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acquainted with Mr. Singlin-she chose him for her confessor. In the letters written at this time to her sister, we see that she had already become very devout. She was then staying at Paris with her brother. In 1648, her father came to Paris to visit his two children. She took this occasion to ask his permission to retire into a convent. Etienne Pascal, (the father,) though a good Christian, was not sufficiently devout to be willing to consent to her leaving him entirely; he refused her request. She then asked him to allow her to retire for a fortnight to Port-Royal.

"This retirement was but short," says Mr. Cousin, "but the letter in which she asks her father's permission, denotes great respect for his will, but at the same time an unconquerable longing after solitude and monastic life."

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"It is customary for persons of all conditions, whether they be worldly or not, to retire at the time of all great religious festivals, to some convent, there to enter in nearer communion with God alone. In such a retreat, I shall be able to ascertain whether God has destined me for this mode of life. I shall there be able to hear him speak to me, and I shall perhaps become assured that I am not intended for such a place. Should it be thus, I shall beg of you to think no more of what I have said to you. But if God assures me that I am destined for this sort of life, I shall wait without anxiety the moment which you will choose for the accomplishment of his glory, for I am convinced it is the only thing you seek for."

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Her father, however, continued of the same opinion, and entreated her to live with him until he should be called from this world. She consequently followed him to Clerment, with her brother. She spent seventeen months at this place. All her time was employed in prayer, or in acts of devotion or of charity. A priest of the town having heard of her talent for poetry, requested her to translate into French the Latin hymn, Jesu natra redemptio. She fulfilled his wish; but having subsequently, from some scruples of conscience, as to whether it was right to indulge in this poetical taste, consulted Mother Agnes, (one of the nuns of Port Royal,) and having received for answer: You had better keep this talent a secret; God will not ask you to account for it; humility and silence are the virtues of your sex;" she entirely gave up writing verses. Mr. Cousin remarks that the institution of Port Royal was at a later period less tenacious on this point, for it allowed Jacqueline, after she had entered the Convent, to publish some verses on the miracle of the Holy Thorn. In November, 1650, she returned to Paris with her father. She continued to visit the nuns of Port-Royal, and on the request of Mother Agnes, she wrote some reflections on the Mystery of the Death of the Saviour. These reflections are full of feeling, and at the same time bear the stamp of a vigorous mind. We can trace in them some resemblance to the thoughts of Pascal, but they have neither that originality nor that vehemence which are the characteristics of his style. We shall not attempt to give an analysis of these reflections; it will suffice to say, that she mentions successively what she considers to be the principal characteristics of the death of our Lord, and from each of these she draws a moral lesson concerning the destiny of every Christian who becomes dead to the world. Some of these conclusions seem to us rather far-fetched.

For example, she says:

"Jesus did not wait until he was old to die, but seems rather to have wished to anticipate death when in all the vigor of life. This teaches me not to wait until the weakness of old age shall have overtaken me, but to anticipate the death of the body by a mystical death."

• Director of the Convent of Port Royal.

On the other hand, there are some of these reflections which breathe the purest Christian faith.

The following year, (1651,) was destined to favor Jacqueline's wishes. Her father died at Paris on the 24th of September. There was now, it seemed, no obstacle to her embracing the monastic life, and she determined to do so whenever the family affairs were settled. But a new and unexpected obstacle arose. Her brother, who at first had been so favorable to her decision, now opposed it. She therefore determined to enter PortRoyal without his knowledge, and the 4th of January was fixed for the execution of this resolution. She led him to suppose that she merely intended retiring for some days to the convent. Madame Périer, in the memoirs she has left of Jacqueline, tells us that

"The evening previous to the day appointed for her departure, she informed her brother of Jacqueline's intention of spending some little time at the convent, in order to become acquainted with this mode of life. Pascal was much moved, and retired to his room without seeing my sister, who was in an adjoining closet, in which she was in the habit of saying her prayers. She did not leave it until my brother had retired, for she was afraid she might be moved if she saw him. I repeated to her all the kind things he had said to me, and we then retired to bed. But although I was perfectly willing that she should take the step she was about to take, as I thought it was the greatest happiness that she could attain, yet I was so much agitated when I thought of the importance of her resolution, that I could not sleep all night. At about seven o'clock in the morning, as my sister did not get up, I was afraid she had not slept either; I went to her bedside and found her fast asleep. The noise I made, however, awakened her; she asked me what o'clock it was. I told her; and having asked her how she felt, and how she had slept, she answered that she felt very well, and had slept perfectly. She then got up, and went away to enter the convent with the same calmness and tranquil manner with which she would have accomplished the most unimportant action. We did not take leave of each other, as we were afraid of being too much moved, and I turned away when I saw her about to depart. It was in this way that she renounced the world, on the 4th of January, 1651, being at that time twenty-six years old."

There is something inexpressibly touching in the simple manner in which this scene is related, and however convinced we may be that the sentiment which dictated the action of the young woman was erroneous, we cannot but be moved when we reflect on it. There are now, comparatively speaking, but few convents in the world, and those that still exist are no longer upheld by that religious spirit which guided the conduct of former ages. Catholicism, even in Catholic countries, has no longer that influence which it had in past ages; for Catholicism is founded on that despotic control of the mind, which is inconsistent with the spirit of the free age in which we have the happiness to live. We are firmly convinced that the world will sooner or later become Protestant, because the pure form of Christianity we profess, is the only religion in harmony with the desires and wants of our own times-and yet we are touched on reading this simple account of a young girl about to renounce the world, and to immure herself in a convent. What is it that thus moves us? Is it the religious principle upon which Jacqueline acts? No! it is the sincere conviction which dictated her conduct, which, however, it may be in opposition with our own notions of religious faith, will ever be the source of deep emotions in the human breast. Earnest and sincere conviction, whatever may be its nature, must excite our admiration, and sometimes, our enthusiasm.

Jacqueline had hardly entered the convent, when she wrote to her brother, reminding him that she did not require his consent to take the veil, but at

the same time asking him for it, and even requesting him to be present at the ceremony.

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Although I am free," she says, after having first informed him of her intention to take the veil," and although it has pleased God to chastise me, and at the same time to fulfil all my wishes in the manner that you know, and which I will not repeat, for fear of mingling any painful recollections with the joy I now feel, in destroying the only obstacle which opposed itself to my taking the vows, yet I feel the want of your consent-not that it is indispensable to accomplish my wishes, but so as to be able to accomplish them with perfect satisfaction and tranquillity of mind."

This letter is signed, Sœur de Ste. Euphémie; this was the name she had taken at the convent. "There is something of the woman and something of the saint in this letter," says Mr. Cousin. She now speaks with all the authority of one who has for ever renounced the world, and then by turns she seems to forget herself, and allow herself to be carried away by her natural affection. Thus, at the end of her letter, she says: "It is only for form's sake, that I have desired you to be present at the ceremony, for I cannot think that you can have any idea of absenting yourself on this occasion."

It was not until the following year that she actually took the veil. As she did not desire to be a burthen to the convent, which was not rich, she wished, on entering it, to make a donation, or, as it was called, a dowry. Her family opposed this, as they considered it as depriving them of their property in favor of strangers. She spoke to mother Agnes and to Mr. Singlin on the subject, and has left a memoir, in which her conversation with these two persons is faithfully related. They showed themselves most disinterested. Mr. Singlin advised her to write to her relations, and to tell them how much their opposition to her wishes had grieved her, but at the same time not to express any anger, but, on the contrary, to tell them that so slight a temporal blessing was not worth minding, and that it would not at all defer the celebration of the ceremony of her taking the veil. Jacqueline was nevertheless much grieved at these differences with her family. However, on the eve of the ceremony, her brother had an interview with the superior of the convent, and the whole affair was amicably settled.

A few years later, she was entrusted with the care of the novices of the convent, and in 1657, she wrote a little work entitled, Regulations for the Children. The severity of this system, which may almost be compared to solitary confinement, is truly shocking. It must, however, in justice to the author be observed, that Jacqueline, in the preface to these regulations,

says:

"It would not always be as easy as useful to execute all these rules. These things must be ordered with prudence; but it is necessary, according to the remark of a certain Pope, to unite the power which keeps the children in order without being insupportable, and the tenderness which gains their hearts without spoiling them. Sit rigor sed non exasperans; sit amor sed non emolliens.

There were children of all ages at the convent, from four to seventeen and eighteen. The eldest got up at four o'clock; the youngest, according as their healths and strengths would allow. They dressed in the most perfect silence, then said their prayers, and made their beds, after which they breakfasted. During the breakfast one of them was obliged to read the life of the saint whose day it was. After breakfast they went to work, all

That is to say: by the death of her father.

These regulations were published in 1665, as a sequel to the Constitutions of the Monastery of Port Royal.

in the same room, observing during this time the strictest silence, in order not to disturb those who were old enough to enter into communion with God. After this they were allowed to play, but each one separately, so as to make no noise. During the service of the church, the same silence was observed, and even when at dinner they were obliged to keep their eyes fixed on the floor, so as not to have their attention diverted from the reading. After dinner they went to play, and this was the first time in the course of the day when they were really allowed to speak to each other. After this play-time commenced their religious instructions. At half past three o'clock there was luncheon for the small children, at four vespers. After this came another play-time, in which the same silence, as that of the morning, was observed. At half past eight, all the children were in bed.

Such a system of education, which must necessarily have resulted in one of two evils equally great,-in giving the children a complete disgust for religion, or in making fanatics of them,-cannot be sufficiently blamed. It is founded on the most mistaken notion, that to be religious it is necessary to fly the world, and to seek, in solitude and silence, those virtues, and that calmness of soul which, with the proper disposition, may be obtained without renouncing the world. These regulations are accompanied, however, by reflections, which show the most perfect knowledge of the indispensable requisites of a truly Christian education. This contrast, between the exaggeration into which Jacqueline fell, in the first part of her work, and the knowledge of the true spiritual wants of Christian children which is evinced in the second, should not astonish us. A superior mind, whatever may be the doctrines it professes, easily rises above those petty shackles by which small minds are alone impeded. Jacqueline's faith was erroneous, but her intelligence was so vast, and her heart was so excellent, that she was naturally inclined to mitigate the severity of the system of education she thought necessary for the children entrusted to her care, by those kind and disinterested attentions which she recommends in the second part of her little work.

It was about this time that she wrote the verses on the Miracle of the Holy Thorn, which we have already mentioned. In this piece there are a number of fine lines; but, as a whole, it has neither that continued elevation of thought, or that perfection of style, which the greatest poets alone can attain. The finest piece of poetry of Jacqueline's, is, we think, a piece on the death of a Protestant lady, written about ten years earlier. It is, unfortunately, impossible to convey any idea of these lines by a translation, as their peculiar merit consists in the peculiar manner in which the ideas are expressed. We therefore refer those who are acquainted with the French language, to the book of Mr. Cousin, where they will find this remarkable specimen of Jacqueline's poetic genius.

A few years afterwards the persecutions against Port Royal commenced, and in April, 1661, an order of the government enjoined upon the superior of the convent, to send back to their families all the young women who boarded there. Among this number were the two nieces of Jacqueline, the daughters of Madame Périer. They returned to their mother, who was then residing at Paris. Jacqueline did not fail to entreat them not to allow themselves to be seduced by the arts of the world, but to be always prepared to leave it, as soon as necessity should not oblige them to remain in it.

The Jesuits, who had sworn the utter ruin of Port Royal, were not content with having thus far succeeded; the persecutions were soon extended to the nuns themselves; they were accused of Jansenism, because they refused to sign the declaration which was obligatory for all the clergy. This

declaration was to the effect, that the five famous propositions on Divine Grace were to be found in the Augustinus of Jansenius, and that they were contrary to the Roman Catholic faith. One of the grand-vicars of the Archbishop of Paris was sent to the convent to inquire into the religious faith of its inmates. The examination of Jacqueline has been preserved by herself; the candor and innocence of her replies quite satisfied the priest. All this, however, was of no avail, for the Jesuits were all-powerful. A sort of mitigated declaration was propose; it was at first rejected. Jacqueline, in a letter couched in terms of the most admirable energy, explains her reasons for disapproving of this proceeding :

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"What prevents those,' says she, 'to whom the declaration is presented, from saying, We know the respect we owe to the clergy, but our conscience will not allow us to sign this paper. And then to await what may happen. What have we to fear? Banishment for those who have not taken the vows; the dispersion of the nuns-prison-and death, perhaps. Is this not our glory? Ought it not to be our joy?' And in another part of the letter she exclaims: I know it is not for women to defend the truth, although, by a deplorable confusion of things in the times in which we live, as bishops have the courage of women, women should have the courage of bishops. If we are not to defend the truth, it is for us to die for it.'"

Nevertheless in the month of July, 1661, the declaration was signed. Jacqueline did not long survive this cruel necessity; she died the fourth of October, of the same year, at the age of thirty-six, after an illness of three months.

We have endeavored to give a rapid sketch of the life of this remarkable woman, following faithfully the work we had before us. We trust that we have been able to convey some idea of her peculiar genius, her simple character, and her extraordinary virtues. At all events, we feel assured that, in making this work known to our literary public, we shall at least have merited the thanks of those, who are sometimes willing to turn from the realities of life to those bright pages, where are recorded the thoughts of those beings who have risen above the world, and its interests, and who seem to have anticipated that existence, which we all hope to possess in another life. In an age like ours, a work of this description can have none but a good influence. It is no longer to be feared, that any young woman in perusing it, should be inclined to imitate the example of the zealous Jacqueline. A woman possessed of the talents or the virtues of this highly gifted person, would not, even in the most Catholic countries of the old world, be disposed to retire into a convent. Mankind has indeed made wonderful progress since the time when Pascal called marriage homicide, and even deicide !* Woman is now convinced that she was not intended to seek in solitude for that fortitude and moral courage which she feared not to find in the world. She now knows that God endowed her with talents in order that she should be able to understand the intellectual labors of man, and with virtues was to be capable of serving him as an example.

Pascal says: "It is a great crime to expect a child of her age-of her innocence, and of her piety, to enter upon the most dangerous and the lowest Christian state-(marriage.)”

"Husbands, although rich, and possessed of wisdom according to the world, are, in truth, nothing but heathens in the eyes of God; therefore, to promise a child to an ordinary man, is a sort of homicide, and even deicide."-V. Cousin. Des Pensées de Pascal, 6, 370.

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