu'A faire repandres des larnies, et qui 
 remplissoient en nieme te.iis le coeur dejoie et de conso- 
 lation. 
 
 *' L'auguste majesty de Dieu se faisoit sentir dans cei saints 
 lieux. Jesus Christ present sur I'autel y 6toit 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 pi6uses filles avoient 
 pour Jesus Christ, leur faisoit desirer sans cesse et recevoir 
 souvent la divine Eucharistie, avec un empressement et un 
 feu, dout ractivlt6 pourtant 6toit quelquefois retenue par un 
 vif sentiment d'humilite et de penitence. 
 
 " O sainte vallee ! O sacree demeure ! O cenures des 
 saints qui reposent dans ces lieux ! Le monastere de Port 
 R )yal peut bien etre renverse : mais la posterite saura, ce que 
 ni la suite des siecles, ni I'iniquite des hommes ne feront ja- 
 mais oublier, que cette maison si sainte, a peri eutiii, non pas 
 par aucun crime qui s'y soit comniis, non par I'ambition des 
 religieuses, non par aucun differend survenu entre elles, non 
 par de folles et excessives d6penses, non par des edifices 
 somptueux t6merairenient entrepris, non par le relachemeut 
 de la discipline, qui depuis cent ans qu'elle a 6te etablie dans ce 
 monastere s'y est toujours 6galement soutenue ; mais, ce qui 
 est incroyable, par un scrupule religieux, et par un attache- 
 ment inviolable a la sincerity chretienne. Ciiose inouie 
 jusqu'^ nos jours! Et quand meme il n'en resteroit^aucun 
 monument 6crit ; les ruines meme de ce lieu, si digne de vene- 
 
246 
 
 ration, ^leveront, pour ainsi dire leur voix, et s6rviront de 
 t^moignage eternel !" 
 
 This exquisitely beautiful passao;e could only be 
 spoiled by a translation. 
 
 The foregoins; 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 Bllen into the Edi- 
 tor's hands, who has conapleted a large compi- 
 lation from them. It may, perhaps, hereafter be 
 presented to the public. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note - pace 2. 
 
 Ot. Francis re Sales wa& a native of the diocese oF Geneva. 
 He was born In 1567, at tlie Chateau de Sales. The Count de 
 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 entert.iin 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. Tlie 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 Fenekn. 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 desife 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 
 deChantal, 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 Oueen 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, " unless the poor should 
 want it," 
 
 One day, his steward informed him that he had just gained 2 
 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, afier 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 I'Amour 
 de Dieu, 3 vols, in 12mo. well abridged in one, by Tricalet. Lettres 
 Spiiituelles, 3 vols, folio. Solide et Vraie Piete, 1 vol. l2mo. 
 His life is written by several authors. That by the Abbe Mor-^ 
 aollier (2 vols, in 12rao.), 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 Madaiue 
 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 fornierly 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 docs not appear impossible that an evil con- 
 science, and the horror of his situation, might have extorted some 
 exclamation which the tradition of a kw centuries has since manu- 
 factured into the legend related by Gerson. This, however, is 
 ofTered as a mere conjecture. Possibly the whole incident may 
 be altogether fabulous. 
 
250 NOTES. 
 
 It appears truly wonderful ihat so absurd a legend should have 
 been received, with an unqualified assent, rear our own times. 
 Peter Poiret does not scrujjle, in his lile of \ntoinetta Bourignon, 
 to blame the Port Royal writers for having called in question its 
 authenticity. 
 
 Note — pace 27. 
 
 Nicholas Pavillon, 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 Pavillon 
 the poet. 
 
 Note — page 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 
 and 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 piotestants, 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 polemics by 
 
notes;. 5tfit 
 
 Grep;ory the 13th, in the new college whic'-. he liaH just instituted. 
 Sixtus the 5th, afterwards raised him to the office of theologian to 
 the French legate. Nine years afterwards, Clement the ^th, 
 created him Cardinal. He received the purple in 1599. The 
 Pope gave the following reason for bestowing the Cardinal's hat 
 on Bellurmin ; " 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 disponed of a third of his incon)e in acts of charity. 
 He visited the sick in liospitals, 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 ihc 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 
 
252 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 iin- 
 niediate influence of the ultramontane opinions. 
 
 Bellarmin died in 1621. His works are numerous and highly 
 valued. His life was published 16'25, 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 
 liis 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 the life, and Meaupeaux 
 pronounces the funeral panegyric of M. de Ranee. A fourth 
 written by Le Nain, is, however, the best. 
 
 DoM Armand de Range is the author of several valuable works. 
 His chief publications are, Lettres Spirituelles, 2 vols. l2mo. 
 Saintete des etudes, et des devoirs Monastiques, also 2 vols. 12mo. 
 Instructions Chretiennes, also in the same number of vols. Regle- 
 ments de I'Abbaye, notre dame de la Trappe, et les instructions 
 
NOTES. 253 
 
 donnees a Clairets, 1 vol. Hmo. Institutions de la Trappe. Vies 
 de phisicurs solitaires de la Trappe. 
 
 Tiiere is luucli in these works hii^hly edifying. They are all 
 curious, inasmucli 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 tliese 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. Tlie Lives of the 
 
 Fathers of the Desert, and Cardinal Bellarxnin's Art of Dying 
 
 Well. 
 
 Addenda on the Interior of La Tuappe. 
 
 In 1765, tlie number of religious, at La Trappe, amounted to 
 69 monks, 56 lay brotliers, 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 for necessary assistance. The 
 author of the precis adds, that this practice is grounded on the 
 words " Sedebel solilarius el lacebel." 
 
 The cells are furnished with a small table, a straw chair, a 
 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 snnall 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 groinid 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 Albergoiti 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 Tuapse. 
 
 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 tliis note, instead of being inserted in the text, because it took 
 place some years subsequent to M. Lancelot's tour. 
 
 James ihe Second had Ijeard of La Trappe in the days of his 
 prosperity. After his misfortunes, he resolved to visit a seclusion 
 he liad so loiij^ 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 in the evening of the 20th ofNoveraber, 
 1690. As soon as M. de Ranee heard he vi'as 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 wail. 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, 
 
256 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 fme 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. la 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 
 hi 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 undissernible 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 s«rving him, the only King, immortal 
 and invisible, to whom alone true honor and power belong. That 
 Cod who iias 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 difTcrerU 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, relurned 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 havuig 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 exercises 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 subjnission 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 
 
 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 foUowhig 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,' and ' 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, evea 
 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* 
 
 *' Tlie 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 Jefiiies, 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 
 Cod 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, Prlnterj 
 Black-Horse-Court> London^ 
 
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