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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

ACQUIRED BY EXCHANGE

NARRATIVE
OF THE
DEMOLITION
OF THK MONASTERY Of
PORT ROYAL DES CHAMPS,
including
BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS
OF ITS
ILattet: STnfjabftants,
By MARY ANNE SCHIMMELPENNINCK,
JTHOll OF THEOEY ON THE CLASSIFICATION OF BEAUTY
AND DEFORMITY; DOM LANCELOT'S TOUR TO ALEX, Sec.

' Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness* sake, for tlieir's
is the kingdom of heaven.

ILontron:
PRINTUn FOR J. AND A. AR^H, CORNHILL.
1816.

J. M'Creery, Printer,
Black Horse Court, Fleet Street, londOR,

PREFACE.

The Narrative of the Demolition of
Port Royal des Champs was originally
written by way of sequel to The Tour
to Alet.
It is only published as a distinct
work, instead of a concluding volume
to the new edition, in order to render it
accessible to those who have already
purchased the first edition, and who
might not therefore wish to incumber
themselves with the second.
We have chosen to begin abruptly
as a fragment, rather than weary the
Reader by a detail 6f all the litigations,
chicanery, vexations, and oppressive
decrees by which the Monastery of Port

IV PREFACE.
Royal des Champs was harassed for
above fifty years ; and by which were
successively wrested from its possession,
the House of Port Royal de Paris, and
the principal part of its own revenues.
The three last articles of the Tour
to Alet will form a very sufficient in
troduction to this volume, the Nar
rative of which will afterwards suffi
ciently explain itself.
Many of the readers of this little
work, will, probably, like the Author,
he far removed from the distinctive
peculiarities of opinions and practices
characterizing Catholicism or Jansen
ism. Nevertheless she trusts, that,
with her, they will be ready to hail the
a^enuine spirit of Christianity, amongst
whatever denominations the indivi
duals possessing it, may be found.
The History of Port Royal affords
many Ipi ight examples of the paramount

PREFACE. V
power of divine grace ; it also exhibits
a striking illustration of the inestima
ble value ahd importance of both reli
gious and civil liberty, and of tolera
tion ; and it inculcates no less decided
a lesson, on the duty of universally
diffusing them, and of maintaining
them sacred and inviolate. «
MARY ANNE SCHIMMELPENNINCK.

Sristol,
Decembers, 1815.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Page
Cardinal of Noailles  i
Thomassin  3
The Twenty-ninth of October  11
Journey  26
Me^dames Sophie Flescelles and Lucie Pepin . . 27
Madame de Boiscervoise  3Q
Madame Syncletique de Remicourt  33
Madame Issali  40
Mesdames de Courtiaux and St. Marthe .... 41
Servants of Port Royal  4/
M. d'Argenson, and M,. MadOt, brother to the Bishop
ofBellay  50
Madame de Chateau Renaud  52
Decree of the l2th of January, 1710  53
Mademoiselle H,orthemels  54
Horrible Expedition of 1711  56
Impression produced by the Destruction of Port Royal
des Champs  6S
Captive Nuns  69
Madame St. Lucie Pepin  73
Madame Claude Louise de St. Anastasia du Mesnil
Courtiaux  76
Letter from the Infirmarian of the Ursulines of Blois 85
Epitaph  87
Jesuits' Missionaries in China  99
Cardinal of Noailles and Thomassin  10|
Louis Quatorze  109
Liberation of Prisoners on Account of Religion, by
the Regent, Duke of Orleans . . . . . 134

Vni CONTENTS. Page
Mademoiselle de Joncoux  135
Benedictines of Malnoue  141
Letter from a Nun of Malnoue  143
Madame Marie Magdeleine de St. Gertrude duValois 146
Convent of the Filles Dieu et Chartres , . . .159
Extract from the Writings of Madame du Valois . 163
Continuation of Madame du Valois at Chartres . 171
Journey from Chartres to Mantes  188
Letter from a Nun of Mantes  1 92
Princesse deConda and Cardinal de Noailles . . 202
Visit to Paris  204
Journey to Etrees -  209
Monastery of Etrees  210
Abode at Etrees  212
Observations  2I6
Louis L'Epargneur-  220
Peter- Bourchier . . . -  \ _ _ 222
Peter Maliac . ,  234
Leonard -Fournier  240
M. LeNoirde St. Claude  260
Louis, Duke of Orleans, note .... . . , ^fg
Concluding Observations ......... 284

NOTES. '
Author'sVisit toPortRoyaldesChampsinSept.1814 313
Extraits des Ecrits de M, M. de Port Ro^al, sur la
Necessitede la Foi en Jesus Christ . . . ,353
Dogmes dujansenisme N. B  ggg
( 1 ) Cinq Propositions suivant les Jansenestes ib.
(2) Nicole sur la Predestination et la Grace 37»

NARRATIVE

DEMOLITION OF THE MONASTERY

OF

PORT ROYAL DES CHAMPS.

Adoranda est Veritas, etiam cruci affixa."

The Cardinal de Noailles had long been
harassed by the court party on the one
side, and the Jesuits on the other, to issue
a decree for the immediate suppression
and extinction of the Abbey of Port Royal
des Champs. He was a man of a timid
and feeble mind, susceptible both of pious
and of humane feeling, but incapable of
acting with firmness and decision.
He most painfull felt the part which he
B

was called upon, and even persecuted, to
perform in this business. Good, but waver
ing, abhorring the persecution of others, but
unable ta withstand when it was directed
against himself; too humane willingly to
oppress, but too feeble to succour the inno
cent of his flock, by the firm defence
which he as their pastor owed them ; M. de
Noailles became an awful exemplification
of the common observation ; that the weak
are often made to perform as tools, acts of
injustice, which the wicked who direct them,
would never dare to perpetrate as prin
cipals. Who would have thought, that whilst the
abandoned Harlay, and the ambitious Pe-
refixe, embittered as they were against Port
Royal, and earnestly as they wished its de
struction, never dared to lift a finger against
it ; that it should have been reserved to the
succeeding archiepiscopacy of the good and
mild Noailles, to level its venerable towers
with the ground; to tear up and 'scatter
the remains of its hallowed dead, and to
leave scarcely one stone upon another ?

One anecdote* respecting the part he
took in this aiffair, will clearly shew his cha
racter. It is related by M. Thomassin, the
Cardinal's promoter.f About the time the
question of the intended destruction of Port
Royal was agitated, but before it was de
creed in council, the Cardinal one day sent
for M. Thomassin, and at his arrival at the
Archbishopric, thus addressed him, " Sir,
the destruction of Port Royal being decided
upon, you must draw up and present me a
petition to that effect." M. Thomassin
waited till the conclusion of the Cardinal's
speech, and then respectfully but firmly re
presented to him, that he was deceived,
and that in fact. Port Royal was wholly dif
ferent from the account which he had re
ceived J which was in truth only the repre
sentations of one particular party, who had
long been its avowed enemies j and who
* Poulain, torn. i. p. 300.
f " Promoteur," an ecclesiastic attached to the supe
rior clergy, who have a wide jurisdiction. It is his
office to transact the ecclesiastical law business of the
diocese.
B 2

tvere indeed inimical, not only to Port Royal,
but to every thing good ; and he concluded
by saying, he was surprised his Eminence
did not see how he endangered his own salva
tion, by lending the sanction of his name,
to a deed which could only dishonor him.*
" Yes, my Lord," continued he, " it is
only persons jealous of your very high re
putation, who would seek to engage your
Lordship in such an undertaking. They
see plainly that the world highly reverences
your virtues, and admires your character ;
they cannot attack the orthodoxy of your
doctrine, -and they wish to tarnish the lustre
of so many excellences, and to serve their
own malice, by endeavoring to draw you in,
and to make you their agent, in an odious
and detestable enterprize, which they are
by faj,' too prudent to venture upon in their
own persons ; and of which they will after
wards exculpate themselves, by throwing
all the odium upon your Eminence.":!'
The Cardinal appeared struck with these
* Poulain, torn. i. pp. 300, 301, 303. t Ibid.

observations, and after a moment's pause,
replied, " Sir, make me a memorial of all
you have just now advanced; and of all the
reasons which ought to induce a suspension
of the destruction of Port Royal ; but let it
be drawn up immediately, I cannot wait,
for I am pressed on all hands. They ab
solutely give me no peace."*
At the end of two or three days, accord
ingly, M. Thomassin presented the me
morial ready drawn up to the Cardinal, who
perused it to the end ; after which he thank
ed him, for opening his eyes to the snare
which was laid for him.-f
The enemies of Port Royal, ,who were
very impatient for its demolition, did not
fail to visit the Cardinal in a few days, to
discover how the affair went on. They
were beyond measure surprized and cha
grined, to see the total change in his dispo
sition; especially as M. de Noailles told
them the reasons on which it was founded. J
They then saw that the only way of tri-
• See note, page 4. f Ibid. J Ibid.

6
Umphing over his opposition, would be by
intimidating him; they accordingly told
him, that the King was much bent upon it,
and that he would be much displeaised at see
ing it objected to by the Archbishop of
Paris alone ; and that when he should be
called upon for a justification of his refusal,
it would be too ridiculous to see his Emi
nence, Archbishop of the first province of
the kingdom, and a Cardinal of the holy
college, exculpating himself by pleading
silbmission to the fancies of his secretary.*
The Archbishop, piqued by the sarcasm
which accompanied this observation, habitu
ally timoroiis, fearful also of the double hu
miliation of ridicule, compleatly wearied by
his enemies, and in compleat doubt which
side was true, finally agreed to comply with
all they required.f
He then sent for Thomassin, and in a tone
evidently chagrined, and constrained; but
yet decided, and as if to get rid of the busi
ness at once, said that the affair was finally
* Poulain, torn. i. pp. 302> 303, 304. + Ibid.

decided upon, and therefore the petition
must be drawn up without further delay.*
M. Thomassin respectfully testified his
astonishment at so unexpected and decid
ed a resolution ; and asked his Eminence,
whether he had taken any measures to as
certain the truth of those assertions which
were to be alleged as the very basis of the
petition ? He also added an inquiry, whether
his Eminence had found any reason to doubt
the truth of the facts contained in the me
morial, which he had the honor to present
to him some days before ?'f
The Cardinal replied with evident; im
patience, " What is all that to the purpose ?
The affair is decided amongst the privy
counsellors. There is nothing left but to
execute it.J"
M. Thomassin was about to speak, when
the Archbishop, interrupting him with a
vivacity of manner, anda voice of thunder,
quite unusual to him, said, " Sir, I am
giving a command, not asking advice ; nor
* See note, page 6. f Ibid. t Ibid.

is it your place to offer it unasked. It was
justly observed to me, that you were a very
young man, and that it did not become
me to be led by you."*
M. Thomassin again made an attempt to
speak, when M. de Noailles again closed
his mouth with these memorable words.
" Sir, I insist on being obeyed. Draw
out the petition. It shall be done."t
To which M. Thomassin, bowing submis
sively, and then standing with modest firm
ness, in the most respectful manner replied :
" My Lord, your Eminence is resolved
to do it , and Thomassin is equally resolved
not to do it." Then with tears in his eyes,
and much emotion (for he was sincerely at
tached to the Cardinal,) he cohtinued, " No,
my Lord, it shall never be said that your
faithful servant Thomassin, has lent his
pen to your Eminence's enemies, who only
plot and combine to dishonor you."{
Thus the interview closed. § .

* Poulain, torn. i. pp. 302, 303, 304.
t Ibid. + Ibid. § Ibid. pp. 304, 305.

On his dismissal from the Cardinal, M,
Thomassin, very much agitated, repaired to
his own church, which was St. Nicholas du
X,ouvre, of which he was Provost. He im
mediately went and kneeled at the foot of
the high altar. He staid there above an
hour, during which time, though he had
blasted all his worldly prospects, he declared
he felt a peace which cannot be expressed ;
and an awful, but ineffably glorious and
joyful sense of the presence of God, which
pervaded his whole soul. Whilst he was
there, he heard the bells ring for evening
salutation ; he felt so inexpressible a sense
of peace and happiness, that the persons who
came in to prayers, and went outj seemed to
him as though he saw them in a dream : he
seemed already to.enjoy by a lively influence,
the holy presence of God, the society of
Angels, and the happiness of the Saints.'
He did not rise from his knees, till the dark
shadows of evening scarcely shewed the
white dresses of the Sisters of Charity glim
mering in the remote distance; and till the
last " solitary lamp was extinguished ; and

10
though all his worldly prospects were ap
parently ruined, he declared that he never
felt the divine presence so powerfully ; that
his whole soul seemed absorbed in the joy,
sweetness, consolation, and tranquilHty of
that happy moment.*
Whilst such were the contemplations of
M. Thomassin, the Cardinal de Noailles
was very differently employed. It was by
no means a difficult thing to find other
ecclesiastics, more pliable and less con
scientious than M. Thomassin; accordingly,
the order was given to another person, the
petition was drawn out and presented, and
the destruction of Port Royal was soon
after formally decreed by the council. f
On the eleventh of July, the Cardinal of
NoailkvS passed the decree for the suppres
sion and extinction of the Monastery of
Port Royal des Champs.J

* See note *, page 8. f Ibid.
X Poulain, torn. i. p. 254. Fontaine, torn. i. p. 47.
Necrol. Pref. p. 54. Clement, torn. ix. p. 414.
Besogne, torn. iii. p. 188.

11
On the twenty-ninth of October, of the
same year, 1709, at half past seven in the
morning, the nuns on coming from mass,
which they had attended after prime, were
gone to the ,Ghapiter, according to custom.
A message was brought to the Mothei?
Prioress, desiring her immediate attendance
in the parlor. She there found a man come
in great haste, from the surrounding woods,
to tell her that a long file of carriages seemed
proceeding towards the house, and multi
tudes of armed horsemen appeared; on the
neighbouring heights.*
A moment after, arrived M. d'Argenson,
counsellor of state, and with him, a lieu
tenant of the police, accompanied by two
commissioners,; and other gentlemen ; with
a band of constables and archers on horse
back. On entering,, be ordered the key of
the outward door to be given to a sentry,
whom he established there. He also posted
an archer at the door of the turn ; one at

* Poulain, tom. i. p. 260. Clemt. ix. pp. 466,
467. Fontaine, i. p. 49. Besogne, jii. p. 193.

12
the door of the church, and so on in other
places, whence there might be any commu
nication with the interior of the convent.*
Presently there appeared on all the
wooded heights, which inclose the beauti
ful valley of Port Royal, troops of horsemen,
amounting to some hundreds; and instantly
the whole wall of enclosure, was on all sides
invested by armed men.f
All the avenues of approach, to the dis
tance of half a league, were guarded by
armed archers on horseback. J
The greatest part of these men, had in
truth arrived the day before; at which time
this expedition was originally intended to
have been effected : but the weather was so
unusually stormy, and the rain so violent,
and so uninterrupted, • that M. d'Argenson
Was obliged to remain at Paris, and defer it
until next day.§

* Poulain, tom. i. pp. 361, 262, 263. Besogne, tom.
iii. pp. 193, 194, 195. Fontaine, tom. i. pp. 49, 50-
Clement, pp. 465, 466, 467, 468.
t Ibid. * Ibid. § Ibid.

13
The horsemen meanwhile, had orders to
keep their march a profound secret; and by
no means to approach the monastery; so
that they found themselves not a little em
barrassed how to pass the night. They
therefore dispersed in various directions;
some went to lodge at Magny, whilst others
found asylums for the night at Montigny,
Voisins, Chevr^use, and even as far as
Dampierre.* Many of them, not being able to obtain
shelter, were compelled to remain concealed
all night in the woods about Port Royal,
drenched with rain, and exposed to the
fury of the tremendous storms : at length
however, the weather cleared, and they
contrived to light a blazing fire, near which
they remained till tKe dawn of day. f
After having posted his centinels, M.
d'Argenson stopped all the servants he met ;
took down their respective names and offices,
and at the same time commanded them not
to stir from the place he appointed for them.

* See note, page 12. t Ibid.

u
He then went to the turn, and asked to
speak to the Prioress, Sub-prioress, and
Procuratrix.* He was conducted to the
great parlor, and a moment after they
appeared at the grate, f
M. d'Argenson mentioned his own name,
and told them that he came authorized by
his Majesty. He read to them the begin
ning only of the decree he came to execute ;
which was dated three days before, on the
twenty-sixth of October, and which re
quired of the nuns, in the King's name,
that they should open their door to M.
d'Argenson, and remit and deliver up to
him, all their papers and title deeds. J
* It may be necessary to observe to our protestant
readers, that the office of Procuratrix is much like that
of the house-keeper in a large family ; or perhaps more
like a union of the offices of steward and house
keeper. It is the person who keeps the stores, dis
penses them in the interior of the convent, and
transacts the business of the community.
-J- See note, page 12.
X Poulain, tom. i. pp. 263, 264, 265. Fontaine, tom_
i. pp. 50, 51. Besogne, tom. iii. pp. 195, 196. Cle
ment, tom. ix. pp. 468, 469.

15
.He then demanded entrance, to fnlfil his
orders. The Prioress replied, that she
would immediately open the door of enclo
sure ; and she went to the turn herself to
receive him. He entered with the two
commissioners, followed by a secretary,
who carried a little tin box. He desired to
be conducted to the chapter house, and
ordered the whole community to be sum
moned. All the nuns then entered with
their large veils let down. He counted
over their number several times; then
placed himself on the Abbesse's throne ;
the commissioners taking their seats at his
sides. He then read to the community at
large, so much of the decree as had been
previously read to the Prioress ; and added,
that the farther pleasure of the King should
be made known to them, after the article
already recited should have been complied
with.* He then commanded all the deeds to be
* See note t> page 14.

16
instantly delivered up to him, and asked
them if they had not suppressed any.*
The Prioress answered in the negative,
and said, that if he would give himself the
trouble of accompanying her to the place
where they were kept, she would deliver
them up to him, which was accordingly
done. He was then conducted to the strong
closet, in which were the title deeds and
archives of the monastery. He affixed his
seal to it, as well as to several heavy chests,
and to the strong box. During this ex
pedition, only the Prioress, Sub-prioress,
and Procuratrix were present; for the nuns
hearing the hour of tierce strike, had left
the chapter-house, and were gone into the
choir. Little did they suspect, that it was
the very last time they should ever meet
there, to celebrate the praises of God. As
it was Tuesday, it so happened that the
Psalm for the day was the 25th. "To thee,
O Lord, do I lift up my soul," &c. than
*. See note J, page 14.

17
which one more appropriate to the pecu
liarity of their circumstances could scarcely
have been found.*
Another singular coincidence also hap
pened on the same day. The ,two lamps of
the dormitory, which, had burnt without
interruption from the re-establishment of the
monastery, were unaccountably both found
extinguished, which had never once hap
pened before. After Tierce, the nuns dis
persed to their various obediences, or to
their cells. ' They had however scarcely
reached them, before M. d'Argenson being
returned to the chapter-house, recalled the
community. When they were all assembled,
both the choir-nuns and likewise the lay-
sisters ; he told them he had reason to con
gratulate them on the prompt submission
with which they had obeyed the King's
command; but that he was, however re
luctantly, constrained to declare to them the
further orders of his majesty; and orders
which were much more painful and rigoroup
p ¦ , _ I J ¦¦ I . . . ' . 
* See note J, page 14.

18
than those they had already submitted to j
and which would require, on their part,
infinitely more hard sacrifices; but which,
nevertheless, must be absolutely obeyed.
He then ordered the remainder of the de
cree to be read; which purported that the
King, for several reasons, on mature delibe
ration, and for the good of the state, ordered
all the nuns of Port Royal des Champs to be
immediately separated froni each other ; and
dispersed in different religious houses, out
of the diocese of Paris.*
After a pause, the Prioress said, that at
least she had hoped they would have been
sent two and two ; being mostly aged and
infirm. He replied, that could not be.f
The Prioress after another pause, then
asked, how long a period would be allowed
them to prepare for such a journey, in such

• Poul. tom. i. pp. 365, 266, 267, 268, 269. Fontaine,
tom. i. pp. 51, 52, 53. Besogne, tom. iii. pp. 196,
197, 198, 200. Clem. tom. ix. pp. 465, 466, 470,
471, 472, 474, 475, 476, 477, 47&, 480.
t Ibid.

19
a season of the year, (it was more inclement
than had been known for two centuries)
and for their last and final separation.*
He answered, that their separation must
take place without delay. Some of the
nuns replied, that they had scarcely had
time to go to their cells since Mass, and
that it would unavoidably take some time
to put up what was indispensably necessary
for their journey. f
With much difficulty, M. d'Argenson
was prevailed upon to allow them half a
quarter of an hour for their preparation : but
added, that he should follow them, to see
that they carried away no papers. He then
opened the box brought by the secretary ;
from which he took out a paper, containing
alist of the various places of their exile, and a
number of double packets, ticketed, con
taining money to defray the expense of the
journey of each nun ; and another sum to
pay her first quarter's board, in the convent
where she was to be placed. M. d'Argen-
? See note ?, page 18. f Ibid.
q %

20
son destined Blois to the Mother Prioress-
herself; and then filled up the other blanks,
applying to her for the names of the
different nuns.*
The community meanwhile stood around,
listening to their sentences in profound
silence; and still keeping their large black
veils let down over their faces. Neither
sigh nor murmur was heard, nor did one
weak tear appear to betray the dignity of
their constancy, or to impeach the perfect
humility of their resignation and submission
to the divine will.
One indeed fainted, and another who
had been bled the day before, felt her arm
open ; but M. d'Argenson would not suffer
either of them for an instant to quit the
room, till he had narrowly examined whether
there were any imposture.f
At length it became necessary for the
nuns to go to make up their packages.
Each of these, as it was tied up, was brought
into the chapter-house ahd ticketed. Mean-

See note *, page 18. f Ibid.

^1
•while the nuns staid in the chapter with
the bailiffs, constables, ahd archers, with
which it was thronged. M. d'Argenson in
¦the mean time, standing himself in the
passage to the dormitory, in order to in
spect the contents of every bundle as it was
handed out. The nuns were so hurried,,
that they had not time to take one half of
what was absolutely and indispensably need
ful ; and during the examination, several of
the packets were so unsorted and mixed,
that not a few went to the wrong places.*
When M. d'Argenson had finished his
examination, he asked the procuratrix for
ber accompts. Then the nuns, who in the
midst of their own extremity, never forgot
their wonted beneficence; spoke to M.
d'Argenson of their old servants, most of
whom had long and faithfully served them,
from early youth even to hoary hairs;
they also recommended to him the poor;

* Poul. i. pp. 269, 270, 271, 272. Besogne, iii. pp.
201, 203. Clem. ix. pp. 471, 472, 473, 475. • Font.
i. pp. 53,^4, 55.

22
as well as some old domestics and others,
who being past labor, were maintained by
the house ; the Prioress asking him how he
proposed to provide for their latter days?
M. d'Argenson replied, " that it was vexa
tious ; but it would be time enough to con
sider of that, when they were gone." Saying
this, he took the keys of enclosure, and
put them in the hands of an archer. He
then again entered the chapter-house, fol
lowed by a troop of bailiffs and archers,
amounting to above thirty ; who with those
already there, completely filled the room.*
Besides these, there were others in the
outer court guarding the servants, without
counting the numbers who invested the
whole wall of enclosure, the hills, and all
the avenues of approach; so that there
were nearly three hundred men armed and
mounted, merely to disperse a few nuns.-|-
The nuns, seeing they were now so near
finally quitting their beloved seclusion, no
human help being at hand, and no pitying
* See note, page 21. + Ibid.

23
eye turned to them, and the archers and
bailiffs now fast thronging in upon them,
finally to disperse them, some of them ap
proaching their Prioress, said to her, "What,
my dear Mother, shall we quit our home
without once protesting, or making any
legal act of appeal?" She replied, "My
dear daughters, as all is done by the autho
rity of lettres-de-cachets, there remains no
legal power of appeal. Our path then is
clear; to submit with resignation." They
then with one accrrd, threw themselves at
her feet to implore her blessing, tenderly
embraced her, and said no more.*
During this time, M. d'Argenson was
giving the necessary orders for their speedy
departure. It was now near one o'clock,
and not any of their community had yet
broken their fast. The Prioress represented
this to the magistrate, and asked him whe
ther it would not be well for them to go a
few minutes into the refectory. " No, no,"
replied he, " but you can bring something
• See note, page 21.

24
here." Some bread and wine were then
brought into the chapter-house; but no
body would touch it except one nun, whom
M. d'Argenson absolutely constrained to
take some, because she was in the most
urgent want of it.*
Till this time the carriages had remained
without. The lieutenant of the police "then
gave orders they should drive in ; the court.
was immediately full of carriages, archers,
soldiers, and bailiffs.f
Meanwhile, all the surrounding villages
and neighbourhood had been alarmed at so
unusual a movement ; and the farmers, vil
lagers, cottagers, and poor, had all hastened
to watch, though at a distance, what was
doing ; so that the heights of all the sur
rounding hills were thronged with an im
mense concourse of all ages and descrip-

• See note, page 21.
t Poul. i. pp. 273, 273. Besogne, iii. pp. 203, 208.
Clem. ix. pp. 486, 489, 473, 474, 483, 484, 535, 527,
5S8, 529. Fontaine, i. pp.55, 56, 57, 58. Clem, x,
p. 399.

25
tions, more especially by the poor, who for
above a century had been indebted to the
charity of Port Royal. All this multitude
awaited in silent curiosity and expectation
the developement of the extraordinary scene
before them.*
As soon, however, as the empty carriages
drove into the yard, one universal cry of
sorrow and indignation was raised. The
poor rushed down in troops; some weep
ing, and exclaiming they were about to de
prive them of their nursing mothers, and
beseeching they might be left; others
thronging to see their faces once more;
some howling dreadfully; others silently
throwing themselves on their knees, and
looking up to heaven, as though to call for
aid: others, again, with .mournful cries and
frantic gestures, shrieking, " Mercy, mercy,
have mercy on the poor ! do you intend to
starve the poor, by taking away their mo
thers and their only refuge ?"f
Their lamentations, however, were vain.

* See note f, page 24.
% Ibid, and also Manuel du Pel, p. 58.

26
The nuns were at length compelled to go.
The Prioress, with a calmness and resigna
tion wl\i'ch was the gift of God, lost not for
a moment her presence of mind. No mark
of weakness escaped her. She staid till the
last; and as M. d'Argenson himself led
each nun to the carriage, she gave to each
her last blessing, and a word of seasonable
exhortation and consolation."*
Carriage after carriage then filed off,
each with an armed escort, through the
lines of poor, who, loudly sobbing, bid
them farewel with frantic grief; or kneel
ing, with uplifted and streaming eyes, im
plored a blessing on them. Twelve car
riages thus went, destined to Blois, Rouen,
Chartres, Mantes, Meaux, Amiens, Com*
peigne, Autun, Mont Cenis, and other
places. f
All the servants, who had been detained
captive the whole day, were then turned
out of doors, without provision, shelter, or
reward. To one very aged man, indeed,
* See note f, page 24. f Ibid.

27
who had faithfully served the nuns gratui
tously, they gave twenty-five pence, the only
remuneration for fifty years' service.*
>»^ We will now follow the nuns to their va
rious exiles. The first carriage which de
parted was that of Autun. It conveyed
the sister Saint Sophia of Flescelles,
and sister LucY OF St. Pepin. The first,
on stepping into the carriage, bade one
more adieu to her sisters, saying, " My
dear sisters, let us above all arm ourselves
with that invincible shield of faith, which is
able to quench every fiery dart." The wife
of one of the bailiffs accompanied them by
way of attendant and guard. She declared,
that instead of letting drop one single mur
muring word, the nuns immediately dis
posed themselves to prayer. They expe
rienced many inconveniences on the road,
* Font. i. pp. 55, 56, 58. Poul. pp. 273, 273. Besogne,
iii. pp. 203, 206, 207, 228. Clem. ix. pp. 491, 492,
493, 494. Clem. x. pp. 288, 289, 290, 291 . Necrol,
Supp. pp. 345, 346, 347. Besogne, iii. pp. 268, 269,
270, 271. Clem. x. pp. 85, 86, 131.

28
not only from the hardships necessarily at
tendant on the severity of the season, but
from the rigor of M. d'Argenson's orders ;
amongst others, they were refused attend
ance on divine worship, and on their arrival
at the inns, immediately put under lock
and key. In reply to the rudeness with
which the guards, who accompanied the
carriage, performed their office, the sister
Lucy of St. Pepin mildly answered, " My
Saviour has been a prisoner before me, and
that for our salvation : I bless God for
vouchsafing me the favor of having any, the
least part, in his lot, or fellowship with him
in his sufferings."^
At length they arrived at the monastery
of the visitation, where the sister LuCY OF
St. Pepin was to stay, and where those wh©
received her as a prisoner soon learnt to
honor her as a saint. f
The next day, the two nuns, had a pain
ful sacrifice to make, in finally separating
* See note, page 27. f Ibid.

29
from each other, as the sister Saint Sophia
OF Flescelles was going on farther to
Mont Cenis.*
They took the most affectionate and af
fecting leave of each other, as persons ex
pecting to meet no more on this side of
eternity; and solemnly exhorting each
other to be faithful even to the end. They
then separated ; the sister Sophia continu
ing her journey to Mont Cenis, where, after
passing through many trials and vexations,
Madame de Rosebureau, the Abbesse, de
clared " that Providence had bestowed on
them his best gift, in the e-xample of their
dear sister of Port Royal, whose conduct
had been a source of edification to the
whole house,"f
Afterwards, two other carriages went fpr
St. Denis, with lay-sisters, who were how
ever almost immediately translated to other
convents. The hardships, mal-treatment,
and anxiety these nuns underwent, joined
to their advanced age, and the inclemency

* See note, page 27. f Ibid,

30
of the season, occasioned the death of the
greater part at the end of a very short pe
riod. Others lived several years, setting a
bright example of Christian and monastic
virtues, and after undergoing various per
secutions, died in the odour of sanctity,
leaving their memories in benediction in
the very houses in which they had suf
fered,* The fourth carriage departed for Amiens
It contained the sister Anne OF St. Ceci
lia de B6ISCERVOISE, aged eighty-one
years, and sister MAGDALENE OF St.CeCILIA
Bertrand. The first of these nuns was
amongst the number of those who were
imprisoned forty-one years before, in the
persecution of 1664. She had accompa
nied the Abbesse Madame Ligny in her
banishment, and having experienced the
hardship of an exile, she had peculiarly
feared the di^nprsion. Owing to the bad
ness of the weather, the roads were almost
impracticable ; and after great inconve-
'" " ' ¦ ¦ — - —  —   -^ ¦™ ».— ¦¦ -¦ ¦ ¦ ,
* See nolCj page 27.

31
uience, the carriage was finally overturned,
and the nuns very much hurt. The sister
Anne of St. Cecilia was taken exceedingly
ill in consequence of her fatigue. They
arrived late in the evening on the 20th at
Amiens ; a physician was sent for at eleven
that night, as the nun appeared in the most
urgent extre;mity; she however lived four
days longer; when, notwithstanding the
continual persecutions with which she was
assailed on her death-bed, she expired in
perfect peace, trusting on the mercy of
God, through the merits of Christ.*
On the last day of her life, Madame de
Boiscervoise called for her breviary; and
taking out of it a little print of the great
Amauld, looked at it, and then put it in
the fire, carefully looking till it was en
tirely consumed. " I always have honored
M. Amauld," she then said to her jailers:
" I entertain to my last moments for his
memory the high respect and^onsideration

* Poulain, i. p. 273. Besogne, iii. pp. 203, 199,
306, 207, 228. Clement, ix- pp. 503, 503, 505.

32
be deserves; and if I now burn his portrait,
it is not that my views are altered, but as a
necessary precaution lest it should fall into
unworthy hands!"
Next to the carriages for Amiens, suc
ceeded two for Chartres. The sister Aga
tha LE J UGE, who went in one of them,
had, as it was observed before, been lately
bled; which, with the agitation she under
went, made her so ill, that she was unable
to stand ; but was carried into the coach,
and supported by pillows. There were
also two . lay-sisters sent to Chartres ; one
of them was a cripple ; she had passed
many; years without wearing shoes or stock
ings, and had restricted herself in food, in
order to be able to give more to the poor.
She was so ill, as to be obliged to be put
into the carriage, wrapped up in a blanket ;
she scarcely lived to reach the place of her
destination.* Then followed the seventh carriage to
Nevers, containing sister FRANCES Mag-
*. §e€ note, page 31.

S3
DALENE OF St. Ide VaVASOUR, and sister
Maria of St. Anne Courturier. Each
were to be taken to Nevers, and placed in
a separate convent of Ursulines. They were
conducted so carelessly, that the carriage was
overturned, and thrown from the causeway,
upon a sort of ditch or morass below. The
nuns were dreadfully bruised, and dragged
out of the slough into which the carriage
was overturned, covered with mud, so that
thoy were obliged to strip off their nuns'
dresses and put on secular clothes. They
at length arrived very late at their place of
destination, where they found such a pre
vention was entertained against' them, that,
it was a very considerable time before the
Abbesses would take them in.*
There were still four carriages to go.
The first was that of Rouen ; which was to
convey the sister Anne Julia OF St. Syn-
gletica de Remicourt, the Sub-prioress
of Port Royal, to the priory of Bellefondj
¦ I ¦¦¦^¦¦  L ...,..¦—.¦., I ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦¦ .11— iiwi ¦ ¦! —W— i^— .^
* Compare Clem. tom. ix. pp. 511, 512, with Fon
taine, tom. i. p. &8, and Besogne, tom. iii, p. 206.
D

34
of the order of St. Bennet. Such were the
prejudices against the nuns of Port Royal,
that when she arrived, they would not open
the doors; so that after a most fatiguing
and anxious journey, in the midst of No
vember, the carriage was obliged to wait
in the night for some hours ; till at length
M. d'Aubigne, Archbishop of Rouen, being
applied to, sent word to the Abbesse, that
she and her community could not possibly
dispense themselves from obeying the
King's commands.*
The Abbesse Madame de St. Pierre, vnth
the utmost ill-will and reluctance, was then,
compelled to let Madame de Remicourt
enter. She did not, however, receive bet
into theconvent, but immediately confined.
her under lock and key in a small garden-
bouse, separated from the rest of the mo
nastery. Here she was so closely confined^
that for years she only saw the lay-sistec
who fed her. No nun was allowed to speak
to her. She was deprived of all public of-^
¦^ .Clem. tom. ix. p. 512, also Bes, iii, p. 374, ;

35
iices of worship, and wholly interdicted th^
use of books, pens, ink, or paper ; and, hor
rible to relate, of either fife or candle, and
that during the severest winter France had
experienced for two whole centuries; nor
was she allowed to have any air, but what
came in at the chimney. Still, however,
her faith, failed not. It was of this nun
that the : Archbishop said to the Abbesse,
Madame de St. Pierre, " You may perse
cute, but you never will alter Madame de
Remicourt; she has a square head, and
persons with square heads are always ob
stinate and decided."*
The lay-sister who attended this inno
cent and trulj' pious Sub-prioress, sincerely
pitied her, but durst not bring her any fuel
from the :kitchen ; she, however, entreated
the boarders, in the convent, and the scho
lars, to put out the charcoal of their stoves
before it was quite burnt, and to give it to
her.; This she did, without telling the
young ladies what she meant to do with it,
* Clem. torn. ix. pp.513, 514, 515, 516.
D 2

36
^hich was to take it to Madame de Remi
court. The young ladies concluded the
lay-sister meant to give it to the poor; but
they soon found out the Use to which this
compassionate nun applied it ; as she was
discovered by the Abbesse, and obliged to
do penance in consequence.*
Soon after, the Abbesse came down one
day at the hour of recreation, and after
conversing familiarly with the scholars, she
Began by exalting the advantages and plea
sures of the monastic state, and asked them
whether they shoiild not likte to be nuns in
her convent? Most of the scholars an
swered according to the views of the Ab
besse ; but one young lady, about fifteen,
who afterwards proved a very eminently
Christian character, decidedly answered,
" No, madam, T would not upon any ac
count enter this convent." " And pray
why, my dear sister?" inquired the Ab
besse. " Because, Madam," returned the
young lady, " both yourself and your nuns
* See note, page 35,

37
are totally "deficient in Christian charity."
The Abbesse, astonished, demanded an ex
planation. The youwg lady then pointing
to the prison of th,e Sub-prioress of Port
Jlpyal, told her, there was in that prison a
nun, who had been confined for a long
time, who was never adniitted to the con
solations of public worship ; who received
no visits of charity or compassion ; who was
never seen but by the lay-sister who fed
her, and never allo.wed to come o,ut for a
moment to take the j^ir. " Even wild
Ijeasts," continued the young lady, " have
their different apartments, that they may
be aired by their keepers, who exhibit
them ; but you, madam, a nun, a religious
in profl^ssion, refuse this ij^dulgence to a
hunian being. Moreover, this nun has been
totally deprived of fire during the whole
wiuter, which has been very long, and of
unexampled severity." ^* Pray hpw do you
know th?it ?" inquired the Abbesse. " Be
cause, Madaifl," replied the young lady,
"fire cannot burn without smoke; now no
smoke has escaped this winter from the

38
chimney of that prison. In short. Madam,
you will, I am persuaded, find it difiicult
to cite an instance of a barbarian and a
heathen who treats his captive enemies as
you. Madam, a native of the most civilized
nation in the world, and a professor of the
highest perfection of the Christian religion,
treat a lady, your country-woman by birth,
your superior by rank, your sister by reli
gious profession, and. Madam, your ex
ample by sanctity ; for assuredly a very
eminent degree of sanctity alone could
have preserved this lady, under an excess
of inhumanity, which would have driven
any merely common religious professor to
despair."* The Abbesse completely abashed, and
severely mortified, in vain endeavoured to
excuse herself; alledging the royal man
date and the authority of the Archbishop.
But all the rest of the scholars now taking
part with the young lady, the Abbesse, ut
terly confounded, was obliged to withdraw.
* See note, page 35.

39
Next day she gave the sister of Saint Syu*-
cletica leave to walk out for an hour, at the
time of the recreation, with the young
ladies. The permission was continued for
walking every day afterwards, with leave
to have a fire, and to attend divine service,
though in a tribune alone.*
Thus, whilst M. de Noailles, a Cardinal
of the holy college, and the Archbishop of
the metropolitan church, through weak
ness, suffered religion to be trampled un
der foot; a child, by firmly espousing the
side of religion and humanity, had the con
solation of being able to mitigate the suf
ferings of: a saint, and to stem alone the
torrent of her persecutors.
Madame de Remicourt was treated after
wards with less inhuman severity, though
she did not obtain more liberty. f
Next to the carriages for Rouen, followed
one for Compieg'ne, conveying the sisters
AppoLLINA LE Begue, and another nun,
who were placed in two religious houses,
¦• See note, page* 35. f Clem. tom. ix. p. 516,

40
under the immediate direction of the Je
suits, from whom they suffered grievously ;
till at length, wearied with tormenting
them, their director voluntarily declared,
" that in all cases they shewed such an
humble fear of displeasing God, that for
his part he could not but bitterly regret the
destruction of a house, whose inhabitants
were so eminently holy."*
Then followed a carriage to Meaux, con
veying the sister Mary of St. Catherine
IsSALi, procuratrix of Port Royal, and the
sister Mary Catherine St, Celinia Be-
NOIse. The first suffered dreadfully from
a dislocation of both bips, so that she
could neither kneel nor rise without assist
ance. She had suffered from this malady
for years; but such was her benevolence,
that she used to cause herself to be carried
to a couch near a table, where she busied
herself from morning till night, with inde
fatigable industry, making clothes for the
poor, atid mixing up medicines and oint-
* Clem. ix. p.S17.

41
mentSj and bleeding those who required it,
with the greatest dexterity. When this
sister arrived, neither her grievous infirmity,
nor the hardships she had consequently
suffered in her journey, could induce the
convent to shew her the humanity of taking
her in; it was only by a positive order
from the Bishop that she was at length ad
mitted into a society, from which she had
to experience the harshest treatment.*
Last of all, and not much before five
o'clock in the evening, went the carriage
for Blois, conveying the Reverend Mother
Prioress, Louisa of St. Anastasia du
Mesnil de Courtiaux, and the sister
Frances Agnes of St. Martha, The
destination of the first was to the Ursulines
of Blois ; that of the latter, to the Canonesses
of the same city. During the whole of the
afflicting scene which she had witnessed,
the Reverend Mother Prioress had equally
exhibited the deep feeling of the Mother of
a large community, the resignation of a

? Clem, ix, p, 518.

43
Christian, and the dignity of mind and
force of character which peculiarly distin
guished herself. Every nun, before she
entered the carriage, had first devoutly
knelt at the foot of the altar of the sacra
ment, offering herself as a sacrifice to her
Saviour, and then returning to the chapiter,
threw herself at the feet of the Prioress, to
ask her blessing.*
However sensibly the reverend Mother
felt these adieus, she supported them with
the same dignity and constancy to the end.
She most tenderly embraced each of the
nuns, and then, not to weaken them too
much, she only said, " My very dear sis
ters, be faithful to your rule, to your con
science, and to your God, who is able to
maintain you in both, through the fiery
trial of affliction." The nuns, on the other
hand, bid her and each other adieu, till
they should meet in a happy eternity ; they
asked pardon of each other, for all the pain

? Clem. ix. pp. 520, 521, 522. Bes. iii, pp. 204
and 207. Clem. ix. pp. 480, 483.

43
they might have mutually given ; and ani
mating each other with a lively faith, an
ardent charity, and a firm hope, they re
commended themselves to their Mother's
and to each other's prayers, declaring, that
being united in heart in God, and for God,
they could not fail to find Port Royal every
where. When the sister Isalli, the procu
ratrix, was going, she remembered that on
settling the accounts, the convent had still
four hundred francs in hand ; she therefore
desired this sum might be given to the
poor; but the archers having seized the
purse, divided it amongst themselves.*
Even M. d'Argenson appeared both
deeply impressed and touched by the con
duct of the Prioress. He treated her with
the greatest respect, always styling her the
reverend Mother. He appointed the Pro
vost of the Marechaussee himself, with six
horsemen, to accompany her carriage, and
repeatedly recommended him to shew every
possible respect and attention to the reve-
• Bes. iii, p, 204. Clem. ix. pp. 483, 481, Note.

44
rend Mother Prioress. Indeed the whole
company appeared impressed with equal
respect and esteem for one, who could shew
at once suCh unshaken firmness, and such
profound submission to orders so rigorous.*
Like the venerable mother of the Macca
bees, her courage never once failed in that
terrible day, in which her cbildren were all
severed from her. As it was so late in the
evening, she lodged that night at Versailles.
It was not till the fourth of November that
both the prisoners arrived at Blois. Being
early in the day, M. d'Aqvergne, the Pro
vost of the Marechaussee, wished to send
them each imniediately to her respective
convent. But they having requested the
favor of spending a few hours more toge
ther, before their final separation, he kindly
consented. The rest of the evening and
that night they chiefly spent in prayer,
and in exhorting each other to resignation
and constancy, f

* Clem. ix. pp. 520, 521, 522. Bes. iii. p. 207.
t Ibid.

45
The next day the Prioress accompanied
sister Frances of St. Martha to her convent
of the Veronicans, before she went to her
own. Here they spent a short time in
conversation. The Prioress then rose to
take her final leave. The sister of St.
Martha threw herself at her Prioress's feet,
to implore her last benediction. The
Prioress gave it in the most solemn and
affecting manner. She then raised her and
embraced her, bidding her " Be faithful to
the end." In this manner they separated,
never to meet again in this world.*
The Mother Prioress was then conducted
to the Ursulines, where she was closely
guarded and imprisoned, but where her un
shaken constancy and eminent piety at
length extorted the highest esteem, venera
tion, and admiration of the whole commu
nity, though without ever abating any
thiiig of the very rigorous treatment they
made her endure without intermission, till
* Bes. tom. iii. p. 207. Clem. ix. p. 522. Fontaine, i.
p. 60.

death put her in possession of the crown of
life laid up for those who are faithful to the
end.* The last nun at Port Royal was the sister
Mary St. Euphrasia Robert; she was
paralytic, which, joined to her extreme
age, (for she was almost ninety), had not
only deprived her of the powers of reading,
writing, and walking, but even of the use
of her reason. Nay, it was even thought
she had too little consciousness to be sen
sible of what was going on at the time of
the dispersion. To their great surprize;
however, whilst to all appearance stupidly
gazing on the scene before her, she sud
denly raised her head, and turning to M.
d'Argenson, mildly but firmly said, " Sir,
to-day is the hour of man ; but that of the
judgment of God will soon, and will cer
tainly arrive."f
She was sent away next morning, but

* Fontaine, i. p. 60. Clem. ix. p. 522.
t Clem. ix. p. 522, 523. Bes, iii. p. 206. Fon
taine, i. p. 58.

47
suffered so severely on her journey, that
her death was expected the day of her ar
rival at the place of her destination ; she,
however, survived it a few weeks.
The servants of Port Royal were not
more kindly treated than the nuns. No.
sooner was the Prioress gone, than M. d'Ar
genson began to dismiss the servants, who
had been detained close prisoners the whole
day. In vain did they represent to him,
that it was now evening; that there was
scarcely half an hour's day-light, and that
they did not know where to go. It availed
them nothing; they were turned out that
night, and obliged to go' where they could,"
and to seek shelter in the villages around.*
The next day the servants returned for
their clothes and their own furniture ; but
all their packets had been visited, and they
were only able to take what the rapacity of
the archers allowed them ; this indeed was
not much.-f

* Bes. iii. pp. 208, 209, 210. Clem. ix. pp. 523,
527, 528, 529. f Ib'd.

48
The archers, seeing that the. greatest
number of the servants had many books of
piety, without scruple treated them as
thieves, telling them in the most opprobri
ous language, that they must have stolen
them from the nuns.*
Several of the most aged and faithful ser
vants, having outlived their relatives, and
being past their labor, were compelled to
seek a miserable shelter at the Hotel Dieu.
Here they were respected as persons whose
eminent piety sufficiently declared the
school in which they had been educated.
After suffering the extremities of poverty,
they died in holiness amongst the poor,
after having lived in holiness amongst
saints. Such, however, was their. distress,
that the curate of the parish being called
in to administer the last sacraments to one
of them, could not restrain his tears on
seeing the .condition to which she had been
reduced.f Such was the close of the monastery of
* See note, page 47. f Ibid.

49
Port Royal des Champs. Thus terminated
a house, so eminently blessed by God ; a
house, which for more than a century, bad
diffused the odour of life throughout the
Christian church, and the word of God
throughout the land. This rare institution,
in its existence diffused an example of holi
ness; in its destruction, one of martyrdom.
What shall we say ? God raised up this
rare assemblage of virtues and talents in an
age which was not worthy. He bid it arise,
like a great light, in a land which sat in
great darkness and in the shadow of death ;
but men preferred darkness rather tban
light, because their deeds were evil. God
therefore removed their candlestick in
wrath from a crooked generation; and in
permitting Port Royal to be immolated to
the faith, he preserved it from that relaxa
tion, which often succeeds to dishonor the
most splendid works. Port Royal is no
more; but its memory is in benediction,
its works shall be in everlasting remem
brance. This permission of God, which is
inscrutable to flesh and blood, is considered
E

50
hy the eyes of faith the suttimit and crown
of all God's mercies to this holy institu
tion.* To return to our narrative, M. d'Argen
son sent a special messenger to Versailles,
to inform the King and Madame de Main-
tenon (who was a chief mover in this affair)
that the expedition was completed.f
M. d'Argenson himself remained some
time at Port Royal, to arrange all business
relating to it. Whilst he was there, the
monastery was completely ransacked by an
ecclesiastic, who was brother to the Bishop
of Bell ay. He pryed into every corner,
emptying all the drawers, chests, and clo
sets, and turning out their contents on the
floor; which was the means of wonderful
depredation, every one pillaging at plea-
sure.f
? Clem. ix. p. 529.
t Clem. ix. p. 524. Poulain, i. pp. 273, 274. Fon
taine, i. p. 61. »
X Poulain, i. pp. 274, 975, 276, 277, 278. Besogne,
iii. pp. 210, 211, 212, 213. Fontaine, i. pp. 62, 63.
Clem. ix. pp. 536 to 542.

51
All the obediences likewise were put into
complete disorder. Obedience is the name
given to those rooms containing the mate
rials for the different kinds of works in
which nuns are employed. And as the
community had formerly been so numerous,
there were a great many of these obediences
at Port Royal, As for example, obediences
for the linen, the robery, the mattresses,
the bedding, the furniture, the drugs, the
apothecary's shop, the church ornaments
and Vestments, the fruitery, the locksmith's,
the shoe warehouse, the weaving looms;
obediences for glazing, for oil, for wax, for
candles, fqr the library, for book-binding,
for book-mending, for the clothes of the
poor, and for the clothes of poor children
under seven years old.*
In this scene of devastation, the new
comers being unacquainted with the keys,
in order, to save time, burst open the doors,
forced open the closets, turned out all to
~A^ See note J, page 50.
\ £ 2

52
the right and left,' and in the indecency of
their research, did not even desist from the
unheard of outrage of prying into the apart
ments of secular persons, who boarded in
private rooms in the convent.*
Not long after, the monastery underwent
a second pillage. Madame de Chateau
Renaud, the usurping Abbesse of PORT
Royal de Paris, came in the beginning of
December to seize upon the spoil of Port
Royal des Champs, and took away the pro
visions, clothes, furniture, and church or-
naments.f The provisions were considerable, be
cause the nuns were in the habit of laying
in large supplies, in the seasons in which
they were cheap ; so great was the spirit of
order and oeconomy for which this house
was distinguished, in temporal as well as in
spiritual affairs. As it was the time to lay
in a stock of wax, there was likewise a
prodigious quantity of it, and of candles;
potted butter^ hogsheads of prunes, grains,
* See note t. page 50. f Ibid.

53
eggs, olive oil, nut oil, salt, and fire wood.
All the linen of the noviciate likewise re
mained, as well as a large quantity of co
verlets, mattresses, nuns' robes, sewing
thread, packthread, mill puff for mattresses,
and white stuff for stockings. There was
likewise a very fine piece of Gobelin tapes
try, presented to them by Mademoiselle
des Virtus, to serve at the procession of the
holy sacrament.*
The usurping Abbess remained three
weeks at Port Royal, during which time
she sent to the house at Paris above an
hundred cart loads of effects and provisions,
that remained after the pillage, besides what
was sold on the spot.f
It was not long before they proceeded to
the demolition of the monastery. Ma
dame de Chateau Renaud obtained by the
credit of Madame de Maintenon a decree
of the twelfth of January, 1710, ordering
the total demolition of the house, vvhich,
* See note |, page 50. f Ibid,

exclusive of the church, had cost above
65,625 livres to build.*
This intention, however, was not carried
into execution until the succeeding year;
when the demolition of the monastery was
so complete, that it might almost be said,
as of Jerusalem of old, that not one stone
was left standing upon another.f
Before the destruction of the monastery;
M. d'Argenson learnt that Mademoiselle
Horthemels, daughter to a bookseller in
Paris, had engraved a series of plates ; repre
senting the church, choir, refectory, clois
ters, and various other views of Port Royal
des Champs. He immediately sent and had
all the impressions seized; as well as the
copper-plates from which they had been
worked off. Her mother having laid a com
plaint before the magistrate, he declared, ^
that his Majesty having ordered the demo-

* Poulain, L pp. 281, 282, 283, 284, 285.
Clemt. tom. x. pp. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16,
17. Besogne, iii. pp. 214, 215, 216, 217.
t Ibid.

55
lition of the monastery, no^epresentation of
it should have been taken or preserved.*
'^'^ Meanwhile, the church of Port Royal
had not been included in the decree for the
destruction of the house ; but about the
end of 1710, another decree was obtained,
for the compleat destruction of all that re
mained. In the year 171ij accordingly,
the church was destroyed ; and the exhuma
tion of the bodies took place at the end of
the same year, and in the beginning of
1712.t
' In the interval which elapsed between
the destruction of the monastery and the ex
humation, several families to protect the
remains of their friends from outrage,
amidst the threatening tempest ; besought,
and obtained permission, to remove the
bodies of their relatives, interred at Port
Royal des Champs; and to give them a
private, but decent burial elsewhere. Ac
cordingly six bodies of the Amauld family,
and also that of M. de Tillemont, M. Ra-
* See note, page 54. f ibid.

56
cine, those of Messrs. le Maitre,. de Sacy,
and a very few more, were transported else
where.* The multitude of bodies, however, which
still remained at Port Royal des Champs,
continued undisturbed till the end of 1711.
At that period the Cardinal de Noailles
committed the superintendence of the ex
humation, to an ecclesiastic of the name of
Le Doux ; who acquitted himself of his com
mission in the most shameful and scan
dalous manner. The; operation, far from
being conducted with the respect due to
the sanctity of the deceased; or even with
the mere decency which any occasion of
the sort may demand ; was committed to a
set of laborers and grave-digger's, of the most
profligate description; who prepared them
selves by intoxication, . for the disagreeable
task imposed upon them. They were at
the time of the exhumation, in a compleat
state of inebriety ; the whole business was
* See note, page 54. also Manuel du Pelerinage de
Port Royal, pp. 1 to 4, 63 to 65, SO, 49 and 50.

57
carried on with the most scandalous inde
cency ; and amidst the most profligate jests,
vociferation, and blasphemy. The bodies
had been intei;red in various places. Some
had been buried in the body of the church,
others in the- choir, many in the cloisters,
a great multitude in the external church
yard, whilst others had been interred in the
internal burying ground; which was more
particularly appropriated to the nuns. The
earth was opened in all these different
places. The bones were taken out and
carried to the chapter-house. Some of the
bodies taken out of the earth were entirely
decayed ; others were half consumed, many
remained entire; these, the grave-dig
gers seldom took the trouble to dig up
whole; but hacking and hewing them in
pieces, tore off the flesh and mangled limbs
piecemeal, throwing them in one vast heap,
where the decayed bones, the putrid and
dissolving corpses, and the mangled and
bloody limbs and remains, were promiscu
ously piled one upon another, in one vast

58
charnel, in order to be - afterwards trans
ported in carts elsewhere.*
But a vast multitude of bodies were found
which were unconsumed ; of this number
were three, which even to their very dress,
remained as compleat and entire, as when
committed to the grave. One was that of
a priest in his sacerdotal vestments ; ano
ther that of Laisne, a servant to the house,
who died about two years before; and the
third was that of the Mother BouLARD DE
NiNVlLLlERS, the last Abbesse of Port
Royal, who died in the year 1706. -j-
On the remnant of all these bodies,
whether consumed or entire, was exercised
the most revolting and infamous brutality ;
and the most indecent profanation of the

* Poulain, i. p. 286 to 289. Bes. iii. p. 217 to 222.
Clem. X. p. 28 to 32. Necrol. Pref. pp. 55, 56, and tom.
ii. pp. 406, 407, 408. Ruines de Port Royal, p. 34.
Racine, Hist. Eccles. tom. xi. pp. 468, 469. Manuel
du Pelge de Port Royal, 49.
t Ibid.

59
common feelings of humanity. The grave-
diggers still drinking, to qualify themselves
for their work, amidst a thousand blas
phemous speeches tore these venerable re
mains to pieces ; hewing off the limbs and
heads with their spades or pickaxes, in order
to compress them piecemeal into some old
packing cases, dragging them along to the
chapter, where they were thrown into the
common heap. Two gentlemen, who were
hunting in the woods of Port Royal, hap
pened to pass by at the time these brutali
ties were perpetrating ; curiosity led them
to turn aside, knowing that the exhumation
was about to take place, to see what was
going forward. They entered the church,
where they saw a body exhumated, as en
tire as if it had been only just buried. It
was dressed in a surplice, between the hands
was placed a small wsooden crucifix, a di
vine peace still sat upon the countenance.
The grave-diggers instantly stripped it,
dragged it by the feet, all the length of the
church, to the chapter-house: then with
hoes and pick-axes rudely tore in pieces the

60
body,- and defaced that venerable counten
ance which even death had respected.*
The body of Madame Boulard, the last
Abbesse, also appeared not as if dead, but
as if in a tranquil sleep ; or as it has been
described, her face wore still the placidity
of Christian benignity, amidst the deep so
lemnity of death. When that of John
Laisne was found, the workmen recogniz
ing him to whose kindness they, as well as
the other poor, had often been indebted;
brutally exclaimed, " Ah, ah, Laisne, so
there thou art again !" But we must draw -
a veil over the scene of horrors that en-
sued.-|- We shall simply say, their bodies were at
length transported to the common heap.
The single idea of such a spectacle outrages
both religion and nature itself. What must
the eye-witnesses have experienced, at un
expectedly beholding this prodigious pile of
bones, and half bleeding, half putrescent
bodies of above three thousand corpses,
* See note, page 58. f Ibid.

61

which it was computed were buried there,
promiscuously heaped together. Indeed,
the multitude was immense. Since the re
form o»ly, which had then subsisted above a
century, there were always some hundred
nuns in the house, besides priests, recluses,
servants, and a vast multitude of pious
friends who desired burial there. Such were
the venerable characters, whose remains
were thus cast out with indignity ; whilst
multitudes of hungry dogs, assembled by
the horrible and pestilential gales, which
blew over this scene of carnage, were seen
on all sides assembling round the grave-
diggers, tearing the putrid or bleeding flesh,
snarling and contending for the mangled
limbs, or foul and besmeared with gore,
gnawing the bones, or sleeping, glutted,
amidst their prey.*
Such was the mode, in which the ex
humation of the bodies of the saints of Port
Royal was conducted. When it was finished,
they transported this vast mass of inform
* See note, page 58.

62
remnants of hewn and mangled corpses, in
carts to the church of St. Lambert; where
one vast sepulchre, or rather pit, was dug,
into which they were promiscuously J^lirown.
To compleat the indecency of this most
scandalous scene ; it is related, that in the
jolting of the carts, which were piled up
very high, many of their contents occasion
ally tumbled out, so that the road from
Port Royal to St. Lambert, might be traced
by the bleeding remnants of human
bodies, occasionally scattered the whole
way. The piety of passengers and the sur
rounding villagers, gave to these remains a
burial, on the very parts of the road where
they fell. The pit into which the rest of
the bodies were thrown, was dug on the
south side of the church of St. Lambert.
At each corner of this grave was placed
a large stone, like a curb stone, separating
it from the rest of the church-yard ; and in
the centre was placed another, on which
the friends of Port Royal erected a wooden
cross ; which mark of respect, trivial as it
was, was all they were allowed to shew.

63
This cross, however, was very soon obliged
to be renewed. The young, whom the
saints of Port Royal had instructed ; the
old, vahom they had consoled ; the poor,
they had helped ; and the friends, whom in
the slippery paths of worldly greatness, they
had guided; all were frequent in their visits
to the desolate remains of Port Royal, and
to the church-yard of St. Lambert; and,
excluded from the church by the ecclesi
astic who officiated, the church-yard and
the scite of the monastery became a place
of meditation and prayer; and few out of
the number visited these sacred spots, with
out taking away a piece of the ruins of
Port Royal, or a chip of the cross erected
over the remains of her saints. Truly mightit
have been said, " Thy servants think upon
her stones; her very dust is precious in
their eyes."*
In fine, to compleat all, many of the
tomb-stones of the nuns, which were large
lozenges, either of black marble or of lias
* See note, page 58.

64
stone, have been discovered in taverns an<
smoking houses of the lowest description
for several leagues round Port Royal ; wher
they have been used either for pavement
or for drinking tables, A magistrate, wel
known for his piety, had the devotion t<
save one of them from profanation. Havinj
found it in the yard of an inn, where it hai
not yet been used, he bought it, and re
spectfully kept it as a remembrance of th(
saints of Port Royal.*
Soon after the exhumation, the walls o
the church of Port Royal were blown u|
with gunpowder, and the timber and car
penter's work torn down, and sold to the bes
bidder. Truly might it be said of thes(
Harpies, that not content with devouring
Jacob, they had filled his dwelling plac<
with desolation. Not long after this, th<
Archbishop of Beaumont, tore up almos
the very last remnants of this monastery:
and to blot out all remembrance of a spoi
whose light had gone forth to the whole
world, and whose good works had left ac
* See note, page 58.

65
indelible impression on the hearts of men,
he used the principal part of the stone
work of the building in making an aque
duct. Thus has the fury of the enemies of
Port Royal been often compared to that
of the children Of Edom against Jerusalem.
" O God ! the Heathen are come into
thine inheritance ; thy Holy Temple have ,
they defiled, and made Jerusalem a heap of
stones. The dead bodies of thy servants
have they given to be meat unto the fowls
of the air, and the flesh of thy saints unto
the beasts of the land," — Psalm 79. " They
said, down with Jerusalem, down with it
even to the ground," *
Such was the untimely fate of the monas
tery of Port Royal ; but in vain was the
voice of ecclesiastical authority raised to
defend the deed it had urged the temporal
power, and even the regal sanction, to
perpetrate. One universal voice of execra
tion arose from every quarter; and all
France looked with abhorrence upon an
• Se'e note, paga 58,
I"

66*
outrage which equally stigmatized the prd-
fessors of religion who had planned' it,
and the royal' authority which had so
outstretched' its just prerogative as to assist
in its execution. And whilst so intolerant
a bigotry, and so arbitrary an exercise of
power, was looked upon with horrbr by'
the vast body of the truly religious in the
Galilean Church, and by the truly enlight-'
ened in all countries, the fears of the su
perstitious did not fail to observe, that this'
evisnt was succeeded by a period of imme
diate, sudden, and almost unexampled dis
asters to France. Scarcely had the mo
narch, who sat on the throne, demolished
Port Royal, when that throne, firm as it
then appeared, was shaken to its very
foundation. — The Grand Dauphin, the
Duke and Duchess of Burgundy, the Duke
of Brittany, the three successive heirs to
the crown, were struck by death, sud
den, av^ful, and inexplicable ; and France
was left with an aged and decrepid old man
at her head, surrounded by triumphant
enemies. The victories of Hochstet, Ra-

67
millies, and Malplaquet, rapidly succeeded
each other; Tournay, Lisle, Mbns, and
Douay, opened their gates to the enemy.
Louis the Fourteenth, in an evil hour, had,
by the intrigues of the ambitious woman
he married, consented to oppress true re
ligion equally in his Protestant subjects, by
signing the Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes; and in his Catholic subjects, by
the banishment of the Saint of Cambray,
and thedestruction of Port Royal; and.Louis
the Fourteenth, whose brilliant successes,
alike in arts as in arms, had obtained him
the vain title of GREAT, died, not even
leaving to his nation the empty laurels,
which, might have speciously concealed
the naked poverty to which he had re
duced them.*
It was also renaarked, that, on the day
of the exhumation of the bodies, a violent
tempest burst upon the district; and, on
the day fixed for the translation of the re-

• Poulain, tom. i,,, pp. 289, 290, 291. Clemencet,
tom. X, pp. 32, 33 to 42. Besogne, iii. pp. 222, 223.
f2

6&
mains to St. Lambert, a most tremendotis
storm took place ; so that the expedition
was obliged to be deferred for several days.
It indeed extended over all France, but
more particularly in the district of Versailles
and Port Royal, in which all the fruit trees
were demolished. It was also observed,
that the winter of 1709 was severe and
rigorous beyond precedent; nor did per
sons fail to conclude this catalogue of dis
asters by observing, that scarcely had Ma
dame de Chateau- Renaud seized the spoil of
Port Royal des Champs, when she was
struck, in the midst of her usurpation, with
sudden death. She died without* sacra
ments; and if at the last moment, God
in mercy visited her heavy-laden soul with
the grace of repentance, no time was al
lowed to manifest its sincerity to men.
She died, and gave no sign ; and both the
temporal and spiritual state of her monas
tery was, at her dissolution, found in the
greatest disordet.*
» Poulain, tom. i. pp.289, 290, 291. Clemencet,

69
Having now pursued the desolation of
the monastery to the last stage and term of
ruin, it is time to return to the nuns ; and
following them in their various retreats, to
trace the effects of the faith of which they
had. been made blessed partakers, upon the
short remnant of their lives.
The captive nuns had, as we before ob
served, been generally received in the most
unworthy manner by the houses into which
they had been transferred. They were at
first looked upon as lost reprobates, with
whom it was dangerous to hold any com
munication; they were therefore immured
in their own cells, under lock and key ; de-
barfed the use of pen, ink, or paper, and
excluded from all society; in many in
stances great personal hardships were ad
ded; nevertheless, by degrees they every
one without exception, both lay-sisters as

torn. X. pp. 32, 33 to 42. Besogne, tom. iii. pp. 22%
223. See the short account of the Destruction of Port
Royal, in St. Simon's Memoires, tom. iv. p. 333 t«*
.354; also in Ruines de Port Royal, p. 31 to 62.

70
well as the choir-nuns, obtained not only
the esteem, but the reverence and admira
tion of their persecutors.*
The unfeigned piety and enlightened de
votion of the Port Royal nuns, struck them
with equal veneration and respect; the
same degree of piety they bad never before
witnessed; of the same illumination and,
information they had not even a concep
tion. The regularity and exact conformity
of the captive nuns to the customs of the
houses they entered, soon obtained tliem
the highest consideration; whilst their un
failing meekness, humility, patience, and
resignation, under a long continued perse
cution, forcibly struck their hearts and con
sciences. In most instances, their perse
cutors, though blinded by prejudice, were
not ill-intentioned; accustomed to walk by
the letter rather than the spirit — to be
guided by external forms and rules rather
than by a study of the written Word of

• Poulain, tom. i. pp. 279, 280. Bes. tom. iii. pp.
227, 228. Clem. tom. x. pp. 287, 288, 289, 290.

71
God, and a spiritual application of it to
their hearts — it is no wonder that being
unacquainted with the true light, which
enlightens every man that cometh into
the world, they should grope as if they
had no eyes, and stumble at noon^day
as in the night; and that they should sin
cerely think they did God service by thus
pei'secuting his servants.*
Consequently, when the light of these
suffering children of God shone before
th^m, they did not shut their eyes against
it ; but, seeing their good works, they learnt
from them to glorify their Father which is
in heaven, and to acknowledge, that none
but the children of God could thus work
the works of God. Accordingly, their
hearts were changed towards them; and
at length, as with one accord, all the
houses in which they were scattered, began,
not only to confess they were of a truth

• See Bes. tom. iii. p. 205 to 281. Clem. torn. ix.
p. 487 to 542, and tom. x. p. 1 to 287.

72
children of God, but to exalt their emi
nent piety, — their good name went forth
into the world: From the depths of their
solitary dungeons their light began to spread
abroad; the voice of the people was
changed; and, in their remote captivity,
the persecuted nuns gained a rapidly in
creasing host of friends, whilst their perse
cutors, in the plenitude of their power, and
in the triumph of complete success, became
odious and detestable. Nor was the tide of
public opinion long dubious ; the peaceful,
nay, the triumphant deaths of a very con
siderable number amongst the nuns, set
the seal to a life of good works, termina
ted amidst unrelenting persecutions. In
their blessed deaths the voice of God spoke
to their persecutors, and few, even amongst
the most virulent, dared call in question the
awful sanction of their happy departure.* y

* Clem. tom. x. pp. 286, 287, 288, 289, 290, 291,
231, 228, 226, 225, 210, 209, 197, 198. Bes. iii. p.
205 to 287.

73
Amongst this number, the sisters So
phia FLESCELLES,* St. Lucy of PEPiN,t
and the Prioress, Madame De Cour-
TIAUX,J produced a peculiarly deep, im
pression on the public mind; their native
force of character, and their learning, was
well known to be only surpassed by their
unfeigned piety ; nor could it be concealed,
however unwillingly acknowledged by their
persecutors, that their total disapprobation
of the required signature was amongst the
last and strongest expressions of their dy
ing beds.§
Madame De PepiN, after having been
transferred successively to several religious
houses, was last of all established in the
monastery of the regular Canonesses of
Picpus, in the Fauxbourg St, Antoine,
After edifying them, for many years, by

* Clem. torn. x. pp. 123, 124, 156 to 130. Bes. iii.
pp. 267 to 270, 270 to 271, 232 to 238. Ckm. x. p.
206 to 229, also 82 to 85. Necrol. tom. i. p. 121 to
123, tom. ii. p. 345 to 347, 474 to 477, and 445 to 446.
t Ibid. X Ibid.
§ See bote, page 71.

74
her prudence, piety, and by the eminent
¦resignation with which, in addition to her
imprisonment, she bore the agonizing pain
of a cancer* for many years, in secret and
without complaint. She expired in 1720,
leaving a memory held in benediction, even
amongst those who did not relent from per
secuting her on her death-bed. The ladies
of Picpus drew up a most edifying, as well
as affecting and interesting account of her
life and death ; and they still preserve, with
pious care, a closely written thick quarto
work, the fruit of her captivity. This
work she had composed upon the Psalms ;
it is divided into three columns ; the first
containing the text — the second her own
paraphrase — and the third her reflections
upon it. During the whole of her ten
years' imprisonment, she always went from
the choir to her own cell, to employ herself
in the study of Scripture, which was equally
* As only woollen was worn next the skin, by the
Port Royal nuns, it is easy to judge what she must have
endured.

75
her delight and consolation ;* indeed, the
Christian reader, who endeavours to trace
effects to their proper causes, will scarcely
fail to connect the superior piety of Port
Royal, with its superiority in scriptural
knowledge. Besides the great variety of translations
and illustrations^ of Scripture, which Port
Royal was the means of diffusing over
Catholic Christendom ;f and besides , the
assiduous and daily study of Scripture in
dispensably enjoined on all its disciples; J
a very large proportion of the nuns
* Clem. x. pp. 84, 85, 86. Bes. iii. pp, 270, 271,
275. Necrol. tom. ii. 445 to 446.
f Racine, Hist. Eccles. tom. xii. pp. 275 to 323, and
335 to 540, also torn. xiii. pp. 781,782. also see note, p. 80.
X Lancelot's Mem. tom. i. pp. 85, 87. St. Cyran's
Letters, tom. ii. pp. 366, 373. Bes. vol. iii. pp. 351, 352,
353. Constit. de Port Royal, pp. 408 and 431. Ni
cole sur le Decalogue, vol. ii. p. 196 to 202. Essais.
de Morale, tom. i. pp. 75, 76, 131. tom. vii. pp. 12.
tom. vi. p. 239. tom. ii. p. 263. also Nicole de la
Priere, tom. i. p. 188 to 196. tom. ii. p. 298 to 313.
Saci's Lettres, tom. i. p. 75. Fontaine's Mem. tom.
ii. pp. 383, 384. also see note, page 80.

76
had studied the dead languages, on pur
pose to read Scripture in the originals.
Nearly all of them read fluently the vulgate,
and many were perfectly versed in the
Greek and Hebrew originals. Nor did
they merely content themselves with the
perusal of Scripture; they were in the
practice of learning considerable portions
by heart. Not only the nuns, but most of
the secular scholars, we are informed in the
constitutions of Port Royal, knew the whole
Psalter by heart ; and such was the respect
in which they held the sacred writings, that
whilst they were read daily to the scholars,
they listened kneeling, with their hands
joined in prayer ; in order, says the vener
able Abbess who is the author of the con
stitutions, that they might early be taught
to pray for that spirit of God, without
which we can never understand the word of
God.* But above all, the eyes of France had
been fixed upon Madame LouiSE DE Sainte
* See note f, page 75.

77
Anastasie DE Mesnil Courtiaux, the
Reverend Mother Prioress of Port Royal ;
whom we described as conducting herself
with such eminent resignation and con
stancy at the final dispersion of the nuns.
The place of her exile was Blois. For six
years she suffered unabated persecution.
Debarred from any access to her friends,
either personally or by letter, she was
closely immured in a solitary cell, except
at the hour of attending divine service; nor
had she either the indulgence of a fire, or
the requisites of winter cloathing. By the
Abbess and nuns of the monastery, in which
she was placed, she was treated as an obsti
nate and excommunicated heretic, with
whom it was dangerous to associate; and
by priests, bishops, and confessors, she
was almost daily persecuted, threatened, and
tormented, to obtain a signature which it
was contrary to her conscience to grant.
Her uniform mildness astonished the one,
as much as her firmness did the other. But
so unconscionable and unrelenting were
her persecutors, that they followed her even

78
on her death-bed. The bishop proposing
perjury to her, as the only price for which
she could obtain a participation in the
sacraments of the Church.*
" My Lord," replied the dying Prioress,
" though 1 value the privilege of partici
pating in the blessed Eucharist above life
itself; and though it would in this tremend
ous hour, be my greatest consolation ; yet
I have not the ill-understood devotion, to
imagine it allowable to wound the spirit of
Christ, to participate in his body."f Truly
indeed might this saint-like Prioress be
said to be a partaker in the spirit of her
venerable predecessor, the Mother Agnfes ;
who on a similar occasion, had exhorted
her nuns " rather to forego one of the bene
dictions of God ; than to lose the favor of
the God of all benedictions. "J
The last illness of Madame DE CouRTIAUX
lasted six weeks ; during which the clergy
* See note J, page 75.
t The signature, which Port Royal considered as such.
X Relig. Parf. par la Mere Agnes Arnauld, p. 15.

79
on the one side, and the nuns on the other,
never failed to beset her dying bed, and to
persecute and torment her with every device
that could suggest itself; exhausting every
argument, threat, and insidious persuasion
to induce her to sign the formulaiy. Two
days before the close of her life, the bishop,
who was as usual standing before her bed,
exhorted her to reflect, for she would soon
be in the presence of God. " My Lord,"
replied the Prioress, " God is continually
present with his children ; it was in his light
only, that I ever sought light ; it is then he-
cause it is his word, and not merely be
cause I have weighed it during a solitude of
six years, that I assure you that my decisioiji
is made. It is because it was made in his
presence, that it is not now to be re-made."
" But," continued the prelate, afteran exhor
tation of above two hours' length, " who
will present you to God ? it will not be the
church, which you refuse to obey; nor yet
will it be myself, who am the pastor only to
the sheep within her fold. What will you
do when you have to appear before God,

80
bearing the weight of your sins alone?"
The dying nun paused, as if deeply affected ;
and then fixing on him a mild, but steady
eye, replied, " Having made peace through
the blood of his cross, my Saviour hath re
conciled all things unto himself in the body
of his flesh, through death, to present us
holy and unblamable and unreprovable in
his sight; if we continue in the faith
grounded and settled, and be not moved
away from the hope of the Gospel." Then
the dying Prioress, rising in her bed, with
clasped hands, and fervently uplifted eyes,
exclaimed, " In thee, O Lord, have I trust
ed, nor wilt thou suffer the creature who
trusts in thee to be confounded."*
The Bishop however, still went on, call
ing her the scourge of the diocese, declar
ing she was sent there as a judgment on

* Bes. iii. p. 232 to 238. Clem. x. p! 207 to
229. Poulain, ii. p. 303 to 306. Necrol. i. p. 121
to 123. tom. ii. pp. 478, 479. Racine, Hist. Eccles.
xi. p. 470. also for this account, see Relat. Edif. des
Cap. de^. R.

81
their sins, &o. - with a Yariety of other
opprobrious expressions. *^ '
When the Prioress,; having now not a day
to liv»e, found she Was really to be denied
the last sacraments, and every mark of
Christian communion, .unless she consented
to lend her hand to a perjury, she besought
them with many tears; but finding it avail
nothing, she wiped her tears away and said,
" Well, my Lord,*I am content to bear with
resignation vyhatever deprivation my God
sees fit ; I am convinced that his divine
grace can fully supply even the want of
sacraments,"! The Bishop of Blois, who seeing her
deep distress, had been in hopes of gaining
his point, now perceiving nothing was to be
obtained, fell into a violent fury, or rather
into a perfect frenzy ; and in a voice of
thunder " declared her body should be
throwli out as a carcass, and never should be
bul-ied in consecrated ground." J
" My Lord, as it pleases you," replied
* See note, page 80. f Ifeid. J Ibid.

82
the nun. The physician who happened to
be by, now warmly interposed, and address
ing himself with some severity to the
Bishop, asked him, " how he could in
conscience refuse the sacraments to a dying
person on so very frivolous a pretext; and
how he could possibly himself either live in
peace, or die in hope, whilst he pursued a
conduct so deficient in equity, and so
opposite to Christian charity i and meek
ness ?" The Bishop made no reply, but went
away.*«ii[ j^idi .¦ . r.
The Prioress. knowing that she had now
not many hours to live, and no priest being
at hand to receive her confession ; ~as-
sembled the whole community, consist
ing of the Abbessi and eighty nuns, all
her persecutors and her enemies ; and in
their presence, made aloud a public con-'
fession to God of all her sins. This she did
with such unfeigned piety and humility,
that the nuns, prejudiced against her as
they were, not only vf&re much edified,
* See note, page 80.

83
but could not refrain from tears; indeed,
when they saw her extremity, and when her
serenity proved to them it was not obsti
nacy, but conscience, that dictated her
non-compliance, they repented ; and with
lamentations they could no longer suppress,
bewailed her situation.*
Meanwhile, the Prioress having conclud
ed her confession, turned from eVery world
ly thought. She begged the nuns to recite,
to her the psalms ; and to read to her the
fourteenth and fifteenth chapters of St.
John's Gospel, and the accounts of our
Saviour's piassion ; during which she either
joined in the recitation, or was occupied,
as appeared by her hands and eyes, in
prayer. In this state she continued till
twelve o'clock at night, " when," said a
nun, *' the light Of the candles shining on her
countenance, an awful majesty of settled
peace, tranquillity, and joy, shewed that
without sigh, groan, or agony, her spirit

* See note, page 80.
' G 2

84
• Was departed to her Lord in a deep'serenity
of faith and lovCj that made us tremble."
Scarcely was she dead, when the Bishop^
who had repented, returned, intending to
give her the sacraments.. Wbea on enter
ing the room he saw she was no more^ and
witnessed the heavenly peace on her Goun"
tenafncCi he Seemed struck to the beart.^
He would not, hovre^er, wholly depsu'e
from his tht-eat.f ^ '
Madaftie DE MESNIL COURTlAtJX was^
buried in ah old ab&ridotied bufying ground^
OV'ergi^vvn v^ith nettles, '¦¦ and full of rubbish,
apart from the othef nuns, and without the
u^Ual prayers Or ceremonies. J
Her latter end, however, had left & deep
impression on the minds of the commtinity;
and thirty, out Of the eighty nuns of which
it eoifigi&ted, peiSJ^t^d iti attending her to the
grave; tb shew, as they said, some little
mai-k of the high respect they entertaidid
for her eminefit |»iety.§
* See note, page 80. f Ibid. J Ibid. § Ibid,

85
Many years afterwards, the infi^rm-arian
of that convent, wrote an account of her
to one of her friends, which has been
handed down to us. She says, 'f Madame
DE CoiURTlAUX, besides her high birth,
which appeared in a dignity mingled with
courtesy and sw-eetness in all she did, was
also a lady of fine accomplishments, great
learning, and of a supereminent piety,
which was a continual example and edifi
cation to us. She always rose at four in
the morning, and spent two hours in pri
vate prayer. At six she joined in our
public service till eight, when she retired
into her own room, and worked for the poor
till dinner, which was at eleven o'clock.
She fasted all the year round, excepting
Sundays and Pascal time; and even then
she always abstained. After her repast,
the Abbess and Prioress of our convent,
who alone had permission to visit her,' spent
an hour with her. When they were retired,
our saint-like prisoner either worked for the
poor, or studied, chiefly in the Scriptures;
or else wrote, for which she had equal

se
talent and unction, till three, when she
prayed before the blessed sacrament for an
hour and three quarters, «nd then attended
vespers with the community. At six her
collation was taken to her in her cell, after
which the same nuns as before, paid her
another visit. She went to bed at eight,
and always rose in the night and spent a
considerable time in prayer .before the
blessed sacrament. She was of a gentle,
firm, but sweet and tranquil spirit; much
loved; and above all, reverenced and re
spected. Her words were few, but weighty,
solid, and dignified. She seemed most sym
pathizing and tenderly attached to her
friends, but of great tranquillity of mind
and heart. She lived in a most edifying
and austere manner, following her rule
with the same exactness as if she were in
her own convent, even to the confession of
her faults, which not being received by the
priest, she made regularly in the most edi
fying and devout manner, every Friday, at
the foot of a crucifix."*
• See note, page 80.

87
Soon after her death, a character drawn
up in the form of an epitaph was handed
about in all the most distinguished circles
in Paris; where it excited, so much atten
tion; and occasioned such a lively interest,
that it was soon dispersed even to the most
remote provinces of France, Flanders, and
Holland. The following, though much
abridged and by no means a literal transla
tion, is its substance. i
" EPITAPH
BY A FRIEND TO THE TRUTH.
" Adoranda est Veritas etiam cruci affixa."
AWAITING THE JOYFUL COMING OF HER LORD;
HERE REPOSE IN A FOREIGN SEPULTURE,
THE MORTAL REMAINS
OF THE
REVEREND MOTHER CLAUDIA LOUISA
OF
ST. ANASTASIA DU MESNIL DES COURTIAUX,
THE LAST
PRIORESS OF PORT ROYAL DES CHAMPS,"*

* Necrol, tom. ii. page 475,

" Faithful in holinesSj she disdiarged
her arduous trust as a good and prudediit
steward, until it pleased her Lord to call
her from works to rewards,"*
*' Respected by the world she had quitted,
for her high birth and eminent talents; ;she
was venerated in her retreat and subsequent
misfortunes, for her Christian courage, .hu
mility, and firtnness. She was already near
twenty-five years of age, when bereaved by
sudden death of her father. The stroke of
mercy which took him to behold the glory,
made her a partaker of the grace of our
Lotd. Through that divine grAoe, she de
termined thenceforth to live that life of faith
which is righteousness, peace, and assarance
here, and immortality hereafter. Thus did
this blow, like every chastening of the God
of love, prove abundant in blessing. Like
a sudden gale, it wafted her at once into
the port of salvation. She bowed her neck
and her heart to the Lord; she took upon
herself the light yoke of him, who is meek
See note, page 87.

89
and lowly in heart, as one deeply pene
trated with shame and sorrow at having
deferred it so long ; and she found rest to
her soul."*
"- At the time when she entered the house
of the Lord, the church had rest for a sea
son ; and, as a wise virgin, she profited by
this season of repose, to lay up that store
which might keep her lamp burning with a
steady flame throughout the dark night
which was at hand, that it might shine in
undiminished brightness, even till the bride
groom should appear."!
" The bright constellation of the distin
guished inhabitants % of Port Royal shone
forth in all their lustre; their brilliant light
was hailed with adrairatioii even by the
world, whose darkness it manifested. Its
pastors, followers of the good Shepherd,
abundantly fed them with the bread and
water of life. The blessing Of God was

* See note, page 87. f Ibid. - ,
X The Arnaulds, Racines, Du Fargis, Briquets,
Bregys, Lignys, Des Anges, &c. &;c.

90
upon them. The great followed their exhor
tation with veneration and child-like sim
plicity ; the learned sat at their feet to learn
true wisdom; and the poor found pro
tection in their wide-extended charities.
Port Royal theh seemed as the cedar of
Lebanon, whose roots strike deep into the
soil in impregnable strength; whose head
rises to the heavens, whose wood is incor
ruptible, whose fragrance extends far
around, on whose lofty summits the tower
ing eagles, the kings of the feathered tribe,
build their aeries, whose boughs afford fruit
to the fowls of the air, and whose wide
spread branches afford a secure shadow from
the heat to all the tribes aroiind. Such, at
that time, was Port Royal I so that even the
host of the aliens, who would have over
whelmed her, when they looked towards
this wilderness, and saw her Israel abiding
in their tents according to their tribes, the
Spirit of God involuntarily came upon them;
and though they came to curse, they were
compelled to bless."*
* See note, page §7.

91
" Such was Port Royal, at the time that
the Mother DES Mesnil CourtiaUX be
came one of its inhabitants. As a wise
steward, she did not in the midst of the
days of plenty, forget the years of famine
and desolation, which were even close at
liand. She hastened to work whilst it is
day ; knowing that the night soon cometh,
in which no man can work. She toiled to
lay up for herself that treasure incorruptible,
undefiled, and eternal in the heavens ; which
neither moth nor rust can corrupt, and
where no thief can break through and
steal."* " She knew that the signs of the times
change from morn even until eve; and
that, with God, what seems far off, is, as it
were, already close at hand."f
" Accordingly, the cloud, at first no bigger
than a man's hand, soon began to spread;
the heavens were over-hung with thick
darkness. An awful silence succeeded ;
fear seized every heart, nor was the pause
* See note, page 87. t R>id.

92
of dread expectation long. The storm soon
burst, which in its progress overwhelmed
Port Royal."*
" The excellent spiritual guides of Foft
Royal were all either lingering in distant
esciles on earth, or gone to their rewards in
heaven; the venerable mothers who were
companions of those who had first establish
ed the reform, had sueeessively quitted this
life, in which they lived for Christ, to enjoy
one in the heavens with him, which is far
better; when the jealousy of the adversary
of the souls of men, renewed that terrible
persecution against her Saints, which ter
minated in the final dispersion of the nuns,
and the demolition of their monastery.''^
" It was in these tempestuous times, that
the Mother of St. Anastasia was placed at
the helm. The twentieth of April, 1706, in
the heat of a heavy persecution ; the court
and the Jesuits being leagued against them,
all access being denied to external friends;
the Mother ELIZABETH OF St. Anne,
* See note, page 87. t Ibid.

93
BOULARD DE NiNVlLLlERS, the last Abbess
of Port Royal, being on her death-bed, at
the very last extremity, and about to render
her spirit into the hands of God who gave
it; and her prioress, JULIA DE St. Bau-
DRAU, halving also not two hours to live;
no guide or counsellor being near, she sent
for the mother ANASTASIA, then a simple
nun, and with her dying breath nominated
her Prioress. She preferred her before others
of a more advanced age, on account of her
rare merit ; and entrusted her with the sole
government of the helm in this time of
tempests. The sister, ANastasia, burstf
ing into tears, threw herself at the feet of
the bed of her dying Abbesse, and conjured
her to spare her youth and inexperience;
but in vain. The shades of death already
covered the face of the Abbess, with diffi
culty she lifted up her cold hands, and
already glazed eyes, and placing them on
the head of the sister Anastasia, with a
faltering and interrupted voice pronounced
these words : " His grace is sufficient for
thee. Be thou faithful unto death, and

94
he shall give thee a crown of life." The
Abbess then lay down and expired; and
thus the Mother Anastasia accepted the
solemn charge.* No royal permission being
granted to elect another abbess, the new
prioress sustained, for above three years, all
the weightof thepersecutionBand of the bu
siness which devolved upon her, with as
much prudence as firmness. f She spared
herself in nothing; she did all that wisdom,
strength, and prudence, chastened by Chris
tian meekness and humility, CAN do. The
regularity which had been established in
this monastery for above a century, she
preserved inviolate, in its pristine purity,
holiness, charity, and sanctity. "J
" As far as possible, she rendered abor
tive the chicanery of her enemies ; and if suc
cess did not crown her endeavours, it wbs
not because her cause was unrighteous.

» Necrol, tom. ii. p. 475. Poulain, j. pp. 235, 236.
Clem. ix. pp. 93, 94. Bei. iii. p. 135 to 138. Poo-
kin, ii. p. 392 to 306.
t Ibid. { Ibid.

95
It could not but sink, overwhelmed by the
enormous weight and power of combined
enemies, who used every means which the
prince of the power of this world suggested
to them. Nobody ever was superior to her
in Christian patience. During the course
of a long life of hardship and persecutions,
she bore not only all which the most black
calumny could invent, both against herself
and her sisters ; not only did she endure
the usurpation of all the revenues of her
monastery, and the consequent state of po
verty attendant upon it ; but likewise the
deprivation of the sacraments, without ever
having been heard to utter one impatient
word. Such is the power of the grace of
God ! So did it (not any natural means)
wholly transform a temper originally lofty
and impetuous. A faithful imitator of the
superiors who had preceded her, nothing
could shake her inviolable stability; their
blessed ends, which were continually before
the eye of her mind, strengthened Her "cou
rage in following their holy lives; thus she,
walking as seeing him who is invisible, had.

96
even in the cell of her prison, a testimony
that she pleased God ; and after the weary
pilgrimage o{ this life, she had the favor to
die in faith, and in a peace which passes all
understanding."* f At length the bolt fell, and on the 29th
of October, 1709, the nuns were dispersed
in various prisons. The place of her exile
was Blois. Immured in a strait prison,
amidst the unabated rigors- of a hard cap
tivity, she sat still under the shadow of
the cross, and tasted all the sweetness of
the divine fruit borne by that blessed tree.
Dead to men, she was never more alive to
God, nor more assiduous in his service.f

* See note, page 94.
+ " Hominibus mortua, soli Deo vivens, cui nnn-
4juam majori fideet devotione famulata est, pastorum
errori obnoxiorum judicio sacris interdicta, sed a prin-
cipe pastorum animarum nostrarum Episcopo, solo im-
mortali et infallihili Pontifice, cibo invisibili recreata
atque intus divino robore confortata ; communicans
Christi passionibus et de calice ejus bibens, per pa-
tientiam ad propositum sibi certamen cucurrit : sse-
pius impugnata, nusquam expugnata aut in ullo im-

97
Interdicted the sacraments, by pastors
whom a mercenary cupidity had alone led
into error, the good shepherd himself, the
prince and bishop of our souls, the onh)
immortal and infallible pontiff, more than
compensated her, by. nourishing her with
..an invisible food, that the world knows not
of; supporting her by that divine strength,
which is made perfect even in weakness, and
giving her to communicate and have fel
lowship with him in his sufferings. She
drank of his cup, and letting patience have
its perfect work, she ran with patience the
race set before her, pressing forward to ob
tain the prize of her high calling, even that
crown laid up in heaven by the righteous
judge for all who love his appearing. Often

minuta : semper respiciens in authorem et consum-
matorem fidei Jesum, &c. &c." — Necrol. Epitaph of Mde.
Mesnil Courtiaux, pp. 476, 477.
The above specimen of the original is inserted, that
the reader may be fully convinced how far the spirit
is preserved, and the strain of sentiment faithfully re
presented. H

98
attacked, but never conquered, she re
mained stedfast, immovable, ever looking
at Jesus the author, until he became the
finisher of her faith ; until bearing, withoiit
the camp, that reproach which the world
casts on children of God, she went to meet
her heavenly bridegrobtn, through him to
become a blessed partaker of the perfect
liberty of the children of God."*
" She survived her monastery of Port Royal
des Champs, which was demolished after
the dispersion of the nuns, and died at
Blois, in the convent of the Ursulines, in
which she had been exiled, the 18th of
March, 1716, aged sixty-six years and
eleven months ; after forty-one years adorn
ing her holy religious profession, and after
six years, four months, and twenty days of
solitud§, captivity, and exile,"f
" Peace be to her mortal remains
Joyful immortality, through grace, to her
redeemed spirit,"

* See note, page 94.
t This epitaph is taken from that in the Necrol.

99
Whilst the exemplary lives of all the
nuns of Port Royal, and the blessed deaths
of several of their number, caused a deep
sensation in the public mind, the conduct
pf its enemies tended still farther to fix
tbese impressions.
It has already been observed that the
Jesuits were much fallen from their pristine
piety. The Ignatius's, the Francis Regis's
the Rodriguez's, the Grenades, were no
more; and a society, the foundation of
which was laid in piety and humility, now
exhibited the same mixture of good and
evil characters as the world at large. An
.enemy had, in the lapse of centuries, sowed
the good field with tares ; and though both
were suffered to remain, it was but too ob
vious, that a part alone could be reckoned
amongst the good wheat, which shall be
torn. ii. p. 474 to 477. The general spirit is strictly
preserved, ; ,,and though the abridgment occasioned
many alterations of expressions, I flatter myself, tbat
persons reading them successively, without comparing
.them together, would not be sensible that the transla-
on was not literal. M. A. S.
H2

100
gathered up and put into the garner. The
same society to which Europe was first in
debted for the best seminaries and colleges
it then afforded, was now occupied in pa
ralyzing the moral sense of the civilized
world, by disseminating the baleful poison
of casuistic divinity;* and the very same
body, which emulating the zeal and piety
of apostles, had, through indescribable diffir
culties and dangers, formed the reductions
of Paraguay,! shewing forth one of the most
lovely specimens ofChristian society amongst
the savages of South America, was beheld
in Europe, occupied in endeavouring to over
throw to the very foundations, the enlight
ened Christianity of their Port Royal bre
thren : — they were permitted in wrath to
succeed. But scarcely was this triumph
opmplete, when, like the thunder of divine

* See Lettres Provinciales. Racine, Hist. Eccles.
tom, X. xi. xii. xiii. including the 17th century. St.
Simon, iv. p. 334 to 337.
t Muratori's Paraguay. Charlevoix's Paraguay. Ma-
moires du Marquis de Pombal,

101
indignation, a stroke hurst upon them from
a distant quarter, which shook their credit
to the very foundation. Scarcely had they
unjustly destroyed the children of God, to
obtain an unrivalled influence, when the
whole of that influence was blasted by a
foreign hand ; and the immense accumula
tion of wealth and power, the fruit of such
arduous toil, such mental labors, and in
some instances, of such duplicity and crimes,
was suddenly dissipated into air, and dis
solved like the baseless fabric of a vision.
An accusation, presented by the power
ful, and supported by a mass of evidence,
was brought forward, accusing this venerated
body of having openly encouraged the most
infamous practices of idolatry in China,*
to preserve their own credit and power,
* Poulain, i. pp. 291, 292. Beausset's Vie de Fene-
Jon, ii. pp. 349, 352. diem. x. pp. 41, 43. Racine,
Hist. Eccles. tom. xii. mider the articles Penitence,
Morale, p. 1 to 105. Condemnation de la Morale
des Casuistes, Morale des Jesuites, p. 105 to 275. See
concerning the Chinese and other Jesuit missions,
from p. 197 to 271.

102
Great, indeed, was the accumulation of
evidence brought forward on this occasion ;
considerable was also the ingenuity displayed
ih endeavouring to ward off the stroke, or at
least to blunt its edge ; but, whatever were
the palliations, explanations, or extenua
tions offered by the few who still remained
their friends, it is certain that this blow
they never recovered. They sunk, for ever,
in the estimation of the public at large, and
perhaps, they siink proportionally to the
very exorbitant degree of credit they before
enjoyed. Then the remembrance of Port Royal,
its bright talents, and its exemplary piety,
were revived. The constancy with which
its followers had uniformly borne the loss
of estimation, wealth, liberty, and life,
rather than in one single- point equivo
cate, was remembered. It was contrasted
with the conduct of its persecutors, who
were accused of betraying their God for
gold. France remembered, with a bittter
pang, that she had sacrificed the children
of God, levelled their sanctuary, and cast

103
out their ashes as a vile thing, under the
delusions of those, who, though bearing
the appearance of angels of light, turned
out to be fomenters of actual idolatry, and
worshippers with heathens of strange Gods.
If this remorse was felt by France in ge
neral, it was doubly so by those who had
been the immediate agents of the enmity of
the Jesuits in this destruction.
The Cardinal de Noailles suffered, per
haps, more bitterly than any one ; weak in
his resolves, but far from being ill disposed ;
kind, good, siisceptible of pious impres
sions, and endowed with a tender con
science ; but easily deceived, alarmed, or
over-persuaded, he never Willingly bad con
sented to the destruction of Port Royal.
Now, however, that he clearly saw tl;ie
wickedness of tfiose to whom he had lent
himself, he became fully convinced of the
innocence of those whom his weakness
and irresolution was made the means of
pppressing. He began more loudly,' and
more distinctly to hear the voice of con
science ; the good report of the persons he

104
had dejstroyed, reached him on all sides,
agonizing his soUl ; a deep perturbation
and disquietude seized upon him, and his'
heart might truly be said to be rent with
remorse and sorrow.*
In this state he sent again for his faithful
secretary Thomassin, and exposed to him
the terrible state of mind in which he found
himself. He told him that he most bit
terly repented' not having followed his
advice; that Port Royal was never absent
from his mind, that its recollection rose up
continually before him, and followed him
everywhere. That he felt a perpetual rest
lessness, and seemed on his pillow,' in the
visions of the night, alternately to see it
flourishing, peopled with saints and men of
letters, blessing and blessed ; and then sud
denly to behold the scene reversed, and to
view the desolate condition to which his
irresolution had reduced it. He seemed to
hear the bleak winds of winter whistling
through its desolate passages, the nettles
* Poulain, i. pp. 305, 306, 307, and 308.

105
overgrowing its courts, and the fox peeping
out at the windows, or wolves disputing
the mangled remains of its pious inhabi
tants, whilst the very stones of its' founda
tions seemed torn up and hurled upon his'
guilty head by some invisible hand.*
M. Thomassin, sensibly feeling the Car
dinal's extreme anguish, endeavoured to
speak to him as a Christian should do.
Without i^itigating or palliating his culpa
ble weakness, he sought to sooth him by
those consolations which may be justly ap
propriated even by the most gravely cul
pable, when they become sincerely peni
tent. But the Cardinal was not to be so
appeased. He declared he could not b^
satisfied without going to the very spot,
beholdihg the full extent of his sins, and in
the very scene whence the record of his
offence rose to heaven, humbly confessing
it before God, and imploring, if not too
late, for mercy ! In short, he said, that as
the only tribute of respect he could now

* See note, page 104.

1Q3
psy to Port RoyaL and as a,n v^nfeigijed
mark of deep humiliatiou and repenta,nce,
he must vi^it the ruins, and water them
with his tears; and, that he desired his true
and faithful friend, M. Thomassin, would
accompany him.*
The day was fixed. At the appointed
hour the Cardinal called in his carriage,
and they both went tpgethei*' During tbe
whole ride, the Cardinal appeared deeply
affected, and maintained a profound silence.
Oq arriving at the bfPW of the hill upoia
which Leg Gr^ges are siti|^ted> and from
which the top of the spire pf Port RoyaJ.
is first visible» he could no longer suppress
hi$ emotioii, but covering his ^ce \yith both
hands, buirst i^to a torrent of tears, whicb
however seemed so far from relieving hiWi
that he appeared half su^ocated aqd con
vulsed with sobs. " lu short," said M- Tho
massin, ** his groans were npt sp much likfi
the sorrowings of a roan, as the guppressfi^
groanings of some animal in tortUjre, sq ^
* (S#p note, page 104.

107
that I began to be absolutely terrified at the
state of extreme misery and agitation in
which he was. I tried to calm him, but in
vain* Absorbed in the distressing images
which remorse presented to his conscience,
he heeded me not. I then urged him by
every possible persuasive to return, fearing
lest a nearer view of the demolitions should
really be succeeded by some fatal revolution
either in his bodily frame or his mind ; but
iu vain. He broke from me, and quitting
his carriage, drew near bare-headed and
with clasped hands, and though his legs
trembled under him, so that I could scarcely
support him, and that he was often eon^
strained to stop from the violence of his
emotion, he would nevertheless proceed,
exclaiming, ' No, no, I will go on. Yes,
to the very end. I will not be scared any
part, I will see my enormous sin in all its
horror. Here, in the midst of this mi
serable devastation. Here will I unburthen
my mind, here it may be, (O, here may it
indeed be I) that the God of all compassion
will yet have ^merpy ipii me» ^ miserable

108
sinner!'- Then, beating his breast, and
wringing his hands, like one frantic with
grief, he prostrated himself on the earth,
amidst the wide-spread desolation, and cried
aloud for mercy." At length he came to the
burying-ground. The yawning graves still
appeared gaping on every side, and along
the dismantled wall, though covered with
waving nettles and wild flowers, the in
scription yet remained over the portal be
fore eptering, "Time is yet before theo,"
and, being entered, " Time is for ever be
hind thee."* Here he seemed seized with
an absolute agony or frenzy of raving
despair. " O, said he, beating his breast,
all these dismantled stones will rise against
me at the day of Judgment. O, how shall
I ever bear the vast, the heavy load!"
When the Cardinal had quite satisfied his
devotion, or rather, when he was so com
pleatly exhausted as to be quite incapable
of any resistance, M. Thomassin put him
again into his carriage, and brought him
* See Descrip. des Bailments de P. R.

109
back; which he did not however accOm^
pliSb without considerable difficulty, for his
grief was so extreme, that it resembled the
alternate ravings of the wildest frenzy, suc
ceeded by the gloom of the blackest de
spair.* FrOm this period, the Cardinal sincerely
endeavoured to repair the injuries he had
done Port Royal, by uniform kindness to
wards those nuns who still survived the
stroke of their dispersion, and the pro
tracted and cruel hardships experienced in
their various captivities ; but, with the very
best intentions, he could do but little, owing
to the implacable virulence and deep-rooted
prejudices fomented in the King's mind by
Madame de Maintenon. Accordingly, the
nuns of Port Royal remained in the violent
state of persecution we have briefly de
scribed, till the death of Louis the Four
teenth, which took place in September,
1715; and whilst they in the depths of
their dungeons, felt their peace deepen,
* Poulain, i. pp. 305, 306, 307, 308.

no
and their hopes brighten more and more,
as they approached a perfect and eternal
day; their unhappy persecutor, from the
meridian of worldly splendor, had seen the
sun of his prosperity gradually decline, till
the long evening Of his days, desolate, so
litary, and cheerless, set in; and as the
lengthening shadows stretched across his
path, the dark shades of the tomb began to
close around him, Uncheered by the bright
evening star of Christian hope. In the last
hoitvs of his life, abandoned by Madame de
Maintenon,* whom he had raised from
obscurity, to whom he had sacrificed even
the decencies of his state; and whose tool
he had been in his persecutions; he sent
for those to whom he had had the misfor
tune to give his spiritual confidence, the
JCardinals de Rohan and de Bussy, and the
Pere le Tellier, a Jesuit; and when they
stood around his dying bed, he addressed
to them in anguish of spirit these me-
•* Ruines de Port Royal, pp. 43 and 44. St. Simon, vi.
p. 177. Ibid. p. 159.

Ill
ttiOrable words . " If^ indeed, you have
misled and deceived me, ybu are deeply
guilty; for indeed I acted in good faith—
indeed I sought the peace of the Church."*
Thus died Louis the Fourteenth! and so
did the " Lord avenge his slaughtered
saints," whether of the church of Calvin
or of Rome ; and so little was the close of
him whose dazzling qualities had amongst
men obtained him the title of Great I
Ascending the throne in an early mino
rity harassed by the distractions of civil
war, Louis was educated in the school of ad-*
versity, without reaping its best benefit.
He derived there the lessons of human pru^
dence, ' but had the misfortune not to learn
those of heavenly wisdom. Hence subse
quent prosperity, sent as k blessing, proved
a snare. Fitted by the native 'grandeur Of
his mind, as Well as by his Situation, to
become a central point of re- union to the
talents of hishation ; the fine arts flourished

* Clem. x. pp. 172. Ruines de Port Royal, pp. 4?,
43. St. Simon, vi. p. 159.

112
Imder the protection of his throne, and
poets selected him as the subject of their
song. His praises sounded from the for-
tressed rocks and broad waters of the Rhine,
to where they were re-echoed by the snow
capped Pyrenees ; and the prostrate nations
whom his victorious arms had subdued,
were compelled to bow their reluctant necks
to his yoke.
But, when he knew God, he glorified not
God, neither was thankful to him who
gave him so much richly to enjoy; hence,
because he did not like to retain God in
his knowledge, he became given over to a
reprobate mind ; and untouched by the signal
prosperity of his public career, he sunk into
the unhappy number of those who wdrship
and serve the creature more than the Crea-
¦ tor, who is blessed for ever.
The Lord looked down from heaven,
and saw that he was become vain in his
own imagination, and that his foolish
heart was darkened. God lifted up his
voice and spake, spake by his providences ;
but, because, long suffering and kind, and

IIS
of tender mercy, he is slow to anger, re^
membering that we are but dust ; and be
cause that he , shews mercy to the thou
sandth generation of those that love him
and keep his commandments, God look
ed down on the descendant of St. Louis
in pity and tender compassion, and laying
a gentle hand upon him, first began to
counsel him by the awful examples of the
partners of his errors.
One, noble, gentle, lovely, and in dis
position most virtuous, quitted in early
youth those temptations by which she had
been deceived ; the world, its Vanities, its
honors, its delusive pleasures and its lawful
comforts; exchanging a debasing exalta
tion, the wages of sin, for the narrow cell
and bare, cold cloister of a Carmelite; by
the deep and sad repentance of a long life
of tears, she spoke to every heart but his
who should most have heard, that it is in
deed an evil and a bitter thing, even in one
instance to forsake the Lord.*
¦*¦— ¦^— ¦¦!. ¦»¦ I I II — ¦^¦¦¦J-^.I,.. .Jill I' ¦¦.Wll I ¦ II—. ¦¦¦^-.ty
» St. Simon's MerfioireSj i. p. 7. iii. pp. 283, 284,
Diet, Hist, article La Valiieke. I

114
So spake the warning voice, the voice at
once of God, of virtuous repentance and of
a true friendship ; but in vain did it call to
him, who, as the deaf adder, listened not
to the voice of the charmer, charmed it
never so wisely.
Then, another and a more awful example
came. One, hardened in guilt, and sinning
with high hand, endowed with birth, with
beauty, and with wit at will; a bright
name, domestic ties, and a good conscience,
all vilely cast away. Outwardly, gay and
sprightly, Madame de Montespan was
inwardly threatened and tormented with
heart-rending anxieties, apprehensions and
remorse, the terrors of the Lord on those
who are compelled to hear his upbraiding
voice in judgment, because they will not
listen to his call in mercy. Consumed by
bloody macerations, wasted by painful
vigils, yet sinning still,* she weighs the
scanty bread of bitterness, with the vain
hope, " by not sinning on all sides"t
? Mem. St. Simon, vi. p. 307 to 323.
+ Ibid. iii. p. 285.

115
to make a composition with that God
who is of purer eyes than to behold ini
quity, who requires truth in the inward
parts, and who will not assuredly be mocked.
Tormented, amidst the magnificence artd
pomp of courts, with those spectres by
which the spirit of God, through the me
dium even of imagination, startles the
guilty conscience; appalled amidst the re
velry of banquets, by that ominous hand
writing which made Belshazzar tremble j
weighed in the balance, but found wanting;
the very court whom her caprices ruled,
beheld her shrink as a culprit in the summer
storm, and pressing a little infant to her
heart in a frantic manner, plead its inno
cence, to shield from the thunderbolt her
guilty breast. Unable to bear her own re
flections, or the darkness of night, she dis
turbed its peaceful solitude with the aching
blaze of torches, or busy murmurings of
discordant tongues, lest her weary eyes,
once, closed, should open next upon the
judgment morn. In bondage all her life,
through fear of death, yet not turning
I 2

116
from that sin of which , it is the wages :
thus lived the capricious idol of the court
of France; an awful memento, reason
ing yet more loudly than the apostle, of
righteousness, temperance, and a judgment
to come; nay, even now at hand. She bore
about with her, whilst in the body, the
gnawings of that worm that dieth not, and
the torment of that fire which is not .quench
ed; till abandoned by all, quitted with
cold indifference by those to whom she
had sacrificed the favor and peace of
God, she died contemned in desolate old
age. Her own son, with horrible and fear
ful impiety, ransacking the dying bed of
her, who though she had abandoned him;
was yet his mother, in order to discover
the keys of a guilt-bought treasure; and
her very remains east out with abhorrence
by the same house her wealth had insti
tuted, and her influence established,* Ma
dame DE Montespan expired, an awful
* Diet. Hist. torn. x. p. 519, article 3, Rochouart.

117
proof, that it is indeed a fearful thing to
fall into the hands of the living God.*
So ipake the God of love to Louis ; but
he who listened not'to the still small voice;
neither heeded the consuming fire. Again
the Lord's voice was heard, but now it
spake in tempest and in whirlwind.
Struck with agonizing pangs and sudden
death, he beheld before his very eyes, one
called from the midst of a brief career of
sin, to stand before the judgment-seat, and
give account of the, deeds done in the
body.f The king was startled, perturbations
seized his mind and conscience. But his
fear, and not his heart was struck. He
turned from his wallowing in the mire ; but
his change was of the letter, not of the
spirit; he, changed not from carelessness to
genuine and vital religion, but from open

* Mem. de St. Simon, i, p, 122 to 129, and 109
to 113.
t St. Simon, iv. pp. 33, 33, 34, and notes. Diet.
Hilt, article Fontanges.

118
vice to exterior formaUty ; he quitted not
all creatures for the Creator, but the cor
ruption of the open for the garnish of the
whited sepulchre. He adopted the form
of religion, but remained ignorant of its
substance. He assumed the ceremonial,
which is the outward garb of the children
of light ; but he forgot, that to be indeed a
son of God, he must be born again by that
new birth of the spirit, without which no
man can enter the kingdom of heaven.
Thus, whilst he turned from many of the
works of unrighteousness, his heart was not
changed; all things were not become new;
he was not a new creature.
Yet the Lord had patience still. Once
again his voice spoke in his providences,
and raising up in his own house a great
example of insufficient religion, he bade
him consider the end of these things, and
understand it perfectly.
One arose before his eyes, far different
from the rest, abounding in many of the
choicest gifts of God to human nature.
Solid in understanding, unblamable vin

119
-conduct, wise, prudent, and accomplished :
thus much and yet more was the celebrated
Madame de Maintenon. Risen from the
very depths of poverty and obscurity, by
progressive steps, to seat herself next the
throne, (and risen by dint of real merit,) she
was strictly decorous in conduct ; untainted
even by suspicion, she was punctiliously
exact, not only in the ceremonial of reli
gious observances, but in many essential
points of good conduct, which religion en
joins : she heard gladly, and like Herod,
did many things. She was of those who fast
twice a week, and give tithes of all they >
possess, and who touching the righteous
ness of the law, are blameless : she wanted
nothing of godliness but the power, nothing
of religion but the spirit, nothing of Chris
tianity but the truth and life. For, if any
man have not the spirit of Christ, he is none
of his. Like the Mere Angelique, Ma
dame DE Maintenon possessed superemi
nently, the talents requisite for prudent
government ; but though the trees were so

120
far externally alike, yet their fruits partook
of the total difference of their roots. The
Mere Angelique, following the good
shepherd, and led by his voice, established
a society, which, whilst it flourished, dif
fused vital religion over Catholic Christen
dom; and whose numerous writings have,
since its destruction, proved a solace and edi
fication, equally to the Catholic and to the
Protestant churches. Madame de Main
tenon, a decorous follower of the world,
attentive to the voice of well-undefstood
ambition, always and uniformly paid' ho
mage, not only to the ceremonial of reli
gion, but to many of the respectable social
duties. Bilt the sheep alone it is who know
the good shepherd's voice, and distinguish it
from that of the stranger. Hence, through
ignorance, she used her influence to quench
the flame of vital religion wherever it sprung
Ufi, both in the Catholic and Protestant
chu re hes. Both la Mere Angeliqu£ and
Madame DE Maintenon established mo
nasteries. Both institutions were in the

121
very same district, and each have reflected
well-earned celebrity on the noble found
resses. But the requisite recommendation
to the one, was piety; that to the other,
elevated rank. From the establishment of
Mere Angelique, want of vocation was
the only exclusion ; from that of MaDAME
de Maintenon, not only want of rank,
but the want of interest, nay, even any
personal deformity or accidental blemish,
was decisively exclusive.* In the monastery
formed by MERE ANGELIQUE, the Holy
Scriptures were daily studied, kneeling or
prostrate, and were applied to the conver
sion of the heart, to form heirs of heaven;
in the monastery (if monastery St. Cyr may
be called) founded by Madame de Main
tenon, the Scriptures were also used, but
used as the subject of theatrical representa
tion ; and the historic examples of holy
writ were employed, not for edification, but
as means of acquiring a graceful carriage
* Seethe comparison between Port Royal and St.
Cyr, in the Ruines de Port Royal, pp. 9, 10.

122
and good enunciation, in order to amuse
the king, and form her disciples for inhabit
ants of a profligate and dissipated court.*
Mere Angelique, descended from a
family, noble, affluent, and of high intel
lectual endowments, counted all these ad
vantages as dross, so that she might but
win Christ. After beginning, by being the
blessed means of the established conversion
of her whole excellent family, she went on
from faith to faith, and from grace to grace,
a bright example, of whom the world and
the age were not worthy. Opposition
thwarted her at every step ; persecutions,
on all hands, thickened around her, and
hedged her in on every side ; till at length
seeing the object of her whole life and en
deavours on the point of being overthrown,
immured and imprisoned in that house

*, For this character of Madame de Maintenon, see
the anecdotes related in the Memoires de St. Simon, i.
p. 113 to 125, 136 to 151. iv. p. 54 to 58, 75 to 81,
81 to 91, 91 to 95, 288, 289. also le Beaumelle's Vie
de Maintenon, and Lettres de Maintenon.

123
which was bestowed by the munificence of
her family as a royal abbey ; surrounded
by calumniators and enemies ; threatened
with violence by the civil power ; a martyr
to a most lingering and excruciating dis
ease, but possessing her soul in perfect
peace. La Mere Angelique expired, full
of joy, serenity, assurance, and triumphant
faith.* Madame de Maintenon on the other
hand, sprung from a family obscure, and
comparatively little known ; acted pru
dently, to win an honourable worldly re
putation. She began by supplanting her
benefactress, whose patient perseverance
and reiterated endeavours, had alone suc
ceeded in bringing her forward. She pro
ceeded from honor to honor, above suspi
cion, and untainted by the breath of malice
or calumny ; till surrounded by partisans,
flatterers, and dependants, governing by
her capricious smiles, the prostrate princes
of the blood, who, freezing, in winter
* See note, page 122.

124
snows, accompanied, bare-headed, her
equipage, on foot. She obtained a degree
of woridly prosperity, far beyond all which
the wildest imagination can offer to dazzle
the hopes of any subject. She became the
ruler of the very throne itself, which un-
blushingly stooped to her sway j till having
obtained, she found the bright bubble,
which reflected such dazzling colours, de
lusive, hollow, and empty. Dull, heartless,
drear, and cheerless, without object, sti
mulus, or hope ; an old age of apathetic
despondency proved the sole meed of a life
of insufficient religion, of habits of social
usefulness, but grounded on no firmer basis
than an enlightened self-love, and of a heart
which stopped short of truly loving God.*
So spake the voice of God by providen
ces, in which judgment was tempered with
mercy. But it spoke in vain. Louis under
stood it not. His heart was waxed gross,
and his ears were dull of hearing, lest he
should understand and become converted.
? See note, page 122.

125
Changed only from the Publican, who com
mitted many notorious vices . like other
men, to the professing Pharisee; whilst he
duly paid tythe of mint and cummin, and
anniseed, he neglected faith, judgment,
and the weightier matters of the law. Hence
because he sought not the truth with his
whole heart, he was entangled in a net of
his own weaving, and gjven over to believe
a strong delusion. Because he enquired of
the Lord, without putting away the idols
from his heart ; therefore was he answered
according to the .multitude of his idols.
Hence whilst he sedulously followed the
forms of the church, he so little understood
its spirit, that under the influence of
Madame de Maintenon,* he had the
misfortune to become one of the most viru
lent persecutors of vital religion.
He signed the revocation of the edict of
Nantes, the imprisonment of Madame Guy-
on, the exile of the venerable Archbishop,

» Ruines de Port Royal, p. 46,

126
of Cambray, and the destruction of Port
Royal. Thus was the king so unfortunate, as to
shake to its very foundation all true and
vital religion in France; both in the Catho
lic, and Protestant churches. Little did he
imagine, that at no very remote period;
its genuine spirit once extinct, the Sheki-
nah departed ; no longer defended by the
bright talents and. pens of the Tillemonts,
Pascals, Nicoles, Sacls, and Arnaulds, the
outward temple itself, would sink beneath
the poisoned darts of the aliens ; and that
in the hideous scene of ruin, his own de
scendants, would, amongst the very first,
be buried in its fall. Little did he foresee,
that the very palace of Versailles, in which
he signed the death-warrant of all spiritual
religion, would, stripped and dismantled,
be amongst the first to fall in the wide and
long, and desolating storm. So Sampson of
old, deluded by the flattering blandishments
of an ambitious woman, and deceived into
the hands of his enemies, was blinded ;
when, putting forth his gigantic strength, to

127
shake the two pillars of the temple; he
sunk overwhelmed and crushed in the ac
cumulated ruin, which he had himself
drawn down upon his own head.
. Such were the disastrous consequences
of a reign, distinguished not more by the
brilliant constellation of talents, which gave
it lustre ; than by the immorality and pro
fusion of the prince ; and by the protracted,
ruinous, and needless foreign wars; which
beginning by loading the nation with in
sufferable burthens,* terminated in the total
subversion of that royal authority, by whose
insatiable luxury and ambition they had
been originally imposed. A reign, remark
able for men of eminent distinction, alike
in literature and in piety.
Louis might have been truly said, in the
early part of his reign, like St. Paul in the
beginning of his journey, to have been sur
rounded by a great light from heaven ; and
in his progress, we have observed that
? Ruines de Port Royal, p. 23,

128
the Saviour of men, by the instrumentality
of awful providences, continually addressed
to his heart the awful inquiry, " Why per-
secutest thou me?" and shewed him, in the
experience of the partners of his errors,
that " it is hard for those that kick against
the pricks." But here the analogy ends.
Unlike the great apostle of the Gentiles, "
Louis was not obedient to the heavenly
vision ; he did not turn to that inward spi
ritual guide, who might have instructed him
more perfectly in the things which had
been said, and which should tell him what
he must do; tjiat guide who could alone
have delivered him from his blindness:
hence the scales still remained upon his
eyes, and the veil over his heart.
Then the meridian sun of that glory, to
which he had alike sacrificed himself and
his people, began to decline. One dark
providence quickly succeeded to another.
He had forced down the holy hands vvhich
were wont to be uplifted, and the enemies
began to prevail against him. His fortresses

129
were surrendered; his campaigns were dis
astrous, his fields were the prey of the
spoiler. Did any other guilt of darker dye, heavi
ly ascend before the throne of God, and
plead with the accusing voice of blood for
blood ? Immured in the deep dungeons of
an inaccessible fortress, unpitied by any
human eye, unheard by any human ear,
was it an elder brother's groan, that rose
from the grated towers of the Bastille? or
did a brother's blood, from the untimely
tomb of Marchiali, loudly call upon that
God which seeth in secret, to reward the
deed with a dread retribution openly ? No
human eye has indeed penetrated the con
cealment of that mask ; the revolution of
a century and of empires, have left unraised
that iron vizor ;* but dark conjectures rest
upon the deed ; and if charity turns from
contemplating the dubious tale, it is lest
she should unwillingly read an hideous
* Diet. Hist, see many curious and minute details
under the article Masque de Fer.
K

130
crime, in the awfulness of the tremendous
judgment. The' king's own family was struck; and
reiterated blows in rapid succession, sent his
daughter-in-law, and three successive heirs
to the crown, to an early tomb.* A sudden
consternation and awe spread over the de
fenceless land ; and the gloomy cloud was
rendered yet darker, by the impenetrable
mystery that lowered over their common
grave. Thus stood LouiS, defenceless,
stricken, and alone ; in vain opposing the
hoary honors of his defenceless head, to
the driving storm. As the sun whose meri
dian splendor is past, shorn of his bright
ness, pursues his solitary and declining
course, through the pathless void of the
heavens, till he fijially sets in fallen msgesty
amidst the chill and cheerless fogs of a
dark wintry eve ; so Louis, bereft alike of-
glory and the solace of domestic comfort,

* See the interesting account of the Duke and
Duchess of Burgundy in St. Simon, tom. i. p. 247 t»
310.

131
pursued desolate, cheerless, and alone, the
remainder of the dreary waste which led
him to the tomb.
The murmur of popular applause was
changed for the portentous silence Of dis
content; the cheering voice of domestic
kindness was hushed in the silent grave ;
the chillness of frozen age crept upon
him, and benumbed his aching heart; and
the dark and lengthening shadows of the
grave, deepening, stretched across his de
solate path ; whilst the low, faint murmurs
of a troubled people, began to indicate a
gathering storm.
Yet in the dread stillness, a voice arose ;
the voice of that divine love which over-
cometh evil with good, and which is strong
er than death.
From their distant exiles, and from the
depths of their remote dungeons ; the pray
ers of the Arnaulds,* the Sacis, the Fene-

? Poul. tom. i. pp. 127, 128. Racine, Hist. Ab. pp.
173, 174.
K 2

1S2
Ions,* the Guyons, and the Valois,t arose
continually in remembrance before God,
and pleaded the cause of their persecutor.
The fervent and effectual prayer of a righteous
man availeth much. Louis the Fourteenth
slept with his fathers, and the last departing
beam of the long day of grace lingered yet.
A time was yet afforded for repentance ;
the catastrophe was suspended ; the end
was not yet. Till a profligate Regent, and
his licentious successor, having filled up
the measure of profusion and immorality ;
behold the awful judgment comes at last.
The brooding tempest at length burst;
and a long and tremendous hurricane swept
the guilty land. The earthquake from
beneath uprooted its foundations; the bolt
from above, struck the throne; and the
besom of destruction passed over the land.
God, who visits upon the third and fourth
* See the letter written by Fenelon on his death
bed to P. le Tellier, in Beausset's life, p. 458 to 461.
tom. iii.
+ See Lettres de Madame Gertrude de Valois.

133
generations, the sins of the fathers who
have been disobedient; singled out, and
struck in the midst of the startled nations,
that throne by which he had been. set at
nought. But in the tremendous justice, God re
membered mercy : The voice of his thunder
indeed was heard, it spoke to startled Europe,
to distant centuries, and to unborn genera
tions of men, the dread retribution which
attends the neglected duties of the altar and ,
the throne. The bolt indeed fell ; but not
till his grace had prepared the heart of him
who was struck; nor till his love softened
and tempered the blow. Louis Seize
was numbered amongst the sons of God.
Therefore was he permitted to be, though
in a very inferior sense, a follower of the
great exemplar who supereminently " suf
fered not for his own sins." He followed
his Divine Master; who was meek and
lowly in heart; who was reviled, reviling
not again ; and who when he suffered,
threatened not, but committed himself to
him that judgeth righteously. Louis des-

134
pised not the chastening of the Lord, nei
ther did he faint under it; but, in the
horrors of a long and contumelious cap
tivity, he drew rich fruits of righteousness
from the sore chastisement; till patience
having had her perfect work, the light
affliction, which was but for a season, was
followed with a far more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory ; and the final stroke,
which spoke so awful a lesson to every na
tion of the world, called frOm surrounding
and conflicting sorrows on earth, " Louis,
the son of St, Louis, to eternal mansions
in the heavens !"
To return however to the thread of our
narrative. Soon after the death of Louis
the fourteenth, all the prisoners detained
merely on account of religion, were libera
ted, both from the Bastille, and every other
state prison in France.*
None more deserved the same justice,
than the nuns of Port Royal ; dispersed,
exiles, and captives, for the same cause.
• Clem. X. p. 173 to 174.

135
At this favorable juncture, their friends
conceived the idea, that some relief might
perhaps be extended to them: and they
determined to interest themselves in their
favor.* A way had already been prepared
for their exertions, by the active zeal and
steady fidelity of MADEMOISELLE DE JON-
COUX or JoNCOUR,t a lady equally noted
for piety, learning, and active talents for
business. The daughter of a gentleman
and lady of Auvergne, who were alike
distinguished for honor, piety, and an ori
ginal mode of thinking ; Mademoiselle de
Joncoux received an education, uncommon
both with respect to religion and litera
ture. Being naturally endowed with great
quickness and solidity of understanding, she
was soon regarded as a prodigy. She ac
quired a critical knowledge of Latin ; which
she at first learnt, with a view to under
stand more perfectly the church service,
• Clem. X. p. 172 to 174.
t The whole article of Mademoiselle de Joncoux, is
taken from Clem. x. p. 50 to 56, and notes, ix. p. 215.
Bes. Tom. iii. p. 230.

136
and the writings of St. Austin. It is to her
elegant and learned pen, that the world is
indebted for the celebrated translation of
Nicole's voluminous notes to the Lettres
Provinciales, published originally in Latin,
under the assumed name of Wendrock,
From her early youth. Mademoiselle
DE Joncoux entertained a close connexion,
and a filial reverence and attachment for
the house of Port Royal. As she grew up,
she became devoted equally to piety and to
literature. She was engaged, when the last
persecution of Port Royal commenced, in the
arduous labor of translating the disquisitions
of Paul Ir^eneus. In this work she was
ardently interested; but no sooner was the
persecution begun, than she instantly re
linquished it; and henceforth wholly de
voted her talents, her purse, and her ac
tivity, to the service of her oppressed friends.
When their revenues were seized, her for
tune was, with a bountiful hand, applied
to their relief; when they were vexed with
unjust, but endless litigations, her clear
mind unravelled all the mazes of misapplied

137
law. It pursued iniquity and injustice in
all its windings and latent concealments ;
and without ever quitting the upright path
of integrity herself, she dragged forth the
lurking fiend to public view and public
abhorrence. She detected the latent falla
cies of the cause of their unjust oppressors,
and repelled their blows with equal steadi
ness of friendship, as with legal skill. In
vain did the noblesse, the court, and the
Jesuits, unite to crush the efforts of this
valiant Judith. Though unassisted and
alone, far from shrinking from this unpo
pular, and most arduous office, or from
trembling at the frowns of the great, she
not only stood her ground, armed with the
panoply of a good conscience, but followed
thjsm in their secret retirements, unfolded
to their eyes their own iniquity, and ex
horted them with force upon their conduct.
Nay, she often spent two or three hours at
a time with the Cardinal de Noailles, plead
ing the cause of the nuns. After their final
dispersion, though her hopes were crushed,
her kindness, piety, and courage, were still

138
equally industrious and persevering.. She
tried by every means in her power to miti
gate the rigors of their captivity.*
When the pensions of the exiled nuns
were not paid, and when they suffered, in
consequence, from a continual depriva-
tioii of the first necessaries of life. Made
moiselle DE JONCOUR, continually sent
them pieces of serge, broad cloth, linens,
and every comfort she could procure. At
length, by dint of reiterated endeavours, and
much address, she found means, in some
instances, to open a correspondence with
some of the exiled nuns, which enabled
her to discover, and diligently to publish to
the whole world, the iniquitous artifices
which were used to induce them to fore
go their conscience. When a pretended
list of their signatures f was published by the

* See note f. page 135.
t Soon after the dispersion of the nuns, a list of the
signatures of several was published. On investigation
it appeared, that in some instances of paralytic imbeci
lity, the hands of the nuns had been guided by their

139
Jesuits, she engaged M. deFouillouto pub
lish a work against them. It was her in
dustry which collected, and her zeal which
furnished, all the documents compleatly to
refute and detect the imposture; and it was
greatly owing to the exertions of this lady,
in giving notoriety to the truth, that the
public mind was so totally changed, as it
respected Port Royal.*
Such was the state of affairs, when, at
the death of LouiS, and immediately on
the. beginning of the regency, all the friends
of Port Royal united with this Lady in pe
titioning for the redress of those grievances
under which the Port Royalist Nuns la
boured. As their monastery was rased, and
their revenues dissipated by their persecu
tors, their friends conceived the idea of

persecutors; in all the other instances but one, retrac
tations were formally made by the nuns, who positively
denied ever having lent their names to the papers pub
lished. One nun alone, Madame de Vavaseur, made
no retractation.
* See note f, page 135.

140
endeavouring to unite the captives in one and
the same convent, and letting them enjoy
the short remainder of their days in each
other's society. Various objections were
at first raised against this benevolent scheme;
but at length, by dint of unwearied per
severance, and of that charity which over-
cometh all things, MADEMOISELLE DE
Joncoux, and the friends of Port Royal,
succeeded.* ' Scarcely had success crowned this good
work, when MADEMOISELLE DE JONCOUXjf
having reaped the temporal fruit, was called
to the eternal reward of her labors. J
It was then determined, that the remain
ing captive nuns should be united together

* See note, page 135. i Ibid.
+ The life of this lady, Clemencet observes, is a
desideratum in Christian and literary biography. There
are many points of view in which it would be singularly
interesting. Her connexion and contests with many of
the leading characters of the day, would furnish a va
riety of curioas anecdote ; and her piety, learning, and
talents, render her a bright exapiple to her sex, and an

141
in the same convent ; but many years had
now elapsed since the destruction of Port
Royal ; most of its persecuted inhabitants
had for ever left their troubles far behind.
Five of them only were united in the Ab-
baie of the Benedictines of Malnoue, one

honorable and rare instance of the best human gifts,i
exerted in a divine cause. We insert her Epitaph :
Sub hoc marmore quiescit
Virgo nobilis Prancisca Margarita de Joncoux,
Virginum in seeculo degentium decus
PrsBstanti sagacique ingenio praedita.
Tempore quo abundabat iniquitas
Non refriguit sed effervuit ejus caritas
Pro justitia et veritate agonisantibus
Fugitivis captivis aut exulibus,
Mira dexteritate adfuit
Summa benignitate consuluit,
Sanctimonialium in extremis positarum.
Arnica fidelis, mater provida, ultrix impavida.
His atque aliis operibus intenta,
Supremum diem obiit.
V. Kal. oct. an MDCCXV. atat. 47.
Clemencet, vol, x, pp. 50, 51, 52, 53, and Bes.
vol. iii. p. 230.

142
of the most respected communities in
France, for its regularity, and for the spirit
of poverty, retirement, union, and charity,
which reigned there. These nuns were,
Mesdames Le Juge, Couturier, Ber-.
TRANDE, Basilise, and D'Afflon.*
The sisters of Malnoue, received the
nuns of Port Royal in a spirit according
with the exhortation of St. Paul; and those
whom they entertained as strangers, with
hospitality, proved to them as angels in
deed, received unawares.f
The nuns were welcomed, and treated in
a manner which was well calculated to make
them forget the bitterness of their long cap
tivity, and to mitigate those deep sorrows
which could not be removed; the loss of
their friends, and the destruction of their
house. They formed, in the midst of the
Abbey of Malnoue, a little Port ROyal, of
which Madame de Couturier was the head ;

» Clem. X. p. 192 to 199, and p. 288 to 291.
Bes. iii. pp. 275, 276, f Ibid.

143
and light, and fervor, and an abundance of
spiritual blessings were soon diffused by their
-Christian example, over the house which
had at first received them so kindly ; so
that in this instance, as in that of Corne
lius, the charities of the sisters of Malnoue
rising before God, had been the means, by
giving them opportunities, of increasing
their faith, of covering a multitude of sins.*
Many years after, a nun of the Convent
of Malnoue thus wrote of them : " I have
only had the honor and happiness of being
acquainted with these eminently holy and
blessed persons, since they came amongst
Us. Although their residence with us, has
been extended to many years, yet we can
give you no account of any of the sufferings
and vexations they endured elsewhere, .be
cause their humility and Christian ©harity,
never allow them to mention, or even to
allude to them. We endeavour that they
should have nothing to suffer with us, but
the recollection of the past. Their abode

? See note, page 142.

144
With us, has been a blessing to the whole
house, and they are a continual means of
instruction and edification to every one of
us. They lead a uniform, retired life. They
are continually occupied in prayer, or in
studying Scripture, excepting when they
are engaged in working for the com
munity, or the poor, or in performing acts
of charity. Exact in conforming to all our
regulations, they are always punctual, both
to time and to the most minute of our ob
servances, at service, public prayer, re
fectory, &c. They are, above all, distin
guished by a great air of candor, sim
plicity, deep humility, and a dignity of
truth, which both impresses us with respect
in their manners, and which is written
on all their countenances. Their self-abase
ment is equally deep and sincere ; it is not
indeed continually in their speech, as is the
custom with many religious professors, but
all their actions and manners bear witness,
that they of a truth, believe themselves
most weak and fallible. They may be call
ed truly great, as religious characters, never

145
seeking applause or distinction, by under
taking any extraordinary or remarkable
actions of penance or mortification, but
doing apparently common things. With a
most remarkable and uncommon fidelity
and spirituality.
'' " All human life is really made up of a
succession of little occupations and duties,
which, without tedious minuteness, could
not be related ; but, in reality, it is a con
stant fidelity, in the aggregate of these
little things, that forms the true greatness,
and grandeur, and solidity, of the Christian
character. Their venerable superior, Ma
dame de Couturier, was paralytic on one
side, and could not therefore walk without
extreme difficulty. She always, however,
contrived to drag herself to all the observ
ances of the community. She often spoke
of the great and venerable Mother Ange
lica, and was indeed her worthy follower in
all things. It is difficult to describe a piety
so eminent, that it influences the beholder
progressively by its sublime constancy, ra
ther than dazzles by any sudden impres*
L

146
sion, I can then only, in one word, say of
them every one, that we do not any of us
recollect a moment, since they have been
with us, in which they did not seem pre
sent with God by recollection, and with
their sisters, by a genuine spirit of Chris
tian love. This is all I can tell you of them.
All was interior, supremely loving and re
verencing God from choice, always speaking
of him fervently, and in him loving each
other and us with an equable divine love."*
Each one of them made a blessed and
edifying end.f
J Btit by far the most eminent, amongst
all those nuns of Port Royal, who lived to
be recalled, was the sister MagDALENA of
St. Gertrude of Valois. §

* See note, page 142. t H^'d-
X The whole hist, of Madame du Valois is compiled
from that in Clem. tom. x. p. 232 to 287, and Bes.
tom. iii. from p. 238 to 248, and Relat. Edif. des der.
cap. all.
We shall, however, give a few references to the most
iriemarkable passages.
§ Clem. X. p. 232 to 235.

147
This lady, whose name announces the
dignity of her birth, was distinguished
for supereminent abilities, high accom
plishments, and for manners equally po
lished ahd dignified. Early introduced in
to the first circles of Paris, she had scarcely
tasted the ples&sures of the world, when she
experienced their vanity 5 and just as hfer
parents were on the point of concluding a
niatch for her, the splendor of which tnight
be suitable to her birth, she suddenly
formed a resolution, finally to quit the
WO^rld, and to devote hetself entirely to the
service of God.*
Her family were in habits of intimacy
with M. Arnauld. Her acquaintance with
him, and a frequeht perusal of the tWo ad
mirable works of the Mere Agnes, " The
Peifect Religioui" and " The Constitutions of
Pdrt Royal," determined her choice, and
inspired her with a peculiar predilection for
this monastery.!

* jSee note §, page j[46. f DM,
L2

148
She accordingly presented herself as a
postulant, and intreated with ardour, per-,
mission to consecrate herself to God in that
house.* The Reverend Mother Angelica, of
St. John, was, at that time, mistress of
the novices. This excellent spiritual mo
ther, well aware, by experience, of the
heavy persecutions the house had sustained,
and would probably have again to expe
rience ; and knowing Mademoiselle de
Valois's resolution to have been sudden,
thought it right to lay before her a full view
of the two-fold difficulty she would have to
contend with, that of assuming the rigors
and discipline of a strict monastic order,
after habits of luxury and dissipation ; and
that of continuing steadfast and immova
ble in the heat of persecution, amidst sub
tleties and artifices, which were enough to
deceive the very elect, and to subvert the
old established in the faith, -f

* See note ((, page 146. f Ibid.

149
But all Mademoiselle de Valois was
told of these difficulties, only augmented
her zeal, and strengthened her resolution
to enter the monastery. She entered into
her noviciate with ardour and firmness,
grounded on a depth, of humility, and a
degree of holy confidence in God, which
gave earnest of the solidity of her vocation.
In fact, all mountains were removed by the
fervency of her faith, and became vallies ;
and all rough placesJbecame plain before her.
Silence, watching, fasting, obedience, and
humiliations, became her delight. Soon
after her entrance into the monastery, she
was seized with a violent and dangerous fit
of illness, so that her life was despaired of.
This attack was attributed to her having
unadvisedly, and contrary to the usual
practices, assumed at once, all the Austeri
ties of the religious life. The violence of
this transition was farther aggravated by
her having entered at Lent. She sunk to
the very brink of the grave. In these heart-
searching circumstances, her peace and
tranquillity manifested the sincerity of her

150
conversion : she prepared for death in the
full assurance of faith.*
The danger, however, was transient ;
though, after it was removed, both her
friends and the community united in the
persuasion, that she never would be able to
endure the austerity of the rule. The ab
besse of Port Royal informed her friends,
that however eminent were the qualities of
Mademoiselle de Valois, and however
deep was her conviction of her merits, it
became impossible, under the circumstances
which had just occurred, to receive her;
Nor could the community reconcile it to
their conscience ever to admit her, unless a
consultation were called, and that they re
turned to her parents a favourable answer.
No sooner was the young postulant ap
prized of the abbesse's determination, than
the deepest grief manifested itself in her
countenance. She listened, however, in
respectful silence ; and then going into the
choir, prostrated herself at the foot of the
* See note (I, page 146.

151
altar, and, bathed in tearSj earnestly prayed
to God to take her future destiny under the
direction of his peculiar providence, artd
So to over-rule the voices of those who
should consult, that their decision might
be for that state of life in which she coiild'
be most faithful to divine grace. She then
concluded by a solemn appfeal to the Father
of Spirits, and Searcher of Hearts, beseech
ing, that if, in his fore-knowledgC, he saw
that she would prove unfaithful amidst the
temptations of the world, that he would be
pleased, in mercy, rather to remove her by
death, than permit her to return to it.*
Mademoiselle deVaLois's friends hav
ing taken prbper advice, her health in the
mean time became so Completely re-e§tja-
blished, that it was decided she might
safely enter the monastery, and that by a
more cautious beginning, she would, vvith-
out doubt, be soon enabled to bear all thd
austerity of the rule. She was soon after
admitted ; and in the year 1677, began her

* Clem. X. p. 234 to 239.

152
noviciate with equal devotion and fervour.
She passed through all its trials with fidelity
and zeal truly edifying, and was on the
point of consummating her sacrifice, by
taking the black veil and final vow, when
the mother Angelica of St. John, who was
then abbesse, foreseeing that another storm
was about to burst on Port Royal, deter
mined to lay before her a full view of all
the difficulties to which she would expose
herself.* She represented to her, with force, all the
dangers, difficulties, perils, and persecu
tions, to which Port Royal was then ex
posed ; recounted, to her their past exiles,
separations, and captivities of many of the
nuns ; and observed, that she would proba
bly find herself grievously deceived if she
looked for her strength in the example and
fellowship of a large and holy religious
community, instead of fixing her single
eye on Christ alone. In the persecutions
which were past, they had been separated
» See note, page 151.

153
from each other ; many had past three
or four years in a solitary captivity. The
remainder of the community had seen
the exterior of their monastery invested
with soldiers, and the interior occupied by
strange nuns, placed there as gaolers, who
watched them in such a manner, as to
preclude all Christian fellowship or com
fortable communication, so effectually, as if
they were really separated, " In short," she
said, " the persecution of 1664 has taught
us by experience, the necessity of what the
Scripture continually inculcates, the . exa
mining our foundations,the being rooted and
grounded in Christ himself, and not in the
mere habituation to our rule. Every nun
amongst us must be prepared singly, and
without assistance from others, to meet
persecutions, to sustain combats, dangers,
and difficulties, in solitude and exile. She
also added, that her novices being fully in
formed, by the experience of the past, of
what they had, or probably might have, to
encounter in future, it would be an inex
cusable presumption in them to lay the

154
foundation, unless they had fully counted
the enormous cost of finishing the building.
She told her, that a very uncommon degree
of faith could alone justify a person in vo
luntarily exposing herself to difficulties,
dangers, and temptations, so far beyond
the common austerities of any monastic
order ; she therefore insisted upon her tak
ing some days purposely to consider of
what had been pointed out ; and concluded
by exhorting her, in the most solemn man
ner, to sound her heart thoroughly before
God, to beseech him to search it out, as
with candles; and by no means hastily, and
without a full conviction that it was really
required of her, to entangle herself in a
maze of snares, out of which the wisdom
which is from above, could- alone extricate
her; or to expose herself to a weight of
persecutions, which those who had expe
rienced could fully assure her, that only a
very uncommon degree of the grace of God,
and a very uncommon degree of fidelity in
corresponding to it, could" possibly enable
her to sustain. In short, again/' said the

abbesse, " I most solemnly exhort you to
count the full cost before you venture to lay
the first stone ; and in the holy presence of
God, who searches the secret motives of
every heart, I now, in his name, declare
to you, that you are inexcusable, if you
voluntarily assume a calling in which all
your difficulties and temptations will be
increased an hundred fold, unless you be
lieve that God really requires it of you, and
that his Spirit has pointed out this, and this
only, as the path in which you, individually;
are called to enter, and work out your sal
vation." The abbesse having' thus exhorted
her young novice, Mademoiselle de Va
lois answered, without hesitation^ " that' she
was fully aWare ofall the abbess- had repTC^
sented ; that she had- weighed- it well, and
was convinced it was her duty to>enter that
holy community." She' added, " that she
should consider it equally a happiness and
a glOry to partake in such sufferings for
Christ's sake; that she was assured' that
his^ grace was sufficient for her ; that divine
strength would be perfected, in her weak-

156
ness, and that she should think herself
most happy, were she counted worthy to
shed the last drop of her blood for Christ's
sake."* In these dispositions did Mademoiselle de
Valois take the veil, in the twenty-second
year of her age, and the Lord did not fail
to shed abundant benedictions upon the
soul, on whom he had bestowed such a
preparation of heart.-)-
The proofs of the solidity of her vocation
were manifest from the very beginning of
her engagement. All the Christian graces
seemed united to the bright gifts by which
she was distinguished. She set no bounds
to her penance but those formed by obe
dience. And, if the rigor of her austeri
ties appeared excessive to her companions,
whose short-sighted view only compre
hended the present time; the uncommon
persecutions and bodily sufferings, by which
her faith was afterwards tried, leave no
doubt upon the Christian mind, that she

* See note, page 151. t Ibid.

157
was led in this uncommon path by that
spirit of God which foresaw the nature of
her future trials, and thus prepared her for
uncommon sufferings, as by a holy ap
prenticeship, disciplining alike her body and
her mind. During severe winters, she not
only deprived herself of the comfort of ever
approaching the fire, but she was often
observed, during the night, exposing her
self to the rigors and inclemencies of the
open air. She habituated herself continually
to sleep on the floor of her cell, and often
curtailed her rest to five hours.*
Though naturally of a feeble and delicate
constitution, she embraced with joy occu
pations not only the most humiliating, but
the most arduous and laborious. That hu
mility, that love of being abased and
counted as nothing, without which all pe
nance and austerities are only vices in a
specious disguise, was deeply rooted and
grounded in her heart. It seemed, if pos
sible, the supereminent characteristic,
* See note, page 151.

15B
beaming amongst the constellation of virtues
and talents which adorned her soul and her
mind. The habitual and deep sentiment of
her manifold infidelities, seemed always pre
sent with her; but she was not content
with annihilating herself merely before
God, (though not only her piety was emi
nent, but that Madame de Valois was
likewise distinguished for learning and great
literary talents,) she always embraced every
sort and occasion of public humiliation^
which she imagined might tend to degrade
her in the eyes of her sisters. With this
view, several years after her profession, she
earnestly besought her Abbesse) the Mother
Angelica of St, John, to permit her to
make a public confession in full chapiter,
and in presence of the Whole assembled
community. Such examples, indeed, were
by no means rare at Port Royal.*
But if the virtues of Madame de Valois
shine thus brightly amongst the great lights
of Port Royal, they beamed forth with re-
* See note, pSge 151.

159
doubled effulgence, when amongst the
children of darkness, with whom her lot
was afterwards east, ber light shone forth
alone; it appeared as though God had
sjiiowered down upon her his graces in a yet
more abundant manner, after she was finally
torn away from Port Royal.*
Her trials were however great, in pro-'
portion to the strength of her faith. She
bad arrived on the 20th of November, 1709,
at theconvent of the Filles Dieu, at Chartres,
which was the place of her destination.
This monastery was so violently prejudiced
s^ainst Port Royal, that it would not open
its doors to receive her ; and Madame de
Valois was compelled to remain in her car
riage in the" street till four o'clock in the
morning, before the bishop's mandate could
be procured, which they were then, though
very unwillingly, compelled to obey. In
this monastery, she might truly be said to be
placed in the midst of enemies. She was
immediately conducted to a cold damp cell,
* See note, page 151-

160
when she was immured under lock and key.
The whole house considered her as an obsti
nate heretic of the very worst description,
not one member of the community would
associate with her, or even speak to her,
without the most urgent necessity. Her
health, it has been observed, was always
delicate; and, at this juncture, the hard
ships she endured had rendered it peculiarly
infirm. In this state, unwell and in sorrow,
she was placed in a house of enemies; with
out Consolation or friend, and even without
receiving the good offices of common hu
manity. Torn from her mothers and sisters,
and from the beloved house which she con
sidered as the port of salvation, she was now
captive in a strange house, where she was
rigidly guarded, wholly deprived of books
and of work, condemned to a horrible and
unvaried solitude, except, indeed, when it
was interrupted by the visits of priests,
prelates, and Jesuits, who exhausted all,
which menaces, flatteries, or subtleties
could furnish, to induce her to betray her
conscience, and to sign the formulary.

161
Their visits were usually succeeded by one
from the Abbesse, who sincerely thought she
was doing God service by using every means
in her power to assist their influence.*'
Not even the languors of disease protected
Madame de Valois from their rgiterated per
secutions; and many times, when she was so
ill as to be believed to be neariy dying, they
were not only always at hand to weary and
assail her by constant unkindness and vex
atious chicaneries, but they did not scruple
to endeavour to stagger her faith by giving
her' false accounts of her sisters, and making
her imagine they had quitted the truth.
At these times she wept bitterly, and at
first believing their fraud, replied, " What
ever others are so unfortunate as to do, the
word of God cannot be broken; on that
word I cast myself; he declared, thou shalt
not bear false witness, and his word remains
the same, though every one of the children
of nien should alter ; let God be true, though
every man is a liar."f
» Clem. X. p. 238 to 240. f Ibid.
M

162
In this house, Madame de Valois had to
encounter hardships of every description
which can afflict human nature; and it
would be, perhaps, difficult to determine,
whether her mental, or her corporal suf
ferings, were most severe. She was, in
deed, in want of every thing temporal and
spiritual : some of these sufferings may be
conceived, by one instance, which the nuns
themselves afterwards told. It has been
already observed, that the winter of 1709
was the most intense which had taken place
for above two centuries. During its whole
course, Madame de Valois was allowed, no
fire; this privation was rendered more cruel,
by the packet containing her change of
raiment, and her winter clothing, having
been put by mistake into another carriage,
which took it elsewhere, and it was not re
turned for above eight months. A charii
table lady, who boarded at the convent,
had the kindness to send Madame de Valois
some wool to make under-garments ; but
she was obliged to go without any, till she
had, with her own hands, spun, woven.

163
and made them. With respect to spiritual
concerns, her state was still worse ; she was
neither allowed to join the other nuns at
divine service, nor was she furnished by
them with books of devotion, before the
arrival of her packet. No priest would re
ceive her confession, nor administer to her
the sacraments, though they continually
urged her to sign the formulary, that she
might participate in them. Her sentiments
on this head, may be gathered from the
large collection of her papers which yet
remain; and in writing which, as it will after
wards appear, she found means to beguile
many hours of her solitary captivity : in
one of them she speaks in the following
strain :*
f " The privation of thy holy Eucharist,

• See note, page 161.
f This is not a literal translation, though it would
pass for such if read successively, without being com
pared with the original. References are given accord*
ingly.
M 2

16*4
O Lord, sensibly affects me :* yet will I
endeavour continually to look to thee, the
God of all consolation, for comfort under so
severe a trial and deprivation. Thou, Lord,
who searchest the heart, thou seest the
utter impossibility in which I am placed, of
partaking in this divine banquet, a partici
pation which alone would be a full conso
lation, and which would make every other
suffering light ;f yet even this trial of seem
ing separation from theCj I look upon as
coming from thy hands, and as a part of
the order of thy providence ; I cannot dis
trust thy grace, as being all sufficient to sus
tain me under it, { Yet, O Lord, look down
upon me ;§ look down upon me in mercy,
and comfort, me under the weight of my
redoubled affliction. If I ciannot have fel
lowship with my sisters, in partaking in thy
most sacred body, and most precious blood,
enable me, O Lord, to have fellowship and
communion with thee, in thy sufferings :||

* Clem. X. p. 240. t Ibid. + Ibid. p. 241. § Ibid.
II " Je cbmmunierai aux souiFrances de Jesus Christ.

165
thy sufferings which are the whole of our me
rits, and which form our sole fiea of mercy
before the throne of God.* By them alone
it is that we are redeemed from death, and
become living members of Jesus Christ; and
by faith in them, by an intimate union with
this divine head, it is, that we become one
body with him ; through him alone it is,
that God is willing to accept our bodies as
a living sacrifice. ¦(-
" In all ages of the church, some of thy
children have been prevented by thy provi
dence, from assisting in this sacrifice. Such
is now my state \\ but thy great mercy, O
Lord, has now given me to see even with
the understanding of my mind, what I have
long had the blessed experience of in my
heart ; that we are by no means less partir
cipants of the benefits of a sacrifice in spirit,
though we may not partake of it as to the
que font tons nos merites. C'est par elles que nous
sommes les membres vivans de Jesus Christ, et c'est
par I'union A ce divin chef que Ton est un mSme
corps, &c. &c.
* Clem. X. p. 841. f Ibid. t Ibid.

166
fleshy* There is but one sacrifice for sin ;
even the lamb slain from the foundation of
the world, which sacrifice was regarded by
the eye of faith, by all the saints of old
times. Now in the ancient law, those who
offered to thee a burnt-offering, did not eat
of the flesh of the victim, which was con
sumed by fire; •]• nevertheless, the sacrifice
was acceptable in thy sight; J and thou
didst accept those who offered it through
the sacrifice thou hadst instituted; and
pouring thy spirit upon them, thou didst
testify that acceptance, by thy peace shed
abroad in their hearts, ^nd by the fruits
of sanctification exhibited in their lives.§
Thus may its great antitype, the one true
eternal sacrifice for sin, become acceptable
and available for me; whilst I communicate,
not by an outward' handling of the body
and blood, but by an inward spiritual com
munion, through faith, in the spirit and
sufferings of my Lord and Saviour. || As in

* Clem. X. p. 241. t Ibid.
tClem. X. p.242. § Ibid. . || Ibid.

167
the day of crucifixion, those who were the
very agents of making the great sacrifice
for the sins of' the whole world, did yet not
partake in its benefits;* not having faith in
their hearts ; so may the plenitude of thy
grace, O Lord, enable me, by faith, to of
fer the true sacrifices for sin acceptably,
though I cannot partake of it bodily .f I
not only then hope, but I trust, with full
assurance, to obtain the pardon of all my
sins, by offering by faith Jesus Christ, the
alone true victim for the expiation of all
sin; and by such a communion, I not only
hope to obtain pardon, but I trust my in
ward man will be renewed day by day, that
I shall find grace to help in time of need ;
and that as my day, so shall my strength
be. In short, I trust to participate in all the
graces of those who do exteriorally commu
nicate ; not but that I ever esteem those
most happy indeed, who do enjoy this pri
vilege ; yet I thus occupy myself, to mo
derate my excessive grief; and in the de-
r - i
* Clem. X. p. 242, t IWd.

168
solation of my misery, I seek to communi
cate in the vivifying spirit of my Lord, that
spirit who is emphatically termed the com
forter, who was the consoler of the disci
ples, when the bodily presence of Christ
was taken from them ; that comforter our
Saviour promised to send to the disciples,
when he departed, and promised he should
abide with them for ever, which he declared
to be no delusion, but the spirit of TRUTH,
proceeding from the Father, and. testify ing
of him. Teach me, O Lord, to profit by
the example of the holy women of old.
Magdalene sought the body of Christ in the
tomb, and wept when she found it not,* for
getting, that although men might take
away his body, yet, that by his divine
power, and his divine spirit, he was always
present to every one who loves him in sin
cerity. Doubly should we remember it,
since he has been graciously pleased to de
clare, • I am always with you,' (that is,
with the disciples who love him) * to the
* Clem. X. 243.

169
end of the world.' I love thee, O Lord '. be
thou then, O Lord, with me, and let me still
be a partaker of thy mercy. If I receive thee
not outwardly, whilst on earth, in the Eu
charist,* I shall in bliss behold thy glory in
heaven. Ransomed by thy blood, I shall then
behold, face to face, him whom now I see
only as through a glass darkly, but whom,
though not fully seeing, I love; nay, I shall
not only see, but joining the redeemed
throng, I shall, to all eternity,t praise him
that loved us, and washed us from our sins
in his own blood ; who was slain, and has
redeemed us to God by his blood, out of
every kindred, and tongue, and people, and
nation. J My tears indeed, for a season,
are my meat, day and night, whilst they
continually say to me, ' where is thy
God ?' Deep indeed c^lls unto deep ; all
thy waves and thy billows are gone over
me, and I go mourning because of the
oppression of the enemy. Yet the Lord

* Clem. X. p. 244. f Ibid.

170
will command his loving kindness in the
day time ; I shall yet praise him for the
light of his countenance, and in the mean
time, this recollection, this assurance, sus
tains me. I console myself by the remem
brance of the centurion ;* he was unwor
thy indeed, that our Lord's bodily presence
should enter into his house ; yet receiving
him by faith into his heart, his prayer was
granted, and he obtained a perfect and
compleat cure."
Such were the sentiments of this admira
ble nun, but the firmness with which she
conducted herself towards men, was not
more remarkable than her humility before
God. The latter, indeed, may be consi
dered as the ground of the forraer.f
On being continually tormented by the
Jesuits to sign the formulary,, as the price
of her receiving the sacraments, " Reverend
fathers," she replied, " falsehood and per-

? Clem. X. p. 244. f Clem. x. p. 246.
The references given, will sufficiently shew the exact
ness with which the strain of sentiment is preserved.

171
jury can never be the preparation to receive
the God of truth."
* Some of them exhorting her to alter her
sentiments, and telling her that her con
science should be reformed, she answered,
" All conscience is founded upon the Word
of God, who is without variation or sha
dow of turning, and whose word is immu
table, and cannot be broken. When the
conscience is once formed, it therefore
cannot be RE-formed."
Another time, on their exhorting her to
consult the opinion of many learned men
of their body, she said, " Conscience must
be solidly grounded, formed upon the rock
of the Word of God, and not be continually
re-formed on the shifting sands of the ver
satile notions of men: a religious conscience
cannot be established on versatile opinions;
for we are no more to be children, tossed
to and fro, and carried by every wind of
doctrine, by the sleight of men." " Agaifl^^
Reverend Fathers, the will of God is the
^? Bes. iii. p. 239. Clem. x. pp. 271, 273.

172
foundation of all conscience, now God is
truth, and truth must be immutable. So
likewise will the &ith and conscience of
men be, if it is really founded upoa it.
God alone is the rock of ages. His word
alone is the foundation on which to build
our religious edifice ; and as :every founda
tion must in its own nature be ruinous,
which is erected on the perishable basis oj
human opinion, so that must ever continue
unshaken, which is founded on the word oJ
God." Notwithstanding these explicit, and re
peated declarations of Madame de Valois.
the persecution was still continued against
her. The Bishop of Chartres,* the Clergy, th(
Jesuits, as well as the nuns, assaulted hei
on every side. Under these circumstancei
she felt heavily oppressed. She generally
listened in silence, and when their burthen
soitie visits were terminated, went, and a
the foot of the altar, poured out her hear:
* Clem. X. p. 248. Bea, iii. pp. 238, 239,

17S
in supplication before God; often beseech
ing him earnestly, and with many tears,
rather to let her die,* than have the mis
fortune of abandoning the truth. Thus she
went on, running with admirable patience
the. race set before her, renewing her faith
continually by looking at him, who is alone
the author and finisher of it. She waited
continually on God, and therefore her
strength was- renewed, therefore did her
soul now mount up as with eagle's wings,
above the sorrows of time, and gaze as
with eagle eye upon the sun of righteous
ness ; and amidst want, hardships, and ill
ness, and injuries, menaces, the inost op
probrious language, and the most harsh
treatment, did the God whom she served,
strengthen her to run and not be weary, to
walk and not faint.
Sometimes she was threatened with being
immured in a dungeon. " As it pleases
your Lordship," replied she to the Bishop
of Chartres, " I trust the God of truth

Clem. X. p. 248. Bes, iii. pp. 238, 239.

174
will protect and deliver me amidst all. If
you immure me in a dungeon, truth will
descend there with me; and he who is the
God of truth, will both console me, and
make me truly free amidst captivity; and
if you put me to death, then the same
truth will indeed deliver me for ever, and
crown me."*
Respect for the sanctuary, prevents the
relation of the injurious and opprobrious
language the prelate heaped upon her in
reply; he seemed to forget the character,
not only of his sacred profession, but even
of a gentleman, and a man, in the foul
and contumelious virulence with which in
his frenzy, he loaded his unfortunate
female captive. Suffice it then to say, that
he threatened her with the most horrible
torments, if she did not consent to violate
her conscience.f
One day the prelate took away all her
prints and books of devotion.
" My lord," replied the captive nun
* Clem. X. p. 249. f Ibid.

175
" your Lordship cannot take away from me
the spirit of prayer, and that suffices
me."*
During all the early part of her captivity,
she was continually harassed by the visits
of this prelate, which he mostly extended
to above the length of two hours. After a,
time, Madame du Valois finding that these
reiterated visits were spent in repeating the
same things over and over again ; at length
adopted the expedient of sitting down to
her spinning the while, and making no
reply, t
The Bishop sometimes threatened that he
would send her to some remote place, and
exile her from his diocese; J to which she
answered with a good humoured smile,
" that his Lordship could not do her a
greater pleasure. "§
He then told her, that he should de-

* Clem. X. p. 249f Bes. iii. p. 243.
t Bes. iii. p. 239. Clem. x. pp. 249, 240.
X Clem. X. p. 250, Relat. Edif. des Cap.
I Ibid.

176
prive her soul of the benefits of the sacra
ments at the hour of death, and that her
body should be thrown out on the dung
hill. At this last threat she smiled, and said,
" Well, I do not think your Lordship will
be able to discover any place to cast my
body, where our Saviour will not be able
to find it, and raise it up at the last day ;
and, if in the mean time, my soul be hap
py in heaven, it is of very little importance
where my body is cast." " t But, my
Lord," continued she, more gravely, "if at
the awful hour of death, I should be un
justly deprived of those assistances, which
the church grants to all her children, by
means of Priests, who should be the ser
vants of God; then God himself, will by
his grace, immediately and abundantly sup
ply their instrumentality. His divine power
is no more to be circumscribed by the will,
than his love by the want of charity of
man. I know indeed that it is most pain
ful to approach the awful hour of death,
without an outward participation in the
sacraments ; but it is better dying, to enter

177
into heaven (though without sacraments)
for the cause of the truth; than, receiv
ing the sacraments, to be cited to irrevocable
judgment, for committing perjury."*
When, the Bishop announced to her that
some of her sisters had signed, she wept
bitterly in silence, but remained^ unmoved ;
and one day being much pressed and tor
mented to make some reply, she rose, and
with clasped hands and uplifted eyes, kneel
ing down, exclaimed, " O Lord, maintain
me, I beseech thee, by thy all-sufficient
grace ; and rather permit me to die than
be unfaithful to thy truth, "f
Such was the uniform conduct of Ma
dame de Valois. Many years afterwards,
when she was interrogated how she had
proved faithful in a series of difficulties,
almost beyond the endurance of human na
ture, she repUed, " Thanks be to the grace
of God alone I yet amongst means, two
appear to me to have been attended with a
peculiar blessing. One is, to ground our
? Clem. X. p. 250. ' f Ibid.

178
apprehension of duty in every instance on
the word of God ; where this is done, our
sense of duty will not vary with our frames
and feelings, but will uniformly bear the
sanction of divine authority.* The second
is, when an action or a duty is so ground
ed, never to reason with the enemy; but
to consider, that if God has declared his
will, that declaration supersedes all motives,
however plausible, by which every one of
his creatures might urge the contrary.f
Our first parents fell by reasoning with the
enemy, and the man of God of Bethel lost
his life, because he listened to the voice,
even of a prophet, in contradiction to that
of God, which had already spoken to him
individually." The Bishop of Chartres finding his en
deavours unattended with the least success,
gradually desisted from his visits. He how
ever sent his ecclesiastics in his place, who
often came, and endeavoured to argue the
* Clem. X. p. 250.
t Clem. X. pp. 271, 272, 273.

179
point with Madame du Valois for two or
three hours at a time.*
In process of time, these persecutions
produced an effect exactly the reverse of
what was intended. The nuns belonging
to the convent where Madame du Valois
was placed, though unenlightened and pre
judiced, were by no means illintentioned.
The gentleness and uniform kindness of
Madame du Valois' manner, had won upon
their hearts : her stability and firmness
had begun to make a very deep impres
sion upon them ; and the respect and at
tention they paid her became daily more
and more marked.
The Abbesse was the firstf who endea
voured to console her ; and to diversify her
captivity, by daily perniitting both tlie
principal nuns, and the boarders in the
convent, to go and sit with her. W^hen
her eminent piety, her highly cultivated
* Clem, X. p. 261, and Bes. iii. p. 239.
t See for the rest of her detention in this convent,.
Bes. iii. p. 242 to 244, and Relat. der. Cap. and Clem, x,
p. 240 to 287.
N 2

180
mind, and her amiable manners gained her
the affection of the whole house, they all
thought they never could do enough to shew
their repentance, for having at first treated
her in a manner so harsh and unfeeling.
Two ladies especially, who boarded in the
convent, became most tenderly attached to
her, and, by means of their kindness, she
was enabled to correspond with all her
friends in Paris. So strong was their at
tachment, and so truly disinterested their
friendship, that during the time she was
persecuted by the bishop's myrmidons, they
had remained a whole year in the convent,
without once visiting the country in sum
mer, or Paris in winter, on purpose that
they might always be on the spot to assist
and console her, and to enable her to cor
respond with her friends.*
At length, the prelate seeing that Madame
du Valois had been tormented year after
year in vain, and that all his persecutions
were so far from gaining her, that he seemed
more likely to lose the whole house, he now
? Bes. iii. p. 240. Rel. der. Cap.

181
determined to reduce her to a close capti
vity ; and, accordingly, forbid that she
should have any intercourse with any person
in the house, except the servant, necessarily
appointed to wait upon her, and ordered
that she should never quit her cell, except
at the time of divine service.*
This rigid command the Abbess received,
and was compelled to execute. She did it
with the greatest grief, as she was become
most tenderly attached to her prisoner. •{•
Madame du Valois heard the order in
silence, and, when the key was again
turned in the door of her little cell, she
prostrated herself before God, and anew
dedicated herself to him.
In the afternoon the door opened, and, to
her great surprize, the Abbesse again ap
peared. She expressed her astonishment,
adding, that she thought only the servant
was to have access to her. " For that
reason, my dear sister," said the Abbess,,
handing her the coffee, " I have henceforth ,
the pleasure to be that servant;" and, ac- ,
* Bes. iii. pp. 241, 242, 243. Rel. der. Cap. f Ibid.

182
cordingly, henceforth, every morning and
evening, she came and brought her both
her meals, with unwearied assiduity; and
then, sitting down and taking her own with
her, endeavoured by every kind attention
and soothing discourse, to mitigate her de
solate captivity.
The Abbess, however, could not prolong
her visits for any great length of time, con
sistently with the duties of her office; and
one day, being much engaged, so that her
stay was shorter than usual, the kind-
hearted Abbess, on quitting Madame de
Valois, brought a cage with two beautiful
little Canary birds, she had tamed on pur
pose to amuse Madame du Valois's cap
tivity, and set it down on her table, with
tears in her eyes. Madame du Valois, who
never willingly uttered any of the hardships
she had endured, often afterwards mentioned
these two acts of kindness as having touched
her heart beyond any thing she had ever
experienced ; and she who had been unmoved
by years of persecution, could never men
tion these two little incidents without tears.
But Madame du Valois had yet other

183
trials to encounter ; her difficulties appeared
great in proportion to the strength of her
faith, and she now began to find that it re
quired a yet more abundant degree of grace
to withstand the distress and tears, and re
iterated solicitations of her friends, than to
continue unshaken amidst the hardships
and persecutions inflicted by her enemies.*
t> The kind Abbess, the two ladies, her
friends, and indeed the whole convent,
whilst they reverenced her piety, did not
enter into the motives of her scruples. They
were perhaps amongst the number of those
sincerely good, but mistaken persons, who
measure duty rather from the consequences
an action involves, than from the .principle
from which it flows. f
They must indeed have been aware, that
a signature of the formulary, containing a
decision on a work which they had never
read, was an assertion, (and that upon oath)
of a fact, concerning which they were ig-
— .— — — — ¦ — — — '  J  .. — _
* Besogne, tom. iii. p. 243. in Relations des Reli-
gleuses exiles. Relat. der. Cap. des Rel. de P.R.
-j- Ibid.

184
norant, and that too involving an attack ou
the character of a Bishop of the Church.
But, as that bishop was out of the reach of
being injured by it, they probably con
sidered it as not worth while to bear perse
cution for the truth, unless it were a truth
which might essentially serve others.
Madame du Valois thought differently.
God has expressly declared. Thou shalt not
bear false witness against thy neighbour;
and she received his command in all its
plenitude, without ever allowing herself to
seek any of those palliations, by which
some persons might have sought to excuse
a departure from it.
The Abbess, and the two ladies who
entertained so particular a friendship for
Madame du Valois, and who could now
seldom have access to her, began to be ex
ceedingly uneasy lest she should die under
the rigor of her captivity. The Abbess,
who was the unwilling instrument of in
flicting it, and her friends, who could no
longer mitigate her solitude, were equally
miserable. They earnestly and importu-

185
nately besought her by letter, as the other
had done by word of mouth, to give up
that, which, though true, was not a truth
involving important consequences, and to
sign the formulary. The Abbess especially,
used prayers, tears, and supplications, " O,
my dear sister," would she say, " if you will
not pity yourself, pity me. Will you that
I should have the misery of occasioning the
death of my friend ? if you should even by
accident die in this captivity, I never can
survive my grief." By such motives did
she affectionately urge he» prisoner, nor
were the two ladies less importunate; one of
them, indeed, suffered so exceedingly, on
account of her anxiety for Madame du
Valois, that she was reduced to the brink
of the grave by a nervous fever : in this
state, when her life was despaired of, she
was seized with the most earnest desire once
more to see Madame du Valois, who had
been the blessed instrument of their con
version. This permission was refused, un
less Madame du Valois consented to sign.
She was then entreated by the Abbess in

186
the most pathetic manner, not to refuse a
peaceful death-bed to her best friend, for
the sake of a fact of no importance.
Madame du Valois herself, was most ten
derly attached to this lady; her soul was
agonized by the urgent representations of
the Abbess, and such horrible doubt and
amazement came upon her, that, in the
anguish of her distress, she knew not what
to do. After a pause, she urgently begged
the Abbess to quit the room, and prostrated
herself before God in prayer, in the agony
of ber soul. This, indeed, she afterwards
often said, was the hour of darkness. In
this state she remained a long time, nor
could the anguish of her mind find any
utterance, but in the words used by our
Lord. She earnestly prayed that this bitter
cup, if possible, might pass from her, but
that the will of God might be done, and
that he might permit her to die in the con
flict, before she renounced his truth. After
several hours, Madame du Valois -opened
her door, and admitted the Abbess. With
a countenance of perfect composure, but

1§7
which evidently shewed the extremity of
suffering and conflict she had undergone ;
and in a voice tranquil and caln), but
almost extinct from the agony she had
passed through, she declared her determi
nation to adhere to her conscience. " Men,"
she said, " could not interrupt the true com
munion of saints, which was in the spirit,
not in the bodily presence only; she was
therefore going to prostrate herself before
God, in prayer, for her dear friend, nor did
she wish to have her retirement broken in
upon at present." Accordingly, her prayer
was never interrupted but once, to take a
small portion of food, till next day she
learnt that the crisis was past, and the lady
out of danger, though still very ill.
Thus did this admirable nun remain un
shaken, either by the menaces of her ene
mies, or the solicitations of her friends.*
The Bishop of Chartres seeing he could
prevail notliing, resolved to rid himself of
so troublesome a charge, by devolving it
f I ¦, , ,. ,,1, '  .-
* Besogne, tomi iji, p. 238 to 244,

188
upon somebody else. After some delibe
ration, he determined to transfer Made
moiselle du Valois to a convent at Mantes,
the superior of which was violently preju
diced against Port Royal, and had been
successfully employed in persuading several
nuns to sign the formulary. M. de Chartres
was not without considerable hopes that
Madame du Valois might also be persuaded
by the same influence. She was accord
ingly sent from Chartres, under an armed
escort, a woman accompanying her in the
same carriage, partly to watch her move
ments, and partly to wait on her.*
On her journey from Chartres to Mantes,
Madame du Valois was grievously distressed
in mind. A depression and horrible fear
fell over her spirits, when she recollected
how many, even amongst Christians of the
first ages of the Church, had fallen during
the severity of persecution; when she re
membered the character which had been

* Besogne, tom. iii. p. .238 to 244. Clemencet,
torn. X. p. 255. Relat. des Cap. Edif. des Rel. de P. R.

189
given to her, of the Abbess of the monas
tery whither she was going, she feared that
she never should prove faithful to the end,
and she looked forward with anxiety to
every accident which might happen on the
road, and which might be a means of ter
minating her sufferings and life together,
before she should have forfeited her con
science. Early in the afternoon, Madame du Valois
reached the town where she was to lodge
that night. She was scarcely arrived, when
a splendid carriage drove up to the door of
the same inn, accompanied by a long train
of servants, splendidly mounted and ac
coutred. A young lady, full dressed,
stepped out, and asked to be immediately
conducted to the Port Royal nun, who was
just arrived. The young lady appeared to
be under twenty, her dress, which was most
magnificent, sparkled with diamonds and
precious stones, her countenance was ra
diant with beauty, and her manners, though
gentle, were awfully severe, so that the
persons present feeling in awe of her.

190
immediately admitted her. She instantly
went up stairs, entered Madame du
Valois's room, and without either an
nouncing herself, or prefacing her visit
with any apology, or appearing to notice
Madame du Valois's companion, who had
thrown herself upon a bed to rest, she took
the nun by the hand, and led her aside to
the window, where she at once began to
speak to her of the high dignity and honor,
and supereminent distinction, conferred
upon those who are called to suffer for
righteousness' sake, and who prove steady
to the end. She then continued exhorting,
strengthening, and consoling her, in a man
ner so full of majesty, grace, and goodness,
blended with such awful severity, that the
nun was in equal astonishment, both at the
matter and the manner of her discourse.
She informed her of the blessed ends of ma
ny of her sisters, and of the great change
that was taking place in the public mind
about Port Royal, and many other circum
stances, of which Madame du Valois had
been kept in profound ignorance; at length.

191
after giving Madame du Valois a most
solemn charge, and exhorting her to be
faithful to the end, she, without awaiting
any reply, or taking any leave, steppe4
into her carriage, which setting off at full
speed, was quickly out of sight, leaving
Madame du Valois in the utmost astonish
ment.* There was an extraordinary dignity in
the manner of her Unknown visitor, which,
joined to the surprise occasioned by so un
expected an incident, prevented the nun
from interrupting her discourse, by asking
her who, or what she was, or whence she
came? but, when Madame du Valois had
recovered from the stupor of her first amaze
ment, she sent to question the people of
the inn. They were as much surprised as
herself, nor could she gain the least trace
of intelligence concerning this extraordi
nary visitant. Nevertheless, whoever she
might be, the zeal and strength of her man-

» Clemencet, tom. x. p. 253 to 255. Bes. tom. iii.
pp. 244, 245.

192
ner, at once filled the heart of Madame du
Valois with peace, consolation, and strength,
so that the very recollection of this singular
incident, fortified and supported her during
the three remaining years of captivity, which
she had yet to pass at Mantes.*
On her arrival there, Madame du Valois
was treated with the greatest severity, but
in a very few months, she gained, as at
Chartres, the esteem and affection of the
whole convent; and there is every rea
son to believe, that the rapidity with which
this change took place, was very much ac
celerated, by the repeated letters sent to
the superior, by her kind friend the Abbess,
as well as by the two ladies : to whatever
cause, however, we may ascribe it, the event
is certain; she was held in the highest
veneration by the whole community. One
of the nuns has left us an account, of which
the substance is as follows:
" At the time Madame du Valois was sent

* See note, page 191.

to us, by the bishop of Chartres, we received
letters (from her friend the Abbess) describ
ing her as a person of the utmost sweetness
and evenness of temper, who, from her na
tural disposition, as well as from the in
fluence of religion, was most engaging and
agreeable to live with. Her goodness, as
well as the strength and intelligence of a
superior mind, was visible the first moment
she entered the house, and her application
to acquaint herself with all the usages of
our community, and to conform herself to
them, even in the most minute particulars,
soon obtained her the high esteem and re
gard of every individual. Madame de Va
lois might indeed thank God, for having
given to her, as he formerly did to Solomon,
the spirit of wisdom, and of knowledge with
out measure; and as her rare intellectual
powers had been cultivated by assiduous
study, so her naturally happy temper was
perfected by being grounded on Christjajn
resignation and deep self-abasement. The
long exercise of every Christian virtue, had
induced a perfection of holiness, such

194
as we have never witnessed elseWherej
She was always most exact in attending
church, during the time of divine service.
She was not, as you know, allowed to be a
partaker of the holy communion, but she
always remained prostrate during the whole
time of its administration ; and it was easy to
see the acute pain she felt at the depriva
tion, by the abundance of tears which she
could not restrain."*
" She was in the habit of making frequent
prostrations during divine service, and al
ways remained the last in the church. "f
" She placed her enemies in the same
lank with her friends, praying every day
in private, for the one as well as the other.
Unless seriously ill, she never failed rising
at two in the morning. The Psalms were
familiar to her. She was most abstemious
in all her habits, fasting and abstaining even
beyond her strength. Patient under severe

* See Clem. x. Lettre d'une Religieuse de Mantes
sur le soeur de Valois, pp. 256, 257, 258, 259, 260.
t Ibid.

195
sufferings, and the most contumelious ill
treatment, her only complaint was, that
she experienced more indulgence than she
deserved; and whether her meals were
served hot or cold, early or late, she always
manifested the same evenness of temper.
She always dispensed with the assistance of
others as much as possible, performing
every service for herself of which she was ca
pable, continually sweeping her own room,
or making her bed, before the sister who was
appointed to wait upon her, was up; and
not only helping her, but by her pious con
versation, good advice, and a thousand
nameless kindnesses, serving her in much
more essential ways, so that when Ma
dame du Valois quitted us, the poor girl
was quite in despair, saying she had lost
her all."*
" If Madame du Valois eminently in
spired respect, she was likewise eminent for
her attention and respect to others. Her
attention to our Abbess, was accompanied

* See note *, page 194.
O 2

196
by an air of respectful deference, which
never for an instant forsook her. She never
pardoned herself the very least omission as
it respected her; and if she had, by the least
thing, (though unwittingly) given her a mo
ment's pain, she always instantly threw her
self on her knees, and most humbly implored
her pardon, never closely examining, on
these occasions, on whose side the error
was, so constant was her patience, during
even the time in which she was persecuted
almost beyond any human endurance but
her's."* " Indeed she continually acted in the same
manner to others, for she had that sincere
love of peace, that she never thought any
thing, but sin, too great a price to pay
for it."t
" Her charity embraced every person
alike, so that each individual appeared to
possess the same place in her kindness and
affection. It might be said with the great
est truth, that next to close communion
* See note *, page 194. f Ibid.

197
with God, her greatest; delight was to make
others happy. Naturally attentive and
polite, her manners were supereminently
distinguished for ?n affectionate sympathy,
a perfect and finished propriety, yet with
out affectation, and in the spirit qf the Gos
pel ; so that what was originally bestowed
upon her by sweetness of temper, high birth,
and exquisitely cultivated taste, grace had
softened down, blended, and grafted upon
the root of Christian love, meekness, and
humility. She was, indeed, most tender,
sympathising, and prudent ; a perfect model
of Christian friendship. She loved re
tirement in her room, and never wa^ seen
passing or repassing, but to visit or console
the sick. This, indeed, occurred continu
ally, as she was always sent for by all yvho
were in any distress. She possessed a pe
culiar talent for entering, not only into the
griefs, but into the most minute shades^of
the feelings of others, but without weakening
or flattering them. Every body who visited
her cell (and that was every body in afflic
tion) was quite sure of being well received ;

198 t
it was observed, that no one, even amongst
those who entered it with the most dejected
countenances, ever quitted her without
being more disposed both to find consola
tion, and to perform firmly her duty. All,
in Madame de Valois, her placid and intel
ligent countenance, her gentle and digni
fied manner, nay, even her very tone of
voice, was regulated and modulated by her
piety, and her peculiar character; and its
very accents and inflexions, at once even
and firm, were inflected by sweet and placid
benevolence, and tenderness of sympathy,
at once supportingyet touching the heart."*
" She had eminently an upright and firm
mind, a sympathising heart, and an acute
discernment and discrimination. Yet that
very penetration, appeared to afford her a
new means of exercising Christian charity;
for whilst it prevented her from being duped
by the wicked, it always rendered her sym
pathy peculiarly alive to their besetting
temptations. Her devotion, solid as it was,
* See note *, page 194..

199
had no austerity ; so that all the children,
even the very least, loved to approach her,
and often asked, as a reward, to visit her.
She had always some little good word to
give them; but with sweetness and reve
rence, and not too long. Even to them,
she laid herself out to be kind ; for when
ever she had any little delicacy sent her,
which often happened, as she was univi2r"f
sally respected and beloved, she would
only just taste it, out of civility, though a
great invalid, but set it apart to keep it for
them, " It was only on festival days that the
bishop allowed her to join the community
at recreation, where she was always asked
for, and her society earnestly sought. Her
conversation, indeed, was the delight of the
whole community, as her example was its
edification. Though she was so much look
ed up to, on account of her rare acquire
ments, as well as of her eminent piety, her
society was so far from imposing any con
straint, that if she was a few moments later
than usual, the most earnest inquiries were

20&
always made after her ; and if, froni indis
position, or from devotion, she spent the
time in her room, the disappointment was
visible on every countenance.*
" A person of so kind a heart as Madame
du Valois, could not forget her own rela
tions ; accordingly, she considered them as
ranking in the first place amongst those
neighbours whom our Saviour has com
manded us to love as ourselves. She enter
tained a constant correspondence with them,
not with a view of seeking her own amuse
ment, but to render them all the services of
friendship, continually participating in their
interests or pleasures, with a view of lead
ing them to ' God ; of supporting them
amidst the sorrows of life, and preventing
them from wandering amidst its dissipating
pleasures. All her letters, and she had nu»
merous correspondents, were eminently dis
tinguished by their Christian spirit, which
spread its unction over the rare talents of
the writer. She was very reserved in men-r
* See note *, page 194.

201
tioning her hardships and trials; indeed,
all ill usage appeared to slide at once off
her mind, as the rain off a polished laurel
leaf; on the contrary, the least instance of
kindness was never forgotten, but was often
the subject of her letters ; so that it has
happened, that persons who had continually
maltreated her, in the most scandalous
manner, have had the shame of being
thanked by her friends for their kindness,
which, if it happened but in one in
stance, her grateful heart never failed to
record. It was not from dissimulation or
reserve, nor even, if one may so say, from
a point of duty, that she forbore to speak
of her afflictions ; but it seemed as though
her heart was so full of heavenly joy and
peace, and so replete with love to others,
that they did not in reality occupy her
mind. Madame du Valois was \^ery assidu
ous in working with her hands, being al
ways occupied when in conversation, with
her spinning, knitting, ^or other useful
work; the fruits of which she always dis
tributed amongst others, never reserving

20Q
any thing for herself. On every occasion
we all addressed ourselves to her, well know
ing she was equally ready, affectionately to
receive, and effectually to serve us all."*
" When she left us, we were distressed in
deed. Our only consolation was, the cer
tainty that the blessing of God, and the
peace of God, would attend her every where;
it was this consideration alone which re
conciled the preceding monastery in which
she had been placed, to her loss."f
After the death of Louis the fourteenth,
when the other nuns of Port Royal were re
called, persons interested themselves par
ticularly in behalf of Madame du Valois,
who was the only one still debarred from
receiving the sacj-aments.J
God raised up to her a powerful and able
protectress, in the dowager Princess of
Conde. But as her friends wished to avoid
hurting the feelings of the Cardinal de
Noailles, by placing her in his diocese; she
* See note *, page 194. f Ibid.
t Clem.x. pp. S61, 265, 266, 267. Bes. iii. pp. 245, 246.

203
was not united to the other nuns of Port
Royal in the monastery of Malnoue.
The place chosen for her residence was
the abbey of Estrees, a very respectable
monastery in the diocese of Evreux ; where
she was to be received with honor as a guest,
instead of being guarded as a prisoner.*
In the mean time, the Cardinal de Noa
illes, deeply penitent for the part he had
taken in the destruction of Port Royal, re
solved, as far as possible, to repair the evils
his irresolution had occasioned. He had
long observed in secret, the conduct of
Madame de Valois; convinced, by her un
shaken firmness, united with meekness and
patience, of her extraordinary piety, he
began to honor her as a saifit; and, unasked,
and of his own accord, freely proposed to
her an immediate participation in the sa
crament. He issued an order, that, in
passing from Mantes to Evreux, she should
pay a visit of some considerable time at
Paris, where she should have full liberty,
as often as she pleased, to visit all her Port

* See note +, page 202.

204
Royal sisters, and other Christian friends.*
To do her greater honor, it was fixed
that she should receive the sacrament at the
great church of St.Genevieve. From motives
of delicacy to the Cardinal, who had so
long withheld her from participating in
them, she fixed the time at four in the
morning, with a view to privacy; but such
was the deep interest excited by her con
stancy and piety, that notwithstanding the
earliness of the hour, and the severity of
the season, the cathedral was thronged
by an innumerable concourse of people,
whom a sympathy with her wrongs, had
collected together. They stood in profound
silence, uncovered, during the ceremony;
and scarcely was the service concluded,
when the whole assembly, as with one ac
cord, prostrated themselves, to give thanks
with her, and for her. The tears which
flowed from every eye sufficiently shewed
their sincerity. On this happy termination
of all her sufferings, Madame du Valois
was quite overpowered ; wlien however she

* See qpte J, page 202.

205
was at length sufficiently able to compose
herself to speak, she said, " That she had
at length obtained the summit of all hep
desires; in short," said she, " but one mo
ment can exceed the joy of this, that in
which I shall be dissolved, to be united for
ever with that Saviour in whose body and
blood I have now had the favor again to
participate."* This last wish was not, however, to be
immediately granted. The virtue of this
admirable nun, had passed through the trial
of adversity and contumely, it was now to
endure the yet more difficult .trial of honor
and sudden prosperity. |
The Princess of Condfej her friend and
protectress, was equally delighted with her
new friend, and proud of having compassed
the deliverance of sO eminent a saint. She
was also very anxious to profit by Madame
du Valois' stay in Paris, to edify herself
and all her numerous friends by her eon-
* Clem.x. 267 to 274, Bes. iii, 245. 247, Relat.derCap,
i Ibid.

ao6
versation, which was as agreeable to her as
a woman of literature, as it was valuable.
on account of her piety. Madame de
Conde was influenced also by another mo
tive; she was resolved to do public honor
to the virtue of her friend, and to hold her
forth as an object of public respect, in the
very midst of her most determined and
powerful enemies. She therefore obtained
the Cardinal's permission to have her at her
own palace, where she appropriated to
her a suite of apartments. She also took
her for three weeks to the calvary of the
Luxembourg, where Madame duValois was
compelled to receive visits and congratula
tions of an innumerable concourse of per
sons distinguished alike for rank, talent, and
merit. Princes and princesses, cardinals,
dukes, bishops ; in short, persons of piety,
talent, and nobility, then in Paris, vied with
each other in waiting upon her, and shew
ing her marked deference and honor.*
Amongst this multitude, she was not the
* See note *, page 205.

S07
least glad to see her dear friends, the two
ladies at Chartres, who visited Paris to see
her once more.
All her visitors were edified by her mo
desty, her love of silence and seclusion,
and her enlightened piety; but above all,
with her reserve, in answering the multitude
of questions addressed to her concerning
her persecutions. This she did with so
adroit and spontaneous a generosity, that
she seemed naturally, when questioned con
cerning her hardships, only to remember
instances of kindness. So that all her most
bitter persecutors, who trembled for fear of
detection, were astonished at finding them
selves treated with unusual respect, on ac
count of some single instance of kindness,
which she had contrived to select, out of
years of unmitigated barbarity and ill-treat
ment. She seemed indeed an instance of the
common proverb, that whilst the evil spirit
furnishes the memories of evil men with a
record of injuries, in order to torment them
with baleful passions and gloomy anticipa-

208
tions, a guardian angel stores that of the
just with images of good, which gild the
future with hope, and refresh the heart for
the present, by spontaneously suggesting
happy and tranquillizing recoUections. The
mode, however, in which she spoke of her
enemies, was by no means peculiar to
Madame du Valois, all the nuns of Port
Royal spoke of their persecutors in i^the
same terms of kindness.*
Whilst at Paris, Madame duValois made
the most diligent inquiries respecting the
unknown visitor who had so seasonably met
her on the road from Chartres to Mantes ;
but she never could obtain the least inform
ation, nor meet with the least tidings of
any person in any degree answering to her
description.! Madame du Valois then went to visit her
Port Poyal sisters, at Malnoue, where she
staid a considerable time, to the very great
* Clem. X. p. 269. Bes. iii. p. 247. Relat. der Cap.
t Clem. X. p. 269. Bes. iii. p. 245.

209
joy and comfort of both parties. She also,
at the wish of the Princess of Condfe, vi
sited several other convents, who had heard
of her piety and misfortunes, and who were
exceedingly anxious to see her.*
Madame dii Valois, howeyer, was far
averse from seieking honor of men. After
stEtying a few weeks, at Paris, which was
an indispensable mark of respect to her be
nevolent friend, the Princess of Conde, , she
prepared to quit the palace, where she was
treated with the highest respect, and the
most distinguished consideration, to go to
her future habitation, the monastery of
Etrfees. , The Princpss^ though unable, from
her own infirmities, to accompany, her,
would not suffer Madame du Valois to go
alone; accordingly, a lady and her daughter,
who were intimate friends of Madame de
Conde, and who had formed sentiments of
the deepest veneration and attachment to
Madame du Valois, determined to accom
pany her the whole way, and to prepare the

Clem. X. pp. 269, 270. Bes. iii. pp. 246, 247.
P

210
community at Etrees, to receive her with the
respect to which she was so justly entitled.*
Madame du Valois accordingly quitted
that polished capital, and those distinguish
ed circles which, after an absence of thirty
ye^rs, she had only re-visited in submission
to thewillbf God. She took a most affection
ate leave of her Port Royal sisters, express
ing mutual pleasure at having met together,
and interchanging mutual promises of a
constant correspondence.!
Madame du Valois then set out on her
journey, rejoicing to return to her beloved
retirement, and to have escaped from that
crowded metropolis, where she received
some of the most extraordinary honors that
ever were paid to a religious and a female,
with as much indifference, disengagement,
and tranquillity of mind, as if she had
been holding the recreation in the seclusion
of a monasteryi|
The community of Etrees, whither Ma-
• Bes. iii. p. 247. Clem. x. p. 273.
t Cleiii. X. pp. 273, 274. t Ibid.

211
dame du Valois was to be placed, consisted,
at that period, of thirty-five nuns. The
eldest was thirty-five years old, and the
youthful Abbess only about eighteen. All
the ladies in that convent were sprung from
highly respectable families. They were
ladies of superior education ; their conduct
also was very decorous ; sb that the monas
tery was esteemed a very respectable one :
but they were by no means distinguished
for piety. They were indeed kind and well
disposed, and their conduct was far from
exhibiting any flagrant irregularity ; but
they were totally ignorant of spiritual reli
gion. And though they had refused the
direction of the Jesuits, yet they were by
no means pleased at the idea of having a
Port Royal nun imposed upon them.*
The ladies who accompanied Madame du
Valois, immediately perceived the secret
reluctance of the nuns, notwithstanding
the politeness, and even humanity, with
which they received her. They there-
* Bes. iii, p. 247. Clem. x. pp. 274, 275.
P2

212
fore requested to speak with the young;
Abbess in private ; and not only dispelled
all her apprehensions, by telling her of the
amiable qualities of the nun they had
brought; but they soon excited the most
powerful interest and sympathy in her
mind, by drawing a lively picture of all
Madame du Valois' sufferings, her virtues,
and her piety. So that when her conduct
resses, at the end of two or three days, took
their leave, they left the whole community
deeply impressed with respect, veneration,
and pity for her, and congratulating them
selves on the prize Providence had bestowed
on their house.*
Experience soon convinced them of the
truth of the ladies' assertions. They all
treated her with the greatest respect, kind
ness, and attention ; and endeavoured, by
every means in their power, to give her
comfort, and make her happy; and studied
to anticipate all her wants by furnishing
her with books, prints, and every other
• Bes. iii. p. 247. Clem. x. p. 274 to 276.

213
amusement they could think of, and giving
her full liberty to attend the sacraments,
correspond with her friends ; and, in short,
to do whatever she would have wished had
she been in her own community.*
Nor was the kindness of the amiable
nuns lost to themselves before God. Ma
dame duValois became to their house as the
ark to that of Obed Edom. She proved a
means of benediction to the whole com
munity; and she was the blessed instrument
God used to diffuse the knowledge, and the
practice of the truth, throughout the whole
^monastery. Her pious example, her edi
fying conversation, and the relations she
made of the saints she had known at Port
Royal, made a lively impression on them ;
and by the grace of God they became
thoroughly changed. The monastery of
Etrees set an example of piety and regu
larity ; and its instruction soon proved a
source of blessing to the whole neighbour
hood. The young Abbess became truly
» See note, page 212.

214-
converted; and being aware of the heavy
responsibility of her charge, and that others
possessed not only the graces, but the gifts
requisite for it, Jn a greater degree than
herself, she, with unfeigned humility, gave:
up the office, and became a simple nun.*
But the usefulness of Madame de Valois
was by no means merely confined to the
monastery of Etrees. She had the pleasure
and Satisfaction of proving equally a bless
ing both to her friends and to her enemies.f
The Princess of Conde maintained a con
tinual correspondence with her, which ter
minated in her complete conversion; but,
amongst all the friends whom her eminent
piety had gained, none was more zealous
than the Cardinal of Noailles. He also
requested permission to correspond with
her. He became her public and zeafous
protector. Nay, he even sent her an edition
of his works, and especially of his beautiful
pastoral instruction of 1719; nor did he
• See note, page 212.
t Clem. X. pp. 276, ^7, 283, 282. Bes. iii. p. 248.

215
fail, amongst other proofs of esteem, con
tinually to recommend himself tp her
prayers.* >-'
In this monastery Madame du Valois
continued till the time of her death, which
took place on the 7th of November, 1722,
on the day preceding that on which forty
years before, she had consecrated herself to
God by the indissoluble vows of religion.f
She continued an example of edification
to the house of Etrees till her latest breath.
She was the consolation of the afflicted,
and the strength of the feeble. The three
last years of her life were spent in almost
continual bodily sufferings. At length she
was seized with her last illness, which con
tinued for six weeks. During twelve days
and thirteen nights she was in the agonies
of death. She never once, in all this while,
opened her mouth to complain. For a con
siderable part of the time she could ^ot
speak, but whenever it pleased the Lord to
' See-note f, page 214.
t Clem. X. p. 283 to 287. Bes. iii. p. 246 to 248.

216
open her lips, her mouth shewed forth his
praise. She seemed, amidst the most ex
cruciating pains, to forget present suffer
ings in the sense of eternal enjoyments.
She shewed a perfect detachment from this
earth, and all her thoughts were in heaven.
She perpetually had read to her the ac
counts of the passion of our Saviour. The
whole monastery being collected round her
bed in tears, and being cast down by the
deepest sorrow, she alone retained- her pre
sence of mind, and consoled and supported
them in a manner equally sympathising
and vigorous. As for herself, her joy was
uninterrupted. Her death was not merely
peaceful, it was triumphant and glorious.*
No epitaph by any human pen has reach
ed our time, but her eulogium is written in
the sanctity and exemplary piety of the
community she left behind to mourn her
loss. Meanwhile, her memory is held in
eternal benediction. Whilst, in the long
bright summer's eve, the villagers teach
» See notet, page 215.

217
their infants to clasp their little hands, and
lisp their prayers over the green sods that
mark her grave ; they little think that all
the blessings with which God has comforted
their ne^hbourhood, were owing, in the
first instance, to Port Royal, and to the
fidelity with which the Mere Angelique,
when a girl of seventeen, corresponded with
the religious impressions which the grace of
God then vouchsafed her.
Such was Port Royal ; the foundation of
its faith was Scripture, the object of its trust
was Christ, the great sacrifice for sin ; and
their mode of apprehending him was by a
spiritual and divine teaching, the work of
God upon that heart which waits upon him
in spirit and in truth. Thus taught of God,
they believed with the heart unto righteous
ness, and out of the abundance of a re
newed heart, their mouths uttered the
praises of God, and their lives exhibited
the genuine fruits of faith. Such was the
source of the holiness of their lives, the
unshaken constancy of their perseverance,
and the triumphant blessedness of their

21,8
ends. , And, whatever minor differences
may distinguish various bodies of Christians,
experience, as well as Scripture, declares,
that wherever these polar truths have been
faithfully and spiritually maintained, whe
ther in the Catholic, the Lutheran, the
Calvinist, or any other branch of that
church which is rooted and grounded in
Christ; the same strength of faith, the same
good fruits, and the same blessed ends have
uniformly appeared, bearing testimony, that
this is life eternal, to know the only true
God, and Jesus Christ, whom he has sent ;
being taught these things by a diligent
searching of Scripture, which testifies of
him ; and having them imprinted on the
heart by that divine spirit, without the
teaching of which, no man can, in truth,
call Christ Lord, or so believe with the
heart unto righteousness, as to bring forth
the fruits which are of the spirit by faith.
We must not conclude this account of
the destruction of Port Royal, without a
brief notice of the faithful servants who
were banished at the final dispersion.

219
Their annals are indeed brief and simple.
Tfiey do not indeed present the same strong
interest, or the ' same variety of ,inciden<;>
which are exhibited in the biographies of
the great lights of the Port Royal schoo\.
Their noble descent, or pre-eminent talents,
necessarily placed them in the foremost
rank under every persecution, and upheld
them as especial marks to the assaults of
their enemies. Nevertheless, although the
absence of these worldly advantages gavd
less splendid relief to the virtues of their
poor brethren in the eyes of men, to the
Christian reader, their lives will be, perhaps,
the more interesting on that very account.
He will delight to trace the all-sufficient
power of divine grace, unassisted by any
temporal considerations, and to contem
plate its genuine effects, unadorned by any
extraneous decorations. He will see the
most noble constancy where no motive of
human honor could ever have been sug
gested ; the most bountiful charity bestowed
at the expense of the first necessaries of

220
life, by givers who could receive no meed
of praise; and he will behold a celestial
wisdom imparted from above, to those whose
want of education wholly precluded them
from being enlightened by human learning.
In a word, whether in the learned or un
learned, he will uniformly behold the same
divine principle, bringing forth abundantly
the same good fruit.
And if the lowly graves of these unlet
tered saints, boast no sculptured marble,
«nd if the even tenor of their holy lives have
called forth no pompous eulogium, yet not
one of them is forgotten before God ; and
as they were joint partakers in the very
same faith, and in the same good works,
with their pious and enlightened masters
and instructors, so likewise, in the great
^ay of the Lord, shall they jointly receive
with them, the amaranth crown of im
mortality, and the palm of victory.
Louis l'Epargneur was born at Thie-
rache. He was shoemaker at Port Royal
des Champs for above ten years, and was

221
one of the brightest examples of devotion,
and of the practice of every Christian virtue.
Whilst at his work, he had always the New
Testament open before him, on a kind of
little desk which he had contrived on pur
pose. In this book he was continually.
reading, or else repeating the Psalter, all
of which he knew by heart, and generally
recited whilst he worked. Indeed he had
read both these books so often, and with
such deep attention, that he could repeat
the whole of the New Testament by heart,
as well as the Psalter. Being driven from
Port Royal in 1709, he retired to St. Pe
lagic, in the Fauxbourg St. Margeau, at
Paris, where he continued precisely ' the
same habits ; till at length joining the fra-
ternity of Cordwainers, he edified them by
his exemplary piety till the time of his
death, which took place the eleventh of
June, 1716. His remains were deposited
in the burying ground of the Holy Inno
cents.* * Clem. X. pp. 292, 293.

222
, Peter Bourchier (who being very tall,
went by the name of Peter the Great)
was born at Gresset, a village in Gascony.
He was, by trade, a vine-dresser. In that
humble station, he performed aU the duties
of a real Christian. On working days he
followed his occupation assiduously in the
spirit of penitence ; Sundays and festivals
he hallowed by regularly attending the of
fices of the church. He formed a little
society of several piously disposed young
men in his own class of life, with whom he
could unite in worshipping God, in simpli-
eity of heart and godly sincerity. They all
ardently sought to hear and study the word of
God itself, for which they had an insatiable
desire, and they eagerly embraced every
opportunity of hearing it. This, however,
seldom occurred in their parish, as the cu
rate had very little the benefit of his flock
at heart, and never preached, so that they
received no instruction, unless he was either
indisposed or absent, when the priest who
supplied his place, always read the Gos
pel and preached. Under this spiritual

22S
famine, they continually prayed to God
for grace to apply the little they did Hearj
and to serve him in as far as they knew, in
the true spirit of the Gospel.*
The thought that the grace of God was
sufficient for them, and that his divine
power could devise means to instruct them,
as it brought instruction to Cornelius of old,
was < the only consolation of Bourchier in
his continual labors. His whole ambition
was to become thoroughly acquainted with
the Gospel, and as the curate was so remiss
in performing his duty, he resolved to en
deavour to learn to read himself. Bourchier
was then above thirty, and all his neigh
bours considered such an undertaking as a
piece of madness. Peter, however, was
not deterred. He earnestly prayed for the
blessing of God on this humble attempt to
become acquainted with his will, and rising
some hours eariier to do his day's work, he
spent the afternoon in searching out the two

Clem. I. pp. 393, 294.

224
or three families in the village who could
read ; and in begging them, not to give him
money, but a little instruction, that he
might be able to read the Scripture. As
soon as Bourchier was able to decypher it
a little, he began to read the Gospel to his
companions, and to converse with them up
on it, inciting them to follow his example.
All their leisure time these young vine
dressers spent in studying the Scriptures ;
and while they followed their occupations,
they contrived to work near each other, and
to converse on the divine truths they had
been learning ; so that they lost not a single
moment for instruction, and every penny
they could save from their wages they gave
to the poor.*
Like Cornelius, their prayers and alms
came up for a memorial before God,-|- and
it pleased him to send them a truly apostolic
and eminent servant of Christ, to break to
them the bread of his holy word, and to
* Clem. X. p. 294. t Clem. x. pp. 294, 295.

S25
iiourish their souls fully with it. This in
strument in the hand of God,' was Father
Vincent Comblat, a Cordelier, who pitying
the darkness of the people, and animated
by an enlightened zeal for his divine mas-
¦terj and by love for the souls of men, tra
velled from village to village on foot, pur
posely to preach and expound the Gos
pel.* The zeal of Father Comblat^ the purity
of his doctrine, and above all,' the closeness
with which he applied Scripture, (to the
exposition of which his exhortations were
always confined) soon drew down upon him
many persecutions, both from false brethren
of his own order, and from various other
unworthy ecclesiastics.-|-
The providence of God having led this
holy man to the village of Gresset, Peter
Bourchier, and his cohipanions, were the
most ardent to profit by this divine favor,
regarding Father Vincent as the apostle

Sie note f, page 224. f Clem. x. p. 295.
Q

226
sent of God in answer to their prayers, and
his instructions as manna, of which they
could not lose an atom. This excellent
missionary was indeed a man of God. Not
satisfied with expounding Scripture every
morning and evening, when the labourers
returned from their work, he went abroad
in the fields during the day, working with
them himself, and instructing the labourers
during their employments.*
Bourchier was so impressed by these
instructions, and touched at this proof of
love, that he would never quit Father Vin
cent, but attaching himself to his service,
followed him whithersoever he went.-j-
Peter always worked at whatever em
ployment he was capable, in all the places
where Father Vincent travelled, as indeed
he likewise did himself, whenever he was
not engaged in instructing the peoplef.
By this means, they both lived by the
labor of their hands, without being burthen-

* See note f, page 225. f Ibid. J Ibid.

227
some to any. This disinterested conduct
stamped a seal on their instructioitis. It
edified the sincere, and caused a great num
ber of conversions, both amongst the care
less and the profligate. God shedding an
abundant blessing upon labors so apos
tolic* Father Vincent being obliged to go to
Paris on business, did not fail to visit Port
Royal des Champs. As usual, he took Pe
ter with, "him, Peter no sooner entered this
retreat, than he seemed to be in that new
earth where righteousness and holiness shall
dwell, where truth shall be known and re
vered, and where Christian charity shftU
fully prevail. Peter left Port Royal With
regret, but with a hope of returning at some
future period. He, however, continued to
accompany his benefactor. Father Vincent,
with the same zeal and fidelity, till that
excellent and apostolic man was interdicted
from preaching, and closely confined in a
convent by order of his superior, who would

Clem. X. pp. 295, 296.
.Q2

228
fio longer suffer his faithful companion to
remain with him, or share his imprison
ment.* Overcome with grief, but compelled to
quit his dear master, Peter determined to
follow the inclination of his heart, which
led him to Port Royal. He resolved, how
ever, first to return to Gresset, and make
his intention known to his old associates;
who were so much pleased with it, that
many of them joined in his design. Ac
cordingly they were all received at Port
Royal with the Christian charity which so
eminently characterized that holy monas-
tery.f The care of the mill was committed to
Peter, and when not employed there, he
worked in the garden. In these occupa
tions his conduct was a means of edifica
tion to the whole house. J
Wl>en his daily labor was over, he was
solely occupied in prayer, meditation, or in
• See note, page 227.
t Clem. .X. p. 296. J Ibid.

229
studying tl,ie Holy Scriptures, upon which
he continually conversed with his com
panions. He referred to them, and quoted
from them with so muph readiness, that
they appeared to have been the study of
his whole life.*
It would be impossible to have excelled
Peter in disinterestedness. He never would
receive any thing from the nuns beyond; his
food and cloathing, still less would he accept
any thing from others, f
One day, having succeeded in getting
a stag, which the Dauphin was hunting,
out of a pond, that Prince immediately
presented Peter with twenty -five crowns as
a recompence.J Peter, however, would on no account
accept it, but replied, " That the holy nuns
he had the happiness to serve, provided for
all his wants with so much Christian charity,
that he wanted nothing. That Providence
on which he relied, had never forsaken him;
and that if he continued faithful to God,
* Clem, X, p. 297. f Ibid. % Ibid,

230
he was very sure he never should be fof*
saken." The officers of the Dauphin, full
of admiration, continued to press him to
accept the money, telling him, that if be
had no occasion for it himsdf, he could
give it to the poor. He replied, " Gentle
men, you can give it to the poor yourselves,
which will be better."*
On another occasion, Peter having been
compelled to receive a handsome present
by the Count of Thoulouse, whom he
had assisted in catching some game, he
went and took it immediately to the turn
at the monastery, saying, " I do not know
what to do with this money, it is an en
cumbrance to me ; lay it out in butter if
you will."t
He was so truly detached from worldly
interests, that he never would permit the
nuns of Port Royal to secure him a small
pension, which they were very anxious to
do, foreseeing the destruction which was
* Clem. X. pp. 297, 298. f Ibid.

231
likely to fall on their house. The nuns
having repeatedly urged him to accept it,
he generously replied, « that although he
was feeble and tottering, and at a very ad
vanced age, neither the providence of God;
nor his promises to his faithful servants,
would ever be overthrown ; and this solid
foundation was more secure than any
thing they could do for him ; that his hea
venly Father, who cared even for the little
sparrows, and cloathed Oven the lilies of
the field, would assuredly not forsake him.
The Gospel itself, he said, was his security ;
and that his whole source of disquietude
and anxiety, was, lest he should not be
sufficiently faithful to God, who had be
stowed such abundant, and such constant
mercies upon him, especially that of having
enabled him to learn to read his holy Gos
pel, and also that of having made him
known to the house of Port Royal."*
His continual recollection and humility
* Clem. X. pp. 298, 299.

232
charmed all who saw him. Whenever be
approached the holy table,, he took off his
shoes, and drew near bare-footed, to shew
his profound respect for the sacred and tre
mendous mysteries, as they are termed by
the Fathers of the first and second centuries.
The conduct, the countenance, and whole
demeanour of this admirable man was such,
that the yery sight of him brought to mind
those words of our Lord, " I thank thee,.0
Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that
thou hast hid these things frbm the wise
and prudent, and hast revealed them to the
simple, and to babes." These words were
indeed fully accomplished in this unlettered
saint.* Peter had resided nearly thirty years in
Port Royal, when the adversary ofall good
succeeded in the destruction of this sane-
tua,ry.t He was driven from the house in 1709,
with all the other servants, when, he, was
• See notp, page 231. f Ibid,

233
offered, by the royal bounty, through Mons.
d'Argenson, fifty sols, (that is, twenty^five
pence, English,) as a remuneration for thirty
years' service; This he absolutely refused.
He retired to the house of a friend of Port
Royal, who resided at Paris in the Faux
bourg St. Antoine. There he remained
five years, pursuing the sarrte recluse habits,
and maintaining the same devotional spirit
-as at Port Royal.*
The nuns of Notre Dame de Liesse,
•having expressed a strong deSire to attach
this excellent man to the service of their
house, his kind host would not oppose it,
though he -considered Peter's removal as a
serious loss, and as a punishment for not
having more abundantly profited by his
example.f • Peter was entertained with all the con
sideration and Christian charity due to his
eminent piety. He occupied himself as a
gardener in his new situation, working as
* See note, page 231. f Clem, x, pp. 299, 300,

234
much as his strength would allow, which,
however, was but little, as he was at the
time of entering the convent, above seventy-
five. At the end of a few years, being
wholly past labor, the nuns obtained him
an admission in the hospital of incurables.
Here, as usual, his Bible accompanied him.
Though unable to do any thing else, he
occupied himself in spreading the savor of
the Gospel of Christ amongst his brethren,
edifying the whole house during a period of
nearly three years that he lived there. At
length he expired, full of an ardent desire
to enjoy the presence of God, for which
he had sighed so many years, and whom he
had served so faithfully. He devoutly finish
ed his race in the month of December,
1720, aged eighty years,*
Peter Moliac (sumamed Peter the
Little) should not be separated from Peter
Bourchier, who was chiefly instrumental in
his conversion. Both had been followers of

Clem. X. pp. 299, 300.

235
Father Vincent, ^nd both had enjoyed the
advantage of residing at Port Royal.*
At the destruction of that Establish
ment, Peter Moliac, with two other do
mestics, who were also driven away, re
tired with Peter Bourchier to a friend's
house, in the Fauxbourg St. Antoine ; who
placed him in a house he had lately pur
chased, adjoining the church of St. Nicholas
des Champs, There he was attacked by
the scurvy ; and, contrary to the wish of
the charitable friend whose guest he was,
removed to the Hotel Dieu, in hopes of
obtaining superior medical advice. Here
the Sisters of Charity, who attended the
sick, and all indeed who saw him, were
greatly edified by his piety.f
He died on the twenty-fifth of July,
1724, in the sentiments of a genuine Chris
tian, whose piety had been both founded
and maintained by the constant and habit
ual study of the GospekJ
* Clem, X, p. 300.
t Clem. X. pp. 303 and 301. X Ibid.

236
His friend attended to his funeral, and
had him buried in the church-yard of the
Holy Innocents.*
This holy gardener left behind him a will,
which is too edifying to be passed over.f
We insert the principal part of it.
" In the name of the Father, and of the
Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen,
"I, the undersigned, PeterMoliac, for
merly under-gardener of the Abbey of Port
Royal des Champs, being in sound health
of body and mind, and being seriously en
gaged in considering without delay (seeing
I am a\ so advanced an age) the account
which I must so shortly give at the judg
ment sisat of Christ ; I therefore commit
to writing this my last will and testa
ment, consecrating it to the glory of the
most holy and adorable Trinity, one only
true God, in three persons. Father, Son,
and Holy Spirit, with an earnest desire
to be with Jesus Christ, and through Jesus
• See note -f, page 235. t Ibid.

S37
Christ the worshipper of this ineffable mys^
tery,* " I offer to the Majesty of God my bo
dily death, as one part of the wages of sin;
but which, through his grace, shall make
an end of all the fruits of sin in me for ever.
I likewise submit to the just sentence of
Divine Providence,, the place, the time, the
hour, and the manner of my death, how
ever severe and painful it may be.f
" Prostrate in heart and in spirit at the
feet of my Saviour and Redeemer, Jesus
Christ, my God and my judge; I condemn
already all that he will condemn in me ; I
am overwhelmed with the unspeakable gift
of his grace. Let him not enter into judg
ment with his servant for my many abuses
of them, but let him remember that he has
freely remitted them all, for the glory of
his grace, in the work pf my redemption. J

Clem. X. pp. 301, 302. f Clem. x. p. 302.
t Clem. X. pp. 302, 303.

238
" I supplicate, in particular, all those
holy persons, who have, by the grace of
our Lord Jesus Christ, been sanctified in
the same religious house, where the good
ness of God led me for instruction and for
edification, by so many bright examples,
that they would unite with me in prayer,*
that, by the alone merits and passion of the
Son of God, Jesus Christ our Lord, I may
obtain the pardon of my sins, and a blessed
entrance into life eternal, and the society of
the blessed in the courts above.f
** If at the time of my death, I owe any
thing to any person, I desire it may be
paid, as well as my funeral expenses. J I
give to the poor, as the fruits of my labor,
whatever money may be found to belong to
* " De s'unir a moi, pour obtenir de la clemence de
notre bon Dieu, par les merites et la passion de son
Fils, notre Sauveur, le pardon de mes peches, et la vie
eternelle dans la societe des biens-heureux."
t Clem. X. p. 303.
} Clem.x. pp. 304, 305.

239
me ; likewise my effects, books, linen,
clothes, and generally whatever I have to
give, that the value of all may be devoted
to the glory of God, and to the most urgent
wants of the poor, according to the judg
ment of the person to whom I intrust the
execution of my will.* What,, however, I
wish is, that the total value of the property
I leave, however small it may be, should be
entirely laid out in the purchase of NEW
Testaments, to be distributed gratui
tously throughout the kingdom, wher
ever they may be thought necessary for the
instruction and consolation of the poor. If
a part could be sent into the diocese of
Bazas, of which I am a native, it would
gratify my inclination ; but this I altogether
leave to the discretion of my executor.
These are my last desires, and I revoke
every other will I may have made.f
" I have no more to add, but to beseech
our Lord Jesus Christ to receive my soul

* See note J, page 238. f Ibid-

240
into his peace, patiently awaiting his Comitrg.
Even so quickly come. Lord Jesus."
« Done at Paris, 14 January, 1723.
", Peter Moliac"*
Leonard Fournier was bom on the
twentieth of May, 1664, at Bavtvrai, on
the Loire, in the Diocese of Tours. Im
mersed in ignorance, and educated amongst
persons of the most corrupt manners, it can
only be ascribed to a peculiar providence of
God, that amidst so many temptations,
and with so few helps, he never fell into
any acts of outward immorality .f.
At an age when children are often
abandoned to their own evil passions, and
to the examples of corrupt associates,
Leonard had the fear of God continually
before his eyes, and sought faithfully to
regard what he then knew of the divine
law. J
He honored his parents, obeyed them.

* Clem, X. pp. 305, 306.
t Ciem. X. p. 306. % Ibid.

241
and submitted to them, without ever de
parting from the respect due to parents.
from children. And although their tempers
were perverse, and they not only shewed
him little kindness, but even .treated him
very ill, he paid them uniform deference,
both in wofd and deed, continually bearing
and forbearing. Convinced that the bless
ing of fathers established the houses of
children, he sometimes threw himself at
his. father's feet, entreating him in the name
of God to bless him. Leonard was the
only one of his family who assisted his fa
ther in his latter years, and be always con
sidered this favor of God as the source of
all those he afterwards received through his
divine mercy,*
When Leonard had attained the age of
thirty, bis family urged him to marry, and
had even provided a suitable match; but
when this engagement was on the point of
being concluded, Leonard suddenly adopted
the resolution to devote himself to a single

• Clem. X. pp. 306, 30T.
R

242
life, that bis affections might be undivided,
and that he might be solely engaged in
doing what was pleasing to Christ.*
In consequence of this resolution, he
determined to withdraw from the tempta
tion offered him, and to abandon his native
place. He sold what little he had, and
distributed the money, amounting to about
five hundred livres, amongst the poor.f
He reserved to himself only one single
penny for his journey, and meeting with a
poor man, he gave away even that. Thus,
if Leonard did not, like St. Paulina, for
sake great riches, he, like the ApOstleS,
forsook all he had, to follow Christ ; and,
like the widow in the Gospel, gave out of
his penury even all his living. f
Released from the incumbrance of . the
cares of this world, in order to follow Christ
more freely, having, like Abraham, left
his country and his kindred, not knowing
whither he .went, yet trusting God would

Clem. X, p. 307. f Ibid. { Ibid.

243
bring him to a land he would shevy him, he
resolved to walk before God, and be perfect ;
Leonard, like Jacob, met an angel to com
fort and strengthen him by the way.' A
man habited like a peasant accosted him,
and accompanied him part of the way,
talking with him of God in so affecting a
manner, that the heart of Leonard burnt
within him. Hitherto, Leonard had rather
walked by the spirit of faith, than by a
clear discernment of the object of faith.
He believed indeed tbat God is, and was
assured that he is a rewarder of them that
diligently. seek him;- but still he was unac
quainted with the manner in which alone
the mercy of God would be extended to
man. He was unacquainted with the
scheme of the redemption of man, he had
very confined and inadequate notions of
what Christ does in his atonement for man,
and through his spirit in man. This, which
Leonard' wanted, his .new companion
preached to him. He taught him who
already believed in God, to believe also in
Christ. He instructed him in the mystery
R2

244
of Christ, in the necessity Of the free-gift,
and the power of divine grace ; and aftec
defraying his expenses at the inn where
they arrived at night, left him, without
Leonard's perceiving what was become of
him.* Leonard was led by Providence to Beau-
genci, where he arrived on the 29th of
May, in the year 1700, on Whitsun-eve.
He passed' the night under a shed, and con
fessed himself the next day to the Prior of
St. Firmin. The following morning, he
presented himself at the holy table to re
ceive Sacrament. It so happened that
Leonard was there seen by a woman whonai
he had accidentally met the evening before,
in a violent passion; in consequence of
which he had represented to her, that it
was a very bad preparation for receiving
the Sacrament. The woman was so exas
perated at this rebuke, that, on seeing
Leonard at church the next day, she

* Clem. X. pp. 307, SOS.

245
went to the Prior, and informed him, that
the man who offered laimself at the table,
was not sufficiently sound in mind to re
ceive the holy Eucharist, Without farther
inquiry, the Prior passed him twice; but
having observed the recollection, modesty,
and humility, w^th which he bore this af
front, the Prior sent to him after mass was
over, to have some conversation with him,
by which he was compleatly undeceived.
Amongst other questions, the Prior asked
Leonai^, what he thought of his refusal i?
Leonard replied, that it had humbled him
before God, knowing bimself to be a great
sinner, and highly unworthy of so great a
favor. The Prior was so pleased with his
discourse, that when he dismissed him, he
gave him a penny, which Leonard imme
diately divided witb the poor, only reserv
ing b^lf of it for his dinner. He remained
some time at Beaugenci, where the same
Prior employed him to make a terrace.
When his work was finished, Leonard re
fused to receive any thing for it, saying, it
was enough to have had bis food. When

246
the Prior insisted on paying him, he asked
to have given him as an alms a shirt, and
money sufficient to purchase a sickle, to
work for poor persons, who might not be
able to pay a reaper or labourer. His first
essay in this benevolent scheme, was made
in favor of a poor widow, of the parish of
Crevan, where his patience was fully put to
the test, by the very untoward temper of
her son. Leonard was, however, amply
rewarded for the vexation this circumstance
occasioned him, by the friendship which
he there formed with FRANCIS COMPAGNON,
a young vine-dresser, of the village of
Paule, in the Diocese of Oileans. Francis
was possessed of great piety and enlighten
ed religious knowledge, and though very
young, he had already been made an in
strument under God, in drawing a great
number of persons to his service, by in
spiring them with a desire of studying the
word of God, and by assembling them in
companies to read the New Testament to
them. It was equally striking and edifying
to see the manner of fife of these poor and

247
illiterate, but pious and zealous young la
bourers,* Nothing could more neariy approach
to the piety, the simplicity, and fervent
faith of the primitive Christian church.
They fasted regularly, although employed
in the hard labors of agriculture. Children
of ten or twelve years, would fast through
out the whole of Lent; but that which was
most remarkably edifying in this little so
ciety of peasants was, their perfect harmony
and Christian charity, and their continual
and assiduous study of the Holy Scriptures.
This alone formed their rest and relaxation
in the intervals of labor ; it was a delightful
sight to see these young vine-dressers, in
the midst of their vines, with the New
Testament in their hands, and the villagers
and children gathered around them, listen
ing with mute attention and clasped hands, f
Such was the new friend whom Leonard

* Clem. X. pp. 309, 310, 311, and notes;
t Clem. X, pp: 310, 311, notes-.

24S
met with at the poor witiow^s, iengaged in
the same charitable occupation with him
self,* Francis Compagnon immediately begad
by teaching Leonard to read, and placing
him under the direction of Father Gabaret,
a pious and venerable minister of Pamiers,
He also introduced him to the service of
Pierre Fleuri, a farmer, who was his intimate
friend, in the parish of Poilly.f
Leonard found great spiritual benefit and
assistance in this family. Prayer, and
the perusal of a considerable portion <tf
Scripture, was practised in the house,
morning and evening ; and when they as
sembled at dinner, Fleuri treated Leonard
as his brother, whilst Leonard obeyned his
Master with respect and fear, in sii»plicity
of heart, as rendering service unto the
Lord.J On every Saturday evening, after Leo
nard had finished his workj he went to the
* Clem. X, pp, 310, 311. f Ibid, Jftiil.

house of his friend, Francis Compagncmi
where he spent the night ; and ,early next
morning, went with the company of young
men already spoken of, to a town about, a
league distant, where M, Pacori, at five in
the morning, delivered an exposition of
some passage of Scripture; after which they
returned tol^le, to attend high mass. After
vesjiers, Leonard attended the Soriptiire
lecture and instmction, which his friend,
Francis Compagnon, gaveat his own house.*
Such was the life Leonard .pursued till
May, 1704, when Madame de Fontperluis,
who was acquainted with liis piety, pro
posed to him to establish isdmself at the
monastery of Port Royal des Champa, in
the capacity of gardener.. Leonard aco^ted
the cxffer with delight and thaaikfiiliiaiess, and
his faitlifnl friend, Francis 'Compagnon,
determined ito conduct ham there himself. f
Leonard here employed all the leisure

* Clem. X. pp. 311, 312, 313,
t Clem, X, p. 313,

250.
time his occupations allowed him, in pray
er, and in learning to read the Scriptures ,
but as he read very imperfectly, and with
great difficulty, whenever he met any one
decently dressed, this poor man would go
up to them, and pull out his New Testa
ment, which he always carried about with
him, carefully wrapped up, and beg them,
for the love of God, to read him something
in it ; whilst he, in the mean time, would
listen on his knees, with the greatest sen
timents of love and reverence for the Word
of God, and always expressed the most
lively gratitude to those who had the kind
ness to read to him.*
Leonard endeavoured assiduously to put
in practice all the instructions he re
ceived in Port Royal, and to profit by the
examples of eminent piety he saw in that
holy house. Being driven from this seclu
sion in October, 1709, at the same time

? Clem, X. pp. 313, 314.

251
with the nuns, he after a short time, return
ed to Paule, to rejoin his dear friend, Francis
Compagnon, from whom he had been se
parated six years. Compagnon rejoicing to
see Leonard again, soon used his endeavours
to get him once more into the service of his
old master, Peter Fleuri. He had scarcely
entered Fleuri's service, when he was taken
iU with a fever, and although he soon re
covered, it was an illness peculiarly grievous
to him, since it precluded his attending the
last illness of his dear friend, Francis Com
pagnon, and deprived him of the consola
tion of receiving his last farewek*
Francis Compagnon died on the 19th
of August; 1710, in his thirty-sixth year.
His death was as triumphant as might have
been expected from the holiness of his life.
His humility was so unfeigned, that he did
not believe there was a greater sinner upon
earth than himself The faith and courage'
of his pious and venerable mother, at the

» Clem. X. pp. 314, 315.

252
time of his death, was a spectacle truly
worthy of admiration, and melted the very
hardest hearts. It drew tears from the
eyes of every one who had been attracted
to the dying scene, by the well-known
piety of Francis Compagnon. His excel
lent mother might have been compared,
for constancy and resolution under so severe
a, trial, to the mother of the Maccabees, or
those of St. Symphoria and Melithon.*
After exhorting her dear son, to his latest
breath, with a fervency of faith and noble
magnanimity, which were the admiration
of all present, she, with her own hands,
closed his eyes ; aad when the solemn
pause of all present, had sufficiently ascer
tained that he was really dea,d, she threw
herself on her knees; and raising her hands
and eyes to heaven, exclaimed, " It is true,
O Lord, that I lose a saint, but it was from
thee I received him. O give me grace to
restore him to thee freely at thy will, and to

*.Clem. X. p. 315, note.

253
rejoice for him, rather than to mourn for
myself." Such were the noble sentiments
with whicji religion had inspired this poor
woman.* The following year, after the death of
Francis Compagnpn, Leonard was received
as head-gardener of the Abbey of Voisins,
in the diocese of Orleans. Here he re
mained, and during the succeeding twenty-
five years of his life, proved a pattern to
all, for piety, uniformity, and regularity.
of conduct. His spirituality and fervor
indeed constantly increased. He was heard
at prayer at all hours of the night, by those
who accidentally happened to pass his
chamber door, for he was in the habit of
always praying aloud; and, sleeping in a
remote part of the house, apart from the
rest of the family, he imagined he was not
over-heard. He devoted Sundays more
particulariy to this exercise ; the whole of
which, as well as holy days, he spent in

See note, page 252.

254
church, which he only quitted to take his
meals.* On other days, he employed his time
after dinner, while his fellow labourers were
sleeping, in prayer, and in reading the
Scriptures. Even his labor did not suspend
his devotional exercises, as every natural
object seemed ' only to recal his heart to
God ; and every manifestation of the power
and goodness of God in the works of nature,
was to him a lively type of the. infinitely
greater wonders he had wrought by the
power of his grace. •{¦
As labor was no hindrance to prayer,
in the case of this excellent man ; so prayer
sanctified his labor, without intermitting
it. He was often known to refuse the per
mission offered him, to attend part of the
service on working days. On these occa
sions, Leonard would excuse himself by
saying, "that labor was the penance which
God himself had imposed upon man ; and
that it was therefore a principalpart of our
* Clem. X. pp. 315, 316. f Ibid. 316.

255
submission to God, to labour diligently, as
siduously, and cheerfully." He was indeed
deeply impressed with the sentence, which
condemns man to eat his bread by the sweat
of his brow ; and found great pleasure and
edification in 'those passages of Scripture,
which contain exhortations or promises,
to those who labour with fidelity.* The
maxims of Port Royal on this subject, were
deeply engraven upon his heart. " After
you have finished reading the Scriptures,"
said the Mother Agnes, addressing her
Buns, " take up your outward occupations,
and pass from one of these employments to
the other, with equal affection and com
placency, knowing that every employment
should be sanctioned by the wiU of God;
that his will gives an equal sanction to each,
and therefore ought to render each equ;ally
agreeable to you; and in proportion as
you are truly devoted to him, you will be
without choice."! ^
" For all the outward practice of reli-
* See note », page 353. f Religieuse Parf.

256
^ion may be included under three heads,
and all three have respect to God. First,
there are those which are purely spiritual,
as prayer, attending divine service, &c.
Secondly, instruction, in which the end is
spiritual, but the means are addressed
to the understanding and heart, as in
reading Scripture, hearing discourse, &c.
Thirdly, all outward occupation and
labor. Now in the first set of duties, we
speak to God; in the second, he speaks to
us ; and in the third, we serve and obey
him, and the order he has established in
the person of our neighbour. Instruction
teaches us what we ought to do ; prayer
obtains us the enabling grace to do it ; and
outward works are the fruit and visible ac
complishment of both one and the other.
Neither then can be safely neglected, all
are equally necessary to the Christian."*
The diligent toil of Leonard, did not

* Rel. Parf. pp. 262 and 263, par le M^re Agn«s
de St. Paul Arnauld, Abbesse de Port Royal.

257
prevent his constant practice of the most
rigid self-denial, and in proportion to his
austerity towards hiniself, he was always
tender and compassionate to his neighbours.
He was constantly ready to take upon hini
self, that which was most toilsome and la
borious, in order to relieve others. He was
always ready to excuse the defects, or bear
with the illiiumour of those with whom he
had to do ; and was so indifferent to the
world, that it was as difficult at Voisin, to
obtain his consent to their maintaining him
for life, as at Port Royal.*
The eminent virtues which distin
guished this excellent man, he owed, in a
great measure/ to the assiduous reading and
perusal of the New Testament. He had, at
length, entirely overcome the difficulties
of learning to read, bythe constant perusal
of this one book, and he had found in its
sacred pages, the living bread of the soul.
He there found Christ. He there listened
to his words with respect and attention,
'' ''" -^Clem-x. pp.317, 318,
S

258
Leonard had received, in a high degree, the
understanding of the words pf life; he
treasured them in his heart to be the rule
of his conduct ; he learnt the holiness of
religion, the dignity and duties of a Chris
tian, the greatness of the rewards prepared
by the Lord, for those who truly love him ;
and when he spoke of them, it was with
raptures that cannot be expressed.*
The remembrance of Port Royal re
mained deeply engraven upon his heart :
about half an hour before he died, when he
was speechless, the name of Port Royal,
which he beard pronounced, seemed to
revive his strength ; and raising his hands to
heaven, he gave signs of that profound ve
neration he always expressed for that holy
community.! At length the moment arrived when it
pleased the Lord to call his servant from
works to rewards. After five days' illness,
during which he was constantly occupied

* Clem. X. pp. 319, 320. f Clem. x. pp. 320, 321.

259
with thoughts of God, and the desire to be
with him, he expired on the twentieth of
June, 1736, aged sixty-seven years.*
The majesty of his countenance, after
death, was most striking ; it excited awe
and respect in all who beheld it. His eyes
re-opened, and preserved their wonted vi
vacity and mildness. Those who were pre
sent at his death, and who had been edified
by his life, were eager to have something
which had belonged to him. He was
buried at the lower end of the church,
near the grate, on the very spot where he
ustially placed himself when he offered! to
God his fervent prayers, and which he had
so often watered with his tears, f
We shall add to this brief account of
the domestics, who were driven away at
the destruction of Port Royal, a sketch of
the life of one of the recluses of the later
period, who deserves a place in this history,
from his inviolable attachment to Port

* See note +, page 258. t Clem. x. pp. 321, 322.
s 2

260
Royal, from the numerous and unremitting
services he rendered the nuns, and we might
likewise add, from the very large share he
had in their sufferings.*
We allude to M. Le Noir, DE St.
Claude, who died in the odor of sanctity,
on the 30th of December, 1742, at the ad
vanced age of eighty years, after having
survived all the nuns,^ and almost all the
recluses, f
M. de St. Claude was one of those men
beloved by God, who have been raised up
to bestow upon the church, eminent ex
amples of piety, and of constancy under
persecution. Tn his early youth, he, like
his predecessor, M. Le Maitre, was distin
guished at the bar ; but at the age of thirty-
three, he suddenly quitted it, to devote
himself to a life of retirement, solitude, and
piety, in the vale of Port Royal. J
In this seclusion his life was, indeed, that
of a perfect recluse. He rose at two o'clock
every morning, and went to matins, where
* Clem. X. p. 323. t Ibid. % Ibid.

^61
he staid some hours in the church, and then
betook himself to his occupations without
returning to bed.*
By this means, he allotted many hours to
prayer, meditation, and especially studying
the Holy Scriptures, before most persons
were awake. The time which was not so
employed, he spent in receiving the nu
merous guests who visited Port Royal, in
presiding over the distribution of the abund
ant alms bestowed bythe house, in visiting
the poor at their owa homes, or in manual
labor.! Humility; sweetness, and a something
inexpressibly delicate, noble, and touching,
which was visible in all his actions, counte
nance, and demeanour, soon discovered him
to be far beyond what his external appear
ance of a simpla domestic announced. His
piety possessed in a peculiar degree, the
characteristics of gentleness and perfect
uniformity; so that by seeing him once,
every person might know what he was every
* Clem. X. pp. 323, 324, 325. f Ibid,

262
day of his life ; and indeed, we might truly
say, that it was sufficient to know the lives
of the first recluses of this holy solitude ;
to be perfectly acquainted with that of
M. de St. Claude during the twelve years
he spent at Port Royal, enjoying the peace
ful and tranquil delights of silence, prayer,
and humiliation.*
In the year 1707, he was obliged, in some
degree, to exercise his former function of
advocate, in defence of the nuns of Port
Royal. When he had occasion to visit
Paris, in the service of the monastery, he
was not ashamed to appear there in his
usual peasant's dress.!
One day, the nuns having desired him
to consult their advocate, who was one of
tljic first in, the profession, M. de St. Claude
presented himself at his door, in his wag
goner's frock, gaiters, and staff. The advocate
was theii in his anti-chamber, taking leave
of some company who were going away,
and whom fie had re-conducted to the
¦* See note ?, page 261. t Ibid.

263
outer door. M. de St. Claude waited till
they were gone, when, after paying his
compliments, he began to speak of the
business upon which he came to consult
him.* The advocate, who was in great practice,
was not of a temper to allow his time to be
wasted by listening to the tedious irrelevant
details of that class of persons, whose ig
norance renders them wholly incapable of
explaining their affairs with clearness. He
therefore abruptly interrupted him, and
stopped him short, by asking him at once
for the nuns' memorial. M. de St. Claude
repfied, that he had none, but that he was
thoroughly acquainted with the business, if
he would have the goodness to give him a
hearing.! " Well, well," replied the advocate, still
standing in the anti- chamber, " we shall
see; now let us hear the question, and
above all, my good man, keep to the
point."J * poulain, p. 252 lo 254. Bes. v. pp. 152, 153.
t Ibid. , 'x Ibid.

264
The rustic orator then opened the busi
ness, and explained himself so well, that
he was requested to walk in, and whilst
continuing his exordium, the advocate,
perfectly surprised and satisfied, begged
him to come into his study. At length
more and more astonished, as the supposed
peasant proceeded, at the precision and
exactness of his relation, and at the clear
ness with which he developed all the in
tricacies of the business, he desired him
to sit down, and having heard him to
the end, dismissed him, with a polite as
surance that he would pay every attention
to the business, and requesting him to pre
sent his compliments to the community.*
M. de St. Claude slept that night at
Paris, at the house of his brother, the canon ;
and staid the next day, to meet a party of
their mutual friends at dinner.!
The advocate whom he had consulted the
day before, happened to be amongst the
number. J
¦ * See note * page 263. f Ibjd, 1 1'''^-

265
On taking their seats at the dinner table,
the advocate perceived his client, and was
not a little astonished at seeing the supposed
errand-man of Port Royal, seat himself
with the company ; but he was still more
so, when the Abbe le Noir, on taking his
wine, saluted him, " Your health, my dear
brother." " How," said the advocate, " is
this gentleman your brother ? I have then
many apologies to make to him for the ill
reception he met with at my house yester
day." He then related the adventure of the
day before, to the great entertainment of the
company.* The Jesuits, the unrelenting enemies of
Port Royal, were now at this time, ready
to give the decisive blow which should sa
crifice the nuns of Port Royal to their ven
geance and hatred. The zeal of M. de St.
Claude, in assisting the defenceless nuns,
involved him in their persecutions.!
* See note •, page 263.
+ Clem. X. pp. 325, 326. Bes. v. pp. 158, 159,
Poul, iv. p. 257.

266
The titles of the Abbey of Port Royal
were deposited in his hands ; and in order
to obtain possession of them, the Jesuits
caused him to be seized, with all his pa
pers, and conveyed tp the Bastille, where
he was confined till the death of Louis the
Fourteenth, that is, above seven years,
from the period of his detention.*
To a recluse like M. de St. Claude, this
captivity was merely changing the place of
his solitude. His piety and spiritual joy
Seemed to increase with his misfortunes ; so
that long before the period of his imprison
ment had elapsed, he had acquired the respect
and admiration even of his persecutors.!
M. de St. Claude's time was not less fully
employed in the dungeons of the Bastille,
than in the seclusion of Port Royal. Al
though his whole time was divided between
the occupations of studying the Scriptures,
prayer, and meditation, he afforded so
small a portion of the twenty-four hours to
sleep, that he often only laid down his head,
* See note f, page 265. t Ibid.

2€7
without going to t(ed. It is, in(\eed, so
literally fue, that he had not a moment
unappropriated, tjiat when M. d'Argeiftson
(then lieutenant of t(ie pojice) gave him
permission to walk every day, for an hour,
in the court, and on tbe terraces, M- de St.
Claude tha,nked him fpr the indulgence, but
told him he had not sufficient leisure to
profit by it, and, in fact, he never once
made use of this permission.*
M. d'Argenson was in the practice of
frequently paying visits to M. de St. Claude,
for whose excellence he soon conceived the
highest respect. He frequently said, he
had not only never had such a prisoner,
but that M. de St. Claude was so excellent,
that he did not believe the whole worid con
tained his equal.!
The following anecdote will sufficiently
shevv, that however warm M. d'Argenson
might be in his praises, his good opinion
was not so exaggerated as it may seem.|-
» See note f, page 265. f Ibid.
X Clem. X. p. 326 to 328. Bes. v. p. 159, Poul. \v,
pp. 259, ?60.

268
At the same time that M, de St. Claude
was incarcerated in the Bastille, a man was
confined there, of such a ferocious and
brutal disposition, that no one durst ap
proach him. He never spoke, but his
words were accompanied by a volley of
oaths and blasphemies. He struck every
one who approached him, with the most
phrenitic violence. Every resource had
been resorted to, in order to humanize this^
monster, but in vain ; all the expedients
they could devise had failed, when the go
vernor proposed to M. de St. Claude, to
undertake this good work. He at first ex
cused himself, through humility, but, on
the Governor's insisting with many intrea-
ties, the pious captive said, " that if he
ordered him to make the attempt, he would
obey him, considering him as the superior
in whose hands Providence had then placed
him."* The Governor, who entertained the same
high respect for M. de St. Claude, which
* See note j. page 267. f Ibid.

269
he inspired in every one who knew him,
eagerly seized the means offered, and com
manded M. de St. Claude to make the at
tempt.* Accordingly, the humble saint was shut
up with this human brute. He was greet
ed, as might have been expected, by his
fellow prisoner, who exhausted his ferocity
in revilings, in blows, and in yet more
savage tokens of the barbarity of his dispoi
sition. Whilst this treatment continued,
which was till this madman was completely
exhausted, silence, patience, and mildness,
were the only reply of this man of God.
His prayers achieved the rest. The monster
with whom he was pent up, having abso
lutely wearied himself with revilings, vio
lence, and the most contumelious treat
ment, at length looking up on the face of
M. de St. Claude, and seeing the love and
patient benignity of its expression still un
ruffled, suddenly threw himself at his feet,.
and embracing them, burst into a flood of
tears-! • See note t page 267. •[• Ibid.

270
When he had recovered his voiCe suffi
ciently to speak, he expressed the utmost
abhorrence of himself, and veneration for
M. de St. Claude, and beseeching his for
giveness in the most humble terms, he im
plored M. de St. Claude t6 shew him that
religion which could do such great things.*
M. de St. Claude raised his penitent
enemy, and embracing him with tears,
spent the chief portion of his time in in
structing and comforting him, and in shew
ing him the necessity of an entire and
thorough conversion. Nor was his instruc
tion vain. His companion became an en
tirely altered character. Gradually he be
came pious, mild, gentle, cheerful, and
resigned, nor did he think he could ever do
too much to shew his affection and gratitude
to M. de St. Claude.!
Scarcely was he established in his con
version, when he recovered his liberty, and
an order came for his liberation; but such
was his attachment to M. de St. Claude,
that the Governor found it impossible to
* See note J, page 267. t Ibid.

271
prevail upon him to quit his prison. Upon
which the Governor was again obliged to
have recourse to his pious captive; who re
presented to his convert, that the will of
God being manifested by this order, he
ought to comply with it; and that after
having received the talent' of grace in soli
tude, he ought, since God called him, to
go and use it amongst his fellow men, to
the glory of God who had given it to him.*
With great sorrow thb prisoner yielded
to these representations of M. de St. Claude,!
who Consoled him a little by promising to
correspond with him, and by recommend
ing him to the care of his brother, M. the
Abbe le Noir.!
Besides the Abbe le Noir, the Canoh of
Notre Dame, M. de St. Claude had another
brother, M. le Noir du Roule,i; who at the
commencement of the last century, wa^ '
deputed by Louis the Fourteenth, upon ah
*SeeTT0te+, page 267. f Ibid.
X M. du Roule is mentioned very particuliHy in
BrUce's Travels. Also in Father Lobo's account of
Abyssinia.

272
embassy to the Emperor of Ethiopia, and
who was massacred on his journey by the
King of Sennaar.*
At the accession of Louis the Fifteenth,
M. de St. Claude, being liberated, in com
mon with all those who were detained on
religious grounds, went to reside at the
house of his brother, the Abbe le Noir,
who, as well as himself, had been strongly
attached to Port Royal.!
After the death of his brother, M. de
St, Claude resided many years in the College
of Laon, with a pious and venerable old
man, who had attended M. Arnauld in his
latter years. This valuable friend he lost
also ; in addition to which, he had the mis
fortune of being totally deprived of sight.
His "eyes having been so much weakened
by the dampness of his prison, that at the
period of his liberation, though not much
above forty years of age, he could only per
ceive the largest objects, and could scarcely
• Clem. X. p. 328.
t Clem. X. pp. 328, 329, 330, 331. Poulain iv.
pp. 260, 261, 262. 254, 255.

273
gee sufficiently to walk about the streets in
safety.* In these circumstances, M. deSt.Claiide
withdrew into retirement. The bias of his
own mind had always led him to a secluded
life, and he had now an ample opportunity
of indulging it.!
Prayer, and listening to the perusal of
the Scriptures, or works of piety, were
his chief occupations; and, in order to
render himself as useful as possible to his
fellow men, he not only relieved the tem
poral necessities of the poor, but continua,IIy
purchased pious books to distribute amongst
them. But the enemy of the salvation of
mankind, ever ready to stir up their evil
passions, and to incite them to persecute
the children of God, soon found means to
interrupt this good work. The house of
M. de St. Claude was visited by the police-
officers, and not only all the books intended
for the poor were carried off, (though print
ed with the royal privilege and approbation)
* See note -f, page 272. f Ibjd.
T

274
but a very considerable part of his own ex
cellent and valuable library was seized.*
Thus was he deprived of the only out
ward resource left him ; nevertheless, trying
as these malicious persecutions were, it was
the means of exemplifying the promise, that
all things shall work together for good, to
those who truly love God. His life became
daily more hid in Christ, and an almost an
gelic spirituality seemed to beam in his
countenance. He never appeared but to
go to church; his regular attendance on
which was never interrupted to the very
last day of his life.!
This venerable elder was continually to be
seen attending the catechising of children,
with the humility and simplicity which
formed his character. He always appeared
cloathed as a simple mechanic. He bestowed
all he had on the poor, and as he walked to
church, he was always occupied in reciting
the Psalms, all of which he knew by heart,
as well as the New Testament. When at
* See note f, page 272. f Ibid.

275
church, he attracted the attention of the
faithful by his deep and inward devotion,
being penetrated alike with a sense of the
greatness and majesty of God, and of his
own nothingness.*
M. de St. Claude led in other respects a
life of great austerity, always lying on a
hard quilted straw mattress, and spending
neither money nor time in superfluous
amusements.! Humility was the grand principle of M.
de St. Claude's predilection for evangelical
poverty. He denied himself in every thing
to give to the poor. It was his maxim not
to intrench upon his fortune, which he left
entire to his relations; but in the mean
time to expend his whole income without
any reserve. He employed his wealth in
good works, supporting the iiidigent,. espe
cially those who suffered for the troth ; as
sisting the nuns both of Port Royal, and of
* See note f, page 272.
fBeiOgne, v. pp, 153, 154, 155. Poulain, iv.pp. 254,255.
T2

276
some other convents of that neighbourhood,
where God was served ih spirit and in
truth.* M. de St. Claude distributed the greater
part of his charities through the medium
of an excellent and aged maiden lady of
great piety, who informed herself in de
tail of the wants and necessities of worthy
people. When he carried his alms to her,
it was not a petty sum, but a purse of
louis. His love of self-denial, and his cha
rity towards the poor, taught him to re
trench in the most necessary expenses,
that, for example, of having a boy to lead
him as he walked in the streets,! and to
read to him at home after he became blind.!
M. de St. Claude was a. strictly self-deny
ing Christian, yet, without the adoption of
any extraordinary singularities; a frugal
I 111 ¦¦> I ¦ ¦— ¦ I I ¦¦¦ ¦ n ¦ ¦ ¦ — ¦ ¦ ^
• See note f. page 275.
t It is to be remembered that tbe streets in Paris
having no footways, are highly unsafe, comparatively
with those of London.
X See note f, page 275.

277
and abstemious style of living, fasts per
formed according to the ancient discipline
of the church, and prayer at midnight in
the church, were the whole of his ascetic
practices.* The privilege of prayer he availed himself
of without ceasing. Public worship was
tielightful to him, nor did he ever miss it
day or night. He had one fixed place at
Port Royal, and at the church of St. Etienne
du Mont, which he attended* at Paris,
standing against one of the pillars without
support ; and with his eyes closed chaunt-
ing with a loud voice. Many persons went
to the church to observe him for their
edification. The very sight of M. de St.
Claude disposed the heart to prayer. The
parishioners of St. Etienne du Mont still
remember the lively example which he af
forded them during the latter years of his
life, while he resided in that parish.!
It was delightful to contemplate this
truly venerable old man, with his long

* See note f, page 275, f Ibrd.

278
white hazel staff, bis thread-bare coat,
and silver hair, placed behind the pul
pit, during the whole service, and appa
rently immovably fixed against a pillar;
unless when he quitted his place at the
communion after mass ; going into the
choir, to receive it with the others. It often
happened, that another parishioner, no less
edifying, met with him at the holy table.
We speak of the Duke of Orleans, first
Prince of the blood, son of the Regent,
who resided in a little hermitage at the
Canons regular of St. Genevieve. It was a
striking sight, to behold these two virtuous
and pious individuals kneeling, side by
side, at the altar. Both exhibited perfect
models of piety, penitence, humility, and
liberality, towards the poor, mingling
indiscriminately with the other communi
cants, from whom they were only distin
guished, the one by his white head, the
other by his blue ribbon.*
* Louis, Duke of Orleans, son of the Regent, and
first Prince of the blood, was born at Versailles,

279
The public services which M. de St.
Claude attended regulariy, whether at Port
August 4th, 1703. He was endowed with a fine under
standing and acute discernment, viitk peculiar taletiti
and taste for study and literature. His youth was dis
sipated; but after the death of his father, and that of
his wife, he withdrew from the world ; devoting himself
wholly to exercises of devotion and works of charity,
as well as to the study of theology and science.
In 1730, he took an apartment in the Abbey of St.
Genevieve, which, in 1742, became his sole residence.
He never quitted it but to attend the council at the
Palais Royal, or to pay charitable or devotional visits to
hospitals or churches.
Portioning young women, affording means of edu
cation to children, and of learning a trade to youths ;
founding colleges, bestowing benefactions on mis
sionary societies, or forming new establishments, were
the objects which employed this excellent and learned
prince to the close of his life. He died on the 4th of
February, 1752, aged forty-eight years and a half.
The queen, on hearing this mournful intelligence,
laid, " c'est un bienheureux qui laisse apres lui bien
des malheureux." The Duke of Orleans cultivated
every species of information : he had acquired the
Hebrew, Chaldean, Syriac, and Greek languages ; he
was thoroughly versed in sacred, ecclesiastical, and
profane history ; he was an excellent natural historian,
and perfectly understood geography, botany, medi
cine, and painting. A great

280

Royal or elsewhere, formed but the smallest
portion of his life of prayer; he knew the

A great number of his works are remaining in
manuscript, according to the information we derive
from the Abbe L'Advocat, who enumerates the
following :
I. Literal translations of paraphrases and comment
aries on part of the Old Testament.
II. A literal translation of the Psalms, from the ori
ginal Hebrew, with a paraphrase and notes.
This work is one of the most complete amongst
those of this pious and learned Prince. He
was still engaged in it during the illness which
terminated his existence ; and he finished it a
very short time previous to his death. It con
tains many learned and ingenious explications,
with sound and precise criticism, and a great
number of very curious and learned dissertations.
III. Several dissertations against the Jews, intended
to be a refutation of the famous Hebrew work,
the Shield of Faith. The Duke not being sa
tisfied with the refutation of this book by Gous-
set, undertook the task himself, but did not live
to complete it. It is very superior to that of
Gousset, as far as it has gone, and is a much
better answer to the difficulties started by the
Jews, which he has examined aud sifted tho
roughly, and replied to in the most masterly
manner. IV. A

281
Psalter by heart, and used it in prayer Con
tinually. When he was seen walking in
the streets, and his blindness led him to
think himself unobserved, his lips were con
stantly moving, as he repeated the Psalms,
or prayed to himself.*
The officer, who was Governor of the
Bastille during the nine years this servant
of God was confined there, declared, that
whatever gratification he derived from the
conversation of this prisoner, he refrained
from visiting him as often as he could have
IV. A literal translation from St. Paul's Epistles, froni
the Greek, with a paraphrase, critical notes, and
pious reflections.
V. A treatise against theatrical amusements.
VI. A solid refutation of the great French work, the
Hexaples.
VII. Several very curious treatises and dissertations on
different subjects. — His great modesty would
never permit him to be prevailed on to print
jany of his works.
Foyez son article, Dictionnaire Historigue,
Also see note t, page 275,
* Besogne, v. pp. 155, 156, 157, 160. Clem. x. pp.
3 3,333,334. Poulain, iv. pp. 262, 363, 364, 265.

282
wished, because he had observed that every
time he went to his chamber, he was the
cause of his retrenching from the time de
voted to rest on the following night; as
the whole time consumed in conversation
with the Governor, was taken out of some
religious duty tbe prisoner had to perform
at that time ; and as he would not omit
them, he encroached upon the night, to
perform the service he had prescribed to
himself in the day: so deep was that piety,
and so exalted that Christianity which
found time too short even in a prison for
the performance of charity and devotion.*
It appears that, beside the practice
of repeating the Psalms and vocal prayer,
he also spent a great portion of his
time in mental prayer. This was particu
larly visible in old age, after he had lost
his sight, and was no longer able to
read. In this state he continued many
years, during which he remained in his
chamber, without company ; he seldom
? See note *, page 281.

28S
went out but to attend different churches,
for he made very few visits ; and when he
had finished his stations, he returned to his
beloved solitude. There he was never per*
ceived to be wearied a single moment, as
he declared, with his usual simplicity
and frankness.*
If any persons paid him a visit, which did
not often occur, he always addressed them
cheerfully and openly, without any of that
air of sadness or melancholy, usually seen
in persons of unoccupied minds, and listless
habits ; and it fully appeared in his conver
sation, that he. spoke of the things of God
from the very fulness of his heart ; and the
fruits of his solitary meditation and prayer,
proved an abundant harvest of blessings, to
the friends who visited him in his seclusion,!
But, perhaps, M, de St. Claude's most
distinguishing characteristic was, his extra
ordinary Christian charity, and spirit of
peace and love. Every division amongst the
friends of truth, pierced him to the very
heart, f
» See note *> page 281, f Ibid, ? Ibid,

284
- M. de St. Claude died the death of the
righteous, on the 29th of December, 1742,
at five o'clock in the morning. As soon^s
the report of his death was circulated, the
concourse of people who flocked to his
chamber, to behold him once more, was so
great, and so continual, that it was found
necessary to close the door of the house
before they could proceed with the necessary
preparations for his interment.*
We have now presented the reader with
a faithful and circumstantial narrative of the
destruction of PORT ROYAL, and of the end
of its pious inhabitants ; saints, of whom
the world was not worthy, and who may so
emphatically be said to have walked with
God in the world, to have endured as see
ing him who is invisible, to have had the
testimony that they pleased God, and to
have died in the faith.!

* See note *, page 281 .
t Mademoiselle Poulain terminates her valuable
work in the following words : " On ne peut mieux ter
miner ces vies edifiantes qu'en rapportant les propres
paroles deM. Colbert, eveque de MontpelUer, surM«s-

285
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the
death of his saints. Such vvere the grievous
hardships so long, and so patiently en
dured bythe innocent inhabitants of Port
Royal des Champs jfthose good and faithful
servants of the most high God, sp unjustly
persecuted by.men ambitious of court favor.
Painful is the consideration, that it was
sieurs de Port Royal, " Qui a rendu des services plus
essentielles i, I'eglise et i I'etat que ces hommes celebres
qu'on a voulu faire passer pour les ennemis de I'un et
de 1' autre? Les ouvrages qu'ils ont laisse, et dans
lesquels ils ont excelle en tout genre, ont servi I donner
A, la France cette supcrio^rite qui Veleve au dessus des
autres nations. Si le peuple est plus instruit, la reU
gion plus connue, le clerge plus savant ; a qui en a-t-on
la premiere et la principale obligation, si ce n'est aux
travaux immenses de cette pdpiniere d'hommes que
Dieu avoit fait naitre pour purifier le temple et le sanc-
tuaire, et pour faire refleurir Israel ? Que I'on examine
dans tous ces corps seculiers et reguliers qui se dis-
tinguent par une piete plus solide et plus mEile, qui
sont plus verses dans les divines ecritures, et I'on verra
que ce sont ceux i qui les 9uvrages de Port Royal sont
tombes entre les mains, ou qui ont eu le bonheur
d' fetre conduits par des maitres qui etoient remplis de
son esprit."

286
chiefly men devoted to the altar, as espe
cial and living sacrifices acceptable to God,
who thus awfully lied to the Holy Ghost,
using the sacred plea of religion falsely,
and taking the name of God in vain, as a
means to their own aggrandizement.
Such, in every age, and in every nation,
have been the unhappy consequences of
the spirit of persecution and intolerance,
created by every system of human policy,
whose fabricators have been unmindful of
our Saviour's important declaration, " my
kingdom is not of this world."
The church of Chqst may well mourn,
when the lures of temporal interests and
honors, render those who should be her
spiritual guardians, venal instruments of
corruption, wielded by the secular power,
for temporal objects and poHtical endsj^
Of the truth and importance of this re
mark, and of the solemn divine declaration
on which it is founded^oth Protestant and
Catholic Europe presented an awful exam
ple during the period which this little work
embraces. \

287
Whilst Scotland beheld the excellent of
the earth dragged by the dominant Episco
pacy in her sister isle, like unoffending
sheep to the slaughter ; and whilst the Pres
byterians of America were leading to an
ignominious execution, the peaceful mem
bers of that excellent and honorable society,
which has presented to the admiring world
the unprecedented, and the unemulated ex
ample, of a legislature without war; the
dominant party of the Calvinists in Hol
land, was triumphing in the persecution of
the Arminians ; and in England, not only
the long reign of Elizabeth, but those of her
successors, the ill-fated Stuarts, were crim
soned by the accumulated butcheries of
multitudes of venerable Catholic priests,
who for conscience sake alone, were dragged
to slaughter, and put to death, with circum
stances of lingering torture and protracted
cruelty, whose very relation, makes abhor
rent nature shudder,*

• We refer the reader to Dodd's Church Histoiy, and
to the Memoirs of Missionary Priests, From the latter

288
Nor was the spirit of persecution confined
alone to the Protestant world. The same un
natural conjunction of temporal and eternal
inteiests,whichGod himself has solemnly de
clared to be absolutely incompatible, raised
up against the saints of France, ruthless
persecutors in the bosom of that very reli
gion, whose profession of faith and holy pre
cepts had formed the hearts and evangelical
lives of the Pascals, the Fenelons, the
Thomas a Kempis, the Sales, the Guyons,
the Renty's, and the Vincent de Pauls.
We cannot conclude this little work, in
a more satisfactory manner, than by pur
suing the same strain of sentiment with

bf these works, which is now before us, it appears, that
between the years 1500 and 1600, one hundred and
forty-three Catholic priests suffered death, mostly with
torture, on account of their religion ; one hundred and
ninety-nine persims endured torture, or died in prison
on that account ; and between 1600 and 1680, there
were one hundred and sixty-one persons suffered
death or torture, on the same account ; making in all,
from 1577 to 1681, the number of five hundred and
three persons.

289
which Dom Clemencet terminates the ac
count of the servants of Port Royal ; extracts
from which occupy so many of the pre
ceding pages.
He continues by adopting the enquiry of
St. Paul.
" And now what more shall we say ? for
the time would fail us to tell of all the mul
titudes, who through faith, wrought right
eousness, and inherited the promises," whe
ther in the seclusion of Port Royal itself, or
in connexion with that blessed institution.
It would, however, be superfluous to enter
into any further detail. Christian biography
should both be written and read with a view
to promote edification, not to stimulate cu
riosity. The examples of every description
which have been already proposed, are
amply sufficient for those who are sincerely
desirous to profit by them, and who are
anxious rather to reproduce their virtues in
their lives, than to imprint them in their
memories. Reader, whatever be thy condition,
or thy talents, thou mayest here find a
u

290
model. The valley of Port Royal pre
sents examples, from the cottage to the
throne; and thou wilt behold in this se
clusion. Saints, at whose feet thou mayest
think it an honor to sit ; from amongst the
unlettered peasants, whose graces bloomed
in her hidden retirements ; to her pious and
enlightened professors, whose talents and
whose learning dazzled and astonished
Europe. Permit me then, whoever thou mayest
be, to conclude, by earnestly and affection
ately addressing myself to thee in particular.
Let me then beseech thee, in the language
of St. Paul; who,' after speaking of the
fathers, the patriarchs, and the prophets,
who walked as seeing him who is in
visible and who died in faith, emphati
cally adds, " since then we also are com
passed about vi^ith so great a cloud of wit
nesses, let us too lay aside every weight,,
and the sin which doth so easily beset us^
and let us run with patience, the race set
before us, looking unto Jesus the author
and finisher of our faith, who for the joy

291
that was set before him, endured the cross,
diespising the shatae, and is set down at the
right hand of the throne of God."
May we contemplate these eminent ex
amples of Christian excellence, not with
an idle and fruitless curiosity ; but, as St.
Austin listened to the wbhders related by
Pontinian, with a reverend and holy ad
miration I
Yet let us not imagine it to be suffi
cient to experience a warm admiration and
reverence, in contemplating the miracles
which divine grace has wrought, and wrought
even almost in our own days. If the bright
light of Port Royal has thus shone before
our eyes, it is incunibent on us, who see
its good works, to learn of the same spirit to
glorify our Father which is in heaven.
For Christ is the light which lighteth
every man that cometh into the world. The
spirit of grace is given to every man to pro
fit withal, the love of our heavenly Father
extends the same Scriptures, the same grace,
and the same promises, which pai:doned, re
newed, and sanctified their souls, to ours
U2

292
equally. Let us not then content ourselves
with merely beholding the brightness of
their lives; but by the salutary light it dif
fuses, let us search out the irregularity and
imperfection of our own.
Whilst then we venerate the piety of
Port Royal, let us seek of our and their
God, to partake in the same spirit, re
membering it can only be done by a parti
cipation in their faith; faith in him who is the
only, foundation, the sole author and finisher
of scriptural Christian faith ; Jesus Christ,
the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever,
the only name given under heaven whereby
men can be saved ; and the lips of inspira
tion have solemnly declared, neither is
there salvation in any other.
And, if we believe we have that faith,
let us examine oursdlves, whether we be
indeed in the faith ; for the hope of the hy
pocrite shall perish. A scriptural faith
must not only embrace the true object, but
it must be implanted by the right spirit,
for no man can efficaciously call Christ,
Lord, but by the teaching of the Holy

293
Spirit ; nor will any conviction of the under
standing avail, unless the heart likewise be
lieves unto righteousness. He alone is in
the faith, who lives by faith, and whose
faith is continually operative in works of
Christian love.
Let us, then, not be merely admirers of
the lives, but partakers in the faith which
produced such an abundance of excellent
fruits in the blessed inhabitants of Port
Royal. To what purpose is it to honor the saints
of God with our lips, whilst we deny that
faith by which they became so, by the
course of our whole lives ? What will it
avail, merely to venerate the memory of
Port Royal, to speak with reverence of its
departed saints, to visit its desolate scite, or
to shed tears over its demolished foundations
and its silent ruins ?
So likewise do the children of this world,
honor the relics of that departed piety,
which no longer opposes their corruptions.
They adorn and beautify the sepulchres pf
those prophets when dead,, whom living.

«94
they might have been the first to persecute
even unto the death.
Let us do far differently. Let us indeed
venerate the memory of the excellent of the
earth. Of those who have in any degree
borne the image of Christ, and become living
temples of his holy spirit. But let us not
only have the history of Port Royal painted
in our memory, and its praises published
by our tongues; but may its sentiments
and its faith be engraven within our very
hearts, and its good works be reproduced
day by day in our Jives.
Let us praise them by an adoption of their
spirit, and a conformity to their conduct.
And woe be to us if we follow them not !
Every Christian exhortation, every ex
ample of the power of divine grace, is an
especial messenger of God to our own
souls, inviting us likewise to be partakers
of the same mercies. Accordingly, as we
receive or reject, it must become the savor
of life unto life, or of death unto death.
It sets before us life and death, the blessing
and the curse. For this is the condemna-

295
tion, that light is come into the world; but
that men, though having seen the light,
yet preferred darkness rather than light..
My fellow Christian Reader, do not let
us deceive ourselves. We cannot trifle with
our call of grace with impunity: God is
not mocked. Nor is it possible to rise
from the contemplation of the divine mer
cies, in the same state in which we sat
down to their consideration. We have re
ceived one more invitation to turn to God,
and He will not hold us guiltless, if we have
iiot merely taken his name, but even be
held his grace in vain.
Let us be fully assured, thai; for every
good example the mercy of God vouchsafes
us in the day of grace, his justice will re
quire fruits in the day of judgment; and
that every eulogium we have bestowed on
virtue without following it, will only prove
an additional seal to the awfulness of our
irrevocable condemnation.
However vivid may have been our senti-
inents of admiration for his servants, or
however we may have inculcated their ex-

296
amples amongst men, yet, if we stop there,
we shall be found amongst those to whom
the Lord will say, as to those who prophe
sied in his name without following him,
" Depart from me, all ye that work iniquity,
I never knew you!"
Let us, then, not delay to seek the rock
of ages, and that with our whole heart.
And let us seek him now, while it is yet
called to day ; for now is the accepted time,
and now is the day of salvation.
Reader, the examples of eminent piety
these pages propose to thy imitation, are
not those of a remote age, and severed from
our own. by a wide dissimilarity of customs,
habits, civilization, or mental cultivation.'
The excellent persons whose virtues this
brief memento records, belong to an age
linked on to our own, not merely by prox
imity of time; but which in intellectual il
lumination, in the elegant arts, and in the
depth of mental research, as well as in
polished society, refinement of manners, and
luxurious delicacy of habits, was precisely
equal, if not perhaps superior to our own.

297
The seventeenth, and the beginning of
the eighteenth centuries, are perhaps alone
distinguished from the period which has
succeeded, by the super-eminent growth
and strength of sanctity, united with splend
our of talent, which rendered conspicuous
so bright and numerous a constellation of
its illustrious characters. y
Let us not then shield ourselves with vain;
excuses; which, however they may delude
our own consciences, will never stand be
fore the touch-stone of the sanctuary; or
the tribunal of the final judge.
Reader, there is but one road to the king
dom of God. That Royal road, which the
prophets afid the patriarchs have trodden
before thee. The walk of faith, the high
way of holiness, in which even the fool
shall not err, who walks by faith and not by
sight. The door of entrance is Christ.
Nor can any man enter that door without
repentance ; for strait is the gate, and nar
row is the way that leadeth unto life, and
few there be that find it.
Agonize then, and strive to ^nter the

298
strait gate; for many shall seek to enter in,
and shall not be able; for the kingdom of
heaven suffereth violence, and the violent
take it by force. Cast off then every hin
drance. Repent, for the kingdom of heaven
is at hand ; repent, and believe the Gospel.
Reader, whosoever thou mayest be, how
ever amiable thy character before men,
and comparatively of good report; canst
thou require a repentance less deep, or a
conversion less thorough ; or canst thou less
need an Almighty Saviour to redeem thy
lost soul, than the Arnaulds, the Sacis, the
Lindos, the Fontaines ; who, as far as it re
garded the external observance of the law,
walked even from their very earliest youth
upwards, in all the commandments of the
Lord blameless ?
Like Job, they were perfect and upright ;
they feared God and eschewed evil. Yet,
like him, their hearts were no sooner illu
minated by the Spirit of God, than, with
him, they abhorred themselves, and re
pented in dust and ashes ; and the sole
ground of rejoicing of these saints of our

ayy

latter times, like that of the venerable pa
triarch who dwelt in the land of Uz anterior
to the days of Moses, was, not in any good
works they had done, but, " I know that
my Redeemer fiveth," For the faith of the
church, like Christ who is its object, is the
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.
Or if by the grace of God, thou hast
already experienced Christ's redeeminglove;
art thou more exempted from the command
to keep stedfast, immovable, and always
abounding in the works of the Lord, than
the Remicourts, the Courtiaux, the du Va
lois, or the. St. Claudes ?
Or is the impenetrable shield of faith,
which quenches the fiery darts of the wicked
one, which overcomes the world, removes
mountains, purifies the heart, and works by
love, less necessary to thee, than to the
eminent sanctity of the Marie Angelique
Arnaulds,' the Ninvilliers, the St. Thecle
Racines, the du Fargis, and the Suireau
des Anges ?
If thou art indeed a branch engrafted into
the true vine, dost thou imagine there is a

300
dispensation allowing thee to be less abun
dant in good works, than the Issalis, the
Bagnols, the Aumonts, and the Sericourts ?
Nor think to plead the particularities of
thy individual character or situation, the
solicitations of thy early besetting sin and
habitual infirmity, or the difficulties and
temptations of thy peculiar circumstances,
as affording any ground of exemption. The
voice of inspiration has expressly declared,
that, with every temptation, he will make
a means to escape ; and the examples now
before thee, are a few -amongst the clouds
of witnesses, exhibiting how God in his
providence, has abundantly fulfilled his
word. Examine then thy own conscience. Is
thy situation elevated amongst thy fellow-
mortals ? Is thy seat amongst the rulers of
thy people ? Do the aged arise and stand
before thee, and the Princes refrain talking,
and lay their hands on their mouth in thy
presence ? Does the brightness of thy
name shine as a star in the firmament, and
gild as with a lengthened train of lustre.

301
even the dark and distant horizon of de
parted centuries ?
And is this the ground on which thou
alledgest the bondage of thy situation ; the
multifarious distractions of complicated
cares, and of interfering duties ; the re
straining shackles of society, and the irk
some but obligatory servitude of external
representation ?
Interrogate thyself. Are thy ties more
strict, or is external representation more
incumbent upon thee, than upon the amia
ble and accomplished, as well as humble
and pious Duchesses of Luynes and Lian-
court, and the Princesses of Guim^nee and
Elbceuf ? Is it more difficult to preserve
humility, recollection, devotion, and self-
denial, in the splendour of thy birth; than
amidst the united blaze of talent, wit,
beauty, and affluence, which illustrated the
royalty of that of the Longuevilles and
the Contis ; and which were enlisted under
the banner of the cross, on the throne of
the Gonzagas ? '
Perhaps, however, thou advancest the

502
opposite plea, and importunately urgest'
the lowliness of thy fortunes. Thy lot is
cast in the deep and dark valleys, or in
the pit where no water is. Like thy master,
thou hast not even where to lay thy head.
Thy name is unknown amongst men ; thou
art forgotten amongst thy people, thou
art passed over, and as one dead, and out
of mind amongst thy brethren; and thy
name has not extended to the saints, who,
if they knew, might cheer thee. Thy path
is desolate and uncheered. When afflic
tion comes upon thee as a flood, pressing
down thy heart to the dust, no man cares
for 'thy soul. When corroding sorrow
eats like a canker into thy vitals, and
sears with concentrated grief thy aching
heart; no prophet of God is near to touch
the rock, and bid the kindly waters flow.
When strong temptations spread their nets,
encompassing thee round on every side, when
the pressureof dire necessity goads thee on,
and the iron grasp of gaunt poverty drags
thee reluctant to the abhorred toils; no
Christian brother is near, to burst, in the

303.
name of Christ, the bond, to bid the pri
soner be free, and lead thee to that God
who can alone restore the fallen soul. The
weary path of thy human pilgrimage is
dark, and drear, and cheerless ; and every
slow and heavy laden step, thou must trace
helpless and alone.
Yet not alone, for God is with thee ! He
was with our great Exemplar; and through
his merits, he will likewise dwell with all
his faithful disciples. Was he not with the
Laisnes, the de la Croix, the Fais, the
Fourniers, the Epargneurs, the Noiseux?
They were redeemed, they were sanctified,
in a state of holy poverty ; they stood uun
moved amidst persecution, they fought
the good fight, they kept the faith ; and
whilst they receive the crown of victory in,
heaven, their bright examples are left as an
inheritance to the saints of succeeding cen
turies ; after having edified their vicinity,
and converted multitudes from the error of
their ways, to serve the living God.
But, perhaps, thy temptations are far
different.

S04
Thou art ranked amongst the number of
the learned. It is the intensity of meta
physical or philosophical research, or the
elegant entertainments of literary leisure,
that exclusively occupy thee ; and with a
vain shew of wisdom, beguile thee of life
eternal. Or in the dreams of an author's exuberant
fancy, thou wastest, with aching head, the
midnight lamp ; thy goaded pen toils for
the vain hope of instructing generations
yet unborn, and tbe deceitful phantom of
posthumous fame, aUures thee by the beset
ting foolishness of those who profess to be
wise. But dost thou imagine these vain excuses
will avail with him, who has only given
thee talents for his use ; and who has ex
pressly assured thee, he will not fail to re
quire his own at thy hands with usury ?
Are thy researches more abstruse, or are
thy studies more laborious and intense, or
do they require more exclusive application
of mind, than the Pascals. Pascal, the
severity of whose studies, chased away the

505
perception of one of the most acute bodily
pains, but could never make him forget the
presence of God. Is thy learning more
profound, more extensive, or more various,
than the Tillemonts, the Arnaulds, the
Barcos, the St. Cyrans, the Lancelots ? Are
thy literary pursuits more important, or
more abundant, than the Quesnels, the Sa-^
cis, the Singlins, the Hamons, the Nicoles,
the Mesenguys, the St. Marthes, from
whose luminous and evangelical pages, suc
cessive generations of philosophers and
saints, delight alike to recreate the mind,
and to drink the pure Avaters of .celestial
wisdom, expanding the intellect, and con
verting the soul ?
Or is the polish of thy taste more exqui-
site^ or the riches of thy imagination more
luxuriant ? Is thy genius more elevated, or
is the reward which fame extends to thy
acceptance, more brilliant than that of the
Racines,* whose monumental tablet, pre-
* Surely England is not amongst theleast rich of na
tions in her bright constellation of Christian poets,
X Ner

306
sented to the countless multitudes of literary
and titled mourners, that from various na
tions fondly visited his consecrated grave,
the following striking inscription :
" tie, whose genius has been the theme
of applause and admiration to contending
courts and nations, requests that which can
alone avail him— YOUR PRAYERS."
Possibly, however, thou mayest complain
of the opposite hindrance, and lament that
thy lot has fallen amongst the simple and
unlettered, and tbat thou art debarred from
the consolation of refreshing thy heart by a
wide acquaintance with the written experi-.

Nor do we, perhaps, sufficiently estimate the obligations
we owe to those writers, who, enlisting their genius
under the banners of the cross, kindle the heart and
imagination of their readers with none but hallowed
fire. Happy they who, like the authors of the Paradise
Lost, tlje T/^s,k, the Night Thoughts, and Roderic thb
Goth, receive not only the loud applauses of th^
beuxesprits, but the deep and heartfelt blessing of the
Christian ; and whose brows grateful posterity encircles
with the double crown of classic bays, and of immortal
amaranth.

307
ences of those saints, who are already gone
to their reward ; or from the advantage of
having thy doubts and difficulties solved, by
the labors of men of piety and learning.
Reader, if this be thy difficulty, be of
good cheer. The word of truth expressly
declares, " My grace is sufficient for thee;"
and the page of almost contemporary bio
graphy, abundantly exemplifies that it is
so. Art thou less informed than the Bour-
chiers, the Moliacs, and the Compagnons ?
Is the page of the Word "of God less open
to thee, than it was to them ; and is that
page less able than in the days of the
apostle, to make thee truly wise unto sal
vation ?
Nor let me conclude without addressing
a word more particularly to those of the
female sex.
In a civifized period of society, as the
division of labor becomes progressively
multiplied amongst men, so the varieties of
character and pursuit, become more diver
sified, and more distinctly marked amongst
women. And in the nineteenth century,
X 2

SOS
our own sex presents, not only the impor
tant character of the Mere de Famifle, but
likewise the honorable and useful occupa
tions of conductors of public charities, of
ingenious authors, and of elegant artists.
Precisely these diversities do the examples
of Port Royal exhibit, — may they produce
a beneficial influence on my own country
women !
May those who are placed at the heads
of families, prove the blessed instruments
of their conversion, after the examples of
Madame le Maitre, Du Fosse, and Des
Anges! May those who are widows, be, as St,
Paul expresses it, " widows indeed," unit
ing a primitive piety, and disengagement
from the world, with hospitality to the
saints ; using their means in the service of
truth, like Madame D'Aumont, Madame
Marion Arnauld, and Madame D'Espinoy-
des Anges ! -
May those who unite a wide influence
with wealth, examine whether they use it
like the Longuevilles, the Luynes, the Ver*

309
tus, and the Liancourts ; and those amongst
my own country-women, who are called by
their talents to an active sphere, emulate
the bright examples of the Joncoux, the
St, Christine Briquets, and the St. Eusto-
quie Bregy's,: uniting Martha's busy hand
with Mary's loving heart.
And last, but not least, let me address
myself to those, whose abilities or inclina
tions lead them to dedicate the labors of
their pen to the amusement or instruction
of the public.
The vocation of an author is a serious
one, — serious as it respects the writer, and
as it respects the reader ; that to which
utterance has^ once been given, it is be
yond the writer's power to recall ; so that,
in another sense, it may be truly said of
literary crimes, as of the sin of Esau, that
no place for repentance is to be found,
though it be sought carefully, and with tears.
The successful candidates for literary ce
lebrity have a voice, which shall yet be
heard when their place on earth shall know
them no more; and which, like that of

310
Abel, though they were dead, should yet
speak. Yea, and of every idle word which it
doth speak, shall they give an account ;
nOr can the united applauses of all men,
avail to screen, them from the righteous
judgment of God.
May they then enter into tbe retirement
of thejr own closets, beseeching the Lord,
our present Saviour, and our final judge,
to try the very ground and intention of their
hearts ! and may my own accomplished
and ingenious country-women, like the
Agnes, and Angelique Arnaulds, and the
Angelique de St. Jeans, compose only
those works, which shall diffuse wide good
around ; leaving a lasting blessing behind,
that shall endure on earth, whilst the re
deemed spirit of their authors, shall be
reaping its rich reward in heaven !
And now, O Lord, do thou in mercy
engrave these truths, alike on the heart of
the writer, as of the reader of these pages.
May the time bestowed upon them not have
been in vain to either ! Whilst they honor

311
the remembrance of thy Saints of Port
Royal, may they look with renewed con
fidence to thee, the alone giver of all their
excellent gifts; and seeking a lively partici
pation in the same faith, may all their fu
ture labor, both of body and mind, be truly
hallowed unto thee ; and may both one day
rest with these thy saints, in thy holy
presence; finding through the merits of
their common Redeemer, a blessed entrance
through grace, into that kingdom, which
has truth for its Lord, love for its law-giver,
holiness for its fruition, and eternity for its
duration ! Amen,
Bristol, October lOth, 1815.

ACCOUNT OF
A VISIT TO THE RUINS
OF
PORT ROYAL DES CHAMPS>
BEING AN EXTRACT FROM MY JOURNAL TO THE
CONTINENT OF THE 18th OF SEPTEMBER, 1814.
WITH
NOTES DESCRIBING ITS ORIGINAL STATE,
COMPILED FROM
«'LA DESCRIPTION DES BATIMENTS DE PORT ROY
AL," GIVE^ IN RACINE, HIST, ECCLES. BESOGNE,
AND CLEMENCET, COMPARED WITH THE PLANS
AND FIFTEEN VIEWS BY MADJEMOISELLE HOK-
THEMEl^,

«****» Next morning we set out from
our uncomfortable inn at Versailles, to make our long
projected visit to the remains of Port Eoyal des Champs,
which is only about six miles further.
We soon quitted the high road, which, bordered
with a magnificent avenue of trees, extends twelve
miles, entering Paris through the Bois de Boulogne,
the Barriere de Neuilly, the Champs Elisees, and the
place Louis Quinze, till the noble vista is terminated by
the magnificent gardens and the Royal Castle of tbe
Thuilleries.

314
The cross road into which we turned, leads through
the valley of Port Royal, and close under the walls of
the monastery to Ch^vreuse. The way, which is ex
ceedingly rough and ill kept, rapidly ascends to a sort
of flat or wold, such as those on the tabled hills of
Somersetshire. Though by no means unsafe, we could
proceed but slowly ; and there being no avenue on
each side, as on the high roads, its appearance was
very dreary. Indeed, excepting where the country is
well wooded, like that near Pont St. Maxence, I think
every part of the North of France I have seen, has a
very desolate appearance, owing to the total want of
hedge-rows. Both in French Flanders and Picardy,
the view extends over immense tracts of country,
where neither cattle nor human habitation is to be
seen ; and which, from its being uninclosed, appears
totally naked, though in fact it is every where covered
with abundant crops.
This high ground and bare appearance continued
nearly the whole way. We passed indeed two or
three villages situated in hoUows. They were sur
rounded by vineyards, which were the first we had
seen. They have very much the same appearance as
the hop grounds in Kent. On inquiry, we found these
villages to be Voisins, Liancourt, and others often men
tioned in the Port Royal writers.
At length, the tabled plain over which our road had
generally extended, seemed suddenly to terminate just
before us, as though we were arriving at the brow of a
precipice extending across the whole plain. About a

315
hundred yards to our right was a large old-fashioned
farm-house, which the coachman informed us was les
Granges, the former abode of the recluses. He ad
vised, us to drive there first for directions, as the descent
into the valley of Port Royal was exceedingly steep;
and that he was unacquainted with the roads, one of
which was very unsafe, owing to the precipitous descent.
Accordingly, we turned into the cart-track which
led to the house, and which was bounded by a high
garden-wall, till we came to a lofty archway, which
having passed through, we found ourselves in the farm
yard of the celebrated les Granges, the abode of the
Le Maitres, the Fontaines, the Arnaulds, &c.
Here were the farmer and all his men at work, and
the mistress busy feeding her poultry. In a moment
our carriage was surrounded by master, mistress, men,
maids, dogs, pigs, hens, and turkeys, who all seemed
equally amazed at the sight of a carriage in so remote
a place. They however told us, with that amenity which we
found characterize the Dutch, the' Flemish, and the
French, that we were perfectly Welcome to see the
whole house ; that they would then conduct us by the
foot-way down the steep, to see the remains of Port
Royal des Champs ; and that if we liked to take a
farm-house dinner, they would with the greatest plea
sure get us whatever their house afforded.
I must now introduce you to Les Granges. More
than half of the original building, we were told, is de
molished; but what is left, has yet the appearance of a

SlG
very large and old-fashioned farm-house, built of rougfr
itone, and much like those I have seen in the neigh
bourhood of Shepton Mallet in Somersetshire.
The entrance to the house is from the farm-yard. A
considerable part of the lower floor was formerly ap
propriated to the refectory of the recluses, but as it is
now partitioned into several rooms, I could not judge of
its size.
We then went up a staircase which is of brick of
stone, to visit the chambers of the recluses : they are
all floored with the small hexagonal tiles, which are so
common in France and Flanders. We first met with
them in the bed-room of Jansenius, at Louvain; and
then at almost every inn, from the Hotel de HoUande
at Cambray, to Paris, and from thence on our road to
Calais, as far as Amiens.
These brick-floors give the bed-rooms a most forlorn
appearance; and to an English traveller, form a strange
contrast with the beds, the curtains and coverlets of
which were frequently of silk or satin.
The physician Hamon's room was one of the first we
saw. It was small, and must have been inconvenient.
The furnace, oven, mortar, and various other utensils
for preparing medicines for the poor, still remained.
Through this room was a Uttle light closet, in which
he used to sleep on a board, instead of a mattress.
The staples which held his bookcase yet remain, as
well as the alarum by which he called himself to mid
night prayer^
From this room we went to those of Arnauld, which.

317
are rather large, and open into each other. From the
windows, which, like all the others in the house, were
only the size of casements, the prospect is delightful,
extending over tbe whole fertile valley below, to the
wooded hills beyond, and including the spires of the
little churches of Vaumurier and St. Lambert. Here we
saw the stone table on which M. d'Andilli wrote many
of the lives of the Saints ; and here our kind hostess,
Madame Methouard, pointed out, with much regret;
the devastations of the Cossacks, who had pilfered a
set of prints of Don Quixote, with which she had re
placed the ecclesiastical library of Arnauld.
We then visited several of the other cells ; after which,
leaving our baggage in M. le Maitre'sroom, where we
were to dine, we set out under the auspices of Madame
Methouard, by the short path-way down the steep, to
the Monastery ; leaving our carriage, and our valet de
place, Camino, to meet us near the church-yard of St.
Lambert ; and only taking with us our English servant,
to carry a basket and knife, which had already served
us at Brederode, Louvain, Cambray, and Antwerp, to
procure " des reliques Men avirees."
Our way lay through the farm-yard, where a door
opened upon a space, which extended under the wall,
along the brow of the hill. Here we distinctly per
ceived there had been a terrace, where the recluses
walked to meditate. On the outside, the slope towards
the brow of the hill was planted at intervals with fruit-
trees, and was formerly their orchard.
Ob reaching the verge of the steep descejit, we, for

318
the first time, beheld Port Royal. Imagine the hill
forming a complete steep or precipice, extending in an
amphitheatrical form, and shagged with forest trees,
chiefly beech, horse aud Spanish chesnut, lime and
ash ; and in the bottom, a beautiful level plain, watered
by a brook, and terminated by an opposing range of
wooded hills; in the midst, and almost directly under
our feet, covered with a profusion of creppers and
wild flowers, are the silent remains of the Monastery
of Port Royal des Champs.*

* The site of the Abbey of Port Royal occupies a meadow,
which forms the whole bottom of a narrow valley, surroiinded
completely on three sides, and partly on the fourth, by steep
wooded hills. The rest opens into a cheerful and cultivated
country, interspersed in the middle distance by fields, vineyards,
groves, hills, and villages. From this opening to the East, a
brook, about eighteen feet wide, enters the valley, and after
crossing the south of it at the bottom of the monastic garden, it
forms a large mill-pond, or lake, the dyke of which, thickly
planted with forest trees, bounds the monastic wall of enclosure
on the west side. Close by tbe lake are the mill, dove-cote,
shepherd's cot, and other appendages of a like nature.
Tbe terrace by this l^e iiirnished Racine vrith the subject of
his earliest poetical attempt. He describes the reflection of the
dark forest trees in tbe water, and the singular appearance of
the fish, apparently swimming amongst the branches. See Mem.
de Jean Racine, tom. 1. pp. 24, S5, 26, edit. Lausanne, 17i7,
The monastic enclosure itself, forms a long square, or paral
lelogram, occupying the whole of the valley, excepting the
space taken up by the lake. It is surrounded by a wall, witb
email towers placed at intervals, so as to conuuand each other. The

319
The view, without presenting any particular feature
of magnificence, is yet one of the most completely
beautiful it is possible to conceive. I could scarcely
imagine, whilst contemplating it, that the view I was
looking at was the same place which Madame de Se-
The whole space enclosed, occupied, we were told, about
twenty-seven acres.
The enclosure is divided into two parts, the whol? north
divisions of which were occupied by tlie buildings, burying
grounds, courts, and private gardens, belonging to the various
edifices of the monastery, and tbe south division of which was
appropriated to the grand garden and walks belonging to
the abbey.
Each of these great divisions may be farther subdivided.
Taking the church as the central point of the buildings, the
space extending in front of it to the north monastic wall, was
appropriated to the outer courts of the monastery. The burying
ground for friends, servants, or those not properly of the order ;
also the houses of reception for guests, and the gardens belong
ing to these houses. To the west of the church was the hotel
Longueville, to the east the stables, granaries, poultry yard,
gardener's es);ablishment, &c. Behind the church, aud between
it and the gardens of the monastery, was the inner enclosure
properly belonging to the nuns. Here were the cloisters, dor
mitories, inner burying ground, infirmary, .schools, obediences,
&c. &c. By this arrangement, the buildings appropriated to
the nuns in no place approached the grand wall of enclosure,
but were bounded ou all sides by other parts of the establishment.
The garden of the monastery was likewise divided by a wall,
traversing it from east-to west. The part next the abbey was
properly a kitchen-garden, full of beds pf vegetables and of fruit-
trees. The farther part, called the solitude, or wilderness, was
planted with high forest trees, and served as a walk for the nuns.

S20
"wgne describes as " Vn desert ajreux et tout propre a
inspirer le desir de faire son salut." Its character, on
the contrary, is singularly that of cheerfulness and
elegance, though with the most perfect stilness and
seclusion. Perhaps it may be, in some degree, altered
from this circumstance, that formerly all the circum
jacent hills were shagged with lofty forests, which
would both increase their apparent altitude and dark
ness of colouring; whereas now, though beautifully
wooded, there is a suflSciently great proportion of cop
pice, to give the forest trees room to expand in a broad
shade, instead of forcing them to tower into tall timber
trees. At present, the style of prospect is precisely similar in
character, to the valleys between the wooded hills of
Sunny Side, and Colebrook Dale, in Shropshire.
Each place has been made remarkable for two so
cieties of eminently pious and beneficent inhabitants,
and both are distinguished by the same class of beauti
ful scenery ; only Port Royal possesses the additional
beauty of an exquisite luxuriance of vegetation, of a
freshness of verdure, and of a gay variety and profu
sion of wild flowers, ^fhich would be vainly sought for
under the capricious vicissitudes of an English climate.
Having endeavoured to give a general sketch of the
site of Port Royal, I must observe, that the monastery
itself, is so completely destroyed, that at the distance at
which we stood, the ruins of its foundations, especially
as they are grown over with shrubs and field-flowers,
*re scarcely perceptible, except as roughening the ver-

sal
¦«lant plain. Some parts, however, which were spared,
instantly strjke the eye. Just below us, at the foot of
the hill, was the road winding between it and th?
boundary wall to the grand gothic entrance gate,whiQ,h
still remains entire. Close by it, to the right, is the
house of the venerable M. De Saint Maethe now con-
, verted into a barn. Here, also, is the little cottage of
St, Theobald, who, five centuries ago, lived as a her
mit in this valley : it serves, at present, as a shepherd,'*
cot. On the left, the road remains flanked with eight towers,
built during the civil wars. Near them appears ano
ther grand gateway, which formerly led to the Hotel
of the Duchesse of Longueville. The terrace of her
garden still remains elevated above the level of the
valley, commanding a view over all the gardens of the
monastery. The dove-cote too yet remains, the mill also
and the house of the miller, formerly the habitation of
the pious Peter Bourchier, and the solid stone-work
constructed by the recluses, to draw the waters from
the meadow, and render the naturally marshy valley
healthy. Beyond, is the level, uninterrupted verdant
plain, that formerly was the garden of the nuns ; and
still farther, the beautiful brook which divides the valley.
In front of the place where we stood, and just at the
foot of the opposing wooded hill, is a sort of amphi-
itheatre hollowed out; it is carpeted with turf, and
formed with rude stone-work, like a grotto : it is oversha
dowed by the wide umbrage of the forest trees arounS,

S22
aud above; and the remains of long stone seats, shew
the place where the nuns of Port Royal used formerly
to work together, and to hold their conference. This
place was called the Desert ; and many remaining path
ways leading from it, and branching off in different di
rections, through the wooded side of the hill, still mark
la solitude, where the nuns used to walk for the purposes
of refreshment or meditation. All else is so completely
ruined and demolished, that unless we had taken the
plans and drawings, we could not possibly have distin
guished the various parts of the buildings, although the
foundations are to be traced with the greatest ease in
every part.
The woods round Port Royal, are, on every side,
most luxuriant, and serve as a retreat for a great abund
ance of game. Far to the left of the desert, and the
range of virooded hills in which it is situated, the valley
opens, as I have before described, into a most beautiful
and rich country, gay with woods, vineyards, hills, and
farm4iouses, and tufted with groves ; amongst which,
arises the spire of the little church of St. Lambert, and
by it, peeping through the trees, the house of Tille
mont. The road to Chevreuse here crosses the valley, wind
ing between tall avenues of trees, in the most pictu
resque manner ; and having, by a sudden turn to the
left, quitted the wall of the monastery, it appears only
in the middle distance, when the bright tints of the
dresses of the country people passing to and fro, were

323
Just glimpsed between the tall stems of the trees ; and
animated, without in the least disturbing, the perfect
stilftess of the scene.
After contemplang the view for some time, we pre
pared to descend the hill, to take a nearer, and more
detailed view of the ruins. Accordingly, we began
cautiously to descend the steep, by a rude zig-zag
path, or track, which is, however, so precipitous, that
it is by no means easy to keep a firm footing, even by
holding the boughs of the trees and shrubs through
which it winds. As we were going down, Madame
Methouard told me, that these woods were formerly
reserved for the game of the Abbess of Port Royal.
It is reported, that Henry the Fourth, being on a
hunting excursion in this neighbourhood, some of the
young nobility of his court, came one morning to make
an idle visit at the monastery, when the little Abbesse
M. Angelique, being then eleven years old, came down
at the head of all her nuns, with her crosier in her
hand, and turned them all out of the monastic precincts,
at which the king was so delighted, that he came to the
brow of the hill, saying, " ilfautqv£je haise les mains a-
Madame la petite Abbesse," which he accordingly did
very respectfully.
On reaching the bottom of the hill, we found our
selves in the private road, formerly bordered by an
avenue, which turns out of the Chevreuse road, and runs
between the foot of the hill and the north monastery
wall to the Abbey door. This is a noble gothic gale-
way, of the style df the thirteenth century. On the
v3

S24
right was a door for foot-passengers. In front is a little
plain, where the poor used to assemble to reteive food
and alms. The traces of the stone benches yet remain.
Of this spot Madame Horthemel's view is a very exact
representation. Near this, originally, was the porter'*
lodge, and rooms for the servants, but of these no traces
but the foundations remain.
On passing under this archway, we found ourselves-
in what was the grand outer* court of the monastery.

* The external court of the monastery extended itself from
east to west, being much broader from side to side, than it was
long from north to south. Tbe principal entrance gate was in the
north wall, almost in the angle which it forms with the west
wall, and near the dyke of the lake. It was a fine old Gothic
gate-way. On the right -was a door for foot-passengers ; above
it, and on each side, were apartments appropriated to the por
ter, and other servants. The porter's lodge was termed the
guard-room. Immediately adjoining to it, was a wash-house,
two shoe-makers', and curriers' shops, and a large store-house
for leather.
The west of the great court, or the right on entering, was
occupied by the dovecote, the house of St. Theobald, the
houses of M. de St. Marthe, and other donfessors of Port Royal;
a large infirmary, and balls for servants. The space under the
roofs of these buildings, was appropriated to granaries : they all
had gardens attached to tbem, and there ' were also varidus
offices, which contained tlie wine-presses, vats, cooperage, &c.
and laundries.
Tbe south side of the court, or tbat in front, on entering, was
occupied by the church, with the refectories for strangers, od
the left, and a building for parlors on the right, whence a wall

325
Tvhich was formerly interspersed with trees, and was
bounded in front by the church, and the saloons for

extended, as far as the dovecote, witb a door leading to the
inner court. The strangers' refectory was a handsome building,
three stories high, with ten windows in each row. The turn
and first tonrrieres apartments and garden were also attached
to this building. The church was very large, being eight win
dows in leng^ ; and the principal entrance was by the north
transept, which projected into the court. The building appro
priated to the parlors of St. Denis, St. Austin, St. Peter and
Paul, and St, Michael, also formed a similar and corresponding,
projeption; and a Io,w wall, drawn from one to the other, inclosed
tl^e external burying-gronud, which thus was a narrow strip of
ground, cut off from the outer court, and parallel to th« side; of
i^p chuiich.
The north of the court, or the side of the entrance gate, was
occitpied on the right by carpenters' shops, smiths' forges, lock
smiths, and three large stables, all with com lofts; and on the
left, opposite the church, was a noble range of buildmgs, for the
reception of guests, who Qiade retreats at the monastery. One,
part of the building was appropriated to men, the other to wo
men, each having a distinct entrance, staircase, and servants.
The whole was four stories high, having twelve fine windows in
a row, and a beautifiil garden behind, extending to the north
wall of enclosure of the monastery.
The east side of the onter court, or the left side on entering,
was bounded by a low wall, separating it from the establishment
of tbe Duchess of Longueville.
Tbe whole court was turfed, and interspersed with fine forest
trees,— a venerable and wide spreading ash<tree in the centre,
was pecaliarly cited for its size and beauty. The

5^6
the reception of guests staying at Port Royal ; on the
left by a wall, separating itfrom Madame de Longue^

Tbe church of Port Royal, which was turned to tbe east, had
been built at the beginning of the 13th century, and dedicated
on the 25th of June, 1230, under the pontificate of Gregory the
Ninth. It was built in the shape of a cross, and the style of
architecture was light Gothic, with slender shafted pillars, lancet-
shaped windows and high pointed arches, like Salisbury Ca
thedral. The high altar was to the east, and behind it was the
turn of the sacristy. The nave was the choir of the nuns. The
south trausept was closed, and contained the chapiter-house
and the noviciate. The north transept which projected into the
external court, was the grand entrance of the church from with
out, and over the door was a magnificent painted glass window.
Only the north transept and north aisle were appropriated to
visitors, the rest was within the monastic grate.
Over the high altar stood the fine painting of the Last Supper,
by Philippe Champagne, who was one of the disciples of Port
Royal, and whose daughter had taken the veil there. On the
demolition of Port Royal des Champs, it was placed in the
choir of the nuns of Port Royal de Paris, and is now in the
collection of the Louvre, where it holds a distinguished place
amongst the paintings of the Flemish school, for its fine execu
tion, and its rich and harmonious coloring ; but it is chiefly in
teresting, as containing, under the characters of the twelve
apostles, capital portraits of the most celebrated amongst the
recluses of Port Royal. St. John has been recognized ais the
portrait of Antoine le Maitre. Le Maitre de Saci, his brother,
is depicted in the figure of the apostle behind Judas. The
figure, whose hands are clasped together, and who is standing
behind Le Maitre, is Arnauld D'Andilly; the figure in the
corner of the picture presents a capital portrait of Pascal.

327
•ville's hotel; and near the entrance door, and on the
side next the lake, by laundries, carpenters,iocksmiths.

Nicole and tbe Grand Arnauld are likewise in the group.
Champagne painted three pictures oi this design. One of them
of small dimensions is in tbe Luxembourg gallery. On each
side of the altar-piece was a fine picture, on one side the virgin,
and the other St. John the Baptist. Tbe altar itself, and the
balustrade of .wood which inclosed it, were beautifully carved,
as likewise the four wooden candlesticks and crucifix, which
were its only decorations. Opposite the high altar on each side
the grate, were two doors leading into the choir, which were
called the doors of the sacraments, because through these doors
they were taken to administer tbe sick. Over each of these
doors was a finej>icture: one of Christ as the Good Shepherd,
bringing back the lost sheep on bis shoulders, and treading on
thorns ; and on the other a nun crowned witb thorns praying,
standing before a crucifix.
The nims' choir was remarkable for the beauty of its archi
tecture, and for the elegance and highly finished decorations
and carving of the nuns' stalls. The choir chairs of the nuns
especially were superb; They cost in 1555, the sum ef one
thousand two hundred and eighty livres, when Jeanne de la
Fin, the second Abbesse of that name, purchased them for the
choir. At the destraction of Port Royal, they were purchased
much below their value by the Bemardines. Indeed, the mag
nificence with which the whole of the church was fitted up, was
the work of the same lady, one of the former Abbesses of Port
Koyal. She presided over tbe monastery in the beginning of
the sixteenth century, and had very considerably extended tbe
domain of her Abbey, augmented its revenues, and adorned its
interior. She was buried in tbe choir, and at tbe end of h«r

528
glaziers, and shoe-makers' work-shops, with three
large stables, all which latter had workmen, and ser*

epitaph was placed by way of motto, and according to the
punning genius of the age, tbe common adage,
" La Fin couroiine I'oeuvre."
Nearly the whole floor of the church was covered with tumu-
lar stones of black maible, or lozenges of the same, for the
Abbesses. The eloquence of the epitaphs of Port Royal is well
known ; they were mostly from the elegant and classic pens of
M. M. Hanion or Dodart. Amongst the most remarkable per
sons interred in the church, were Arnauld d'Andilly, Varet,
St. Marthe, Du Chemin, Du Gud de Baguols, La Pothferie,
Saci, Due de Ponch&teau, Innocent Fai, &c.
A very few years ago was found amongst a heap of rubbish at
Magny, tbe tumulary stone of the learned, polite, and pious
Arnauld d'Andilly : it bore this short but touching inscription :
« Sub sole vanitas; supra solem Veritas."
In the north aisle of the church was a chapel dedicated to the'
Blessed Virgin, and a door ont of if to the external burying-
ground, which lay under the side of the cliurch, between the
transept of St. Laurence at the one end, aiiJthe paVlors at the
other, and was cut off from the outer court ^y a low wall
uniting their projections.
Here were buried the servants, and many of the recluses and
friends of Port Royal, amongst others Kacine the poet. A
cross stood in the centre, and tbe graves were marked by crosses
or slabs of black marble. Above the portal of entrance to this'
burying-ground, were tlie following inscriptions : without,
" Time is yet before thee."
within, .. , " Time is for ever behind thee." A quaint

329
vants* rooms above, and extensive granaries over all.'
Besides which, in one corner, was a large infirmary,
for the servants, and the house and garden of the con
fessor. The whole is now one level plain- of turf^ scattered
with occasional ruins, and regular traces of founda-T
tions ; but so V6ry little remains, that with the excep-

A quaint vefse in old French was also often repeated :
" Tous ces morts ont vdcu, toi qui vis, tu mourras ;
"Cejour terrible approche, et tu n'y penses pas."
*hich might be thus rendered :
" These dead once liv'dj aud thou who liv'st shalt die.
" Thou heed'st it not, yet tbat dread day draws nigh."
A sun-dial too was placed in the burying ground', bearing the
inscription, " Loquor, sed non cacis."
The chapter-house has been already mentioned, as having
been formed iu the south transept of the church. It was a
Gothic building, supported by one beautiful light pillar in the
centre, and very much resembling that at Salisbury. It con
tained several. fine pictures of great artists. Amongst others
was one of the Miracle de la Sainte Epinc, by Champagne; that
operated on liis own daughter by the intercession of tbe Mere
Agnes, and which is now to be seen in the Louvre. There was
also a very celebrated picture of the Mother Angelica, sitting
by tbe side of a table, on which was a portrait of M. de St.
Cyran, and giving the book of the constitutions of Port Royal
to the Mother Agnes^ who was kneeling.
There were also pictures of St. Bennet and St. Bernard, and
several admirable portraits of the M. M. Angelique, Agnes,
Angelique de St. Jean, Suireau des Anges, &c. &c.

330
tion of the buildings I before mentioned, they are ge
nerally speaking, I should imagine, not above eighteen
inches high, except in some few places, where they
were about as high as my head, as I stood by them.
Some way to the left of the entrance, extends a long
range of ruined foundations, which, on consulting the
description of the buildings of Port Royal, by Be
sogne, Clemencet, and Racine, and comparing them
with Mad. Horthemel's plans and drawings, is, I find,
the long range of buildings appropriated to guests,
which were divided into separate houses for men and
women, and which had a very pretty garden behind
it, extending as far as the wall of the monastery, and a
solitude, or planted seclusion for meditation on one
side. Nothing of all this is now perceptible. The
whole is one green meadow, the verdure of which is
most beautiful, and enamelled with a thousand different
field-flowers, which, as you crush them, exhale the
richest perfume ; and the ruins themselves are covered
with a rich profusion of the most beautiful creeping
plants. After crossing what was the grand entrance court,
(and it is by no means an inconsiderable distance)
we came to what was formerly the site of the church.
Nothing of this church now remains but one vast
pile of ruins extending on either side, festooned with
the most beautiful and fragrant wild flowers, whose
vivid tints gleam intermixed with brambles, thistles,
and nettles. The goats were browzing on the shrubs
which grew amidst the neglected ruins, and sheep were

331
lying down under the low arcades which in several
places just here remain entire.
Although the whole is so demolished, that none of
these ruins I imagine can be above six or seven feet
high, yet amidst the heaps of stones and rubbish lying
about them, we often traced the heads of angels, or
rich pieces of Gothic fret-work, or broken columns or
capitals, peeping out under the rich profusion of wild
flowers which covered them, and which so completely
mantle the ruins, that at some distance it would not be
easy at once to distinguish them.
Cattle were quietly grazing on the green expanse of
•what was once the church. At the farther end, where
once the high altar stood, is now a spreading walnut-
tree, under whose wide shade we stood for some lime
contemplating the scene of ruin before us ; like the
countenance of death in the righteous, its aspect was
hallowed and beaming peacefulness amidst the stilness
and silence of desolation.
Yet a few paces farther was the choir, where the
nuns of Port Royal performed the continual service of
the Holy Sacriment, and where the ecclesiastics and
Abbesses of the monastery were interred. There,
Rising in the midst of a pile of shapeless ruins, a pic
turesque and aged weeping willow bends its silvery
foliage over their graves.
On one of the rude stones beneath, some visitor pro
bably, has deeply but rudely scratched with a knife,
ithe words : " By the waters of Babylon we sat down
jind wept, when we remembered thee, 0 Zion."

532
The yellow lichen was beginning to deface some of
the letters of this inscription, and many years are prot
bably now passed by, since the individual who wrote
it, has rejoined the saints he mourns.
Immediately behind the church which formed' one
side of the square, w*re the cloisters* and burying-

• Immediately behind the south wall of tbe church, which
formed one side of a square, were tbe cloisters, and ranges of
buildings, forming an extensive quadrangle, inclosing in its area
the internal or nuns' burying ground, Tbese buildings were
from two to four stories high, and each side was about two
hundred feet in length. On the lower floor were included the
nuns' refectory, the scholars' refectory, the infirmaries' refec
tory, the common work-room, and tb© school'room. Above
were the dormitories. Each dormitory contained a passage
about ten feet wide, and two hundred feet long ; and on each
side were doors opening into cells ten royal feet wide, and six
deep. There were forty cells in each dormitory, twenty on
each side. Both the second and third floors were so occupied.
Above all, in the roofs, which were beautifully finished, were
various store-rooms, drying rooms for linen, &c. 6cc.
The refectory was a very noble room. . It had six large
windows looking to tbe east, and four very large ones at the
south end.
The ceiling was supported by a colonnade of five pillars ; od
each of which were inscriptions as follows. Upon the
1st — My meat is, to do the will of him that sent me.
(On the reverse) Labour not for the meat that perishetb, but
ior that which endm'eth unto everlasting life.
I 2nd — Tbe bread of God is be who descended from heaven, and
who gives life unto the world. Reverse

333
ground : at present grass and bright field-flowers cover
the whole expanse, yet the unevenness of the ground
Efeverse— Blessed is he who shall eat of that bread in the
kingdom of God.
3d — Blessed are they who have been called to the marriage-
supper of the Lamb.
Reverse— Whether ye eat, or whether ye drink, or whatso
ever y6 do, do ye it to the glory of God.
4th — Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,
and all other things shall be added unto you.
Reverse — ^^Godliness with contentment is great gain.
There was nothing on tbe fifth pillar, but there were texts of
Scripture bung all round the walls. The refectory was fiimished
with six large tables, two along each side, and one across each
end, with wooden benches. And between the third and fourth
windows, was a high pulpit, from which the Scriptures were
read during meal times.
All the buildings above-mentioned surrounded the cloister.'!,
the space in the centre of which was occupied by the nuns
burying ground.
Tbe cloisters, which were directly behind 'the church, were
unglazedj and about twenty royal feet in width. They consisted of
ten arcades on the side next the church and the opposite side,
and of thirteen arcades on the two others. Hence they were
about sixty paces long, one way, and seventy-four the other. The
burying ground of the nuns in the centre was turfed, and was
divided into four compartments by two crossing flagged walks.
In the centre was erected a large wooden crucifix, upon steps of
stone. A number of little crosses marked the nuns' graves. It
' was ebiefly in this burying ground, under the cloisters, in the
-church and chapter-house, as well as in the external buvyiog
ground, that were placed the celebrated monumental inscriptions

334
still records the barbarous exhumation of 1711,- and
the remains of the stone cross in the centre is covered
with the names of pilgrims who visit the spot.
Many of the bodies of the saints of Port Royal, no
doubt yet remain undisturbed. At the time the new
dormitory and cloisters were built, the pavements

of Port Royal. In the centers of the arcades of the cloisters.,
between the pillars, were the foUovring inscriptions :
(They were written in embossed letters, and painted black)
1st — Riches are the ruin of religions houses ; but poverty,
when evangelical, edifies and preserves tbem.
2d — He who perseveres to the end, shall be saved.
3d — In tbe world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good
cheer, for I have overcome the world.
¦tth — We have been buried witb Christ in baptism, that we
might die unto sin : so that as he is risen from the dead, by the
power of his Father, we might also walk in newness of life.
5th — Many are called, but few are chosen.
Such was the disposition of tbe cloisters, burying ground, and
dormitories. Behind the east end of the church were the kit
chens, opening into a court surrounded by their respective
ofiSces, sculleries, wash-houses, woodstacks, larders, dairies,
bake-houses, poultry-yards, chandlery, weaving rooms, &c. &c.
Behind the west end of the church was a court, surrounded by
the infirmary, a long range of building on tbe south, and on the
other sides by store-houses for glass, and for drugs : the surgery,
the apothecaries' shop, tbe elaboratory, tbe conservatory, th^
fruitery, &c. &c. There was also a large place for laggot-stacks
to supply tbe infirmary, and this court was well turfed, and
planted with excellent dry walks, and a raised terrace for
invalids.

335
^f the church and the burying ground were raised
nine feet. All the bodies which were inferred pre
viously to this time, probably yet remain there. Amongst
them it is supposed must be included those of the
Duchesse de Luynes, and of M. de Sericourt.
The church of Port Royal was not absolutely de
stroyed, till some time after the general demolition.
Its tower subsisted till very lately. A very few years
ago it fell, and some of its fragments struck the earth
with such force as to discover the lid of a coffin.
On opening it, appeared the body of a priest in per
fect preservation, arrayed in his sacerdotal vestments.
No inscription disclosed his name, but the heavenly
peace that sat on his countenance, marked him as one
of the worthies ot Port Royal.
Continuing our road strait forward, over the former
garden of the monastery, which was of very consider
able extent, we came to the beautiful stream which in
tersects it, and which formerly divided the kitchen,
herb, and fruit gardens, from what was termed the
solitude; which being removed beyond it, was at a
sufficient distance from the monastery to form a
place of retirement, where the nuns used to walk and
meditate. The solitude was formerly planted thickly with forest
trees, which, after extending over the remainder of
the meadow, also covered the hills bounding the valley
beyond. Formerly, the stream was beautifully clear,
and a little bridge over it, led to the desert ; but, at pre
sent, it is in some places choaked with flags and reed*.

336
or mantled by the most beautiful aquatic plants ;
amongst the profusion of which, I particularly remarked
the Pamassia Palustris. The long grass which fringes
its banks, was exquisitely luxuriant and beautiful,
growing to a height I never had seen before ; and a
number of wild water-fowl, especially moor-hens and
dobchicks, were diving and sporting amongst the reeds.
Not very far beyond this stream, arose the preci
pitous hills of' the opposite boundary of the valley, co
vered with forest trees.
Just at their foot was situated the desert I mentioned
before ; and at this distance, we distinctly discerned
the rustic amphitheatre/partly natural, and partly rudely
shaped by art, which was formed in the surrounding
rocks, and thickly sheltered by trees. Here the nuns
repaired in the afternoon, in summer, to work and hold
their conference.
An ascent of rude stone steps formerly led to the
top of this amphitheatre, which was surmounted by a
stone cross, from whence paths diverged through the
woods up the hill, in various directions. The nuns sat
to work on stone benches below. A few vestiges of the
stone seats, and of the cross, yet remain.
We only saw this from the side of the stream on
which we stood; but we did not go to it, as there was
no bridge on which we could cross.
Having gained the utmost attainable verge of the site
of the monastic enclosure, we determined, as we had
entered on the right side, to return by the left, that we
might see as much as possible.

337
* We accordingly varied our course, and after cross
ing a considerable space, we came to a long range of
low arcades, extending to a considerable depth, under a
lofty platform above. These were so grown over with
brush-wood and forest trees, and so festooned with
clematis and other creeping plants, that I at first
took them for natural cavities in a ledge of lime-stone
rock ; but on consulting the map, I found them to be the
arches supporting the terrace of Madame la Duchesse
de Longueville's garden.
* The Hotel Longueville occupied the angle formed by tbe
north and east walls of enclosure, extending from thence paral
lel with the grand entrance court to the church. The access
was from tbe exterior, on tbe border of the Chevreuse road, by
a large Gothic gateway, corresponding pretty nearly with the
gi^nd entrance door of the monastery, at the opposite end of
the same, the north wall. The establishment of the Duchesstt
of Longueville consisted of a large entrance court, surrounded
by her stables and oflSces, and an inner court, or turfed lawn,
on the left of which washer palace, a handsome building, with
two wings for her attendants. Adjoining was a very elegant
but small house, belonging to her friend, Madame des Vertus :
and in the angle formed by the juncture of ber house vrith that
of the duchesse, was a glazed covered way, extending across the
lawn to the tribuiie of 'these ladies, near the high altar of the
church of Port R-oyal. Behind their houses, as far as the onter
wall of enclosure, was a fine garden, a solitude or wilderness,
and a raised terrace, planted with a double avenue of tr^s, and
decorated with flower beds, which commanded a full view of
the monastic gardens, and that part of the enclosure belonging
to the nans. Z

338
The establishment of Madame de Longueville, oc
cupied the whole of the left side of Port Royal, as far
as the buildings extended.
The thick plantations, and trees at the foot of the
terrace, rendered the space just below, an agreeable
walk to the nuns; and the arcades running very deep
under it, and being furnished with seats, answered the
purposes of cells for meditation, to those in the garden
below. Near this place, oozing from a rocky bed, and en
tirely inclosed with venerable and aged trees, gushes a
cool and limpid fountain : it is called the fountain of
the M. Angelique j and close by its side is the remains
of the stone seat, which was her peculiar spot of re
tirement and of prayer.
This place, where the trees interweaving their
branches above, form a thick gloom, and where no
sound is heard but the gurgling of the vrater, was pecu
liarly striking.
From thence we continued coasting along under the
side of Madame de Longueville's terrace. The trees
and brush-wood, which, I conclude, once formed regular
avenues above and below it, now spread their branches,
hoary and rough, with grey lichens, in every rude and
fantastic form; and amidst the rubbish and weeds,
every gay garden-flower and shrub, that once de-
corat|^this spot, is yet seen running wild, and spread
ing, in uncultured and rich proftision, over the deso
lation. Myrtles, Ulacs, and roses, flourish amidst the briony.

339
clematis, brambles, and nettles ; the Portugal laurel
spreads over the ruined archways; and thedeUcate, but
frail blossom of the gum cistus, scatters its snowy
showers amidst the dark ivy, or the rough fern and
maiden hair, that streams from the creviced stone
work, or yet upholds the tottering walls.
As it was in the month of September we visited Port
Royal, these flowers were not then all in blossom ; but
we gathered several twigs of the lilacs, and of the rose
trees. On reaching the entrance of the Hotel Longueville,
we came out through the great gate, into the Chevreuse
road, where we had ordered our carriage and valet de
place to meet us. Instead, however, of ascending the
hill to Les Granges, we determined to return on foot,
by the outside wall of the monastery, to examine the
towers built during the civil wars ; and then to go on, in
the carriage, to the church of St. Lambert, to visit the
place where the remains were interred after the general
exhumation. We accordingly set out, ordering the carriage to
follow us ; and Madame Methouard quitted us, to go
back to Les Granges, to prepare us a dinner against
our return.
Pursuing the Chevreuse road, from its entrance into
the valley of Port Royal, towards St. Lambert, we had,
on our left, the hills which immediately rose from the
deep hollow way, thickly wooded with forest trees.
The Spanish chesnut, beech, ash, and birch trees, wer«
z 2

340
peculiarly picturesque, from their age and the variety
and brightness of tints of their foliage.
We saw, amongst the woods, numbers of squirrels,
chasing each other round the trees, and leaping from
bough to bough ; and likewise partridges, rabbits, and
hares ; of which latter, we saw some about the ruins.
To our right hand, was the grand enclosure wall of
the monastery, flanked with its eight towers, built by
the recluses during the period of the civil war. They
must have been a perfect defence to the valley of Port
Royal, as they completely command the defile of en
trance. About half way I should suppose down the wall of
monastic enclosure, beyond the site of the buildings,
and some way dowp the g-arden, the valley opens to the
left ; and our road wound round the bases of the hills
into a cheerful country, gay with vineyards, and en
riched with woods. The road, after it here quits the
walls of Port Royal, is most beautiful. It is bordered
all the way, in the French style, with avenues of high
trees, which are so trained, as to rise into lofty colon
nades, leaving a clear view between the stems, (the
variety of whose tints are a great beauty,) and forming
a light and verdant canopy of shade above.
On our left arose the wooded hills, no longer pre
cipitous, as in the defile between them, but rising in a
long and gradual slope ; and on our right, the broad
brook which traverses the garden of Port Royal, wound
around their bases close by the road side.

341
I cannot describe the extreme beauty and luxuriance
of the vegetation. The wild roses, orchis, woodbines,
the long grass in full flower, the Pamassia Palustris,
with an innumerable quantity of other flowers, deco-
Tated the whole of the way ; and though each singly
are often met with in our own country, yet, both in
brightness of lints, in growth, in fragrance, and in
the lavish profusion with which they adorn every step,
the wild flowers here exceed every thing which is to be
met with, even in the most beautiful and sheltered
spots in the south of England.
Our road now took another turn to the right ; and
quitting the hills, strikes across the wide and cultivated
vale towards Chevreuse. The beauty of the bold sweep
which tbe road makes in this place,, is not to be de
scribed ; and the gay coloured dresses of the country
people and villagers, who are seen passing to and fro
between the tall stems of the trees, have a very Uvely
and pleasing effect.
On the gradual slope of ascent, on the opposite side
of the valley, a litUe to the left, out of the road to
Chevreuse, stands the little church of St. Lambert,
completely embosomed in trees.
Close to it on the left, as you enter the church-yard,
stands the house formerly occupied by the celebrated
Tillemont. It is placed like an English parsonage.
It is a neat stone country-house, with five windows in
a row in front, and a very pleasant garden.
The church of St. Lambert is any thing but mag
nificent. It is one of the smallest I ever saw. I should
imagine it to be, perhaps, about the size of Radipole

S42
church, near Weymouth ; or Charlecomb, near Bath.
It is situated about half way up the wide, sloping,
and cultured hill ; and I rather think the church-yard
itself, but if not, the spot conti^ous, commands a
cheerful view of all the narrow valley of Port Royal,
and of the river, or brook, for it is only about eighteen
feet wide.
The door being open, we entered the church, which
is remarkable for nothing but its shabbiness. We
found, however, by the high altar, another altar, which
was taken from Port Royal at the time of its demohtion.
Its construction is rude, and the figures are in bad
taste, and have been much mutilated during the times
of terror. After searching for some time amongst the
grass and nettles, with which the church-yard i« over
grown, we discovered the four stones which mark the
wide pit or grave in which were interred the mangled
remains of the saints of Port Royal.
Amongst the number of excellent persons whose
remains were cast here, in one general mass, Hamon
was particularly distinguished by talents and piety.
Hamon might be termed like St. Luke, at once the
evangelist and the physician of the disciples. Well
known both in the literary and professing world, by
his various productions, both on subjects of biblical
criticism, by his moral and spiritual essays, and by the
elegant Latinity and eloquence of the celebrated epi
taphs of Port Royal. He only devoted the hours stolen
from his repose to literary pursuits. The day was
spent in the gratuitous exercise of his profession of
physician, and in which he had attained the {irst

343
eminence, both in Paris, and in the estimation of the
court. His charity was so ardent, that he deprived
himself of fire, apd, comparatively speaking, of food,
in order to extend his bounties to the poor. For two
and twenty years, he subsisted on nothing but the
bran bread made for the dogs of Port Royal, and water,
in order to give away his daily portion of food.
He every day walked above twenty miles, without
having broken his fast, to visit the poor, carrying them
food and medicine with his own hands ; and in order
not to lose a moment, he always carried with him a
New Testament, which he had acquired the habit of
reading as he walked ; so that he was at once a phy
sician to the souls and bodies of his patients.
The recluse who has recorded his life, and composed
his epitaph, terminates it by observing, ** He entered
into eternal life the 22nd of February, 1687, aged 69,
occupied in the contemplation of the mercies of our
Lord, and with his heart and mind fixed on Christ,
tbe mediator between God and man.
A few extracts from one of M. Hamon's works,
" I'Expiieation du Cantique des Cantiques," are given in
the long note which terminates this volume.
I must here observe, that, remote as the little church
of St. Lambert appears, we were by no means the first
who visited it. Since the destruction of Port Royal, it
has always been esteemed a consecrated spot; and
during the summer season, the ruins of Port Royal
have constantly attracted numbers of visitors, from the
piety of the devout, or the curiositiy of the learned,

344
Port Royal is still held in such Veneration, that on
the second of November, (All Souls day,) and on the
twenty-ninth of October, (the anniversary of its dis
persion,) there are multitudes of persons who have
" la devotion" to visit this consecrated spot ; and many
of them make, what is termed, the pilgrimage of Port
Royal. That is, they take a regular tour, divided into
ten or twelve stations, of all the places most remarkable
as the scenes of the lives, or deaths, or burial places
of the Port Royalists ; and at each thej spend some
time in prayer, meditation, or other devotional ex
ercises. A book, indeed, is pubhshed, entitled, "Ma
nuel du Pelerinage de Port Royal" it was written by
the Abbe Gazagnes. This little volume begins by a
calendar of the deaths and places of burial of all the
Port Royalists. It then lays down the plan of the
stations, forming a complete guide to those, whom
curiosity or devotion may lead to take this little tour.
ft mentions for what each station is distinguished, and
then gives a ritual of psalms, prayers, or meditations,
which may he appropriately used at each. They are
generally most beautiful selections from Scripture, and
contain not only most pathetic anthems on the de
struction of Port Royal, but most striking prayers for
their persecutors.
Amongst these stations, which begin at Port Royal
DE Paris, and terminate at Port Royal des Champs,
are several places we visited ; as Port Royal de Paris,
where the M, Angelique and Suireau des Anges are
buried ; the church of St. Etienne du Mont, where Pascal

345
did lie ; and the church of St. Jacques du Hautpas,
where we visited the tomb of M. de St. Cyran, and saw
the chapel which, before the revolution, contained the
remains of Madame de Longueville.
Many other stations, however, are included in the
tour ; as Palaiseau, Magni, la Ferte Milon, and many
others ; so that the whole pilgrimage would probably
occupy about a week.
The country people, whose parents benefited by the
piety or charity of Port Royal, are particularly as
siduous and devout in visiting its ruins, and the com
mon grave of their benefactors at St. Lambert. We
were told, that both, in the October which com
pleted the century of its destruction, and on that of
the remarkably hard winter two years ago, many aged
people were seen kneeling, and some of them for
hours, with their white locks exposed to a pouring rain,
both amongst the ruins of Port Royal, and on the site
of the interment, in the church of St. Lambert.
Having completely satisfied our curiosity, we began
to feel the fatigue of walking several hours ; we therefore
got into the cai'riage which had followed us, and went
back to Les Granges,* where Madame Methouard had

* The following description of les Granges, is give^ by tlie
historians of Port Royal.
" On the height of Port Royal, between the north and west,
is a large farm called Les Granges, which is one of the dependen
cies of this Abbey. It was originally built simply as a farm. This
place consists of a large yard, containing about three acres. It

346
prepared us a very comfortable dinner in M. le Mai-
tre's room.
On our road from Port Royal to St. Lambert, I

had four large door- ways : one of which was the entrance from
the road, another opened into tbe garden, tbe third led to the
lake or river below, which was abundantly stocked with fish.
There was also another door for the vintage. A small door led
immediately down the steep to the Abbey church. The farm
yard of Les Granges was surrounded by various buildings. On
one side was the long range occupied by the recluses, and be
hind was their garden and orchar^. Another was occupied by
kitchens, store-bouses, granaries, stables for forty cows, and folds
for four hundred sheep ; likewise shops for smiths, wheel-wrights,
shoe-makers, also wine and cyder presses. Poultry-yards, hay
ricks, faggots, stacks, &c. ; and cyder cellars, capable of contain
ing eight hundred hogsheads. There is also accommodation for
a very considerable number of carts and waggons. Near the
garden was an orchard of five acres. In the centre, is a large
well, twenty-seven toises deep. The machinery contrived by
Pascal, enables achild of twelve years old, at once to draw up
and let down two buckets, one full, the other empty, each
capable of holding nine ordinary buckets full.
AU the land of the Abbey of Port Royal is thus valued :
three hundred and sixty acres of arable land, in one single
piece ou the north, twenty-seven acres in the valley, on which
is the site of tbe monastery, eight hundred acres of coppice
wood and timber, in one piece at tbe south and west, one
hundred acres of wood in the valley, twenty-five acres of the
same in the park of Vaumurier, and forty-five acres of meadow-
land in a piece ; in all, one thousand three hundred and fifty-two
acres. Port Royal had Seignorial rights, and held courts ef
" moienne et basse justice."

347
forgot to mention the Chateau of Vaumurier, the man
sion erected at Port Royal by the Duke and Duchess of
Luynes. He resided there a considerable time, col
lecting around him a society of the most pious and
learned ecclesiastics, the result of whose conferences
was the excellent translation of the New Testament,
known by the name of the Mons translation.
The Duke of Luynes, after the death of his first wife,
made a present of this chateau to Port Royal, where it
afterwards served as a house of reception to strangers
visiting the monastery. This edifice was destroyed by
the M. Angelique de St. Jean, who preferred demolish
ing it, rather than granting it to the Dauphin, who
wished to apply it to an unworthy purpose.
The ruins of this mansion yet remain. It was a
square house, surrounded in the time of the civil wars
with deep ditches, which yet remain ; all round their
high embslnkments, extend thick hedges of lilac, inter
mingled with vines running wild over them, and which
still produce excellent grapes. The kitchens and cellars
stilT exist, but we had no time to examine the ruins
closely. After dinner, Madame Methouard gave us an ex
cellent dessert of very fine fruit ; the most valuable part
of which, in our eyes, was a plate of pears from a tree
planted by Arnauld d'Andilli, and some peaches plant
ed by Pascal. Having finished our repast, we again
went out into the farm-yard of Les Granges, to see the
celebrated well dug in the midst of it under Pascal's
direction. This well is twenty-seven French toises in
depth ; and draws up the water, from the level of the

348
valley of Port Royal below. The curiosity consisted
in the machinery contrived by Pascal, and executed
unJer his direction; by which a child of ten years
old, could with the greatest facility, immediately draw
up a quantity of water equal to nine common
buckets. Pascal's well stands exactly in the middle of the farm
yard of Les Granges, just opposite the door of the
house ; but it is not discernible to those unacquainted
with it, because it has been completely surrounded by
piles of fire-wood, faggots, and hay-stacks. This has
been done to prevent accidents, as the Cossacks, during
their abode at Port Royal, broke down the wall, which
formerly guarded the top, — the machine for drawing
the water has ceased to exist for some years.
On one side of the farm-yard remains a sort of dis
mantled hovel, or seed-house, the remains of a cell
which Pascal used as a study, and where he was conti
nually accustomed to retire during his visits at Port
Royal, when he wished to be in perfect and uninter
rupted solitude.
We then visited the garden behind the house, which
was formerly that of the recluses. It is very spacious,
and surrounded by a high wall, and planted with
abundance of fruit trees. From space to space are
managed little green arbors, which served as places of
retirement and meditation to the tecluses during their
work. This place is something between a kitchen-garden
and an orchard.
Amongst the fruit trees, we ^aw several of a great

349
age, completely covered with moss and lichen, and of
which only a very few branches still bore any fruit.
These were planted by the hands of Arnauld d'Andilli.
Three of them only still bore fruit; but the others,
though completely withered, are left untouched, and
fenced round, out of respect to the memory of the
saints of Port Royal. " They are holy trees," said Ma
dame Methouard.
From the garden, we visited what was formerly the
orchard of the recluses, whence we took one farewell
view of the ruins of Port Royal.
Scarcely an hour after quitting the demolitions of
Port Royal, we again passed on our way back to
Paris, the palace of Versailles, now desolated like it,
where the decree for tbat demolition was signed. And
on the second day after we visited the spot of the bar
barous exhumations of Port Royal, we stood upon the
spot at Saint Denis, where the ashes of that sovereign
who ordered it, were torn from their long sepulture,
and with a like ferocity, scattered to the winds. A
just retribution from God ! but which does not lessen
the awful criminality of its brutal perpetrators amongst
men !
At the ruins of Port Royal, our reception was in
the adjacent seclusion of Le Maitre and Saci ; at the
desolated palace of Versailles, our inn was also an
adjoining appendage, — the house of Madame de Pom
padour. We will institute no comparison between the asso
ciations excited by the remains of the sanctuary of the

350
Pascals and the Tillemonts, and those of the superb
palace of that sovereign who destroyed it.
The saints who worshipped in the one, and the
sovereigns who amused themselves in the other, have
long since alike stood before the tribunal of the Supreme
Judge. The holy one, who is of purer eyes than to
behold iniquity ; buf who has declared, that " as is his
maj.esty, so is his mercy likewise."
The saints of Port Royal, and the sovereigns of
Versailles, are now equally passed off the brief stage of
mortality : both are alike numbered amongst things
that were. To each, the blandishment of affection or
adulation is past, and the severe integrity of history is
begun. To each, nothing now remains, but an unal
terable .sentence in eternity, and an indelibly fixed
reputation in time.
On both has equally passed the awful stamp of
Death. Death which unalterably pronounces on the re
putation on earth, as on the soul in the world of spirits,
that solemn sentence : " He that is unjust, let him be
unjust still; and he which is filthy, let him be filthy
still. He that is righteous, let him be righteous still ;
and he that is holy, let him be holy still."
Within almost the short distance of a walk, the
remains of the palace of Versailles, and of the monas
tery of Port Royal, present examples : the first of
which has often been cited as an instance of the mad
ness of the people ; and the latter as a monument of the
grinding and oppressive tyranny, by which that un
governable madness was at length provoked. To the

351
Christian spectator, both alike inculcate the same awful
lesson ; that absolute power, by whomsoever exercised,
when unsanctified by religion, is only a potent engine,
by which man out of the abundance of a corrupt and
unregenerate heart, does evil, and that continually.
Both the remains of the monastery of Port Royal,
and those of the palace of Versailles, are silent and
desolate : but the dismantled remains of the former are
crowded with the names of frequent visitors rudely
scratched ; texts of Scripture, and benedictory verses
meet the eye in every direction, peeping amongst
festoons of wild flowers ; and at the distance of a cen
tury, its remote path-ways are worn by the feet of
pilgrims, who still turn out of their way to view its
hallowed remains.
" Precious, in the sight of the Lfyrd, is the death of his
saints."
M. a. SCHIMMELPENNINCK.
Bristol,
December 30th, 1815.

£XTRAITS
DES .
ECRITS DE M. M. DE PORT ROYAL,
Sur la Necessite de la Foi en Jesus Christ pour etre sauve.-

RiEN de plus grand, de plus saint, de plus auguste dans
Jesus Christ, dans I'EgUse et dans la religion chretienne,
que le sacerdoce et le sacrifice de Jesus Christ. C'est
le chef d'oeuvre de la sagesse et de la bonte d'un Dieu
envers les hommes pecheurs : c'est I'objet de toutes les
promesses depuis le commencement du monde : c'est
la fin de toute la loi ancienne : c'est le sujet des desirs
et de I'attente de tous les justes qui ont vecu avant
I'incarnation du verbe : c'est le fondement de toutes nos
esperances : c'est le centre et le sanctuaire du culte
veritable, seul digne de la Majeste Divine, seul pro-
portionne aux besoins et aux devoirs de I'homme. Le
croiroit-on, a voir le pen d'idee que les Chrfetiens en
ont communement, I'abus qu'ils en font, le pen de
fruit qu'ils en retirent.'
Jesus Christ seul pouvoit offrir un sacrifice digne de
Dieu, et capable de reconcilier I'homme avec lui. II
2a

354
renouvelle, continue et acheve sur nos autels I'oblation
qu'il a faite de lui-meme a son Pere sur la croix, et
qu'il fait dans le sanctuaire celeste.
La rehgion veritable est un culte religieux rendu a
I'etre souverain et infini qui est Dieu ; et ce culte con-
siste principalement dans le sacrifice, comme 6tant
I'hommage supreme qui est du a Dieu, et qui n'est dft
qu'a lui, comme dit Saint Augustin ; " Sacrificium nemo
est qui audeat dicere deberi, nisi Deo soli." Aussi non-
seulement il n'y a jamais eu de religion sans sacrifice,
mais encore on n'a jamais offert de sacrifice, comme
dit encore Saint Augustin, qu'a celui qu'on croyoit ou
qu'on feignoit etre Dieu. Et le demon m^me, qui
vouloit se faire adorer dans I'univers a, la place du vrai
Dieu, ne s'est fait rendre les honneurs du sacrifice par
les idoldtres que parcequ'il savoit que le sacrifice est du
au vrai Dieu. Enfin Saint Augustin ne craint pas de
dire que ce culte de Dieu par le sacrifice est aussi ancien
que le monde, qu'il a commence dans le paradis ter-
restre, et que les deux premiers hommes etantdansle
paradis sans aucune tache du peche, s'offroient a Dieu
comme des victimes tr^s pures.
Ce culte n'a jamais ete interrompu meme depuis le
peche. Les deux premiers enfans d'Adam, Cain et
Abel, ont offert des sacrifices, et ont appris d leurs
descendans A rendre a Dieu cet hommage souverain
que la creature doit i son Createur. Mais la malice
des hommes croissant dans le monde, d mesure que le
genre humain se multiplioit, et I'univers entier n'etant
presque plus qu'un temple d'idoles ou tout etoit'Dieu

355
except^ Dieu mSme, et ou le demon faisoit adorer les
passions memes les plus detestables ; Dieu pour ruiner
peu-a-peu ces sacrileges et ces abominations, manifesta
la grandeur de son nom d un peuple choisi, lui pres-
crivit lui-m^me un culte exterieur et sensible, et uue
forme de sacrifices conforme au plan qu'il s'etoit fait
pour disposer les hommes a lui rendre dans la suite des
tems une adoration spirituelle, vraiment digne de sa
saintete, et a lui offrir un sacrifice capable de lui plaire,
et de les rendre eux-memes agreables a ses yeux.
Car toutes ces ceremonies, cette multitude de vic
times, et ces oblations inutiles au salut, n'etoient que des
crayons, des figures, despropheties, et comme des gages
de I'accomplissement futur des promesses que Dieu avoit
faites a I'homme pecheur, de lui donner un Pretre et un
sacrifice nouveau, et une victime sainte, seule capable
d'appaiser sa colore, de satisfaire pleiuement d sa justice,
de reparer le desordre que le peche avoit fait dans le
monde, et de reimir I'homme avec Dieu. Ainsi depuis
le peche d'Adam jusqu'a la consummation des siecles,
non seulement il n'y a jamais eu, mais il n'y aura ja
mais, qu'une vraie victime expiatrice des peches des
hommes, et agreable a Dieu par elle-meme. Et si
avant que ce grand Pretre eut paru dans le monde, en
s'offrant lui-meme pour victime, on a offert des ani-
maux, ces sacrifices n'etoient ni commandes, ni ac-
ceptes qu'autant qu'ils promettoient, qu'ils predisoient,
et qu'ils representoient cet unique et singulier sacrifice,
par lequel Dieu devoit etre appaise : ou plutot ils ne
faisoient qu'un seul sacrifice avec celui de Jesus Christ,
2 a2

356
qui pour cela est appele I'agneau immole des la crea''
tion du monde, en figures, en myslere, en representa
tion, et comme en effigie.
Aussi Dieu dit-il lui-mSme d son peuple, par ses pro-
phetes, que ces sacrifices, etla multitude des victimes qu'on
lui egorge dans son temple, le d^goutent et lui deplaisent,
et qu'il n'a pas besoin de leurs encens ni du sang des boucs
et des taureaux. Et Jesus Christ lui-meme, en entrant
dans le monde, dit a son Pere; selon I'Apotre : " Vous
n'avez point voulu d'hostie ni d' oblation ; mais voug
m'avez forme un corps, afin que je fiisse moi-meme
votre victime. Vous n'avez point agree les holocaustes
et les sacrifices pour le peche. Alors j'ai dit, me voici, je
viens, mou Dieu, selon qu'il est ecrit de moi dans le livre,
pour faire votre volonte." En effet, Dieu, qui est esprit
et vef ite, pourroit-il se plaire a des sacrifices charnels et
figuratifs, et peut-il agreer que ce qui peut I'adorer et
I'aimer d'une manidre digne de lui ? II n'y avoit done
que Jesus Christ qui put, a proprement parler, remplir
le premier devoir de la creature envers Dieu, et le pre
mier acte de rehgion, qui est le sacrifice.
L'homme qui etoit seul capable de lui rendre sur la
terre un hommage libre, raisonnable et volontaire, et
qui etoit oblige de s'offrir a Dieu en qualite de victime,
etant devenue par le peche impur et comme irregulier,
n'auroit en s'immolant soi-mfeme jamais offert que des
dons souilles, et indignes de la majeste de Dieu. Les
animaux ne pouvoient pas non-plus tenir sa place, ni
suppleer a son defaut. Comme le p^che des hommes
avoit infecte toutes les creatures, et etendu sur elles la

357
malediction, il n'y avoit plus dans le monde ni pr&tres
ni victimes qui fussent dignes de Dieu. Et I'homme
demeuroit charge d'anatheme sans pouvoir se reconci
lier avec son createur,' lui rendre I'honneur qui lui etoit
du, et reparer son ingratitude et sa desobeissance.
C'est pourquoi Dieu, qui ne pouvoit s'adorer lui-
meme, et qui ne peut neanmoins etre dignement adore
que par lui-meme, a etabli par I'incarnation de son
verbe, le moyen ineffable de recevoir un culte et une
adoration souveraine, et uu sacrifice d'une dignite in-
finie, et d'avoir dans son propre sein de quoi se faire
rendre un hommage cternel, et digne en toute mani^re
de sa grandeur; puisqu'en Jesus Christ, le Prfetre,
la victime, le temple et I'autel, le feu du sacrifice
et le sacrifice mSme, sont aussi adorable que celui
a qui le sacrifice est offert. Et comme ce sacrifice
ne devoit pas etre seulement un hommage de religion
envers Dieu, mais un sacrifice de propitiation et de re
demption pour I'homme, ce meme Pretre et cette
meme victime est Dieu et homme tout ensemble, pour
pouvoir offrir a Dieu avec lui tous les hommes comme
ses freres dans I'unit* d'une meme nature, et comme les
membres de son corps.
Toutes ces sublimes verites nous ont ete enseignees par
I'Apotre Saint Paul, et sont consignees dans I'Epitre
aux Hebreux, oil il est particulierement occupe a relever
le sacerdoce et le sacrifice de Jesus Christ. Nous y
appercevons que le sacerdoce et les sacrifices Levitiques
devant etre abolis, a cause de leurs inutilites et de leur
impuissance d purifier leg coeurs et a conduire ceux qui

358
s'en servoient d la veritable justice, il nous falloit un
autre Pretre selon I'ordre et la resSemblance de Mel-
chisedeck, pour etre le mediateurd'une nouvelle alliance,
et de la reconciliation des hommes aVec Dieu : que
c'est ce qui a ete accompli parfaitement sur la croix, ou
Jesus Chirst s'est offert lui-meme a Dieu par I'esprit
eternel comme une victime tres sainte, pour expier les
iniquites, et effacer les peches de plusieurs : mais que
Jesus Christ ayant fait le premier usage de son sacerdoce
sur la croix, il I'a consomme par son entree dans le ciel;
et que ce n'est que dans le ciel et par I'etat de sa vie
glorieuse et immortelle, qu'il est entre pour toujours
en possession de ce sacerdoce eternel, selon I'ordre de
Melchisedeck. Le sacerdoce et le sacrifice de Jesus Christ n'a done
pas fini, comme remarq'ue Saint Paul, par sa mort comme
celui' des autres Pretres ; mais ayant et6 consomme dans
la gloire, il est devenu I'auteur du salut eternel pour tous
ceux qui lui obeissent. Ainsi c'est proprement par le
mystere de sa resurrection et de son ascension, qu'il a
ete appele et declare parfait Pontiffe, selon I'ordre de
Melchisedeck, c'est-d-dire, Pretre eternel.'*
Ce n'est point avoir la vertu de I'esperance chretienne,
que de croire en general que Dieu sauvera ses elus sans
oser croire etre de ce nombre, et de se laisser agiter sans
fin de doutes et d'inquietudes centre I'esperance de son
salut. Saint Bernard veut meme que chacun esp^re
• Instructions Chr^tiennes pour les Religienses de Port Royal,
tom. iii. pp. 425, 426, 427, 428, 429, 430J 431.

359
que c'est pour lui en particulier que Dieu a prepare les
biens eternels destines i ceux qui le servent. Et voici
comme il montre la liaison et I'enchainement des trois
vertus theologales, la foi, I'esperance, et la charile. La
foi dit dans nous : je crois que Dieu a prepare des biens
ineffables d tous les fideles. Voila I'objet de la foi —
L'esperance dit dans nous : ces grands biens que Dieu
reserve a ses fideles, sont pour moi, et Dieu me les re
serve. La charite dit : je cours dSns sa voie de toutes
mes forces, afin de les acquerir.
Ces paroles nous font voir qu'il ne suffit pas pour
avoir I'esperance chretienne, de croire en general que
Dieu a prepare de grands biens pour tous ses fideles ;
car c'est 13 I'objet de la foi, et non de I'esperance;
maisf ce qu'ajoute I'esperance i la foi, c'est qu'elle rend
particuliere une proposition qui ^toit generale, et qu'elle
S^applique a elle-meme les promesses de Dieu, en
disant: Dieu me reserve ces grand biens.
En efifet, si I'esperance ne nous appliquoit ainsi en
particulier les promesses generales de Dieu, notre es-
perance ne seroit jamais ferme, mais toujours flottante
et incertaine. Et neanmoins I'Ecriture- nous enseigne
le contraire, puisqu'elle attribue la principale fermete
de I'ame d I'esperance ; comme lorsque Saint Paul dit :
Si vous demeurez fermes dans la foi, et immobiles dans
I'esperance : et en un autre endroit, si vous conservez
votre confiance et votre esperance ferme jusqu'ii la fin.
Et dans I'Epitre aux Hebreux, il appelle I'esperance
I'ancre de I'ame. Nous avons, dit-il, une consolation tres
forte, ayant recours a notre esperance, qui est ferme et

360
assuree, et qui sert d'ancre i notre ame pour I'affermir.
L'esperance ne doit done pas fetre flottante, puisque son
effet, selon Saint Paul, est d'empecher que le vaisseau
de I'ame ne soit flottant, comme I'ancre arrete le
navire et le tient ferme entre I'agitation des flots.
En effet, I'ame chr6tienne esp^re tr^s fermement,
mais humblement, et avec crainte : parceque d'une
part elle S9ait qu'elle a ete conjue dans le peche, quelk
a ajoute beaucoup d' autres peches i ce premier, qu'elle a
une foiblesse extreme, qu'elle reconnoit tres malles graces
de Dieu, qu'elle n'en use pas comme elle devroit, et enfin
tout ce que chacun sent dans son coeur de reproches.
Voild un suje^ continuel de crainte et d'humilite. D'une
autre part, le Chretien se dit i lui-mlme : " II est vrai, je
suis un abime de pecb4 de foiblesse et de misere ;
mais Dieu m'a donne sa foi : il m'a fait naitre dans
son eglise; il me donne le ddsir de le servir; au moins
il me commande d'esperer en lui en quelque etat que
je puisse etre. Pourquoi done n'espererois-je pas ? Si
mon salut est fonde sur mes merites et sur ma force, j'ai
sujet de perdre toute esperance ; mais s'il est fonde sur
la misericorde du Pere qui est infinie, sur le sang du fils
de Dieu qui n'a point de prix, sur la vertu du saint
esprit qui est invincible, il faut renoncer d tous ces
principes de la foi, et desobeir formellement a Dieu,
pour ne pas vouloir esperer en sa bont6, lorsqu'il me
le commande."'*

* Instnictions Cbret. tom. i, pp, 28, 29, 31.

361
Jesus Christ durant toute sa vie, comme il paroit par
ks Pseaumes, s'est considere devant son Pere comme
charges des pech6s de tout le monde. II s'etoit revetu de
tous nos crimes, afin de nous revfetir ensuite de sa jus-
lice ; et il avoit toujours devant les yeux I'exces horrible
de notre folic, qu'il consideroit comme la sienne : " Vous
sgavez combien ma folic est extreme." II ressentoit
toujours le poids de nos peches, qu'il regardoit comme
les siens : non pas parcequ'il en 6toit coupable, mais
parcequ'il vouloit nous en rendre innocens, en les la-
vant de son sang. " Mes peches sont cause que le
salut est bien eloigne de moi." Voila la douceur et la
modestie de l'agneau ; voild son humiUte. La douceur
et I'humilite des saints venoit de la connoissance de leur
souillure, et de Jeur propre infection. L'agneau etoit
sans tache, mais il avoit prit sur lui toutes les notres :
d'ou vient qu'il se regardoit comme un lepreux : " II
nous a paru comme un homme couvert de lepre." —
Chaque saint en particulier s'est humilie pour ses
peches : et l'agneau s'est humilie pour les peches de
tous les saints, et c'est ce qui les a rendus saints. lis
ne se seroient pas humilies ensuite, s'il ne s'etoit humilie
pour eux. Enfin l'agneau n'a 6te les p6ches du monde
qu'en s'humiliaut, et en souffrant pour tout le monde.'*
Tout le monde voit que 1' Eglise ajoute ces mots d
toutes ses prieres : " Par Jesus Christ notre Seigneur;"
et il y en a beaucoup qui sgavent par coeur ce passage

* Ilamoa Cantique des Cantiques, torn. i. pp, S&J^ 370.

36a
celebre de Saint Augustin : " L' Oraison qui ne se fait
point au nom de Jesus Christ, non seulement n'efface
pas le peche, mais devient elle-meme peche." Mais il
y en a pen qui comprennent bien cette verite, et qui
soient assez penetres de la dependance intime que nous
avons de Jesus Christ dans toutes nos actions, et parti
culierement dans nos prieres.
Cette dependance est fondee sur la qualite d'unique
Mediateur, qui convient a Jesus Christ d'une mani^re
si singuliere, que quoique par une expression que les
Peres autorisent, on donne le titre de Mediateur a
d'autreS qu'd Jesus Christ, comme d la Vierge et aux
saints du Ciel, ce n'est point neanmoins au meme sens
qu'a Jesus Christ.
S'i Is sont Mediateurs d^ intercession, iJs ne sont point
Mediateurs de tedemption. La force meme de leur
intercession est fondee sur le merite de Jesus Christ.
Et s'ils prient comme principaux membres du corps de
Jesus Christ, c'est toujours en employant, pour obtenir
ce qu'ils demandent, le merite de leur chef. Car
I'homme par le p6che est devewu incapable d'avoir un
commerce immediat avec Dieu : il est indigne de se
presenter devant lui : il est incapable d'en rien obtenir.
La grace meme de la justification, quelque venerable,
reelle et interieure qu'elle soit, ne retablit point les
hommes dans le droit de s'approcher de Dieu par eux
memes, et de lui demander quelque chose en leur nom,
en s'appuyant sur leurs propres merites.
Car si cette grace les justifie, elle les justifie comme
membres du corps de Jesus Christ, ou plutot elle les y

363
incorpore. C'est une grace essentiellement dependante
du chef qui est Jesus Christ, qui decoule de lui, qui
nous est donnee en lui et par lui, comme d ses membres.
Sitot que nous voudrons subsister separement de lui, et
nous presenter d Dieu sans noire Chef, nous n'agirons
plus comme membres de ce corps divin, et nous serons
indubitablement rejettes de Dieu.
Dieu ne nous a pas elus en nous regardant immedi-
atement en nous memes. II nous a elus en Jesus Christ;
c'est-d-dire qu' il a voulu que Jesus Christ fut auteur
de notre salut ; et que nous la dussions d ses merites.
II ne nous accorde pas aussi ses graces en nous con-
siderant en nous memes, mais en nous considerant en
son fils.
II ne nous vivifie pas cn nous memes, et en nous
regardant separement, mais il nous vivifie en Jesus
Christ. C'est en lui, dit encore l'Ap6tre, que nous avons la
redemption par son sang, et la remission des peches.
Cette totalite de graces renfermee sous le nom de
redemption, s'obtient par les merites de Jesus Christ ;
c'est-d-dire que c'est lui qui I'a meritee par I'oblation
de son sang, de soli corps, et de tout lui-mfime a Dieu ;
oblation qui n'a point comment^ d la croix, mais aa
premier instant de 1' incarnation, et qui n'a pas fini d
la croix, mais qui continue dans le Ciel, et ne cessera
jamais dans toute I'eternite.
C'est par cette oblation que Jesus Christ a fait* de
lui-meme, et particUli^fement de sa mort pour son
eghse, qu'il est Pretre eternel. C'est par elk qu'il Ta

364
sanctifiee pleinement pour I'eternite. C'est par elle
qu'il prie pour nous comme notre Pretre.
II n'y a done point a esperer de sanctification, de
grace, de delivrance, qu'en nous unissant a cette
priere, et d cette oblation de Jesus Christ ; en employ
ant aupres de Dieu la victime meme que Jesus Christ
lui a offerte, et I'amour avec lequel il la lui offre ; en
nous fondant sur «e5 merites, et non sur les notres; sur
sa charite, et non sur la notre; sur le prix de son sang,
et non sur le prix de nos oeuvres separees des siennes.
Si nous pouvions obtenir quelque grace de Dieu inde-
pendamment de Jesus Christ, et sans rapport a lui,
cette grace ne decouleroit pas de lui comme de notre
Chef Et ainsi il ne seroit pas vrai, comme dit I'Apotre,
que c'est lui qui fournit a tous ses membres par une
vertue secrette ce qui est proportionne a chacun.
Peut-etre que c'est faute d'etre bien louche de ces
verites, que Ton obtient si peu de chose de Dieu. On
s'approche avec hardiesse de Dieu comme si nous en
etions dignes, et si nos prieres pouvoient ^tre revues de
lui par elles-memes, et sans rapport d Jesus Christ. On
borne I'olfice de Mediateur d ce qu' il a fait sur la
croix, et en ne songe pas qu'il n'a point cesse de
I'Stre, et qu'il fait continuellement cet office, devant
son Pere. On borne I'effet de la croix et des merites
de Jesus Christ d la seule remission des peches, et a
la justification ; et on ne pense point que cet effet
s'etend d tout, et comprend toutes les graces que nous
pouvons esperer ; que le prix en est dejd paye, et qu' il
n'y a plus qu'd nous I'appliquer, en nous unissant

565
^troitement a Jesus Christ. Nous voudrions en quelque
sorte monter au Ciel sans lui, quoiqu'il soit dit, que
personne ne monte au Ciel que celui qui est descendti
du Ciel. Et ainsi afin d'y elever nos corps par la re
surrection, etnos ames par la priere, il y faut monter
comme faisant partie de son corps, comme etant
membres de celui qui doit y elever la troupe des captifs
qu' il a conquise par son sang.*
" Et qu'etant enracine et fonde dans la charite,
vous puissiez comprendre avec tous les saints, quelle est
la largeur, la longueur, la hauteur et la profondeur de ce
mystere." On peut dire que celui-ld en comprend la
longueur, qui sgait que nul depuis le commencement du
monde jusqu'a la fin n'a ete et ne sera justifie que par
la croix et la passion du Fils de £>icu j <juc celui-lA en
, comprend la largeur, qui sgait que I'Eglise repandue
par toute la terre est sortie du cote de Jesus Christ
mourant en la croix ; que celui-ld en comprend la hau
teur, qui considere la sublimite et I'excellence de la
gloire celeste, d laquelle nous parvenous par I'humilite
et la bassesse de la croix de Jesus Christ; et qu'enfin
celui-la en comprend la profondeur, qui consid6rant le
secret de I'election divine, s'ecrie avec I'apotre : " O
profondeur des richesses de la sagesse de Dieu !"f
La mort et la resurrection de Jesus Christ sont le
fondement de la religion. C'est pourquoi le sacrifice

* Nicole sur la Priere, tom i. pp. 319, 320, 321, 3S2, 323,
324, 325.
t Tourneux Ann^e Chretienne, torn. x. pp. 94, 96.

366
de I'Eglise en est une commemoration continuelle ; le
Fjls de Dieu y etant personnellement comme mort en
figure, et ressuscite en effet pour nous communiquer
les effets de ces deux mysteres, dont I'un a paye le prix
de notre dehvrance, et I'autre nous applique le fruit de
notre redemption, par I'infusion de son Esprit qui nous
tire de la vie, des sens, et des inclinations humaines et
corrompues, qui est une mort, pour nous faire vivre de
la vie de Jesus Christ ressuscite.*
La grace de Dieu nous rendra forts, puisqu' il fera sa
gloire de notre salut, puisque notre salut est le prix de
sa mort, et qu'il achevera en nous I'ouvrage de notre
sanctification, que son Esprit saint y a commence.
A comparer la vie des Chretiens avec ces verites de
Jesus Christ, il semble, ou que leur vie sont une extra
vagance, ou que ces verites sont des mensonges. Et
cependant cette foi est vrai comme Dieu, et quiconque
n'en vit pas est mort devant Dieu.f
Je vous souhaite, Madame, la joie et la paix du Saint
Esprit, et une humble et tres ferme confiance au prix
infini du sang de Jesus Christ. Je suis en lui avec une
sinc^rite pleine de respect, le 13 Avril, 1680.
Le Maitre De Sacy.J
* De Sary Lettres Chretienne, torn. i. Lettre lix. p. 189.
f Lettre cxix. pp. 425, 426.
t Ibid, Lettre cvi. p. 375.

367

PRIERE A JESUS CHRIST,
Mort et ressuscite.
Christ, homme de douleurs ; Dieu, mais Dieu mort pour
nous.
Rends nous par ton Esprit ton joug aimable et doux.
Que notre ame humble en toi, te suivant dans ta voie,
Souffre avec patience, avec force, avec joie;
Qu'immolant notre orgueil au pied de ce saint bois.
Nous goutions le bonheur d'avoir part d ta croix ;
Et sauve, en nous sauvant, le fruit de ta victoire,
Le prix de ta mort sainte, et le sceau de ta gloire.
Laisse d Dieu I'avenir, impose un promt silence
Aux soins precipites del'humaine prudence.
La foi vit jour d jour, et moment d moment,
Elle hait du coeur vain I'aveugle empressement.
La seule eternite toujours presente et stable,
L'occupant de Dieu seul, rend sa paix immuable.
Junge cojrtuum ceternitati Dei : et cum illo atemus et
vnmutahilis eris. Augustinus.*

* De Sacy Lettres Cbretiennes et Spirituelles, torn. i. pp.
454, 455.

56$

J'ai cru qu'il feroit peut-Hre plaiiir au lecieur, de pouvoir comparer
les dogmes du Javsinisme sur la grace efficace, avec ceux des Cal-
vinistes: c'est pourquoi j'inslre idleur explication dee cinq propo
sitions du Pere Comet, et quelques extraits de Nicole sur la grace et
la predestination.
Marie Anne Schimmelfenninck.

LES CINQ PROPOSITIONS,
Dans le sens que nous * les entendons et que nous le«
defendons. IfREHIERE.
OuELauEs commandemens de Dieu sont impossible,
a quelques justes qui veulent et qui s'efforcent foible-
ment et imparfaitement, selon I'etendue des forces qu'ils
ont en eux, lesquelles sont petites et foibles. C'est-a-dire
qu'etant destitues du secours efficace qui est n^cegsaire
pour vouloir pleinement et pour faire ces commande
mens, ils leur sont impossibles, selon cette possibilite pro-
chaine et complette, dont la privation les mets en etat
de ne pouvoir effectivement accomplir ces commande
mens. Et ils manquent de la grace efficace, par la
quelle il est besoin que ces commandemens leur devien-

' C'est-a dire les Jansfnistes.

369
nent prochainement et enti^rement possibles: ou bien
ils sont di^pourvus de ce secours special, sans lequel
I'homme ja^ifi;e, comme dit le Concile de Trente, ne
sgauroit perseverer dans la justice qu'il a regu; c'est-d-
dire dans ^observation des commandemens de Dieu.
SECONDE.
On ne resiste jamais a la grace de Jesus Christ, qui
est precisement necessaire pour chaque oeuvre de
piete. C*e.st-d-dire, elle n'est jamais frustree de I'effet
pour lequel Dieu la donne effectivement.
TROISIEME.
Pour meriter et demeriter dans I'etat de la nature
corrompue, il n'est poini ic^uJo en I'homme une liberte
qui I'exempte d'une infallibilite et d'une certitude ne
cessaire ; mais il suffit qu'il ait une liberte qui le delivre
de la contrainte, et qui soit accompagnee du jugeinent
et de I'exercice de la raison. Si I'on considere precise
ment I'essence de la liberte et du merite, quoiqu'd raison
de I'etat oii nous sommes en cette vie, notre ame se
trouve toujours dans cette indifference par laquelle la
volonte, lors-meme qu'elle est conduite et gouvernee par
la grace, prochainement necessaire et efficace par elle
mSme, peut ne vouloir pas, cela est toutefois en telle
sorte qu'il n'arrfve jamais qu'elle ne veuiHe pas, lors-
qu'edte est actuellement secourue de cette grace.
QUATRIEME.
Les Demi-Pelagiens admettoient la necessite de la
2 B

370
grace prevenante et interieure pour commencer toUtes'
les actions, meme pour le commencement, de la foi; et
leurs sentimens etoient heretiques en ce qu'ils voqloient
que cette grace fut telle que la volonte lui obeit ou;la
rejetat comme il lui plaisoit; c'est-a-dire, que cette
grace ne fut pas efficace. CINQUIEME.
C'est parler en Demi-Pelagien de dire que Jesus
Christ est mort pour tous les hommes en particulier,
sans en excepter un seul, en sorte que la grace neces
saire au salut soit presentee a tous, sans exception de
personne, par sa mort, et qu'il depende du mouvement
et de la puissance de la volonte d'acquerer ce salut par
cette grace generale, sans le secours d'une autre grace
efficace por cl!c-meme. — Besogne, tom. vi. pp. 2Si to
390. Dom Clemencet, tom. iv. pp.' 521 to 52^.

Extraits de Nicole sur le Symbole, Livre de la
Grace et de la Predestination.
DE LA PREDESTINATION.
Demande. — ^^Que signifie le mot de Predestination ?
Reponse.—\\ signifie, selon Saint .^ugustin, generale
ment le decret que Dieu a forme de toute eternite, de
faire certaines choses dans le temps, a I'egard des cr6a-

371
•tures raisonnables. Ainsi la predestination a pour
objet toutes les (Euvres de Dieu, tant i I'egard des me-
chans, qu'd I'egard des bons ; tant d I'^gard des moyens,
que de la fin. Neanmoins ce terme se prend aussi
quelquefois comme oppose a celui de reprobation, et
en cette maniere il ne regarde que les elus, et signifie
la meme chose que ce que I'Ecriture appelle election,-
dilection, vocation selon le decret. C'est en ce sens que
Saint Augustin le definit : " La prescience, ou la prepara
tion des bienfaits de Dieu, par lesquels tous ceux qui sont
delivres, sont ir.es certainement delivres."
^ D. — Est-ce une question forte importante, de S9avoir
si la predestination a la gloire, precede ou suit la previ
sion des merites ?
E.— Cette question peut etre impurianto ou ne I'etre
pas, selon I'idee que Ton a de la disposition de Dieu, S
I'egard de ceux d qui il donne la grace, et selon la na
ture de la grace : car si I'on avoue, comme font quel
ques Theologiens, que par un amour gratuit et particu
lier, Dieu destine d certains d'entre les hommes, des
graces qui ont infailliblement leur effet, et qui les con-
duisent certainement au salut, lesquelles il ne destine
point aux autres, c'est' alors une question peu impor
tante de s9avoir si cette destination des moyens infail-
libles et certains, precede ou suit le decret de donner la
gloire a ces memes personnes, puisqu'en toutes ces deux
manieres I'on doit attribuer le salut d la preferencerque
Dieu a faite de ceux qu'il choisit, d ceux qu'il ne choisit
pas. Mais cette mSme question est forte importante, si
I'op suppose que Dieu dans le decret eternel, touchant
3 B 2

372
la distribution de ces graces, n'a fait aucun choixdes-
hommes, qu'il n'a resolu d'en donner i personne qui
ayent un effet certain et infaillible, mais de presenter d'
tous une grace indifferente et ind6t€rminee, et que ce
n'est qu'ensuite de la prevision du bon et du mauvais^
usage que les hommes feront de cette grace commune,
qu'il aime plus les uns que les autres, et qu'il destine les
uns a la gloire eternelle, et les autres aux aupplices
eternels. D.-^Pourquoi cette question est^elle importante ?
R. — Parcequ'il s'agit de s^avoir si c'«st la volonte
de Dieu, ou celle .des hommes, qui est la cause dti salut
de ceux qui seronit sauves ; si c'est eux-m^mes qui se
distinguent des reprouv6s, ou si c'est la grace de Dieu
qui Jea en e$parc. -Or foBlligation qu'ils ont A Bieu
6tant fort dilFerente, selon I'une ou I'autre .de ces deu^
opinions, il ,est important de sgavoir edle qui est veri
table, de peur de ravir a Dieu une partie de sa gloire, €t
de la recoanoissaneie qui lui est due.-^Mce/e swr le
^bale, tom. i. pp. 233, 234, 235.

PREDESTINATION GRATUITE.
Demande. — En qvioi consiste le dogme de la -pfedesti?
nation gratuile ?
iieponse. — II consiste d ereire que Dieu de toute Eter
nite a choisi entre les hommes cwrumpus par le pech^,
et qu'il pouvoit damner justement un certain nombre

373
d'hommes, auxquels, par tme pMre miserioorde, ii s
r«solu dedonner le royaume du ciel, et de les. en Deadre
dignes par des graces .qui les delivtrent infailliblement
de leurs peches, et les.conditisent a la gloire qui leur est
promise et prfeparee. .
D. — La de^ination que Dieu fait aux 61us de la gloire^
ne precede-t-elle -point, selon notre maniere de conce-
voir, la pr6paration des moyens ?
R. — II est peu important de sgavoir s'il faut mettre
quelque ordre entre ces Secrets 4le Dieu, en concevant
qu'il prepare les moyens aux elns, ensuite de ce qu'il leur
a ^destine la gloire ; om s'il »e vatit pas mJeux conoevoir
ces deux d6creits sans subordination, eA comme ne
faisant qu'un seul decret de Dieu, qui destine la gloire
aux elus, non simpkment, mais p.u, aMstains moyens.
L'essentiel de cette doctrine consiste uniquement A
croire que Dieu dans ce choix eternell .qu'il a fait des
61us,' qui les separe des reprouves, et qui leur destine la
gloire et la grace, n'a point eu 4gard d aueun merite
qu'il ait prevu en eux, par lequel ils fussent plus dignes
de ce choix que les reprouves ; mais qu'il a fait par sa
seule volonte cette •effroya:ble difference entre les uns et
les autres, en destinant le salut aux elus, sans qu'ils le
meritassent plus que les reprouves, et en ne le destinant
pas aux reprottv«s, quoiqu'ils n'en fossent pas plus in
dignes que les elus.
D. — Dieu n'a-t41 point eu quelque raison secrete
dans le choix qu*il a- fait des uns plutot que les autres f
R. — Saint Augustin croit qu'il en a eu quelqu'une,
pjjis(ju'il enseigne que nous sfaurons quelque jouT !«

374
raison de ce choix : mais cette raison ne consiste point
dans le merite des elus au dessus des reprouves ; puis
que ces merites sont I'effet de leur election, et non pas
le fondement. Dieu ne voit dans les hommes, availt
qu'il les choisisse, que de I'indignite ; et s'il les rend
ensuite dignes de la gloire eternelle, c'est par une grace
qu'ils n'ont en aucune sorte merite. — Nicole sur le S^ott
bole, tom, i. pp. 240, 241, 242.

MOYENS PAR LESQUELS DIEU ACCOMPLIT LES
DECRETS DE LA PREDESTINATION.
Demarerfe.^^C.Qmnw"* ^'^" P^°*^"re -t-il la gloire a ce ux
a qui il I'a destinee ?
Reponse. — II la leur procure par des moyens certains
et infaillibles, que Saint Augustin decrit en detail par
ces paroles : " II est indubitable," dit il, " d I'egard de
tous ceux qui ont ete separes de la damnation originelle
par le bienfait de la grace, que Dieu procure qu' ils en^
tendent I'Evangile, qu'ils y croyent apres I'avoir enten-
du, et qu'ils perseverent jusqu'd la fin dans la foi, qui,
opere par I'amour ; et que s'ils s'ecartent du droit che-r
min, ils y soient ramenes par les avertissemens :" et Dieu
ne manque jamais d'operer toutes ces choses dans ceux
qu'il a fait vases de misericorde, et qu'il a elus dans son
Eils avant la creation du monde, par une election de
grace: elle ne se fait pas en vue des merites; antrement
la grace ne seroit plus grace.

375
Dieii procure sa gloire~ en delivrant ses elus'de fous
dangers, en les soutenant dans toutes les tentations, et
&isant que tout leur reussisse d bien; en les allant
chercher aux extremites du monde, en procurant quel
ques fois leur salut par la ruine des royaumfes entiers :
ce que Dieu meme a voulu marquer dans le Prophete
Isaie,- ou il parle de la sorte d ses elus:—" Ne craignez
point, parceque je vous ai rachetes, et que je vous ai
appeles par votre nom : vous etes a moi ; — ^lorsque vous
marcherez au travers des eaux, je serai avec vous, et les
fleuves ne vous submergeront point. Lorsque vous
marcherez. dans le feu, vous n'en serez point brules, et
la flamme sera sans ardeur pour vous, parceque je suis
le Seigneur votre Dieu, le Saint d'Israel, votre Sauveur ;
j'ai livre pour votis I'Egypte, nLaAiv^pi-,, -t.j» iiv«.rai les
hommes pour vous sauver, et les peuples pour racheter
votre vie. Ne craignez point, parceque je suis avec
vous ; — je vous amenerai des enfans de I'Orient, et je
vous rassemblerai de I'Occident. Je dirai d I'Aquilon,
Donnez moi mes enfans ; et au Midi, Ne les empechez
point de venir : amenez mes fils des climats les plus
eloigpes, et mes filles des extremites de la terre."
2). — Mais si les hommes ne se veulent pas rendre aux
graces que Dieu leur donnent .¦'
R. — II est au pouvoir de Dieu, dit Saint Augustin, de
convertir d la foi les volontes des hommes, quelques re-
belles et quelques opposees qu'elles y soient, et d'opdrer
dans leur coeur qu'ils ne cedent a aucunes adversites,
etqu' aucune tentation ne leur fasse abandonner Dieu.
D. — De quelle nature est done cette grace ?

376
iS.— Ce n'est pas une grace sembldble 5 celle du pre
mier Adam, qui etoit telle que I'homme I'abandonnoit
s'il vouloit, et dans laquelle il perseveroit aussi s'il vou
loit; mais c'est la; grace du second Adam, c'est-d-dire
celle que Dieu donne aux elus par les inerites de Jesus
Christ, qui fait que I'homme veut ; en sorte que main-
tenant les Saints predestines par la grace au royaume
des cieux, resolvent un secours qui leur donne la per
severance meme, et qui est tel, que non seulement sans
ce secours ils ne sgauroient perseverer, mais qu'avec ce
secours ils ne manquent jamais de perseverer.
D. — D'oii vient que Dieu donnoit dans I'etat d'in-
nocence une grace plus foible, et qu'il en donne une plus
forte dans I'etat de la nature dechue ?
fl.  C'est. Jit-Sai^i-.'^aS'"'-'^^' 'i^e la volonte du pre
mier homme ayant e,t& instituee sans aucun peche, et
n'ayant point de concupiscence qui lui resistat, elle etoit
si forte qu'il etoit raisonable de remettre le choix de
perseverer a une volonte si bornie, et qni avoit tant de
facihte d bien vivre ; mais cette liberte ayant ete aflfoi-
blie par le peche, il a fallu que I'infirmite de I'homme
tombe fut soutenue par des graces plus puissantes.
Nicole sur le Symbole, tom. i. pp. 256, 257, 258i 259.

EXTRAIT DU MEME CHAPITRE.
Demande. — N'est-ce pas nous memes qui voulons et
qui faisons le bien ?

377
Reponse. — II est tiertain, dit Saint Augustin, que nous
voulons le bien quand nous le vonlons ; mais c'est Dieu
qui fait que nous le voulons. II est certain que nous
le faisons ; mais c'est Dieu qui fait que nous le faisons,
en donnant d notre volonte des forces tres efficaces.
"Prsebendo vires efficacissimas voluntati."
Nicole sur le Symbole, tom. i. pp. 261, 262.

DE LA REPROBATION.

Demande. — Qu'y a-t-il de certain d I'egard des re
prouves ?
Reponse. — II y a plusieurs verites certaines, et qui ne
peuvent etre niees sans erreur, comme sont celles-ci.
1. Que Dieu ne pousse au peche aucun des reprouves.
2. Que les reprouves adultes ne sont pas damnes
parcequ'ils n'ont pii etre bons, mais parcequ'ils ne I'ont
pas voulu etre, comme le Concile de Valence I'a ex-
pressement defini.
3. Que Dieu est bon et misericordieux, d I'egard
meme des reprouves.
4. Que nul des reprouves ne re9oit de Dieu cette suite
de graces efficaces, par lesquelles les elus sont infaillible
ment sauves.
5. Que Dieu n'a point eu, a I'egard des reprouves,
cette meme volonte absolue de les sauver, qu'il a eu d
I'egard des elus.
6. Que quoique Jesus Christ soit mort pour tous, il n'a
2 c

37§
poin)^ neanmoins offert sa mort poijiy les reprouves, de
la jneme maniere qu'il I'a offerte pour les elus; c'est-a-
dire, avec un dessein efficace de leur obtenir des graces
par lesquelles iJs fussent infajHiblement sauves. On
eclaircira dans la suite quelques unes de ces verites, mais.
cependant on doit remarquer ei) general, que toutes ks
questions qu'on pent former sur les reprouves, et toutes
opinions qu'on peut avoir sur les graces qui leur sont ou
donnees ou refusees, ne changeront rien dans leur sort,
quelque sentiment qu'on en ait; ce seront toujours les
m^mes personnesqui a^riyejjont a gettefi^a malheureuse,
par laquelle ils sont nommes reprouves, et qui y arrive-
ront par la meme suite d'actions. II ne s'agit dope que
de faire comprendre que ce sont eux-memes qui sont
cause de leur perte, selon. qui'il est dit : " perditio tua ex
te Israel ;" et que Djeu n'y contribue rien ; qu'il ne Iguj;
fait aucune injustice, et qu'ils sont au coijtrake coupa-
blgs, comme dit Saint Paul, pour ayoir meprise les ri
chesses. de sa bonte. Nicole sur le Symbole, torn. i. pp. 286, 287,.
1 , Dieu a prevu que tpute la posterite d'Adam seroit
infectee de la corruption orginelle, qui la r;endrpit avec
justice I'objet de sa colere.
2. Sur cette prevision il forme deux decrets ; I'un de
sauver de cette masse corrompue un certain npmbre
d'hommes, pour faire eclater en eux sa misericorde ; et
par ce meme decret il leur destine les moyens par les
quels il vent les faire parvenir au degre de gloire qu'il a
resolu de lei(r, donner : I'aiitre, de faire par.oitre sa jus-

379
tice, en ne donnant pas les memes graces aux re
prouves. 3. II prevoit toutes les actions des reprouves, desti
tues de ces graces speciales, et secourus neanmoins de
beaucoup de graces generales.
4. Sur la prevision particuliere de leurs peches, il
forme le decret de les punir selon qu'ils le meritent.*
Nicole sur de Symbole, tom, i. p. 290.

* Nous recoinmandoDs au lecteur, apr^s ces extraits, I'ou
vrage intitule, " Lefreinigal des Phariseens et des Antinomiens,"
par Jean Guilleaume de la FlechSre, miuistre de Madeley,

FINIS.

J. M'Creeiy, Printer, ElackHorae-Court,'
I^ondon.

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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