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THE LIFE OF THE VENERABLE MOTHER MARY OF THE INCARNATION

BY A RELIGIOUS OF THE URSULINE COMMUNITY




INTRODUCTION.


The materials for the following Biography have been gathered principally
from "The Life of the Mother Mary of the Incarnation" by her son, and
from "The History of the Ursuline Monastery at Quebec," by a member of
that community, the former published in 1677; the latter in 1863.

The Life of the Venerable Mother by her son, is founded partly on her own
communications regarding the graces with which she had been favoured, and
partly on her correspondence with himself extending over the thirty years
which she passed in Canada. With the genuine information thus received,
he intersperses, under the name of "Additions," further details which had
either come under his personal observation, or been gleaned from
perfectly reliable sources. His work is therefore a sure and invaluable
guide to the biographer.

The accounts of her inner life referred to, were written by the Venerable
Mother at two different epochs, and each time in obedience to an
imperative command from her confessors. The first written in 1633, the
34th year of her age, fell into the possession of the Ursulines of St.
Denis, near Paris, who on hearing that Dom Claude Martin was engaged in
writing his holy Mother's life, obligingly sent him the precious
document. The second, written in 1654, was forwarded to him from Canada.

The Annals of the Quebec Ursulines also afford rich material to the
historian of the Mother of the Incarnation, their pages containing
constant references to and quotations from her letters both spiritual and
historical, as well as from the Annual Reports of the Jesuit Missioners,
and other contemporary documents of the highest authenticity and the
deepest interest.

The historical statements in the introductory chapter, rest chiefly oh
the authority of the Abbé Ferland in his "Cours d'Histoire du Canada,"
1861, and of Bancroft in his "History of the United States," 1841. The
historical facts incidentally introduced in the course of the work can be
verified by reference to the Abbé Ferland or any other Canadian
historian, or to the Letters of the Mother of the Incarnation.

It only remains to be noticed that the words "saint," "saintly," and
others of similar import are used throughout solely in their popular
acceptation, and not with any intention of anticipating the decision of
the Church regarding the sanctity of the Venerable Mother Mary of the
Incarnation or of any other of God's servants mentioned in these pages.

In like manner, the record of miraculous occurrences, visions, and other
extraordinary supernatural favours, is understood to rest as yet only on
human authority, and therefore to claim no more than the degree of
credibility which attaches to any well authenticated human statement.

_April 30th_ 1880.

208th Anniversary of the death of the Venerable Mother of the
Incarnation.




CONTENTS


INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.
A Glance at Canada, as it was in the days of the Venerable Mother Mary of
the Incarnation.


THE LIFE OF THE VENERABLE MOTHER.
FIRST PERIOD, 1599 TO 1631.
HER LIFE IN THE WORLD

CHAPTER I.
Her infancy, childhood and youth--Early call to union with God.--Charity
to the poor.--Purity of soul--Inclination for the Religious Life.

CHAPTER II.
Her married life.--Rule of life.--Love of prayer--Perfect fulfilment of
duty.--Patience under trial--Zeal for her household.--Influence.--Death
of her Husband.

CHAPTER III.
Her First year of Widowhood.--Life of solitude in the World.--Vision of
the application of the Precious Blood to her soul.--Increased purity of
conscience.--Charity to the sick poor.

CHAPTER IV.
She quits her solitude.--New evidence of her purity of soul.--Humiliation
and dependence in her Sister's house.

CHAPTER V.
She is called to a high degree of Divine Union.--New invitation to the
perfection of Interior Purity.--Infused knowledge of the nature of the
works of God.--Austerities.--Love of contempt.--Active life.--Makes the
vows of poverty and obedience.--Heavenly favour.--Temptations.

CHAPTER VI.
Supernatural favours.--Lights on the mystery of the Incarnation.--Vision
of the Most Adorable Trinity.--Submission to her Director.--Temptations
renewed.--Lights on the Divine attributes.

CHAPTER VII.
Second Vision of the Most Adorable Trinity.--She is elevated to a sublime
degree of Divine Union.

CHAPTER VIII.
She resolves to embrace the Religious Life.--Decides finally on the
Ursuline Order.--Temptations.--Disappearance of her son.--His return.--
Enters the Convent.

CHAPTER IX.
Saint Angela, Foundress of the Ursulines.--Her Early sanctity.--Zeal for
the instruction of the ignorant.--Lays the foundation of her great work
at Dezenzano--Vision of the Mysterious Ladder.--Removes to Brescia.--Goes
to the Holy Land.--To Rome.--To Cremona.--Returns to Brescia.--Founds her
Order.--Her holy Death.--Parting Counsels.--Prediction of the stability
of her work.--Diffusion of the Order.--Archconfraternity of St. Angela.


SECOND PERIOD, 1631 TO 1639.
THE VENERABLE MOTHER'S RELIGIOUS LIFE IN FRANCE.

CHAPTER I.
Her Novitiate.--Holy joy.--Virtue tested.--Love of common life.--
Humility.--Obedience.--Trials from her son.--Offers herself as a victim
for his salvation.--Third Vision of the Adorable Trinity.--Receives the
Holy Habit.

CHAPTER II.
Supernatural favours.--Infused knowledge of the Holy Scriptures and of
the Latin language.--Facility for imparting Spiritual Instruction.--
Temptations.--Loses her Director.--Interior desolation.--Fidelity.--
Consolation.--Profession.--Renewed Trials.--Reassuring direction.--New
difficulties about her son.

CHAPTER III.
She is named Assistant-Mistress of Novices.--Prophetic Vision of her
vocation to Canada.--Spiritual maxims and instructions.--Spirit of
silence.--Forms many Saints.

CHAPTER IV.
Increase of zeal for the salvation of souls.--Divinely directed to pray
for their conversion through the Heart of Jesus.--Her vocation for Canada
is revealed to her.

CHAPTER V.
Madame de la Peltrie.--Early Piety.--Charity.--Desire for the Religious
State.--Obliged to marry.--Loses her Husband.--Zeal for Souls.--Is
inspired to devote herself to the Canadian Mission.--Her vocation
confirmed in a dangerous illness.--Opposition.--Death of her Father.--
Services of Monsieur de Bernières.--Goes to Paris.

CHAPTER VI.
The Mother of the Incarnation declares her vocation for Canada.--
Contradictions and Humiliations.--Her confidence in God.--Esteem for her
vocation.--Submission to the Divine Will.

CHAPTER VII.
Madame de la Peltrie invites the Mother of the Incarnation to accompany
her to Canada.--The Venerable Mother's answer.--Madame de la Peltrie at
Tours.--The Mothers of the Incarnation and St. Bernard selected for the
Mission.--Opposition from relatives.--The Venerable Mother's vision of
the trials awaiting her.--Monsieur de Bernières.--Farewell Letter.


THIRD PERIOD, 1639 TO 1672.
THE VENERABLE MOTHER'S LIFE IN CANADA.

CHAPTER I.
Embarkation.--Alarm from a Spanish Fleet.--Danger from an Iceberg.--
Arrival at Tadoussac.--First night in Canada.--Reception at Quebec.--
Visit to Sillery.--The "Louvre."

CHAPTER II.
The Mother of the Incarnation recognises Canada to be the country shown
her in her prophetic vision.--Opening of the Schools.--Study of the
Indian languages.--Small-pox among the Pupils.--Arrival of two Sisters
from Paris.--Union of Congregations.-Building of new Convent.

CHAPTER III
Work at the "Louvre."--Progress of the Pupils.--Piety.--Lively Faith in
the Real Presence.--Refinement of feeling.--Zeal.--Teresa the Huron.--
Agnes.--Little Truants.--Banquets at the "Louvre,"

CHAPTER IV.
Renewed Trials of the Venerable Mother.--Madame de la Peltrie removes to
Montreal.--Great Poverty of the Ursulines.--Apprehensions.--The Venerable
Mother's confidence in God.--Fidelity to grace.--Exactitude to duty.--
Active Life.--First Elections.--Removal to the New Monastery.--Return of
Madame de la Peltrie.

CHAPTER V.
The Mother of the Incarnation a victim for the Conversion of her son and
her niece.--Conversion of both, followed by the cessation of her interior
sufferings.--Arrival of new subjects from France.--Mother St. Athanasius
Superior.--First Profession at Quebec.--Destruction of the Hurons.--
Charity of the Ursulines to the Survivors.

CHAPTER VI.
The Monastery consumed.--Charity of the Hospital Sisters.--Sympathy of
the Hurons.--Serenity of the Venerable Mother.--Lodgings in Madame de la
Peltrie's House.--Poverty.--Monastery Rebuilt.--A Pretty Picture.--
Removal to the New Monastery.

CHAPTER VII.
Early Life of Mother St. Joseph.--Her zeal for the Indians.--Virtues.--
Last Illness.--Happy Death.--Apparitions after Death.

CHAPTER VIII.
The Seminary Re-opened.--The good work partially checked.--Geneviève and
Catherine.--Appointment of Bishop Laval.--Threatened Invasion of the
Iroquois.--Heroism of Daulac and his Companions.

CHAPTER IX.
Trade in Intoxicating Liquors.--Awful Manifestation of Divine Anger.--
Repentance.--Prosperity.--The Marquis of Tracy Viceroy.--Expedition
against the Iroquois.--Advancement of the Colony.

CHAPTER X.
New Sisters from France.--Illness of Mother of the Incarnation.--She is
Re-elected Superior.--Lingers for Eight Years.--Illness and Death of
Madame de la Peltrie.

CHAPTER XI.
Last Illness of the Mother of the Incarnation.--Her Blessed Death.--
Universal regret for her loss.--Her Virtues.

APPENDIX.

Evening Devotion of the Mother of the Incarnation in honour of the Sacred
Heart of Jesus.

Evening Devotion of the Venerable Mother in honour of the Immaculate
Heart of Mary.

A few Parting Words on the Old Monastery of Quebec.




A GLANCE AT CANADA IN THE DAYS OF THE VENERABLE MOTHER MARY OF THE
INCARNATION.


Early in the sixteenth century, reports of the progress of discovery in
America began to make their way to France, and, as a natural result, to
arouse emulation. For no one had the stirring tales a greater charm than
for the reigning Sovereign, Francis I., whose spirit of rivalry, thirst
of glory, and love of adventure, they were especially calculated to
stimulate. It would have been as repugnant to the nature, as it was
inconsistent with the policy of the ambitious monarch, to permit the
Kings of Spain [Footnote: In 1492, Christopher Columbus discovered the
islands of the Western Hemisphere, and took possession in the name of the
Spanish Sovereigns, Ferdinand and Isabella. At his third voyage, in 1498,
he added to the first discovery, that of the Continent of South America.]
and Portugal [Footnote: in 1500, Alvarez de Cabral, a Portuguese
navigator, took possession of Brazil for his royal master, Emmanuel, King
of Portugal. Amerigo Vespucci had discovered its coast in 1498.] to
monopolize the glory and the advantages anticipated from possession of
the western world; such an idea was not to be for a moment entertained.
If their banners waved over its Southern Continent, that was no reason,
he argued, why France should not unfurl her fair white lilies in the
Northern. [Footnote: The mainland of North America was discovered in 1497
by the celebrated Italian adventurers, John Cabot and his sons, under a
commission from Henry VII of England, who, however, did not avail of the
discovery.] "I should like," he exclaimed with characteristic impetuosity
and originality, "I should like to see the clause in Adam's will which
authorizes these, my royal cousins, to divide the New World between
them!" As there seemed, however, little chance of his being permitted to
adjust the rival claims by a reference to our first father's last
testament, he resolved, as a more practical solution of difficulties, to
take the law into his own hands, and by getting possession of a share of
the spoils to secure at least nine points of it in his favour.

In justice to his Most Christian Majesty, it must be admitted that
although self-interested considerations had no doubt a large part in his
decision, other and worthier views influenced him. perhaps even more
strongly. If his proud title of eldest son of the Church was to be more
than an empty name, it devolved on him, he felt, to take prompt measures
for introducing Christianity into some part of the newly discovered
idolatrous West. Spain and Portugal had anticipated him in one direction,
it was true, but the world of Canada still presented a vast field for his
zeal in another. The existence of that barbarous, heathen land was now an
ascertained fact, What nobler use could he make of his royal resources
than to introduce into it the two-fold light of faith and civilization?
None, assuredly. Over far-off Canada, therefore, he determined that,
fortune favouring, the banner of the Lily should ere long float.

And, truly, it was well worth the seeking, that fair, too long neglected
gem in Nature's coronet, the distant land over the Western sea.
Cultivation has no doubt done much for the Canada of Francis I., still
even in the undeveloped beauty of those remote days, its natural features
were strikingly fine. Prominent then, as now, was the noble river flowing
through its midst--its own beautiful St. Lawrence, "the river of Canada,"
as the French sometimes styled it by pre-eminence; a recognised monarch
[Footnote: "The St. Lawrence has a course of nearly three thousand miles,
and varies in breadth from one mile to ninety miles. It annually
discharges to the ocean about 4,277,880 _millions of tons_ of fresh
water, of which 2,112,120 millions of tons may be reckoned melted snow--
the quantity discharged before the thaw comes on being 4,512 millions of
tons per day for 240 days, and the quantity after the thaw begins being
25,560 millions per day for 125 days, the depths and velocity when in and
out of flood being duly considered."--_Martin's British Colonies_.]
in the world of waters, embracing in its wide-spread dominion, rapids and
cataracts, and tributary streams, with vast lakes like seas, and a little
world of islands like fairy realms, [Footnote: Among others, the Thousand
Islands, happily described as "picturesque combinations of wood, rock,
and water, such as imagination is apt to attach to the happy islands in
the Vision of Mirza."] the whole enclosed within romantic shores, worthy
to form the framing of so magnificent a picture.

Then, as now, the valley of the St. Lawrence was rich in every variety of
natural beauty, but with this difference, that at the arrival of the
French the superb panorama was more or less enveloped in an apparently
interminable forest, to which the predominance of the pine imparted in
some places an air of solemnity, and even gloom. Since then, the axe has
done its work in the inhabited portions, opening up a landscape of
singular loveliness in some parts; of stern, wild grandeur in others;
nevertheless, enough of the lordly old woods still remains, to justify
their claim to a place among the characteristics of Canadian scenery.
Lovely in their summer garb of many-hued green, relieved by a carpeting
of myriads of flowering plants, they are glorious beyond telling, when
after a few frosty nights at the close of autumn, they assume every
imaginable variety of shade, from glowing scarlet and soft violet, to
rich brown and bright yellow.

Champlain, the founder of Quebec, describes the Canada of his day as
beautiful, agreeable, and fertile; producing grain of every kind;
abounding in valuable trees; yielding wild fruits of pleasant flavour,
and well-stocked with fish and game. Later observation was to add to the
catalogue of its natural riches, mines of iron, lead and copper. The
early colonists, too, have recorded that the river banks were covered
with a profusion of vines so productive, that it seemed difficult to
trace all their luxuriance to the unaided hand of nature.

As a partial counterpoise to its many advantages, Canada is exposed to
extremes of temperature, alternating between heat nearly tropical, and
cold approaching polar. Owing to the clearing of the forests, and other
causes, the winter is now somewhat less harsh than in the days of the
first settlers; it is, however, still a very severe one. And yet, even
under its stern reign, Canada is not without natural charms,--its giant
river fast bound in icy chains; every stream, and lake and rivulet in the
land a sheet of sparkling crystal; every trunk, and branch, and twig
glittering in the sun as if sprinkled with diamond dust; every valley,
hill and woodland, every mountain slope and far-stretching plain wrapped
in a soft mantle of spotless snow.

Yet, with all its gifts and resources, Canada had reposed for long ages
in lonely grandeur. The chronicles of the Old World told of many a
generation gone by. They traced the rise and fall of many empires, and
the succession of many dynasties. They recorded the advance of art and
science. They contained long lists of names inscribed, some in the annals
of human greatness, some on the pages of the Book of Life. They spoke of
the glorious triumphs of the Church, and enumerated the nations gathered
within her fold, and still, on that fair land of the West, no step had
trodden but that of the Red Man; on its broad, deep river no boat had
ever bounded but his own light canoe; through its length and breadth no
Deity's name had resounded, save that of some senseless pagan idol. Truly
it was time, as Francis I. concluded, that the ray of faith and
civilization should beam on it at last.

In 1523, he sent out his first expedition, under the command of
Verrazani, a Florentine, who, sailing along the coast from 28 degrees to
50 degrees north latitude, formally took possession of the whole region
in the name of his royal patron, and called it "La Nouvelle France." But
while France was thus adding to her glory in the New World, her arms
received a severe check in the Old. When Verrazani returned in 1525, he
found the nation mourning the disastrous results of the battle of Pavia,
and too much absorbed by grave interests at home, to be disposed to
concern itself about lesser ones abroad. Deprived of the support of his
royal protector, then a prisoner at Madrid, he could neither utilize nor
follow up his first observations, and for ten years more we hear nothing
of Canada, except that mariners from France, and other European nations,
carried on a successful fishery on its coasts, where as many as fifty
ships from Europe might sometimes be seen together. The French called the
country the newly found lands, an appellation which survives in that of
the largest island. It is stated on the authority of certain old
chroniclers, that the islands off the mainland had been known more than a
century before the era of Columbus and Cabot to sailors from the Basque
Provinces, who named them "Bacallos," their term for cod-fish. The name
"Canada" seems to have been vaguely applied at this period sometimes to a
part, sometimes to the whole of the region watered by the St. Lawrence.
One derivation of it supposes the arrival of the French to have been
preceded by a visit from the Spaniards, who, searching for precious
metals, and finding none, expressed their disappointment by the frequent
repetition of the words "aca nada," "nothing here." According to a more
probable etymology, the term may be traced to the Iroquois word "Kanata,"
a village, or assembly of huts, which word the early European discoverers
mistook for the name of the country.

Nothing daunted by the failure of his first attempt at colonisation,
Francis authorized a new expedition in 1534, and intrusted the command of
it to Jacques Cartier, a well-known navigator of St. Malo. In addition to
his experience as a seaman, Cartier possessed a profoundly religious
spirit, and in risking the long voyage, with its certain dangers and
uncertain, success, he seems to have been wholly influenced by zeal for
the conversion of the savages. He has given us an insight into his ideas
in his own quaint style: "Considering," he says, "the varied benefits of
God to man, I note among others how the sun pours his genial rays on
every part of the globe in succession, excluding none from their
beneficent influence, and my simple mode of reasoning leads me to infer
that our great Creator intends for all his creatures a share in the
illumination of faith, no less than in the cheering light of the orb of
day. The sun comes to us from the East, as did our holy faith; may we not
conclude, that as he passes thence to the West, the beams of the Gospel
are meant to follow in his track, and pour their brightness in that
direction too."

Cartier set sail on the 20th of April, 1534; reached Newfoundland in
safety on the 10th of May, and sailing along the coast as far as the Bay
of Gaspé, planted near its entrance a lofty cross bearing a shield with
the lilies of France, and a suitable inscription. The chief result of
this first voyage was the discovery of the great river of Canada, and the
opening of communication with the natives. The season being somewhat too
advanced for farther exploration, Cartier returned to France in the month
of August, accompanied by two young Indians, destined as a future
interpreter to their countrymen.

Re-entering the river on the 10th of August of the following year, he
named it the St. Lawrence, in honour of the saint whose feast the Church
celebrates on that day. The island at its mouth, now called Anticosti, he
named the isle of the Assumption. He finally anchored off Stadacona,
where Quebec now stands, and on the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed
Virgin in the next month, the Holy Sacrifice was for the first time
offered on the Canadian shores. Cartier next visited the Indian
settlement of Hochelaga, situated on an island formed by the St. Lawrence
and a branch of the Ottawa. The discovery of this vaunted hamlet, with
its picturesque surroundings, had been among the most cherished of his
day dreams, nor was the reality unworthy of the dream. From the summit of
an isolated mountain at the extremity of the island; his view embraced in
front a wide expanse of fertile land; around him stretched forests of
oak, with here and there a waving field of silken-tufted Indian corn; at
his feet lay the hamlet, built in the form of a circle, and fortified in
Indian fashion by three graduated rows of palisades, and to crown the
whole, girding the island like a broad silver belt, as far as the eye
could reach, shone the sunlit river. Enchanted with the beauty of the
scene, and delighted too with the courteous greeting of the savages,
their simplicity, their generosity and their ardour for instruction, he
breathed a prayer, that a land so fair and a people so gentle might be
marked ere long as the heritage of France,--above all, as a portion of
the Kingdom of God. In his enthusiasm, he called the mountain on which he
stood, Mount Royal, whence the name "Montreal." [Footnote: Nearly three
centuries and a half have gone by since Jacques Cartier surveyed
Hochelaga and its environs for the first time from the heights of Mount
Royal. Could he view the same locality from the same stand point to-day,
how great would be his wonder at its transformation! The mountain itself
is now covered, both base and acclivities, with flourishing corn fields,
fruitful orchards, and handsome residences, above which, to the very
summit, trees grow in luxuriant variety. On the site of the Indian hamlet
of the olden time, is a large, wealthy city; its streets and squares
adorned with remarkably fine buildings; its busy ways thronged with an
active, industrious, thriving population; its port crowded with shipping
and bordered with commodious quays; its vast river spanned by the great
tubular bridge, and traversed through its length and breadth by vessels
of every build. The environs are in keeping with the city, combining
natural beauty with the refinements of art and the improvements of
industry. Nestling among rich woodlands, are gay villages, rural churches
and pleasant villas, while thickly interspersed through fertile, well
cultivated grounds, are pretty cottages, substantial farms and happy
peasant homes. The living picture acquires additional animation from the
constant movement of long rows of railway carriages, ever sending up
light streams of transparent vapour which curl among the bright foliage,
with a grace of their own, then fade away heavenwards. Could Jacques
Cartier see it all, he might well wonder at time's changes!] At Stadacona
where he spent the winter, he had the consolation of instructing the
natives in the holy faith, by the aid of the two Indian youths, who, as
already noticed, had accompanied him to France on his first return
voyage, and spent the interval between that and his second expedition in
learning the French tongue. So eager were these simple people to receive
the truth, that he had to promise to take measures for their admission to
the Sacrament of regeneration at his nest voyage.

The extreme rigour of this first winter rendered it a season of terrible
suffering to the French; sickness, broke out amongst them and death
thinned their ranks. Cartier had therefore no alternative but to conduct
the discouraged survivors back to France early in spring. He determined
to bring with him also some specimens of the natives whom he wished to
present to the King. The practice of the time seemed to give a tacit
sanction to the act, but it is much to be regretted that in carrying out
his object, Cartier should have had recourse to stratagem. Donacona, one
of the chiefs, was decoyed on board the French ship, with nine other
savages, and borne away from his home in the wilds, which poor though it
might be, was more precious to him than all the grandeur of the French
King's capital. To pacify his people, he promised them before sailing
away, that he would return after twelve moons, but save in dreams, he saw
his beloved woods no more. With the exception of one little girl, all the
exiles died in France, where, however, they were well treated, and had
the happiness of being instructed in the faith and received into the
Church.

On returning to Canada for the third time in 1540, Cartier found it
difficult to resume his former intercourse with the natives, whom the
disappearance of their chief had rendered distrustful and suspicious.
Besides, he occupied only a subordinate position in this new expedition,
the principal direction of which had been committed to the Lord of
Roberval. The division of authority seems to have worked badly. Cartier
had spent a year of inactivity in Canada before the Viceroy was prepared
to join him, so seeing no prospect of success, he left for France, just
as Roberval reached Canada.  Without the co-operation of his lieutenant,
the leader could accomplish little; his expedition may indeed be said to
have resulted only in corroborating the reality of the discoveries
reported by the navigator of St. Malo. The purport of Cartier's fourth
and last voyage, was to bring back to France the miserable remnant of the
adventurers who had accompanied Roberval.

Though an apparent disappointment, the failure of the first attempt to
colonize Canada was in reality a blessing. A few persons of good position
had, it is true, joined Roberval's expedition, but it is equally certain
that a considerable proportion of his recruits had been drawn from among
the convicts of the French jails. Had the colony been then established,
the mixture of such an element must have tainted its very source, and
exercised an utterly demoralizing influence on its future. But God had
designs of special mercy on Canada, so the day of her visitation was
deferred, only that it might rise at a later period with a steadier, a
clearer, and a more enduring light. Although Jacques Cartier failed in
his immediate object, he succeeded in exploring a considerable part of
the country, and as the first to open a way for missionaries to the
hitherto unknown region, his claim to the gratitude of Catholic hearts
should ever be recognised. He died at his peaceful home of Limoilou in
Brittany, leaving the wilds of the West once more in undisputed
possession of the native tribes.

During the next sixty years, the French took no active steps for the
colonization of Canada. Their attempts under Henry II and Charles IX, to
form settlements in Brazil and Florida, seem to have diverted their
attention from New France, but they never quite forgot it, nor utterly
relinquished the hope of one day founding a State on the St. Lawrence.
Merchants from Dieppe and St. Malo continued to visit its shores, and
from time to time, slight, ineffectual attempts at settlement were made.
It was not, however, until 1608, that an expedition of any importance was
organized. Monsieur des Monts, a Calvinist of wealth and rank, then
received from Henry IV, the authority necessary for the purpose, and as
an indemnity for consequent expenses, he also obtained the monopoly of
the fur trade for one year. A company of merchants was immediately
formed, and the command of the expedition given to the illustrious Samuel
Champlain. Quebec, the Stadacona of Cartier, was decided on as the most
advantageous site for the projected settlement, the destined cradle of
the Canadian nation. There accordingly, Champlain unfurled the white
Banner on the 3rd of July, 1608. In the Algonquin tongue, "Kebec"
signifies a strait, the St. Lawrence flowing at this point in a narrow
channel between two high banks. The intended capital [Footnote: Quebec is
now considered the military capital of Canada, Montreal ranking as the
commercial metropolis, and Ottawa as the legislative.] of Canada could
not have been more judiciously located. It possesses a magnificent
harbour, navigable for the largest vessels, and capable of containing the
most numerous fleet. The great river at its base forms a commodious
highway of communication with the very heart of the continent, while in
consequence of the narrowing of the waters in its immediate vicinity, the
citadel commands the passage. Quebec is thus the key of the great valley
of the St. Lawrence, "the advanced guard," as the Abbé Ferland calls it
in his History of Canada, of the vast French empire, which, according to
the project of Louis XIV., was to extend from the Straits of Belle Isle
to the Gulf of Mexico. The colony was not, however, to be established on
a firm basis, until it had passed through much tribulation. Its early
annals were to record an ordeal of trials, sickness, privation, hardship,
destitution, alarms from the terrible Iroquois, molestation from the
English, and finally, all but total extinction. They were to tell how the
growth of the young nation had been checked, and its very existence
threatened, by the bad faith of self-interested companies; worse than
all, how, destined as it was for a bright star in the firmament of the
Church, and a beacon light to the benighted heathen, its grand end had
been temporarily frustrated by the frequent appointment of Calvinists for
its patrons, and a mingling of the same sectarians among its small
population. Then the page of triumph would come, and on it would be
inscribed, how, like its own flower-enamelled meadows, bursting into
bloom and beauty from beneath their pall of snow, Canada had emerged from
its long moral winter, neither paralysed by the chill, nor depressed by
the gloom, but glowing to its inmost heart with warm young life, and
throbbing in every pulse with irrepressible energy and vigour.

Happily for the result of the undertaking Champlain, its guiding spirit,
was eminently qualified for his position. Wise, as energetic;
persevering, as enterprising; brave in reverse, as unassuming in.
success, he laid his plans with consummate prudence and carried them out
with unwavering constancy. Disinterested, honourable and patriotic, he
suffered no secret view of personal advantage to narrow his mind or mar
his usefulness. Looking on his work as the work of God, and therefore
believing implicitly in its final success, he threw his whole heart into
it, devoting to it time, talents, wealth and life, and pursuing it with
a courage that never quailed and a heroism of self-sacrifice that never
faltered. Profoundly religious, his great aim was to establish it on the
solid foundation of faith and piety. For this end, he looked carefully
from the beginning to the moral elements of the little society, and as
far as his control extended, admitted among the early colonists only
persons of irreproachable character. As soon as affairs appeared
sufficiently promising, he invited missioners to the spiritually
destitute land. Four Franciscans answered the appeal, and on the 25th of
June; 1615, to the great joy of the Catholic inhabitants, Mass was
celebrated in Quebec for the first time since the days of Cartier and
Roberval. In 1624, St. Joseph was solemnly chosen Patron of Canada, which
from its birth has claimed devotion to the Holy Family and to St. Anne,
as its devotion by excellence. The following year, the Recollet Fathers
were joined by a little band of Jesuits, who came to fertilize the soil
with martyrs' blood and win for themselves the martyrs' palm. Their
arrival gradually prepared the way for the realization of the pious
governor's first and dearest wish, the establishment of missions
throughout the country. On these we shall touch in a future page.

Indefatigable in his zeal for the colony, Champlain made frequent voyages
to France in its interests, undeterred by the inconveniences and even
positive dangers then often attendant on travelling, and although he was
subjected to constant petty annoyances from the selfishness and parsimony
of the Company, the jealousy and rivalry of the traders, and the coolness
and indifference of noble patrons, he never relaxed in his exertions,
because ever sustained by trust in God and faith in his work. At great
personal risk, and with incredible fatigue, he explored the country in
all directions, observing, and afterwards describing its physical
features, as well as the character and customs of the savages. From time
to time, we even find him in arms against the dreaded Iroquois, but
notwithstanding his superhuman efforts, the colony could make but little
progress while its destinies remained in the hands of mercenary agents,
who were utterly regardless of its interests, and intent only on
enriching themselves at its cost. After Quebec had been founded fourteen
years, it still contained only fifty-five inhabitants, and its growth in
all other respects had been proportionally tardy. Hope, however, began to
brighten, when in 1627, the Canada Company was superseded by that of the
Hundred Partners, with Richelieu at its head. This association was to
hold Canada, as a feudal seigniory under the King, and with the right of
soil, was to possess a monopoly of trade. In return for these privileges,
it contracted the obligation of amply supplying the country with
colonists, including a sufficient number of artisans and labourers. It
was also bound to provide for the support of a specified number of
missioners, and in general, to promote the welfare of the colony.
Unfortunately, five years elapsed before it was ready to enter on the
government of the province, which meantime was brought to the very verge
of ruin, partly by famine, and partly by foreign invasion.

Much about the time of the transfer of Canada to the new Company, the
Huguenots raised the standard of civil war in France, and being aided by
England and Holland, their revolt soon assumed a formidable aspect. To
complicate the difficulties of the mother country, a band of French
Calvinists in the service of England determined to seize the favourable
opportunity of invading her possessions in America. These were headed by
Sir David Kerkt and his brothers, who procured the command of a small
fleet of English vessels, and after devastating the coasts in the
vicinity of Quebec, sent a summons to the Governor to surrender the town
itself. Not having received supplies from France for three years, its
resources were nearly exhausted, nevertheless, as Champlain. was in.
hourly expectation of succour, he bravely determined to resist the
summons and maintain his ground to the last. Before long, the people were
reduced to a daily allowance of five ounces of bread; a little later,
they were compelled to subsist on roots and herbs, yet still, even after
hearing that the vessels containing the much needed supplies had been
intercepted by the English, the resolute Commander never faltered. He
encouraged his companions in misfortune by word and example; exhorted
them, to patience; cheerfully shared their privations, and strained every
nerve to improve their condition. But although they struggled through the
trying winter and spring, it was but too evident that without relief they
could not hold out much longer; when therefore the last hope was blighted
by the wreck of two ships laden with provisions, the Governor,
recognising the inutility of further resistance, accepted the only
alternative left him, and at the second demand, surrendered the heroic
little town, which amidst almost incredible difficulties had withstood
the invaders an entire year. It was on the 20th of July, 1629, that the
English took possession, and the following month, Champlain and his
people embarked for England, whence, according to the terms of surrender,
they were to be conveyed to France. One French family alone consented to
remain in Quebec, and that only until after the next harvest. Thus it
would seem as if a single step had brought us from Canada's cradle to her
grave, for in what light can we look on those vessels bearing Champlain
and the colonists from her shores, but as the tomb of the hopes lately so
bright and buoyant? It happened however that when Kerkt seized Quebec, he
was ignorant of the triumph of Richelieu at La Rochelle; unconscious
therefore that the French Calvinist party was utterly crushed, and the
long protracted civil war at an end. On landing at Plymouth in the
following October, he learned to his dismay that peace had been concluded
between England and France two months before the seizure of Quebec, the
restitution of which had now become, simply an obligation of justice. But
although its restoration was at once decided on, the measure was, not
carried out until 1632, when by the treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye, France
secured a formal recognition of her right to Canada, including Nova,
Scotia and Cape Breton Island, or as they were then called, Acadia and
Isle Royal. As it was evident that the interests of the country could not
be in better hands than those of the great and good Champlain, happily
for its future destiny, the government of the province was once more
confided to him.

It was hard to have to begin his work anew, but he set about repairing
the wreck around him with all his old energy and devotedness. While
intent as ever on the material interests of the colony, those of religion
were still his first concern. Fortunately, there was no longer a dominant
Calvinist party in the country, to thwart his zealous projects, and
molest the Catholics in the discharge of their duty to God. The era of
Calvinist rule had passed; that of Catholic triumph had dawned. One of
the Governor's first acts was to build a church which was dedicated to
our Blessed Lady in honour of her Immaculate Conception. The facility
thus afforded for the practice of religion was eagerly availed of by the
new band of exclusively Catholic colonists. All approached the Sacraments
at fixed intervals; morning and evening prayers were said in common in
private families; the precepts of God and the Church were strictly
observed. Stimulated by good example some who had been careless about
religion in France devoted themselves earnestly to it in Canada. So
admirable was the order which Champlain established that some years later
a missionary wrote:--"Murder, robbery, usury, injustice, and similar
crimes are heard of here only once a year, when, on the arrival of the
ships from France, a newspaper account of them accidentally finds its way
among us." And, again, "Our churches are too small to contain the
congregation; we have the consolation of seeing them filled to
overflowing. By the grace of God, virtue walks here with head erect; it
is in honour; vice alone in disrepute." The infant Church of Canada
seemed, indeed, to have revived the golden age of the Church of the
Apostles. Under the direction of the Governor, the Fort was in some
respects not unlike a monastery. The soldiers approached the Sacraments
regularly; instructive books were read aloud at meals; duty was
punctually discharged, and the well spent day was closed by night prayers
said in common, and presided over by the Governor. He it was who
introduced the custom, ever since religiously observed, of ringing the
Angelus three times a day. He watched so carefully over the public and
private interests of both French and Indians, that all looked on him as a
father, and although continually appealed to for decisions between rival
claimants, his integrity was never called in question. Uniting in his own
person the functions and the authority of Governor, Legislator, and
Judge, his power was necessarily great, but never was he known to abuse
it. It was his maxim that the salvation of one single soul is of more
importance than the subjugation of an Empire, and that the only object
which kings should have in view in the conquest of idolatrous nations, is
to lay them as trophies at the feet of their Saviour Jesus Christ. This
maxim is the key-note to his life; its practical influence was manifested
in his zeal for the conversion of the Indians, and for the diffusion of a
solidly religious spirit among the French population, and assuredly it is
not the least of his claims to the gratitude of posterity, that the
Canada of his formation has ever clung to her faith with so tenacious a
grasp, that still she wears as her crown of highest honour, and proclaims
as her proudest boast, the glorious title of Catholic Canada. The writers
of his time are unanimous in ascribing to Champlain all the
qualifications suited to the founder of a colony, and when, after a
connection of thirty-two years with the country, he was summoned to his
reward, on the 25th of December, 1635, he was followed to the grave, as
well he might be, by the heartfelt regret of the whole colony, who looked
on his death as the greatest of all calamities. After his demise, his
widow founded the Ursuline Convent at Meaux, and there made her religious
profession. During her residence in Canada, she had endeared herself both
to French and Indians by her unvarying kindness and affability. Seeing
their faces reflected in a small mirror which, according to the fashion
of the day, she wore at her girdle, the poor savages were much delighted
to find that she carried them all, as they said, in her heart. She
learned the Algonquin tongue that she might teach the children their
Catechism, and to the end of life retained a lively interest in the
Canadian Mission.

Champlain was succeeded in the government of Quebec by Monsieur Charles
de Montmagny, a man distinguished alike for courage, ability, piety, and
zeal. His first act on landing was to kneel at the foot of a cross
erected on the road to the town, and there invoke the blessing and
protection of heaven on the colony intrusted to his charge; thence he
proceeded to the church to assist at the _Te Deum_. His second act
on the same morning was to visit an Indian wigwam, and stand sponsor for
an invalid who desired baptism, the greatest honour and sweetest
consolation, he said, which he could have desired at his arrival in New
France. His great aim from the beginning was to walk in the steps of his
predecessor, and thus develop and consolidate the work so happily
commenced. He maintained the moral and religious tone of society, by
following up Champlain's plan of excluding disreputable and vicious
characters. One of his first concerns was to build a Seminary for the
education of the Huron youth, an object which he knew to have been very
dear to the heart of the late Governor. He also constructed a stone fort,
strengthened the fortifications at Three Rivers, and traced a correct
plan of the city, which as yet, it must be owned, existed only among the
visions of hope. The Quebec of the Mother of the Incarnation was, indeed,
widely different from that for which in after years, England and France
contended, and Wolfe and Montcalm bled and died. At the time of which we
write, it consisted of little more than a few rudely-constructed huts,
and contained scarcely two hundred and fifty inhabitants, but we have
dwelt thus long on its origin and early history because of its connection
with the life and labours of the Venerable Mother, which give interest to
every least detail concerning it. We have now reached the date of its
annals when Heaven was pleased to bless it with her presence; but before
entering on her biography, a glance at the Indian portion of the
population will be necessary to the completion of our little sketch of
Canada as it was in her days.

All the tribes dispersed over the territory comprised in the basin of the
St. Lawrence, were at this period divided into two groups, the Algonquin
and Huron-Iroquois, classified according to their respective languages.
To each of these mother tongues belonged dialects more or less numerous,
according to the sub-divisions of the tribes who spoke them. The
Algonquins were scattered under various names over perhaps more than a
half of the territory south of the St. Lawrence and east of the
Mississippi. Several branches of the same widely-extended family were
also to be found wandering in Canada to the north of the St. Lawrence.
The five confederate tribes of the Hurons inhabited the peninsula
included between Lakes Huron, Erie, and Ontario. The Iroquois stretched
from the borders of Vermont to Western New York, and from the lakes, to
the head waters of the Ohio, Susquehanna, and Delaware. They, too, formed
a confederation of five tribes, and are commonly known as the Five
Nations. The Hurons and the Iroquois are said to have received their
names from the French--the former in allusion to the French word _hure_,
a head of hair, these savages being distinguished by a singular mode of
dressing theirs; the latter from their frequent repetition of the word
"_hiro_," "I have said it," the ordinary termination of the warriors'
harangues.

When the early missionaries began to study the Indian dialects, they were
much astonished to find them characterized by remarkable richness and
variety of expression, as well as regularity of construction.
Notwithstanding gradual alterations, they still retain much of their
traditionary character, being, in fact, less liable to change than
written language, because of the ridicule with which the Indian visits
any attempt at innovation on the point. One peculiarity of the American
tongues is their singular power of extending the primitive signification
of words by the addition of new syllables to the original term. Taking
the verb for his starting point, the Indian is enabled, by prefixing,
inserting, and adding syllables, to form at last some word which will not
only express the action in question, but include at once, subject,
object, time, place, and modifying circumstances. If he is shown an
article with which he is unacquainted, he will ask its use, and then
adding word to word at pleasure, he will at last give it a name
comprising perhaps an entire definition. For sake of sound, the chain of
words is sometimes linked by syllables of no particular significance.
Strictly speaking, the Indian tongues consist only of the verb, which may
be said to absorb all the other parts of speech. Declensions, articles,
and cases are deficient; the adjective has a verbal termination; the idea
expressed by the noun takes a verbal form; every thing is conjugated,
nothing declined. The conjugation changes with every slight variation in
the action spoken of. For instance, the same word will not express two
similar actions performed, the one on the water, the other on the land;
or two similar actions, the one referring to a living; the other to an
inanimate object; there must be a separate conjugation for each. The
forms of the verb thus vary to infinity, and hence arose the immense
difficulty to the missioners of learning the languages.

A second peculiarity of the Indian dialects, is the abundant use which
they allow of figurative language, a result of their total want of terms
expressive of abstract, and purely spiritual ideas. To clothe these in
words, they must have recourse to figures, chiefly metaphor and allegory,
hence arises so much of what an American writer calls "the picturesque
brilliancy" of the savage tongues. To express the term "prosperity," for
example, the Indian will employ the image of a bright sun, a cloudless
sky, or a calm river. "To make peace," will be "to smooth the forest
path, to level the mountain," or "to bury the tomahawk." "To console the
bereaved by the offering of presents," will be "to cover the graves of
the departed." Unconsciously, the Indian habitually speaks poetry. He
knows nothing of written characters, so his method of writing is by
hieroglyphics, or rude pictures traced on a stone or a piece of bark. In
the Huron and Iroquois, the words are almost entirely composed of vowels,
both languages being deficient in consonants, and totally wanting in
labials. The Algonquin is also deficient in several letters, among others
the consonants _f, l, v, x, z_. In the Indian tongues, many of the
sounds are merely guttural, and produced without any movement of the
lips. _Ou_, as sounded in _you_, is of this description; to distinguish
it from the articulated sounds, the early missioners marked it by the
figure 8.

The religion of the native tribes of North America was a species of
pantheism. They believed that in every visible object dwelt good or evil
spirits, who exercised a certain influence over human events, and they
tried to propitiate them by sacrifices and prayers. Faith in dreams
constituted the foundation of almost all their superstitions. The dream
was to them an irrevocable decree which it was never allowable to slight.
It, therefore, formed the starting point of their deliberations, and the
basis of their decisions. Rather than reject the warning of a dream, they
would have consigned to the flames or the waves the produce of a
successful hunting or fishing expedition, or of a rich harvest. The most
intelligent held as a theory that dreams are the speech of the soul,
which through them manifests her innate desires, these desires remaining
for ever unknown, unless thus revealed. To carry out the dream was,
therefore, to satisfy the soul's cravings; to slight it was to excite her
desires afresh.

They believed that after death the soul wandered for a time in the
vicinity of the body which it had quitted, and then departed on a long
journey to a village in the direction of the setting sun. The country of
the dead differed but little in their imagination, from the land of the
living, and accordingly, looking on death merely as a passage from one
region to another nearly similar, they met the summons with indifference.
The deceased warrior was placed outside his wigwam in a sitting posture,
to show that although life was over, the principle of existence still
survived, and in that position he was buried, together with his pipe,
manitou, tomahawk, quiver, and bent bow, and a supply of maize and
venison for his travels to the paradise of his ancestors. The mourning
for near relatives lasted two years.

Among the Huron-Iroquois and Algonquins, liberty was uncontrolled. Each
hamlet was independent; so was the head of each family in the hamlet; so
was each child in the family. This mass of independent wills could be
ruled only by persuasion and promises of reward, and of these the chief
was lavish. Sometimes there were many. rulers, or "captains," as they
were called, in one hamlet, especially the larger ones; sometimes the
government of the village was committed to a single chief. Among the
principal tribes, the latter office was in general hereditary, though
occasionally conferred by election. Public affairs were discussed in
council with great formality, and votes taken by straws or small reeds,
the majority theoretically deciding the question, but the conclusion was
not carried out unless all agreed. The rebellious were generally won over
by presents or flattery.

The savage tribes were divided into several great familes, each
distinguished by the name of some animal chosen by the chief as his
_totum_ or distinctive mark. Among the Iroquois, for instance, the
highest family was that of the Tortoise; the second of the Beaver, and
the third of the Wolf. In battle, the _totum_ was borne as the
standard. The criminal code was not elaborate, yet it sufficed to
maintain order in the small republics. Murder, robbery treason and
sorcery were the crimes understood to entail its penalties. Instead of
being punished by death, murder was expiated by a very large number of
presents, to provide which, not only the assassin, but every family in
the village was laid under contribution. The punishment of the criminal
was thus multiplied by the reproaches and sarcasms of all the unwilling
sharers in the atonement. Among the Algonquins, stealing was of rare
occurrence; the Hurons, on the contrary, prided themselves on their feats
in that line. They stole for the mere pleasure of stealing, and so
accomplished were they in the art, that they could purloin an article
under the very eye of the owner, using the foot for the purpose, quite as
dexterously as the hand. If the thief could be identified, the person
robbed might despoil him of everything he possessed, supposing always he
was not strong enough to defend himself. If he belonged to another
village, goods to the value of those lost might be taken from any one in
his village, and kept until the robber had made restitution. Traitors and
sorcerers, as objects of special dread, were always liable to heavy
penalties.

According to the savage code of honour, war was the only road to glory;
it was in consequence frequent, and once begun, lasted for years,
national hatred descending as a legacy from generation to generation.
Stealth and cunning entered largely into the tactics of the Indians; to
lie in ambush was their delight; to surprise the enemy, their grand
triumph. The assailants advanced in single file, the last carefully
strewing leaves on the footprints of those who had preceded. When they
had discovered the enemy, they crept on all-fours until near enough for
the attack, then suddenly bounding up, and yelling fearfully, they rushed
forward to the onslaught. If the enemy were on his guard, they withdrew
noiselessly; if retreat were impossible, they fought with desperation.
The number of foes overcome, was marked by that of the scalps hanging as
trophies of bloody triumph from the girdles of the savage victors. Their
arms were a species of javelin, a bow and arrow, the latter tipped with a
sharp bone or flint, and the dreaded tomahawk or head-breaker. But more
important to the warrior than all besides was his manitou, or the symbol
of his familiar spirit,--some fantastic object represented in a dream,
or selected according to his peculiar taste; a bird's head, it might have
been, a beaver's tooth, or the knot of a tree; whatever, it was, the
warrior would as little have thought of going to battle without arms, as
without it. They treated their prisoners with great cruelty, partly it is
said from the superstitious belief that the manes of their fallen
companions were soothed by the sufferings of the captives. The prisoners
who were not sacrificed, were adopted into the tribes in place of the
slain, and treated thenceforth as members of the family.

The savages of North America were well formed and finely proportioned.
They considered painting the face and tattooing the person, so great an
addition to their personal charms, that jealous of the adornment, they
denied it to the women. The skins of beasts formed their ordinary attire;
their shoes were of the same material, but prepared for the purpose by a
particular process. The women were likewise clad in skins, which on
festive occasions they ornamented elaborately. They often displayed much
taste and skill in embroidering ornamental works on bark or skin.

The dwelling was the wigwam, easily constructed and easily removed. Long
poles fixed in the ground and bent inwards at the upper end, were covered
outside with bark, and inside with mats; a loose skin was attached for
the door, an opening left at the top for the chimney, and the house was
built. In the larger hamlets, such as that of Hochelaga, described by
Cartier, the dwellings ran along a sort of gallery, sometimes nearly two
hundred feet long and thirty wide; in these several families could be
accommodated. A raised platform was introduced into some, as a kind of
upper story, serving for sleeping apartments.

Before the arrival of the Europeans, the savages were subject to but few
maladies, and these they cured by natural remedies, the indigenous
medicinal plants, abstemious diet, and vapour baths of their own
invention forming the basis of all prescriptions. Of persons skilled in
the medical art, there was no scarcity, every cabin generally containing
several. But not always satisfied with natural remedies, the patients had
frequent recourse to the juggler or "medicine man," to discover the
magical source of their illness, and avert evil consequences. The
medicine man was likewise consulted on the issue of future events, and
his mysterious predictions were received as so many oracles, his wondrous
spells looked on as so many talismans.

The husband's duty was to hunt and fish, leaving his venison at the cabin
door, and his fish at the water's edge, to be thence removed by his wife.
He had also to construct and repair the canoe, and provide wood and bark
for building the hut,--that was all. Most of his time was passed in
listless lounging, or in games of hazard at which he often staked his
whole possessions. His wife was mistress of the wigwam, and on her it
devolved to draw the water, hew the wood, dress the food, prepare the
ground to receive the grain, sow and gather in the harvest, weave the
mats, make the rude garments of the family, and in their frequent
journeys, to bear the house on her shoulders, not figuratively, but very
literally. Her lord was supposed to carry nothing but his arms; if
particularly condescending, he might of his own accord deviate from the
rule without compromise of dignity.

Among the North American Indians in general, woman was considered a being
of an inferior order, created only to obey the caprices of man, yet by a
strange contradiction, the children belonged to the mother, and
recognising only her authority, looked on their father merely in the
light of a guest permitted to occupy a place in the cabin. In return, the
squaw loved her offspring with passionate fondness, not manifested
perhaps by demonstrative caresses, but not on that account the less
tender, vigilant, or enduring. At home or abroad, she never parted from
her nursling. When she travelled, she lifted her black-eyed babe to her
shoulders, gaily-decked cradle and all, and so they journeyed on happily
together, her great love divesting the burden of all weight. When she
worked in the fields, she laid it at her feet among the sweet wild
flowers, or she swung it from the bough of some pleasant shady tree close
by, but never under any circumstances did she entrust it to other care
than her own. Parental love indeed often degenerated into weakness among
the Indians, and proved one of the great obstacles to the formation of
schools by the missionaries. Unable to bear separation from their little
ones, the parents soon recalled them home. As the children grew, they
were left to do pretty much as they pleased. They received no moral
instruction, but in order to excite their emulation, they were duly
initiated in the illustrious deeds of their ancestors, in whose footsteps
they were supposed to follow. For the correction of their faults, the
mother employed prayers and tears, but never threats or punishment;
these, their independent spirits would not have brooked. The severest
chastisement ever inflicted was a dash of cold water in the face. The
naturally unexcitable temperament of the Indians served as an antidote to
the defects of their rearing. Reason early taught them the necessity of
self-control, and so it happened, that at the age when the character is
formed, they presented a strange combination of good and bad qualities.

First among the virtues of the savages was fortitude. Fitted by their
stern nature and their early habits to support privation and pain, they
would exhibit the very stoicism of endurance under the extreme of both.
Without a word of complaint they would bear the pangs of hunger for ten
or fifteen days, sometimes in compliance with a superstition, but very
frequently from necessity too. They would glory in dying without a groan
amidst inconceivable agonies. They seemed insensible to cold, heat,
fatigue, sickness, and every other species of physical suffering. To
inure themselves early to the torture of fire, boys and girls of ten and
twelve would place a live coal on their joined arms, the palm of courage
being, of course, for the one who bore the pain longest without letting
the coal fall.

Hospitality they exercised in the style of the patriarchs. By day and by
night, the guest, whether stranger or friend, was welcome to the best
place in the wigwam, and to the choicest portion of the family stores. If
a stranger, he was visited by all the notabilities of the village, and at
the subsequent entertainments given in his honour, was treated with
marked distinction. The Indians were ever ready to divide their
possessions with those in greater need, and especially prompt to relieve
the widow and the orphan. "Their life is so void of care," remarked an
old writer, "and they are so loving also, that they make use of those
things which they enjoy as common goods, and are therein so
compassionate, that rather than one should starve, all would starve."
With a courtesy of which they might have been supposed incapable, they
paid visits of condolence, as a matter of course, to all in affliction.
When they offered their sympathy on the occasion of death, the departed
was never named, lest so direct an allusion might wound the sensitive
feelings of the bereaved; he was spoken of only as "the one who has left
us." They were remarkable for their reverence for the sepulchres of their
kindred, and would travel miles to visit some tomb in the woods, where,
according to their traditions, the bones of their ancestors had been
deposited. When the graves were within reach, it was a practice of some
of the tribes to keep them in the neatest order, the grass closely mown,
and the weeds and brambles carefully removed. The Hurons honoured their
dead by a special festival, celebrated every ten or twelve years at some
hamlet decided on in general council. On this occasion, each family
brought to the place appointed the bones of the relatives who had died
since the last celebration. These remains of mortality had been
previously washed, then wrapped in beaver skins ornamented with shell
work or embroidery. A common grave was ready to receive them, and on its
preparation, no pains had been spared. It was lined throughout with rich
furs, and partially filled with various presents, including articles both
of ornament and of use. The venerated remains were respectfully laid on
these; then followed, layer after layer, another supply of presents, a
store of provisions, and finally, a covering of bark, the whole
surmounted by a mound of earth. Over all a roof was raised, to protect
the precious deposit from the cold and snow of winter, and the rain and
heat of summer.

So greatly did the Indians prize domestic peace and harmony, that to
maintain it in their little communities, they often carried forbearance
and self-control to the last extreme.

So many good qualities combined assuredly prove the accuracy of the
remark of Washington Irving that "although there seems but little soil in
the Indian's heart for the growth of the kindly virtues, if we would
penetrate through the proud stoicism and habitual taciturnity which hide
his character from casual observers, we should find him linked to his
fellow-men of civilized life by more of those sympathies and affections
than are usually ascribed to him." Much in the same spirit, Father Smet
writes--"The Indians are in general little known in the civilized world.
People judge by those whom they see on the frontiers, the mere wrecks and
remnants of once powerful tribes. Among these the 'fire-water' and the
degrading vices of the whites have wrought sad ruin. The farther one
penetrates into the desert, the better he finds the aborigines, and the
more worthy and desirous to receive religious instruction."

Among the evil impulses of the Red Man's nature, pride and revenge were
predominant. Fostered and strengthened by indulgence, as well as by the
peculiar nature of early training, these passions finally acquired so
great a dominion, that to gratify either, the savages would have
sacrificed all they held most dear. They were fond of praise too, and
although they declared themselves indifferent to general opinion, their
constant fear of provoking an unfavourable one, rendered them, in truth,
its slaves. In their dealings with the whites, they were often found
false, treacherous, and regardless of promises and treaties, although in
domestic intercourse they were not in general deceitful. In extenuation,
it must be remembered that from their earliest years, they were not only
initiated in stratagem by the necessity of self-defence, but taught to
look on every exhibition of craft and cunning as a triumph of skill and a
worthy subject of admiration. And again, it is but too true that the
example of the more enlightened Europeans was not always calculated to
inspire them with respect for truth. Another ground of accusation against
the Indians was their barbarity to the vanquished. This originated partly
in policy and superstition, but from the era of European aggression,
savage cruelty needed no other stimulus than the desire of revenge.

In the long journeys of the Indians, whether for war or the chase, the
sun, moon, and stars answered the purpose of time-piece and compass.
Distant periods they calculated by the solar year, but for short
intervals they reckoned by lunations. They had observed and even given
names to the principal constellations. Among the Iroquois, the Pleiades
were called the "Dancers;" the Milky Way, "the Path of Souls;" the Great
Bear had a name corresponding with that which we give it; the Polar Star
was designated as "the star that never sets;" it served to guide them in
their long marches through the forests and across the great prairies of
the west. When the sky was clouded, they were led through the woods by
certain infallible signs--indeed by a species of instinct--besides which,
their memory of places was so wonderful that, after once visiting any
locality, they ever after retained a perfectly distinct recollection of
it. They preferred water to land travelling, possessing thorough command
of their light bark canoe, which they could direct with ease and security
amidst the most formidable rapids. If they came to an absolutely
impassable spot, they raised the slight vessel on their shoulders and
carried it until they reached the next navigable point.

Christianity produced a wonderful change in these wild children of the
woods, developing all that was good in their nature, correcting what was
evil, and softening down much of what was harsh, but when the Mother of
the Incarnation arrived in Canada, it had made but little progress. As
early as 1615, it is true, Père Caron, a Recollet, had penetrated to the
Huron land, and, during the succeeding years, he and his religious
brethren had laboured at intervals for the conversion of its inhabitants,
but although their zeal was ardent, their success had been only very
partial. Unlike the tribes of whom Jacques Cartier speaks, these
manifested so strong an opposition to the dogmas of the Catholic faith,
that it was evident many years must elapse before they would be disposed
to embrace it. Although the most intelligent of all the North American
tribes, and the most susceptible of ordinary instruction, the Hurons
appeared absolutely inaccessible to religious teaching.

The plan of the missioners in the northern continent was to try and gain
access to some Indian village, and, this point attained, to build a cabin
and as soon as opportunity offered, announce the Word of God to all who
would receive it. Gradually a little congregation was formed around them,
but the tie between the converts and their heathen relatives was not
severed, both continuing to associate; neither was the original name of
the village changed; it merely received in addition that of the
particularly saint who had been chosen as its patron. In South America,
on the contrary, it was the practice of the missioners to prepare
settlements, or "reductions," as they were called, to which they
attracted their neophytes, whom they induced to live in community.

In the year 1634, the three Jesuit Fathers, Bréboeuf, Daniel, and Davost,
succeeded in establishing themselves in the village of Ihonhatiria, in
the land of the Hurons, and there, in a very poor little chapel dedicated
to St. Joseph, they planted the seed of that interesting portion of the
early Canadian Church, the Huron Mission. In a year after, they were
joined by Père Jogues. When the Venerable Mother arrived, five years had
passed over that precious seed, and it had given scarcely a sign of life,
nor did it for long afterwards. The efforts of the Fathers were
everywhere thwarted--prejudice, superstition, ignorance, and vice all
rose in arms against them. They were accounted sorcerers; the breaking
out of the dreaded small-pox was attributed to their magic arts, and they
once owed their escape from a sentence of death only to the intervention
of a friendly Indian. But the blood of a martyr was to fertilize the seed
of Christianity in the New World, as in primitive times it had so often
done in the Old. Père Jogues was seized by the Iroquois, and after
enduring torments which only the ingenuity of savage barbarity could have
invented, he wonderfully escaped alive from their hands. In 1646 he was
sent to found a mission in the heart of the Iroquois land itself--a
mission which was to be dedicated to, and appropriately named after, the
holy Martyrs. "I shall go," he said, on receiving the order; "I shall go,
but I shall not return." The words were prophetic; his own blood was the
first to water the mission of the holy martyrs, and, as might have been
anticipated, its eloquent voice pierced the heavens. It had scarcely sent
up its pleadings, when the work of conversion among the Hurons began in
earnest. Missionary stations multiplied rapidly. The Christianized
villages of St. Joseph, St. Louis, St. Ignatius, and St. John smiled in
the desert like green spots amidst the barren sands. At the central
station of St. Mary's alone, three thousand Indians received hospitality
in the course of one year. Undeterred by the certainty of privation and
suffering, new missioners continued to swell the ranks and aid the work.
With indefatigable zeal and unwearied patience, they catechised,
exhorted, consoled, encouraged. The morning hours, from four until eight,
were reserved for their private devotions; the remainder of the day
belonged to the neophytes. Like St. Francis Xavier, Père Bréboeuf would
walk through the villages and their environs, ringing a bell to summon
the warriors to a conference. Seated round the good Father under the
pleasant shade of their own ancient forest trees, they would drink in his
words and joyfully accept his doctrines. "When I escaped some particular
danger," a brave would remark, "I said to myself, 'A powerful spirit
watches over me.' Now I know that my Protector was the great God of whom
you tell us." The first desire and aim of the converts was to bring as
many of their nation as possible to the faith; and so wondrously rapid
was its diffusion, that within two years after the martyrdom of Père
Jogues, the whole Huron nation was converted.

The harvest had taken long to ripen, but in compensation it was so rich,
that only the golden garners seemed fit to receive it, and to these,
accordingly, the Almighty Master of the vineyard was pleased speedily to
transfer it. The Iroquois had long maintained a deadly enmity to the
Hurons, and frequent bloodshed had necessarily been its consequence; but,
no longer satisfied with partial vengeance, they resolved in the year
1648 on carrying on a war of absolute extermination into the Huron
territory itself. They chose for their incursion the season when all the
Huron warriors were absent on the chase, and no one left in the hamlets
but women, children, and aged men. The village of St. Joseph, with its
venerable pastor, Father Daniel, at once fell a prey to their terrible
fury. The following year the villages of St. Louis and St. Ignatius
shared the same fate, and all the inhabitants, men, women, and children,
were slain. Fathers Bréboeuf and Lalemant were included in the general
massacre, but their deaths were marked by an exceptional refinement of
barbarity. In explanation of the bitter hatred of the Iroquois to the
French, we learn that about a year after his arrival in Canada, Champlain
had provoked their hostility by entering into an alliance with the
Algonquins and Hurons, their traditional foes. The step was taken in
choice of the lesser of two evils, for unless conciliated, it seemed but
natural to expect that the Algonquins, as the nearest neighbours, would
prove the most dangerous enemies. Wise as may have been the motive, the
act led to disastrous results.

After the almost total annihilation of their nation, a part of the
surviving Hurons descended the St. Lawrence to Quebec, in the environs of
which their posterity is still to be seen; another portion was adopted
into the nation of the conquerors on equal terms, and the rest dispersed.
Many of those admitted into the enemy's tribe were Christians, and not
only did they preserve their faith in exile, but they were the happy
means of drawing to it many of their new allies. Several years after,
missioners were amazed and charmed at finding a little band of fervent
Christians in the very centre of heathen vice and barbarism. The exiled
Hurons who sought an asylum in Quebec were located in the Isle of
Orleans, to which they gave the name of St. Mary's, in memory of their
old and still dearly-cherished home. Our limits do not permit us to dwell
on the heroism of the missioners in the daily, hourly sacrifices of their
crucified lives, ending for very many among them in death by a cruel
martyrdom. The record fills one among the many beautiful pages in the
annals of the sons of St. Ignatius. Commenting on their glorious work,
the historian, Bancroft, remarks that "the history of their labours is
connected with the origin of every celebrated town within the limits of
French Canada. Not a cape was turned," he says, "not a river entered, but
a Jesuit led the way." This, however, is but secondary merit; their true
glory is in having led the way to heaven for innumerable souls who will
for ever bless their charity, and sing praise to Him who inspired it.

Before the arrival of the Venerable Mother Mary of the Incarnation,
missions for the converted Indians had sprung up under their direction in
and about Quebec and along the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The most remarkable
of the former was that called St. Joseph of Sillery, in honour of the
patron of Canada, to whom it was dedicated, and of Monsieur de Sillery,
[Footnote: After having been Ambassador for France at the Spanish and
Papal Courts, Monsieur de Sillery was appointed Prime Minister of Louis
XIII. He finally renounced the world, and embraced the ecclesiastical
state.] its munificent founder. A few savage families lived happily in
this peaceful hamlet, fervently discharging their duty as Christians, and
insensibly falling into the spirit and usages of civilized life. These
converts were chiefly from among the Algonquins proper, and the kindred
tribe of the Montagnais. As the desire for the conversion of the Indians
strengthened, so did the conviction that the work must begin with the
systematic religious training of the children. Thanks to the zeal and
charity of the lamented Champlain, a step had been taken in this
direction for the benefit of the Indian boys;--that a similar advantage
might be extended to the girls, had long been the prayer of all who
sighed for the coming of the Kingdom of God among the heathens of Canada.
And God heard the prayer, and in his own time He sent His mercy and His
blessing to the heathen land in the person of the Venerable Mother Mary
of the Incarnation, whose wondrous call, and faithful co-operation will
engage our attention in the following pages, a tribute of filial love and
reverence to her saintly memory.




THE LIFE OF THE VENERABLE MOTHER MARY OF THE INCARNATION




FIRST PERIOD, 1599-1631.

HER LIFE IN THE WORLD.




CHAPTER I

HER BIRTH, PARENTAGE, INFANCY, CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.


The world of nature is no doubt very beautiful in itself, and very
wonderful in its works, yet infinitely surpassing it, both in intrinsic
loveliness and in magnificence of production, is the world of grace. It
is in that world that the saints are formed, and compared with the
grandeur of the work of grace in the sanctification of a soul, all the
splendours of this material universe fade to nothing. When grace forms a
saint, it restores the beauty, and renews the purity which were the dowry
of the soul before the fall. For this end, it has to transform man from a
terrestrial into a heavenly being, elevating what is low in his fallen
nature, correcting what is evil, spiritualizing what is earthly,
improving what is good;--re-forming, re-moulding, and in a manner re-
creating.

Considering the subjects on which divine grace has to act, and the
opposition which it has to encounter, this, its work in the saints, may
well be called the most wonderful of all works, and its triumph the
grandest of all triumphs. Unseen and unheeded though it may be, that
divine work is ever silently but surely and steadily progressing in the
spiritual world over which grace rules. We can see it in its development,
if not in its actual operation, and if so minded, can estimate its
magnitude by examining its results in the annals of the saints.

Those annals are of a singularly diversified character. They comprise the
history of once rebellious souls won by the sweet attractions of grace
from every part of the empire of Satan, and by a strange contrast, they
at the same time record that of faithful souls, who, upheld by its
strength, never swerved from their allegiance to God. They tell of
saintly penitents, dating their first correspondence with its
inspirations from the eleventh hour, and of docile hearts, obedient from
earliest childhood to its voice. They show us, side by side, profaned
temples re-consecrated, and holy sanctuaries never sullied; scentless
flowers restored to fragrance, and garlands of purity from which not a
blossom or even a leaf had ever fallen. In different ways both manifest
the magnificence of the riches of divine grace. In different ways, both
prove that whether grace changes a sinner into a saint, or preserves a
saint from sin, it is pre-eminently the worker of wonders. If the
catalogue of holy penitents forms a dazzling page in its record, so does
that of the privileged few who never lost their baptismal innocence.
While the one is traced in characters of mercy, the other is written in
letters of light. While the one reveals the grandeur, and the other the
sweetness of the work of grace, both concur in proclaiming the triumph of
its omnipotence.

In obdurate wills subdued, the conquests of grace are often hard to win.
In the docile souls of the early sanctified, its task is easy. Into
these, its inspirations sink as the soft dew into good soil; and with the
same result. Finding in them no impediment to its action, no check to its
liberality, it is free to pour out the wealth of its exhaustless
treasury, and so it leads them from virtue to virtue, from height to
height, even to the sublimity of perfection and the consummation of
divine union, when, resplendent with heavenly light, and dazzling with
interior beauty, they excite the admiration, nay, perhaps even the wonder
of the angels.

To this bright page of the annals of the work of grace belongs the name
of the Mother Mary of the Incarnation, whose history is about to engage
us.

As we follow the progress of the great work of God in her soul, noting,
on the one hand, the rich abundance of heavenly inspiration, and, on the
other, the perfection of her fidelity, let us not be satisfied with
simply admiring the one, but let us set ourselves in earnest to imitate
the other, according to our measure and degree.

She was born in the historic city of Tours on the 28th of October 1599.
With the very gift of life itself, she received an accompanying
protecting grace in the blessing of good, religious parents. Her father,
Florence Guyart, was noted among his fellow-citizens for piety,
integrity, and uprightness, but although richly endowed with the
treasures of virtue, he was but indifferently provided with those of
fortune, his business as a silk-mercer supplying him barely with a
competency. Her mother, Jeanne Michelet, was of the noble house of Babou
de la Bourdaisière, to which France was once indebted for some of her
eminent ecclesiastics and statesmen, but at the period of the birth of
her holy child, she ranked--like the royally descended Virgin of Juda at
the birth of Christ--only among other obscure individuals of the middle
class.

The predestined infant received baptism on the day after her birth, in
the church of St. Saturninus, and with it the name of Mary, a happy
presage, as one of her biographers remarks, of her life-long, most tender
devotion to the Blessed Virgin, as well as of the singular favours which
that generous Mother reserved for her well-loved child. It was her
happiness to be surrounded from earliest infancy with none but holy
influences, and to breathe from her very cradle an atmosphere of purity.
The first words which she heard, the first she tried to lisp, were the
sweet names of Jesus and Mary. The first bent she received was an
inclination to virtue; the first and only examples she witnessed were
examples of piety. Thus passed the years preceding the dawn of reason,
her beautiful soul expanding under the combined action of the baptismal
grace, and of favourable external influences, like a bud of rich promise
in the bright spring sunshine; then the clouds of infancy cleared away,
and the light of reason shone. Her good mother seized the all-important
moment to direct the child's opening mind to the knowledge of God, and
her fresh, pure heart to His love, a grace for which the Venerable Mother
returned Him very earnest thanks in after life, remarking that early
impressions of religion are a most precious favour, and a strong
predisposition to future sanctity. Truly it was a picture to delight the
angels, that Christian mother so carefully directing the first feeble
steps of her little child along the road that leads to God, and that
docile child eagerly watching the guardian hand, and steadily treading
the path to which it pointed,--the sure and blessed path of holiness,
from which throughout life's long journey, she was never even once to
swerve.

The crowning grace of this privileged infancy was, however, yet to come.
Our Lord, whose Spirit breatheth where He will, had chosen that little
child to be in an especial manner all His own, and He desired to secure
possession of her soul while yet it looked so lovely, all glistening with
the baptismal dew in the morning light of its young purity. But as the
gift of the heart, to be acceptable, must be voluntary, her concurrence
in His designs of mercy had to be asked. Neither, however, to visible or
invisible guardian angel would He intrust the invitation, which, to crown
His infinite condescension, was to come from Himself in person. She has
left us a touchingly simple description of the extraordinary favour
referred to, which she always looked on as the first link in the chain of
her vocation to the mystic life, and prized accordingly.

"I was only about seven years old," she says, "when one night in sleep, I
seemed to myself to be in the courtyard of a country school with one of
my young companions. My eyes were fixed on the heavens, when suddenly I
saw them opened, and our Lord Jesus Christ descending towards me through
the air. As His most adorable Majesty drew near, I felt my heart all on
fire with His love, and eagerly stretched out my arms to Him. The most
lovely above the sons of men, beautiful and attractive beyond
description, lovingly embraced me, and then He asked, 'Wilt thou be
mine?' I answered, 'yes,' and having thus received my consent, He re-
ascended in our sight to heaven. When I awoke, my soul was so ravished
with joy at this unspeakable favour, that in my childish simplicity, I
detailed the wonderful particulars to all who would listen to me. The
sweet words of our Blessed Lord remained ever indelibly engraven on my
memory, and so completely did they absorb my attention, that although I
saw His sacred Humanity, I afterwards retained no distinct impression
concerning it."

It was an important crisis in the child's spiritual life, that heavenly
vision, for on its results depended the bent and colouring of her future
career. By her ready compliance with the invitation of divine grace, she
subjected her whole will unreservedly and for ever to the dominion of her
Lord, and thus left Him free to carry out His yet unrevealed designs for
her personal sanctification, and the salvation of innumerable souls bound
up with hers. Henceforth, His divine inspirations would find no
impediment to their action in the docile heart of that little child.

According to St. Bernard, the embrace of God means His Holy Spirit. To
embrace a soul, and to give her His Spirit, are then in God identical
acts. By the embrace noted in the vision, the Holy Ghost took possession
of the heart of His chosen Spouse in quality of her Director, and
although unacquainted as yet with the secrets, and even the name of the
interior life, she found herself guided along its paths by that divine
Master, as steadily and securely as if she had been led by a visible
hand. In her doubts, she consulted Him with great simplicity, and never
failed to receive the light which she needed for her practical direction;
light so clear and vivid, that it sometimes carried with it the force
almost of demonstration. This supernatural guidance, commenced thus
early, and continued through life, may be ranked among the most eminent
of her great spiritual privileges. But although the first, it was not the
only favour conferred on her by our Lord at His most gracious visit.
Other precious, practical effects of that visit were to disengage her
heart from the amusements in general so eagerly sought by children of her
age; to confirm her desire of virtue; to develop her love of retirement
and prayer; to intensify her hatred of sin, and strengthen her resolution
to guard with jealous care the holy treasure of her baptismal innocence.
The embrace vouchsafed her by our Lord, so embalmed her soul with
sweetness, so inflamed her heart with love, that she ceased not
thenceforth to "run after Him in the odour of His perfumes," and so
readily did her thoughts and affections turn to Him, their Centre, that
it would seem as if in vanishing from her sight in the vision just
referred to, He had taken both back to heaven with Himself. Her delight
was to resort to the most solitary places and the least frequented
churches, that she might enjoy with less interruption the sweets of
communion with Him. Struck by the humble and respectful attitudes of
pious persons whom she met in the church, and believing that God must
certainly grant the petitions of those who prayed with so much reverence,
she at once set about imitating them; and no doubt, even indifferent
observers must have been impressed by the sight of a child between nine
and ten years of age spending long hours on her knees before the
tabernacle, her little hands devoutly joined, her soul absorbed as if in
ecstasy, and her very countenance wearing a seraphic expression. She
spoke of her childish wants, with simple confidence to our Lord and His
Blessed Mother, and every day she asked that dear Mother that she might
see her at least before death. From constant association with Him who is
the joy of the angels, and the sweetness of the saints, her naturally
bright disposition grew the brighter, and her engaging amiability and
artless courtesy, the more striking and attractive.

She early manifested a singular reverence and love for religious
instruction. Having heard that God speaks through the preachers of His
word, she conceived so profound a veneration for their office and their
person, that when she met one of them in the street, she would have
followed him to kiss the traces of his steps, had she not been restrained
by the fear of observation. Without understanding much of what was said
in sermons, she still loved to listen to them, and on her return home,
would repeat what she had retained, adding her own simple ideas and
reflections. As she grew older, and therefore better able to take in
their meaning, her heart, she says, seemed to her like a vessel into
which the word of God poured in the manner of a liquid into a vase. Like
the brimming vase, her soul so overflowed with heavenly emotions, that
unable to contain their abundance, she was constrained to give them vent
in prayer, or in humble efforts to impart some of her treasures to other
souls. This early inclination for receiving and communicating religious
instruction, was a pre-disposition for the grand work which the future
reserved for her, and when, after the lapse of many years, her destiny
had associated her with the generous missionaries who bore the knowledge
of the name of Christ to infidel lands, she recalled the aspirations of
childhood's days, in which, as she says, her heart had followed the
ministers of the Gospel to the scenes of their labours, and her mind had
been more engrossed by their noble deeds, than by the events actually
passing around her.

Daily more intent on excluding from the solitude of her soul every
distracting thought and care thus the better to dispose it for the
permanent abode of the divine Guest who will have the heart to Himself,
she withdrew more and more from all intercourse with creatures, except
that required by charity and courtesy. Seeing in the recreative reading
provided for her by her parents, an obstacle to recollection and a waste
of time, she totally laid it aside, substituting for books of mere
amusement, those which treated of spiritual subjects.

As she advanced in years, the love of God which inflamed her soul sought
a vent not only in her almost uninterrupted communications with the
divine Object of her affections, but in exterior active works of charity
towards her neighbour. The tabernacle and the poor were the two magnets
that attracted her heart, and next to the hours spent before the altar,
none yielded her such pure delight as those passed among the lowly,
suffering members of her dear Saviour. She found no company so congenial
as theirs; no occupation so agreeable as the humble services which their
desolate condition required. She fed, clothed and consoled them, and even
sometimes partook of their poor fare, reserving for her own share their
remnants and refuse. She would have been glad to suffer in their stead,
and says, that but for the uprightness of her intention, she might
sometimes have erred by excess of liberality towards them.

Going one day, as usual, on a mission of charity, she inadvertently
passed too near a cart which some workmen were in the act of loading. Not
seeing her, they raised the vehicle so suddenly, that her sleeve was
caught in the shaft, and after being lifted into the air, she was dashed
back violently to the ground. The terrified spectators concluded that she
must have been killed, but she had not received the least injury, a
favour for which, as the Almighty revealed to her, she was indebted to
her love for the poor.

After some years, we hear of the first notable imperfection of her
childhood and youth, and nothing perhaps gives a more accurate idea of
her innocence, than the gravity which that imperfection assumed in her
estimation. The singular degree of supernatural light vouchsafed her, the
sublimity of interior purity to which she was called, and the height of
the virtue to which she had already attained, explain the reproaches of
the Holy Spirit, and her own keen remorse for an infidelity which appears
trivial to us because of our want of enlightenment in the ways of God.

In her childish recreations, it had been her favourite amusement to copy
the devotional practices which she had witnessed at Church; to kneel, to
prostrate, to clasp her hands, to raise her eyes to heaven, to strike her
breast; in short, to repeat as a pastime what she had seen done at
prayer. In ordinary children, a fancy for such diversions is often
considered a happy presage of a future vocation to the ecclesiastical or
religious state, but in her enlightened eyes, these childish follies
seemed inconsistent with the gravity and reserve becoming one so favoured
as she had been. Viewed in this aspect, they appeared to her, not as sins
certainly, but as imperfections; light vapours, it is true, but vapours
still, and therefore capable of intercepting to some extent the rays of
the eternal Sun of justice. It was not until her sixteenth year that her
early pastimes struck her as reprehensible, and then, with the new light,
there came a second to the effect, that although deliberate sin alone
forms necessary matter for confession, an imperfection like that recorded
might lawfully find a place in the self-accusations of one, destined as
she was, for an exceptional degree of purity of soul. No positive duty
however, required the sacrifice of natural feeling involved in the latter
course, therefore she hesitated for awhile to adopt it, thus for the
first time balancing the repugnances of nature against the inspirations
of grace. But the Spouse of souls will admit no reservation in those whom
He has chosen to be all His own, and we learn from herself, that by this
infidelity, she interrupted for a time the fulness of the flow of divine
liberality in her regard, and checked the freedom and rapidity of her
progress to God. To all but herself, however, that progress was very
apparent, furnishing matter of wonder and admiration, no less than of
edification.

Only two convents existed at that period in the city of Tours; one of
Carmelites, quite recently founded; the other of Benedictines, governed
just then by a near relative of her mother's. This latter monastery she
frequently visited, and as might have been expected, the oftener she
breathed its atmosphere of peace and prayer, the more she longed to make
it the place of her rest for ever. Her inclination for the religious life
gradually settled into a desire so strong and irrepressible, that even
before she had reached her sixteenth year, with its renewed call to
perfection, she had confided her wishes to her mother. While rejoicing at
the intelligence, and giving the project every reasonable encouragement,
that good mother suggested, that although the step was undeniably a holy
and a happy one, it was very important too, consequently, that it would
he better to delay it until time and reflection had more fully manifested
its wisdom. Had the youthful Mary been at that time under regular
spiritual direction, there can be no doubt that she would have been
advised to follow her attraction for the cloister, but she knew nothing
whatever about direction, imagining that spiritual communications even to
a confessor were limited to the accusation of sins at confession. Being
very timid, she did not venture to press the matter, so her mother,
hearing nothing more of it, naturally concluded that her inclination for
religion had been the result of some passing fit of fervour, or perhaps
only a childish fancy, forgotten as soon as formed, an idea apparently so
much the more reasonable, as her natural gaiety of character seemed to
dispose her rather for the world than for a convent. The seeming mistake
was in reality a step to the development of the particular designs of God
over His faithful servant, for although His general design is alike in
all the saints, the especial destiny of each varies, and while the great
outline of sanctity is universally the same, there are minute shades of
difference in the characteristic virtues of individuals. The saints form
the beautiful garden of the Church, redolent of every variety of sweetest
fragrance, and enamelled with every shade of fairest tinting. The day was
to come, when the Mother of the Incarnation would be bound to her Lord by
the vows of religion, but before becoming a guide for His consecrated
Spouses, she was to pass through married life and widowhood, that she
might first furnish an example of perfection in both conditions, and thus
serve as a model for woman in every state. Her ultimate destiny involved
a species of apostolate among the savages of Canada, and for this, the
novitiate awaiting her in the world would prove a more effectual
preparation, than would the novitiate of the cloister. There she would
have ample opportunities of practically learning the lesson of the cross,
and at the same time of consolidating the virtues which were to be the
distinguishing characteristics of her sanctity. Her zeal and charity
would find a wider field, and her gentle patience reap a richer harvest,
her union with God would be strengthened, while tested, by exposure to
the distracting cares of life, and her purity of soul would shine out
with brighter lustre amidst hitherto unknown difficulties and dangers.
And so, when in after years, the voice of the Spouse would bid her arise,
and leave her home and country, and follow Him to the distant land which
He would show her, she would be prepared to answer, "My heart, O Lord, is
ready; my heart is ready and my work is done!"

The first page of the history of her life,-which we are about to close,
has not been without its practical teaching. It is the page of the young;
happy those who study well the record! They will discover, that "it is
good for a man when he hath borne the yoke from his youth." (Lam. iii.
27). They will learn to admire the heavenly beauty of a pure soul, and
fascinated by its unearthly charms, they will resolve to close their own
hearts against sin, excluding even the smallest, as a security against
the entrance of the greater. They will learn to appreciate the happiness
of knowing and loving our Lord, like the blessed child who found her
sweetest joy before the altar, and they will surely ask her to beg for
them a share in her love of Jesus and her spirit of prayer, courageously
checking the propensity for idle talking and still idler reading which,
are so great an obstacle to recollection. Studying her love of
retirement, they will pray for grace to resist worldly influences, and
following her to the miserable homes of the destitute, they will aspire
to become, like her, angels of comfort to the desolate and sorrowing.
Thus will their childhood and youth be saintly, as, were those of the
model now presented to them.




CHAPTER II.

HER MARRIED LIFE, WITH ITS TRIALS AND VIRTUES.


Mary Guyart was just entering on her seventeenth year, when her parents
proposed to her a matrimonial alliance apparently calculated to insure
her happiness. Such an engagement was utterly repugnant to her
inclinations; it was inconsistent with the high hopes she had cherished
of consecrating herself wholly to God in religion; its duties and
solicitudes seemed a decided obstacle to the cultivation of that spirit
of prayer and recollection which had become as her life-breath. Drawn
daily more and more forcibly to an interior life in God, she shrank with
her whole soul from a position which must necessarily immerse her in he
distracting occupations and harassing cares of the world. But accustomed
to look on her parents as the representatives of God, and therefore
seeing only His will in the impending project, she submitted with the
respectful docility habitual to her, and none but the interior witness
of. the sacrifice to obedience, could have suspected the cost at which it
was offered. She simply assured her mother of her readiness to obey,
adding the, almost prophetic promise, that if God should bless her with a
son, she would dedicate him to the Divine service, and that if He should
ever restore her own liberty, she would consecrate it also to Him alone.

Her only object now became to prepare so fervently for the holy sacrament
of marriage, that she might receive with it the abundant supply of grace
needed for the due fulfilment of the difficult and responsible
obligations soon to be hers.

Few indeed have ever brought to it more admirable dispositions than did
that reluctant, yet in one sense, willing bride, therefore it followed,
that although the absence of pomp and show may have divested the
ceremonial of all charm for worldlings, the perfection: of her interior
preparation rendered it one of rare beauty in the eyes of heaven. She
wore no costly attire, it is true, but in compensation, her soul was
arrayed in that fairest of garments, her white baptismal robe, free still
from spot or wrinkle, as on the day when it was first assumed. She
displayed no sparkling gems, but many a virtue shone instead with a
glorious light, before whose lustre that of flashing diamond and gilded
coronet fades away, and as she thus stood before the altar in all the
freshness of her innocence and the radiance of her spiritual beauty, must
she not have won the smiles. of angels? Must she not have attracted the
complacency of the angels' Lord?

The duties of her new state came to her marked with the sign of the
cross, nevertheless she set about them with an energy and devotedness
which clearly manifested the singleness of her views, the purity of her
motives, and the enlightened character of her piety. Knowing that
perfection is in the accomplishment of God's will, and believing that as
long as she faithfully complied with the duties of her condition in life,
she should walk in the sure, straight path of obedience to that holy
will, she took immediate measures for the discharge of its fourfold
obligations to God, her husband, her servants and herself. The spirit of
prayer conferred on her at the early visit of our Lord, had been ever
since developing itself more and more strongly, and her first precaution
in arranging her role of life, was that no worldly interests should ever
be permitted to interfere with her spiritual exercises, whence alone she
could derive strength to fulfil her daily duties and courage to bear her
daily crosses. Yet she never allowed them to encroach on domestic
arrangements, her well-regulated piety having taught her, that when these
latter required the sacrifice of her love of prayer and solitude she was
doing God's will more perfectly in substituting active work for the
enjoyment of immediate communion with Himself. Prolonged meditations,
holy Mass, the sacraments and the word of God,--these were the four
sources whence she drew the waters of grace to refresh and invigorate her
soul. The holy Communion was above all, her joy and her life. As she
herself tells us, it replenished her with sweetness, enlivened her faith,
fortified her inclination for virtue, strengthened her confidence in God,
intensified her love of her neighbour, and supported her under the weight
of the cross. In one of her letters of after years, she remarks that a
single communion well made, is sufficient to sanctify a soul, since it
unites, her to the Saint of Saints, adding, that the reason why it does
not produce this result, is, that the soul after having given herself to
our Lord, in return for His having given Himself to her, too soon revokes
the offering in practice, nature shrinking from the total renunciation of
self which the divine Sanctifier requires as a preliminary to His action.
It was not so, her son remarks, with the holy Mother. Bringing to the
heavenly Banquet a disengaged heart, an almost annihilated will, and an
entire abandonment to the Spirit of God, she not only co-operated with,
but facilitated the operation of the sacramental grace, which meeting in
her no obstacle to its freedom of action, bore her with marvellous
rapidity along the path of solid virtue. Of such Communions it was, that
she says, "The more frequently I received the sacraments, the more
ardently I desired to receive them, because the more clearly I saw that
they were to me the source of all spiritual blessings."

The love and reverence for God's word which she had manifested from
earliest childhood, had but gained strength with years. To listen to it
was still her delight, as it had been in her young days. She loved it for
its own sake, irrespectively of the manner in which it might be
announced, looking on every preacher as a herald of the great King,
charged with the divine message of salvation. She says that her assiduity
in attending sermons was rewarded by a great abundance of light and love,
an increase of attraction and facility for prayer, and a renewal of
fervour in the practice of the virtues of her state. With the enlarged
experience of the spiritual life acquired at a later date, she recognised
that He who never tries His creatures beyond their strength, had imparted
to her in these benedictions of His sweetness, the particular graces
needed to support her under the crosses with which it had been His will
to surround her in the troubled days of her married life.

Her veneration for the preachers of God's word extended to all the
ceremonies of Divine worship. Enchanted with their beauty and grandeur,
and at the same time supernaturally enlightened to understand their
mysterious signification, she was filled with gratitude to her eternal
Benefactor for the signal favour of having been born of Catholic parents,
and thus made a child of the one true Church long before she could
appreciate, or even comprehend the blessing. She was always eager to be
among the first to enter the church, that securing a place where no part
of the sublime ceremonial could escape her, she might be free to meditate
on, and enter into the spirit of all.

The uprightness of her motives, and the holiness of her dispositions in
entering the marriage state, ought, we naturally imagine, to have secured
her at least the average amount of its happiness. But for the
purification of her soul and the perfecting of her virtue, God permitted
that her garland of bridal flowers should soon be turned into a wreath of
thorns, and thorns all the sharper, that they were pointed by the hand to
which she might have expected to look as her shield against trouble. It
is difficult to explain this singular phase of her diversified career.
Her husband is represented as eminently endowed with the richest gifts of
mind and person; he fully appreciated the value of the treasure which he
possessed in her, and did ample justice to her admirable qualities,
impressed most of all, perhaps, by the calm patience which no annoyance
could ruffle; the steady love which no trial could shake; the Christian
heroism which gathered new courage from each new shock;--yet it is
nevertheless quite certain that the bitter sufferings of her married life
originated, though unintentionally, with him. They rendered her duty in
his regard all the more arduous, yet it was not on that account the less
perfectly fulfilled. In uniting her destiny with his, she believed that
she was carrying out an arrangement of the admirable providence of God;
hence from the first moment of their union, she looked on him as holding
to her the place of God. In thus adopting the supernatural principles of
faith as the guide of all her relations towards him, she cut off the
thousand sources of trouble and temptation which are sure to arise
whenever nature, and not grace, holds rule,--so it happened, that among
the sorrows of her wedded life, domestic disunion, at least, never found
a place, and it followed too, that her spiritualized affection stood
tests, which purely human love would not have borne. She was never known
to fail in the respect or obedience due to her husband; her constant
study was to promote his comfort; her unceasing aim not only to defer to,
but even to anticipate his slightest wishes, and all was done with the
winning sweetness and rare prudence which were among her characteristics.

Nature had indeed dealt bountifully with her, and grace developing,
refining and spiritualizing the gifts of nature, had produced one of
those dispositions, which, to include all praise in a single word, are
sometimes termed angelic. Her temper was sweet and gentle, but it was a
gentleness as much removed from languid apathy and insensibility, as from
impulsive quickness and impetuosity. It was the serenity of a soul which,
possessing God, is happy in Him, and has no desire beyond Him, and it
excluded neither firmness in decision, nor courage and resolution in
difficulty, nor promptitude and energy in action. Her nature was so
placid and docile, that we never hear, even in her childhood, of the
least of those ebullitions of anger or manifestations of self-will, usual
in ordinary children. It was so enduring and forgiving, that while
inoffensive herself, she was incapable of taking offence, and absolutely
inaccessible to resentment. It was so kind and tender, that sympathy for
the troubles of others, especially the poor, was among the very first of
the features which her childish disposition revealed, and which, like all
her great qualities, strengthened with time. There was nothing rigid in
her piety, repulsive in her manner, austere in her ideas, or contracted
in her mind. She served the Lord with joy, and so, her interior peace was
reflected in an external cheerfulness, tempered ever by a sweet, modest
gravity that imparted dignity to her demeanour and commanded universal
respect. Her heart's history might be epitomized in one word,--self-
sacrifice,--and truly it was the quality of which she had most need. Her
charity has drawn an impenetrable veil over the precise nature, as well
as the painful details of the trials which lasted all through her short
union with Mr. Martin. Alluding to them in later life, in one of her
confidential letters to her son, she says "The only comfort of my married
life was that I was able to consecrate you to God before your birth, and
that your father, who possessed a good heart, and had the fear of God,
not only sanctioned, but even approved of my devotions. Regarding certain
occurrences with which you are acquainted, and which are to be imputed to
inadvertence, he regretted them most heartily, and often asked my pardon
for them with tears,"--tears, she might have added, not only of self-
reproach, but of admiration for the meek endurance of the gentle
sufferer.

To the perfect fulfilment of her duty to her husband, she added the exact
discharge of her obligations to her household. Mr. Martin was at the head
of a silk manufactory which gave employment to a number of workmen, and
these at once became the objects of the zeal and charity of their good
mistress. Her first aim was to secure influence over them, that she might
gain their hearts, and then bring their hearts so won, to God. For this
end, she attended to their wants as carefully as if they had been her own
children, devoting her chief solicitude to the concerns of the soul.
Dreading beyond all evils, an offence against the God whom she loved
supremely, she induced them to go regularly to confession, that its
protecting grace might be their preservative from sin. To animate them to
virtue, she gave them occasional exhortations, repeating the instructions
which she had heard in sermons, and adding her own reflections; but
prudent in her zeal, she took care not to intrude her lessons at
unseasonable times, generally selecting for them the hours of meals, and
by this means at once feeding the souls of her hearers with the word of
God, and cutting off frivolous, or perhaps sinful topics.

A living model of the virtues which she inculcated, she encouraged her
dependents even more by example than by precept, to love and serve God
faithfully. Always calm and self-possessed, affable and kind, she
practically illustrated the beauty of peace and union. Patient and self-
controlled, she taught the heroism of Christian endurance. As solicitous
for the interests and as intent on the happiness of others, as if her own
heart had not been wrung with anguish, and oppressed with care, she
exemplified the unselfishness of true charity. Enlightened and judicious
in her views, orderly and systematic in her arrangements, active and
energetic in the practical details of business, she taught by her
conduct, more forcibly than by any words, that "piety is good for all
things." It need not be added that she won the love of her domestics, who
looking on her more as a gentle mother than as a mistress, sympathized in
her sorrows as if they had been personal, and manifested on all occasions
their compassion for her afflictions, their admiration of her fortitude,
and their reverence for her person. Knowing that well-ordered charity
begins at home, she took care never to devote herself so entirely to the
salvation of others, as to neglect her own soul. In order to secure time
for the requirements of both, she avoided unnecessary visits and idle
amusements, and having fully complied with her domestic duties, she
retired to her oratory, there to find in prayer and spiritual reading
repose from past fatigues, and courage for new labours.

Thus passed her first probation in the world. The death of her husband
brought it to a close at the end of only two years, but they were years
so rich in every virtue of her condition, that the married woman who
would lead a sanctified and useful life, is sure of attaining the holy
end by following her example.  She was indeed the model of a faultless
wife; so assiduous in prayer, that it would seem as if she considered
prayer her only obligation; so devoted at the same time to the interests
of all connected with her, that it would appear as if her domestic
responsibilities were her absorbing concern, and through all, so utterly
forgetful of self, that chance observers could never have suspected how
those cheerfully discharged duties involved the living sacrifice of her
bleeding heart.

In this second page of the life of the Venerable Mother Mary of the
Incarnation, we read a continuance of the work of grace in her soul. We
meet the same virtues with which the opening page has made us familiar,
but now expanded on a wider sphere, and strengthened by severer
conflicts, and still, at every step, we note for our own instruction the
action of the Spirit of God, and her docile correspondence, the two
necessary and inseparable agents in the sanctification of man. In the
biography which he has left us of his saintly mother, her son
particularly directs attention to the solidity of the foundation which
she prepared for the edifice of her future holiness. Guided by the Divine
Director, who since early childhood had undertaken the formation of her
soul, she adopted as the four fundamental principles of her spiritual
life, fidelity to the duty of prayer, careful avoidance of every
deliberate sin, the frequent reception of the holy sacraments, and
punctual attendance at divine service, as well as at sermons, and all
public observances and ceremonies of the Church. By thus steadying the
foundation, she ensured the permanent stability of the building, and by
similar means only will any one else secure the same end. Prayer and the
sacraments purify the soul; purity of soul prepares for union with God;
union with the Church at once forms and cements the bonds of union with
God. Sanctity, as so often observed, is primarily the work of grace, but
grace will come to us only through the appointed channels. If we cut off
the channel, we cut off also the supply, deprived of which, far from
advancing in the ways of God, we shall but languish and lose ground.
"Unless the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it."
(Ps. cxxvi. 1).




CHAPTER III.

WIDOWHOOD.--LIFE OF SOLITUDE AND PRAYER.


The young wife was but nineteen when a new scene in life's great drama
was opened before her by the death of her husband. Although, through
God's permission, he had caused her very bitter sorrows, her naturally
warm heart was not the less grieved at the separation. She had fully
appreciated his good qualities; had found excuses in her charity for his
shortcomings, and had loved him with sincere affection, but as she had
seen and accepted an arrangement of the divine will in the formation of
the marriage tie, so did she recognise and adore a dispensation of the
same Almighty will in the. breaking of the bond, and this one
consideration sufficed to reconcile her to the trial, and to give rest to
her soul. At the period of her widowhood, her prospects were no doubt
cheerless enough. Her pecuniary affairs had been left in a state of great
embarrassment; she had an infant of six months old to provide for, and as
she remarks, her comparative youth and inexperience seemed to unfit her
for a struggle with the difficulties of her position, but here, as ever,
her beautiful trust in God supported her, and with a firm, filial
reliance on His promise to be with those who are in tribulation, she took
up her new crosses with resignation and abandonment so perfect, that
neither loss of fortune, nor anticipation of absolute poverty, nor
anxiety for the fate of her little child could disturb her serenity or
shake her confidence.

The virtue and amiability which she had evinced during her first
matrimonial engagement, soon procured her new and far more advantageous
offers, while the capacity and integrity which had marked her business
transactions, led to very promising proposals for re-embarking in
commerce. Prudence seemed in favour of acceptance; natural inclination
was opposed to it. In weighing the question, however, it was not to
natural inclination that she appealed for a decision; this never had been
her guide, nor should it now. If it were, the remembrance of the miseries
of her married life would have been quite sufficient reason to deter her
from risking a repetition of them, but faith had taught her to see in
those past crosses, only valuable opportunities of practising virtue and
acquiring merit, therefore she gave the apprehension of their renewal no
place in her deliberations. The interior attraction which sweetly but
irresistibly urged her to devote herself all to God,--this it was which
determined her to embrace a life of entire seclusion in the world, as
soon as her affairs should be arranged. In forming her plans, she can
scarcely have refrained from casting a wistful glance at the attractive
solitude of the cloister, but knowing that its entrance was for the
present closed to her by her duty to her child, she resigned herself to
wait for the promised land, until she should first have crossed the
intervening desert. Referring to this period in one of her after letters
to her son, she speaks of the transports of her gratitude at finding
herself free to follow her call to solitude, where without distraction or
division she could think of and love her Lord, while she watched over the
babe whom He had committed to her keeping. The death of her mother-in-
law, in about a month after that of her husband, removed the last
obstacle to the accomplishment of her project.

Connected with the early months of her widowhood, is a wondrous
supernatural favour, granted her as if to confirm her late determination,
and mark it with a sensible sign of heaven's approval. We shall record it
in the words best suited to so sublime a subject,--her own. "On the eve,"
she says, "of the feast of the Incarnation, 1620, I was on my way to
business, which I recommended to God by my ordinary aspiration, 'In thee,
O Lord, I have hoped; let me never be confounded!'--when suddenly, my
progress was unaccountably arrested, and while I stood motionless in
body, the action of my mind was equally suspended, all recollection of
the affairs I was engaged in vanishing instantaneously from my memory.
Then the eyes of my soul were wondrously opened in one moment, and all
the sins, faults and imperfections of my life revealed to me in general
and in particular, with indescribable distinctness. At the same time, I
saw myself plunged in a bath of blood, and I knew that it was the blood
of the Son of God which had been shed for the very sins now so clearly
represented to me. If the Almighty in His great goodness had not
sustained me, I think I should have died of terror, so horrible did even
the smallest sin appear. Oh! what words can express the emotion of the
soul at seeing the Lord of infinite goodness and incomprehensible
sanctity insulted by a worm of the earth, and a Man-God shedding His most
adorable blood to reconcile sinners to His Father! Above all, who can
describe her feelings at finding herself personally stained with sin, and
recognising that the Incarnate God would have done for the expiation of
her individual guilt, what He has done for the atonement of the
transgressions of all men in general! At that moment, my heart seemed
wholly changed into love for Him who had shown me this signal mercy, and
it was filled at the same time with indescribable, and even unimaginable
sorrow for having offended Him. This feeling of loving sorrow was so
overpowering, that I would willingly have thrown myself into flames, if
thus I could have appeased it, and strangest of all, its force was full
of gentleness. It sweetly bound my soul by its very charms, and led her
on a willing captive. A strong interior impulse urged me to confess my
sins, and on returning to my usual condition, I found myself standing
opposite the little church of the Feuillants who had lately established
themselves at Tours. I entered, and seeing one of the Fathers standing in
the middle of the chapel as if he had been expecting my arrival, I on the
spot confessed the sins which had just been discovered to me, too intent
on making reparation to Him whom I had offended, to notice that I might
easily have been overheard by a lady who had entered the church in the
meantime. When I had finished, the Father gently told me to return the
next day to his confessional, and I left without observing at the moment
that I had not received absolution. This omission was supplied at my
renewed confession next morning. During the first year that I remained
under the direction of this Father, I confined myself entirely to the
accusation of my sins, thinking that nothing else should be introduced at
confession, but having heard a pious girl say that it was not right to
practise corporal austerities without permission from the confessor, I
applied for it to mine, and he then regulated the amount of these, as
well as the number of my confessions and communions. I returned home,
changed into another creature, and that so completely, that I no longer
recognised myself. I discovered with unmistakable clearness the ignorance
under cover of which I had hitherto thought myself very innocent, my
conduct very harmless, and my whole spiritual condition blameless. After
our Lord had opened my eyes, I saw myself as I was, and I had to own that
my justice was but iniquity."

She always looked on this heavenly favour as one of the greatest she had
ever received, and its date as synonymous with that of her perfect
conversion to God. "It would be difficult," says her son, "to lead a more
exemplary life than hers had been; by the word conversion, we are not
then to understand, a transition from a state of sin to a state of grace,
but a resolute determination to bid adieu wholly to the world, that she
might give herself all to God and live only by His love." To mark her
entire separation from the world, she assumed a peculiarly grave style of
dress, dismissed her servants, gave up her house, and returned to her
father's, where free from all care arid responsibility, she found herself
as she desired, alone with God alone. She chose an apartment in the upper
story as the most retired, and between this and the adjoining oratory,
she passed most of her time in prayer. She was never to be seen except at
church or at home; paid no visits and received very few; spoke but
rarely, and then concisely. She took her frugal meals at her father's
table, then retired to her solitude, as she says herself, "like the dove
to its nest." It was at this time, that in addition to her other most
severe austerities, she gave up the use of linen, substituting serge.
Knowing the danger of inaction, she occupied the intervals between prayer
in embroidery, choosing this employment because it left the mind free to
converse with her Lord. But although her life was thus hidden in God, it
was no part of her piety to forget the interests of her neighbour. In her
present straitened circumstances, she could no longer open her hand in
alms as had been her wont in better days, but the sick poor retained
their old place in her heart, and among these she still could always find
ample exercise for her charity. Accordingly, she sought out the most
revolting cases of disease, and made appointments with the sufferers to
meet her at her home, where kneeling before them while they sat, she
washed and dressed their loathsome sores, contriving to stoop closely
over their ulcerated limbs, so that nature might be crucified in every
sense, and crushed in every feeling. And as the soul's interests are more
precious far than those of the miserable body, so was it her chief
concern to instruct the ignorant, to encourage the weak, to rouse the
sinful to repentance, and animate the good to higher virtue. Thus passed
the first year of her widowhood: at its close, the tenor of her life was
altered, that in a new sphere, she might have the opportunity o£
practising new virtues.




CHAPTER IV.

PURITY OF SOUL.--LIFE OF HUMILIATION IN HER SISTER'S HOUSE.


It would seem as if the holy widow had now attained the very position for
which her heart had so long sighed, a life of close and constant
communion with God, and, at the same time, of active charity to her
neighbour,--a life combining every facility for her own sanctification,
with abundant opportunities of promoting the salvation of other souls
also. But scarcely had she realized its advantages and tasted its
sweetness, when at the end of one short year, she was called on to
relinquish it, by a married sister, who, knowing her talent for business,
begged her assistance in the management of a large commercial
establishment of her own. The proposal was naturally most distasteful,
but seeing in it a road to the suffering and humiliation for which her
soul thirsted, as well as an opportunity of practising her favourite
charity, she made the sacrifice in her spirit of habitual self-
immolation, only stipulating for freedom in her spiritual exercises, and
permission, to return home every evening. Our Lord was pleased to mark
His approval of her decision, and to reward her generosity, by raising
her to a higher degree of prayer.

This partial return to the world suggested the idea that she might now
perhaps be induced to accede to the unanimous wish of her friends, and
engage once more in married life. The subject was therefore before long
renewed, and one day she was so hard pressed with a variety of arguments
connected with the interests of her son, that she paused a little to
consider whether the opinions of so many wise and disinterested advisers
ought not to weigh somewhat against her own lights. The hesitation was
only momentary, and yet on reflection, it seemed to her to have involved
so serious an infidelity, that in subsequent general confessions of the
greatest sins of her life, she ranked this first, as the one most
deserving of her regret, and the possible cause of her severe interior
sufferings. She knew that in its own nature, the fault in question was
inconsiderable, but she understood equally well that its attendant
circumstances gave it a certain degree of gravity for her, whom the
Almighty had so favoured. Short as her hesitation had been, it appeared
like disloyalty to Him whom she had promised to take for her only Spouse
should the bonds of her earthly union be ever broken, and that with her
capability of appreciating the sublimity of a vocation to a life with God
alone, she should have deliberated for an instant between His invitation
and that of the world, seemed to her a fitting subject of life-long
sorrow and self-condemnation. The infidelity to grace was aggravated in
her estimation by its accompanying ingratitude, and this in itself was a
reproach, keenly painful to a heart so tender and loving as hers.

Here again, we are struck with wonder and admiration at her purity of
conscience, and here again we breathe a prayer for light to see ourselves
as God sees us; for grace to understand the malice of sin as the saints
understand it. It is because their hearts are so pure, that the spiritual
vision of the saints is so refined. "Blessed are the clean of heart, for
they see God" and in the light of that eternal Sun of Justice, they
discern minutest stains, invisible to souls obscured by the clouds of
sin, or dimmed by the mists of self-love. Again, it is because the hearts
of the saints are so pure, that their love of God is so sensitive.
"Blessed are the clean of heart," for they see the Divine attractions as
clearly as is given to man in his mortality, and seeing them thus
clearly, every slight infidelity to a God so beautiful and so good,
assumes importance in their eyes, and excites a corresponding sorrow. The
young widow's momentary irresolution left her only the more firmly
determined to renounce the world at once and for ever, and in order to
render that resolution irrevocable, she bound herself to, God by a vow of
perpetual chastity, being then twenty-one years of age. About this time
she was placed under the spiritual care of the Reverend Father Dom
Raymond of St. Bernard, and to this enlightened master she was first
indebted for the great blessing of regular direction in the paths of the
interior life.

Her position in her sister's house was unaccountably strange. She had
been invited there, because her clear intellect, sound judgment, and
natural aptitude for business promised to render her an invaluable
assistant in the management of a large concern, and yet, instead of being
at once placed in her own sphere at the head of the family, she was
permitted without question or remonstrance to establish her quarters in
the kitchen, as if considered suited only for menial work;--treated
meantime in the most imperious manner, not only by the master and
mistress of the house, but by the very servants; looked down on by all,
as if she had been not even a stranger or a hireling, but an outcast. The
Spirit of God inspired her, she says, to conceal her natural abilities,
that she might pass for an ignorant woman, fit only to wait on the
servants, and this lowly condition had such powerful charms for her
humble heart, that she actually feared excess in her attachment to it. In
proposing this apprehension as a conscientious doubt to her director, her
great fear was that he would oblige her to emerge from her abject
position, and assume her rightful place in the family.

Her insatiable desire of crosses and humiliations was not satisfied even
with the ingratitude of her brother and sister, nor with the insolent
behaviour of the domestics; she sought for new sufferings, and among
others, contrived to burn herself while employed in cooking. She attended
the servants in sickness, reserving the whole care of them to herself,
and voluntarily rendering them the lowest services. Among other instances
of the kind, she at one time dressed the infected wound of a workman
whose foot had been nearly severed in two by a terrible accident, and
whose deplorable condition rendered him absolutely unapproachable to all
but herself. Although gangrene threatened, and amputation seemed
inevitable, she persevered in her work of mercy and self-denial, until
she bad effected a cure. Her brother and sister, she looked on as her
best benefactors, accepting their unkindness as the greatest of favours,
and obeying their directions with scrupulous exactitude, and this life
she led, and this death to self she practised, not for a week, or a
month, but for three or four successive years. Oh! how richly traced in
heaven's own colouring, must have been the daily record of those years
kept by her faithful guardian spirit! How mighty the change wrought in
her spiritual condition, as one after another they passed away, each
leaving behind an accumulation of grace made fruitful; each marked by
new, and always more wondrous supernatural favours! It is not, however,
by her supernatural favours that we are to estimate her sanctity, but by
her practice of solid virtue, nor are we to forget that if by an
exceptional vocation, she was led into the higher paths of the mystic
life, she walked long, steadily and to the end in the common road, to
which, as Christians, we are called no less than she was. Nevertheless,
that singular favours should have been granted her, is exactly what we
should have been, led to expect from our acquaintance with the history of
the saints, which has taught us that it is ever God's way to be liberal
with His creatures, in proportion as they are liberal with him. There had
been no rapine in the holocaust of this, His faithful servant. She had
never refused Him one gift He craved; withheld one sacrifice He asked;
was He to be outdone in generosity? Oh, far from it! In presence of the
magnificence of His gifts to her chosen soul, we have but to bow down as
we bend before the sun when its ray dazzles us. The reverential wonder
which they inspire, is, after all, but a homage to the great Giver, and
if while we admire and venerate her exceptional privileges, we at the
same time study and try to copy the imitable portions of her example, we
shall reap profit from both passages of her life.




CHAPTER V.

PREPARATION FOR A HIGHER DEGREE OF DIVINE. UNION.--ACTIVE LIFE.--INTERIOR
TRIALS.


We cannot have studied the lives of the saints without observing, that
while infinitely generous of His graces to all His faithful servants,
their almighty Lord from time to time chooses certain individuals among
them as recipients of a more than ordinary measure of His liberality. We
read of a privileged few, to whom He is lavish of what may be termed
exceptional marks of His love. These chosen souls, He inundates with
celestial gifts,--revealing glimpses of His glory and beauty,
transforming them into Himself, so as in a manner to divinize them, and
even sometimes imparting visible external marks of their sublime
spiritual exaltation. It would seem as if He desired to manifest to men
in their persons, the immensity of His goodness, the infinitude of His
condescension, and the magnificence of His riches. They are the specially
favoured among the favoured: they form a class apart, in which God,
wonderful in all His saints, is wonderful surpassingly.

In that exceptional class, suited as it would seem to us rather for
angels than for mortals, a place was destined in the divine designs for
the subject of our history, Marie Guyart, but before those all-gracious
designs could be realized, certain preliminaries were needed. To the
thoroughly purified soul alone it belongs to fly without impediment to
God, as the needle flies to the magnet, and admirable, nay wonderful as
was the interior purity to which this-singularly favoured being had
attained; it had yet to undergo further processes of refinement before
she should be disposed for the privilege awaiting her. Our Lord continued
therefore to draw her more and more forcibly to the perfection of the
virtue, revealing to her in the meantime, that when it had reached the
required degree, a great, but as yet unspecified grace would be her
reward. To stimulate her zeal, He gave her a vision, of a soul free from
even the slightest shadow of defect, and the sight was one so entrancing,
so enrapturing, that she said, if men could only see it, they would
willingly renounce all things for the bare enjoyment of the glorious
spectacle. Charmed with the celestial beauty of such a soul, and
thirsting ever more to share its happy privilege of flying to God without
hindrance or delay, she was carefully on her guard against the most
trivial imperfection, and when betrayed into one, never desisted, until
by sighs and prayers she had obtained forgiveness, which she knew by the
cessation of reproach of conscience.

The sanctity of God was represented to her under the semblance of a vast
sea, with whose limpid waters no defilement however small was allowed to
mingle, all such being instantaneously rejected. Overwhelmed at--sight of
the disproportion between the purity of the human, soul, and the holiness
of the great God with whom she aspires to be united, she could only
exclaim again and again, in the depths of her self-annihilation, "O
Purity! O Purity! Hide, absorb me in Thee, O mighty Ocean of Purity!" At
another time, the same Divine attribute was shown her as a spotless
mirror, reflected on which, the least of her infidelities seemed
magnified into a mountain. The profound impression of the Sanctity of God
thus imparted, so greatly increased her delicacy of conscience, that she
reproached herself for her smallest failure, as if it had been a fault of
magnitude. She says that her union with God was never interrupted by
necessary conversation, even though it might have lasted the whole day,
but that if she spoke a useless word, or yielded to a distracting
thought, she at once found the interior bond weakened, and received a
reproach from conscience. Once, after she had committed an imperfection,
an interior voice whispered to her, "If an artist had painted a fine
picture, would he be well pleased to see it soiled and stained?" Another
time, the same interior monitor asked, "If you had a costly pearl or
diamond, would you like to have it thrown into the mud?" The words seemed
to give her a new insight into the sanctity of God, and they filled her
with unutterable confusion. So profoundly did the love of interior purity
strike root in her innocent soul, that she accepted, and even desired the
most vigorous punishment for the slightest fault, never admitting the
idea that there could be a disproportion.

Her view of the divine presence had now become so habitual, that by a
marvellous privilege, it was never interrupted. If duty obliged her to
speak with her neighbour, her communication with God was not in
consequence suspended. If she wrote, her mind was equally intent on her
subject and on her Lord, and as often as she paused to renew the ink in
her pen, her heart profited of the momentary interruption, to say a
loving word to Him. If the whole world had been present, she says,
nothing in it could have distracted her soul. She had received an infused
knowledge of the nature of the works of God, their relations with their
Maker, and the end of their creation; all therefore served to unite her
to, instead of distracting her attention from Him.

To make reparation to the outraged sanctity of God, and to honour the
Passion of her Lord, as well as with the specific intention of disposing
her soul for the yet unrevealed favour awaiting her, she redoubled the
austerities already so rigorous. She allowed herself only as much sleep
as was necessary for existence, taking that on the ground, with no
covering but a hair-cloth. After a while, the bare floor appeared too
luxurious a couch, so she spread a hair-cloth over it, and on that she
stretched her weary limbs for a short part of the night. This
mortification she looked on as the severest she had ever endured, the
weight of the body and the hardness of the boards combining to press the
sharp surface into the flesh, so that constant pain permitted only short
and broken sleep. A considerable portion of the night was divided between
prayer and corporal mortifications. She was familiar with instruments of
penance of every kind, and used them with an unsparing hand. Ingenious in
devising means of crucifying her senses, she mixed wormwood with her
food, and between meals, kept the bitter herb a long time in her mouth,
until forbidden, through regard for her health, to continue so mortifying
a practice. She succeeded however in so completely destroying the sense
of taste, as to be finally unable to distinguish one description of food
from another. Many years after she went to Canada, this fact was
decidedly ascertained by an unmistakable test. Yet she says she was never
ill, but on the contrary, always vigorous, always cheerful, always ready
for new mortifications, and so impressed with their value, that she would
have counted the day lost, on which she had suffered nothing. In daily
Communion, she renewed the strength so severely taxed by her appalling
austerities and her fatiguing labours for her neighbour.

That humiliation of mind might keep pace with subjection of the flesh,
she one day brought her director a written confession of the sins and
imperfections of her whole life with her name affixed, beseeching him
after he had read, to attach it to the church door, that all might know
the extent of her infidelity to God. Repeated rebuffs from her confessor
served only to manifest the sincerity of her humility; she received them
with her habitual love of contempt, and although the paper was burned,
instead of being exhibited as she desired, her fidelity to inspiration
was rewarded by a new flood of graces. Among the rest, she learned by
revelation the exact nature of the celestial favour previously promised
only in general terms, our Lord condescending to intimate to her
explicitly, that she was destined for that highest degree of divine
union, accorded, as we have just seen, only to a privileged few even of
the saints. Although the wondrous promise was not to be realized for the
present, the prospect of its accomplishment at a future day, filled her
with holy joy, nerving her at the same time to new efforts for the
removal of every obstacle to the consummation of her hopes.

After she had spent three or four years in the house of her brother-in-
law in the manner already noticed, Divine Providence permitted that he
should open his eyes to her capabilities and his own injustice. By a
tardy concession to her merits, he asked her at last, to undertake the
management of his affairs, foreseeing that they could not but prosper in
her hands. Besides holding the rank of an artillery officer, he was
charged with the commissariat of the whole kingdom, and under favour of
these two appointments, he embarked in a variety of enterprises which
obliged him to maintain a very large establishment; including numerous
servants and vehicles. His charitable sister, in undertaking her new
duties, still retained the old, from which her heart refused to part,
because of their attendant humiliations. She got through all, and
satisfied everybody; meantime so perfectly maintaining her union with
God, that she seemed like one of those celestial Spirits of whom our Lord
declared that "they ever behold the face of the Father in heaven." She
tells us that she spent the greater part of the day in a stable which
served as a store, and that sometimes she was still on the quay at
midnight, sending off, or receiving goods; that her ordinary companions
were carters, porters and other workmen; that she had to look after fifty
or sixty horses; that during the frequent absences of her brother and
sister, she had their personal affairs to attend to in addition to the
rest, and still, that as this multiplicity of occupations had been
undertaken only from a motive of charity, God permitted that instead of
proving an obstacle to the spirit of recollection, it tended on the
contrary to nourish and strengthen it. She says that when she found
herself so overwhelmed with business as scarcely to know where to begin,
she besought our Lord's help, reminding Him that without it, all must
remain undone, and the appeal was never made in vain. Looking back in
later life to this period, she remarks that the trials and hardships
which she had to encounter during her residence with her brother-in-law,
were especially arranged by Divine Providence as a most suitable
preparation for her future work in Canada.

Sighing for the consummation of the divine union promised her, and ever
seeking for some new gem with which to adorn her soul, she resolved to
bind herself by vow to the evangelical counsels, adopting as an
obligation, what had hitherto been only a voluntary practice, and thus in
a manner anticipating the time when she should realize the dearest wish
of her heart, by consecrating herself to God in religion. Her vow of
obedience regarded her director, her sister, and her brother-in-law, and
in its connection with the two last, was attended with difficulties known
only to God. As to poverty, she possessed nothing but what was given her
by her sister, contenting herself with bare necessaries. The interests of
her son, she abandoned to divine Providence, aspiring with her whole
heart to that perfect poverty of spirit which desires but God, and is
content with Him alone. In recompense of this new proof of love, her
generous Master granted her the precious gift of His own divine peace,
and to enhance the treasure, He brought it to her Himself, as on another
memorable occasion, He had brought it to His apostles. It was not that
her soul had hitherto been a stranger to God's peace; on the contrary, in
writing many years later of the favour now conferred, she says she had
not supposed it possible to enjoy here below a more perfect interior
peace than she habitually possessed, but that after our Lord had
whispered to her heart, "Peace be to this house,"--so profound, so
imperturbable, so transcendent a peace was imparted, that she never for a
moment lost it, although her multiplied afflictions might well have
shaken it, had it not been steadily anchored on loving conformity to the
will of Him who had established His empire in her soul.

The gold of her virtue had been well tried in the crucible of
tribulation, but as yet, it had not been subjected to the fiery ordeal of
temptation; through this, for its more entire refinement it was now to
pass. All at once her ordinary enjoyment of her spiritual exercises was
succeeded by utter disinclination. The sweetness and patience which had
scarcely cost her an effort in her intercourse with her neighbour, gave
place to a sensitiveness and irritability which would have caused her
many faults if she had not been closely and constantly on her guard. Her
childlike submission to her director appear intolerable yoke; her
dependence on her sister a positive degradation. The humiliations so
freely embraced, and so long and dearly prized, seemed in her altered
views, inconsistent with self-respect. The corporal penances hitherto
lightened and sweetened by the unction of Divine love, now assumed their
worst sharpness, and excited her strongest repugnance. Importunate
scruples were added to temptation, and while thus violently assailed on
many sides, she seemed not to receive light or comfort from any. Her only
support in these terrible interior trials was in the remembrance of God's
promise "to be with those who are in tribulation" (Ps. xc. 15), and
truly He was with hers in hers, and by His almighty grace brought her so
triumphantly through them, that amidst her complicated sufferings, she
never failed in her fidelity to her Lord; never omitted the smallest duty
or fell into the slightest impatience. He who does not permit His
creatures to be tried beyond their strength, granted her relief when she
least expected it. In the restored light, she clearly saw that the object
of the tempter had been to lure her from the path of perfection to which
God had called her, and on which, as we have seen, she had already made
gigantic strides; and she discovered with equal distinctness that the
ordeal through which she had passed was a necessary preparation for the
higher graces to come. By her example on this occasion, as well as by her
subsequent instructions, she teaches that however strong may be the
pressure of temptation, however impenetrable the darkness of aridity, the
afflicted soul should not omit any of her accustomed exercises, whether
of obligation or of mere devotion, or lose her trust in that divine grace
which never deserts her in her conflicts, but powerfully, though perhaps
imperceptibly supports her in every difficulty.




CHAPTER VI.

SUPERNATURAL FAVOURS--VISION OF THE MOST ADORABLE TRINITY.--RENEWED
INTERIOR TRIALS.--NEW HEAVENLY FAVOURS.


As the released torrent rushes on with increased impetuosity after a
temporary restraint, so did the emancipated soul of the holy Mother bound
to God with ten-fold ardour, now that the pressure of temptation, and the
darkness of doubt had been removed. As a reward for her fidelity in her
late trials, our Blessed Lord one day showed her His Heart and her own so
entirely united, so completely fused, that they seemed to form but one.
After this grace, her love of God appeared to change its character, and
to become altogether divine. Her heart was no longer her own, for it had
been made the possession of the Heart of Jesus. Absorbed in transports
and ecstasies of holy love, she grieved that even the short time which
she allowed to sleep, should interrupt the recollection of the only
Desired of her soul: She aspired with ever increasing ardour to the
mystic union so long promised and so long delayed. It was to be, as it
were, the culminating point of the Divine favours;--meantime she was
permitted, if not to reach the summit, at least to ascend to mysterious
heights on the holy mountain, and there behold wonders not destined for
sight of mortal eyes;--wonders which she herself confesses to be
inexplicable by human words. Miraculously strengthened to bear the
overwhelming flood of splendour, her soul was elevated even, to the
vision, of the most august and adorable Trinity. She saw the relations
between the Three Divine Persons; their unity, their distinction, their
operations within and outside themselves. She saw their operations also
in the nine choirs of angels, and understood how the human soul is
created to the image of God. It took but a moment, she says, to receive
the impression of all these wonders, whereas the effort to describe them
requires time, for human language cannot express in a word, what the mind
can grasp in an instant. The ecstasy lasted five hours, at the end of
which she found herself still kneeling exactly in the spot of the church
where it had commenced. She describes herself during that time as
absolutely lost in those unfathomable splendours; capable only of
passively receiving the impression of the purely intellectual vision
unfolded to her with indescribable clearness and singleness of view.
Writing of this great favour towards the end of life, she says that it
was then as vividly present to her in all its circumstances as at the
time of its occurrence, adding in her own simple way, that "great things
like this are never forgotten." It has been observed that the terms in
which she speaks of the most abstruse mysteries of faith, are too clear,
top precise, too strictly in accordance with the teaching of theology, to
have come within the natural lights of a woman of ordinary education;
therefore while the style of the narrative has excited the admiration of
the learned, it has left them without a doubt as to the Divine source of
her inspiration. For a long time after the vision, her soul was so
completely concentrated in the most adorable Trinity, that she had no
power to detach her thoughts from the ineffable mystery.

We might anticipate that the wonderful favour just recorded, would be the
last prelude to the elevation of God's chosen servant to the promised
high degree of Divine union, but such is the incomprehensible purity of
the all-holy God, that even after so many delays, so many trials, so much
fidelity, so much love and devotedness, He did not yet find her
sufficiently free from the dust of the earth, sufficiently disengaged
from every creature, sufficiently detached even from His own sensible
gifts, to be worthy of that mysterious union which requires the purity of
an angel. The work of preparation was accordingly to go on; the arduous
work of self-annihilation, of interior crucifixion, of total sacrifice of
every feeling, and absolute death to every inclination. Our Lord showed
her her soul as it would appear when adorned with the required degree of
holiness, and she confessed that He did her but justice in still
deferring the hour for which she sighed.

It is the remark of her son in the Life of his holy Mother, that
temptation is among the most efficacious means employed by the Almighty
for the purification of His creatures, for as in that state, the soul is
pursued by a vivid and constant apprehension of committing sin, she lives
in an habitual hatred of, and watchfulness against it, which are but too
apt to relax when the presence of evil is less apparent, and the
necessity for combating it less urgent. Through this grievous, suffering,
the servant of God had once more to pass. It appeared to her, she said as
if she had suddenly fallen from paradise into purgatory. She found
herself not only deprived of all consolation, but filled with alarm at
the remembrance of past favours, which seemed to her to have been unreal
and delusive. The thought of God was, as usual, ever present to her mind,
but it brought no comfort, for with it came an afflicting doubt of the
sincerity of her love for Him. Far down in the depths of her soul, it is
true, reposed the solid peace founded on submission to His will, but it
was a matter of difficulty to realize the existence of that submission.
Nature had once more asserted its sensitiveness to humiliation and
contradiction. In short, so profound was her anguish of soul that she
could scarcely support herself. This sore affliction, lasted for some
months, then gradually abated, and as it did, she learned to realize the
sweet use of sorrow. Trial, seconded by her own fidelity, had done its
work. Faith had triumphed over sense. Like "a two-edged sword reaching
unto the division of the soul and the spirit" (Heb. iv. 12), it had cut
away the last remnant of natural life, and left behind only the
supernatural.  Long disengaged in mind and heart from all things on
earth, she was now so detached even from the consolations of heaven, so
singly centred in God alone, that she could rejoice in her spiritual
poverty, and thank the Lord for seeming to have withdrawn, the favours
which in her humility, she considered exposed to defilement in passing
through her heart. The Almighty who delights in manifesting Himself to
the humble, was pleased to reward her fidelity by a lively impression of
His adorable attributes, and a clear knowledge of the mysteries contained
in the first chapter of St. John. "During a holy week," she says, "our
Lord granted me new lights regarding His Divine attributes. I
contemplated the Unity of God, and in the Unity, I beheld His Eternity
without beginning or end; His immense Greatness; His adorable Infinitude;
and in an ecstasy of admiration, I could only exclaim, 'Goodness! O
Immensity! O Eternity!' I understood how all things have their origin in
God, from whom emanates whatever is beautiful and good, and I cried, 'O
more than Good! more than Beautiful! more than Adorable! Thou art God!
Thou art the great God!' Sinking into the very depths of my lowliness,
feeling in His mighty presence as if I had been the veriest worm, still I
could not refrain from telling Him of my love; still I could not but
rejoice that my God is so great; still I exulted that He is All, and that
I am nothing, for if I had been anything, then He would not have been
All. O Breadth! O Length! O height! O  Depth! immense, adorable,
incomprehensible to all but Thyself! my Centre! my Beginning! my End! my
Beatitude! my All!" Unable to satisfy her desire to die,--if that were
possible, in order to render homage to the perfections of her God, she
substituted the slow martyrdom of still more rigorous austerities than
she had yet practised, and, after this new sacrifice, her mind, she
says, was so filled with light as to be in a manner dazzled, and as it
were blinded by the grandeur of the Majesty of the Most High. Thus
purified by trial, sanctified by grace, adorned with virtue, resplendent
with Divine love, elevated above earth and self and all their influences,
her happy soul presented no farther, obstacle to the designs of her all-
gracious Lord: it was ready for the ardently, desired union with Him,--
and now, at last, the promise so long made, and the expectations so long
cherished, were about to be realized.




CHAPTER VII.

SECOND VISION OF THE MOST ADORABLE TRINITY.--REALIZATION OF THE DIVINE
PROMISE.


A second vision of the most august Trinity was granted to Marie Guyart,
just two years after she had been favoured with the first. She was then
in her twenty-seventh year, and seven years had elapsed since the
memorable vision of the application of the precious blood of Jesus to her
soul. In this second vision, the will was more strongly affected than the
intellect; the heart absolutely consumed with the burning fire of love;
the mind, as before, inundated with floods of light. This grace gave, as
it were, the finishing touch to the beauty of her soul, seeming to supply
what had hitherto been wanting to its perfection. While her spirit was
absorbed, and in a manner annihilated in the contemplation of the three
most adorable Persons of the Trinity, the Eternal Word, according to His
promise, united her to Himself in close, mysterious bonds which there are
no human words to describe. [Footnote: The lives of St. Francis of
Assisium, St. Teresa, St Catherine of Sienna, St. Gertrude, and some
other saints furnish instances of supernatural favours similar to that
now granted to the Venerable Mother Mary of the Incarnation.] "He that is
joined to the Lord, is one spirit" (1 Cor. v. 17).

Often had she sighed for this hour, and with the Spouse in the Canticles
besought the Lord to show her His face, and to let her hear His voice--
that face so comely, and that voice so sweet. Now at last, possession had
replaced hope, so now she might entone the canticle of triumph, "I found
him whom my soul loveth: I hold him: and I will not let him go. My
beloved to me, and I to him who feedeth among the lilies. Till the
"glorious dawn of eternity" break, and the shadows of time retire,"
(Cant. iii. 4, ii., 17.) "when I shall see Him as He is, face to face,
and know Him even as I am known" (l Cor, xiii. 12). She seemed to have
passed into a new state of being. Ardent as her love of God had been
before, it now rose to heights hitherto unknown. Her whole soul appeared
to be transformed into love. Her life became one unbroken act, one
uninterrupted hymn of ecstatic love. In the busy streets, in distracting
business, amidst household cares and duties, at all times and in all
places, she gave vent to her irrepressible transports in the sweet song
of ceaseless praise, silently entoned within her own heart, and audible
only to her heavenly Spouse and His angels. Even in sleep, she could
scarcely be said to discontinue it, for while she slept, her heart
watched, and at each interruption to her short repose, it resumed the
strain, returning to the actual exercise of love with the first moment of
full awakening consciousness. Sometimes fearing that her emotions might
betray themselves exteriorly, she relieved their uncontrollable
impetuosity by committing them to writing, afterwards burning these
effusions. A few of them, however, by chance escaped destruction, and
have happily reached us. From these, as well as from the account of her
manner of prayer written at the command of one of her confessors, we
learn something of the holy ardour which consumed her. "O Love!" she
cried, "how sweet Thou art! how captivating are Thy charms! how light Thy
bonds! Sometimes Thou woundest, sometimes Thou enslavest, but still art
Thou ever sweet. As I am all Thine, so art Thou all mine, mine for ever,
O my most desirable Life! And what do I desire of Thee, O my All? I
desire Thy love, and Thy love alone. O Love! O great Love! Thou art all,
and I am nothing, but it is enough that the mighty All should love the
poor nothing, and that the miserable nothing should love the great All! O
great God! mayest Thou be blessed by every tongue and love by every
heart!"

The impossibility of satisfying her holy eagerness to be inseparably
united to her God, caused her inexplicable suffering. It was death to her
that she could not die. "I long, O Lord," she would say, "to be free from
the prison of the body, that I may fly to Thee, and behold Thee in all
Thy beauty and Divine attractions. O Love! when shall I embrace Thee!
When shall I see Thee without cloud or veil! Knowest Thou not that I love
but Thee? Come then, that I may expire in Thy sacred arms. To a soul
which loves Thee, it is a martyrdom to be separated from Thee, and
meantime to see Thee offended by so many of The creatures who are
insensible to Thy goodness, and indifferent to Thyself. Oh! take me from
this scene of sin and misery where there is nothing but sorrow and
affliction of spirit.  My heart sighs for Thy eternal mansions; for Thy
incomparable beauty; for the consummation of that blissful union, of
whose sweetness Thou grantest us a foretaste here below. While the
sensible sweetness lasts, we are happy in Thee, our Treasure, our Life,
our Love, but no sooner are we left to ourselves, than we feel once more
the full force of our poverty and misery.  Who will grant to my soul to
burst its prison bars and ascend to Thee! May I be all Thine, as Thou art
all mine! O Sacred Heart of Jesus! be Thou the Altar of sacrifice on
which my heart shall be immolated! O Furnace of charity! enkindle in it
that celestial flame in which I desire to be consumed. Can it rest on an
Altar of fire and not be set on fire?" But notwithstanding her desire to
be dissolved, that she might be with Christ, she loved her Lord's will
too purely to wish for death or life except in conformity to it,
therefore she offered herself to bear the burden of existence until the
day of judgment, if God could be thus more glorified,--satisfied if
meantime she accomplished nothing more than to teach some simple soul to
know and love our Blessed Lady. Her chief relief and support was still,
as ever, in daily Communion, which uniting her really, though invisibly
to her Lord and Treasure, consoled her in some degree for the delay to
the eternal union for which she languished. She says of this most
adorable Sacrament, "that it is a fathomless and shoreless abyss of
grace, and that eternity's light alone will reveal the ineffable wonders
which God discovered to her soul at the time of her sacramental union
with him."

We know from the testimony of the saints who have endured the martyrdom
of Divine love, that the greatest of its pains proceeds from the
inability of the soul to lore God with an ardour proportioned either to
her own desire to love Him, or to the extent of His claims on her love.
This suffering the Venerable Mother experienced in its fullest intensity.
From, her insatiable desire of a more perfect love, sprang a fixed
impression of her utter powerlessness to do any thing for, or give any
thing to the great and generous God who had given her Himself, and with
Himself all things. "Thou hast made me for Thyself, O God!" she would
say; "for Thyself who art Love; why then should I not speak of love? But
alas! what can I say of it? I cannot speak of it on earth. The saints who
see Thee in heaven, silently adore Thee, and their silence speaks. Why, O
Lord, cannot we burn like them with silent love? If Thou art their love,
Thou art also ours. They see Thee as Thou art, and in this are more
favoured than we on earth, but when we are released from this prison, we
shall behold Thee like them; we shall praise, embrace, possess Thee like
them; we shall be absorbed in Thee as they are,--in Thee who art my Love,
my only Love, my great and glorious God, my mercy and my All!" While her
soul was thus rapt in a continual ecstasy of love, her bodily strength
wasted away under the action of the consuming fire. In one of the many
phases of the martyrdom of love which it was her privilege to pass
through, it pleased her Lord that the body should suffer more than the
soul, enduring in its turn a real agony, and that so violent, that she
says she must have died if it had lasted a few days.

While these miracles of grace were being wrought in the soul of this
admirable woman, no external sign gave indications of the work going on
within, for she took care to enfold her treasures under the mantle of
humility. Always devoted, laborious and active, she seemed altogether
intent on her harassing duties, yet, multiplied and fatiguing as these
were, she found time to attend to the spiritual interests of her
brother's numerous workmen, sometimes calling them round her to teach
them the Christian doctrine, sometimes profiting of conversation at table
to speak to them of God and the concerns of their souls. Reverencing her
as a saint, they submitted to her like docile children, gave her an
account of their conduct, adopted her advice, bore her reproofs, and
carried obedience so far as to rise from bed to say their night prayers,
if by accident she discovered that any one had retired without complying
with the duty. Solicitous for their temporal, as for their eternal
welfare, she interceded for them with her brother-in-law when they had
incurred his displeasure, and attended them in sickness with truly
maternal devotedness. Although her close attention to the presence of God
never interfered with the fulfilment of her duties, it incapacitated her
from following up the thread of any conversation unconnected with them.
Her brother-in-law perceiving this, sometimes amused himself by asking
her a question referring to something that had been said, but her
confusion on these occasions was so evident, that in order not to
increase it, the subject was quickly changed.

Finally, these vehement transports and exhausting languishings of divine
love were succeeded by a profound and permanent calm. Her soul sweetly
reposed in God, its Centre--that Centre was within herself, and there she
enjoyed a peace surpassing all understanding. In the account written by
her confessor's command of the special favours she had received from God,
she observes in reference to this highest degree of divine union, that
"the soul elevated to it, enjoys as far as possible here below, the
felicity of the blessed. Storms," she says, "may sweep over her inferior
part, but they do not reach the interior temple where the Spouse reigns,
and she rests tranquilly in His presence. It is alike to her whether she
is immersed in embarrassing cares, or buried in most profound solitude.
Amidst the turmoil of life and the distraction of business, she is alone
with God in her heart, enjoying His sweet company, conversing with Him
familiarly, transformed as it were into a paradise, of which His smile is
the light and the bliss. Vainly would she endeavour to explain what
passes in that interior heaven, for the subject is too sublime to come
within the reach of weak, defective human language. She is so elevated
above the world, that all its combined splendours appear to her but as a
contemptible atom of dust. Thus does the Almighty 'raise the needy from
the earth, to place them with the princes of his people,' and in doing
so, He only exalts His own glory, and shows forth His magnificence."

The intimate union with God, here described, became henceforth the
Venerable Mother's habitual condition. It must however be noted that she
does not speak of this privileged state as excluding temptation and
suffering, but only says, that violent and frequent as may be their
assaults, they do not disturb the inner region of the soul where God has
established His Kingdom in peace. The superior part remains tranquil,
although the inferior may be troubled and agitated, just as the ocean
depths repose in peaceful calm while its surface is lashed by the angry
tempest. By noticing this distinction, it will become easy to reconcile
the apparently contradictory statements which attribute to the Mother of
the Incarnation uninterrupted interior peace, with intense and almost
continuous interior suffering.




CHAPTER VIII.

ENTRANCE TO THE URSULINE NOVITIATE AT TOURS.


From her early years, the desires of the Venerable Mother had turned to
the cloister, as we have already seen. Her engagement in married life had
seemed at first to oppose an insuperable obstacle to their fulfilment,
but God who had destined her for religion, removed the impediment,
leaving her free by the death of her husband to follow her first impulse,
as soon as duty should allow her to separate from her little son. That
time had now come; the child had attained his twelfth year, and could
dispense with her immediate care. So far, she had faithfully fulfilled
her obligations towards him, watching over his infancy and childhood with
tender solicitude, training him in the ways of God as she had been
trained herself; forming his tender heart to piety, and giving his first
habits the right bent. The impression of her holy instructions and
example was never effaced, and when in advanced years he referred to the
period of their early companionship, it was in terms of most profound
veneration for her virtues, and boundless admiration of her truly
celestial life.

Like the storm-tost mariner nearing the haven, or the weary traveller
approaching home, she sighed with redoubled ardour for the end of her
pilgrimage, now that the end was 'nigh. It was but natural. Lovely as the
tabernacles of the Lord had looked in the distance, their beauty was
immeasurably magnified by the closer view. If then she had felt even in
the days of her exile, that those are blessed who dwell in the house of
God, can we wonder that she should have absolutely longed. and fainted
for His courts, now that their portals were about to be thrown open for
her admission? But although the hour of emancipation had come, she was
yet ignorant of the particular Order to which God called her. The perusal
of the works of St. Teresa had inspired her with a strong attraction for
the Carmelites, whose particular profession of prayer and recollection
exactly harmonized with her own inclination and practice. On the other
hand, the General of the Feuillants, anxious to secure so precious a
treasure for his own Order, offered in the most flattering manner to
receive her, promising to relieve her of all future anxiety regarding the
education of her son. This latter condition was of such vital importance,
that the proposal filled her with joy and gratitude. Besides, to the
Carmelite spirit of prayer and solitude, the Feuillantine Sisters added
the practice of great austerities, thus presenting a two-fold attraction
to the holy widow. Yet it was not to either of these Orders that God
called her, nor was it indeed to a purely contemplative life that her own
thoughts had originally turned. On the contrary, her earliest inclination
had been for the Ursulines, although strangely enough, she had no
acquaintance whatever with them, and could not even have told where they
were to be found. She merely knew in a general way, that the special
object of their institute is the salvation of souls, and that its mixed
life of action and prayer closely resembles the public life of our Lord
on earth. These two considerations had always strongly influenced her in
its favour, nevertheless, the more austere Orders had not lost their
charms, so, as God had not yet clearly manifested His will, she waited
calmly until circumstances should reveal it beyond a doubt. At length
Divine Providence interposed. About this very period, it happened that
the Ursulines established themselves at Tours, and as if to facilitate
her introduction to them, it further chanced that after a short time they
removed from the house they had first inhabited, to one quite near the
residence of her brother. Some secret attraction seemed to draw her in
the direction of the new convent, which she never passed without
experiencing an indescribable emotion, and a strong impulse to linger
round the precincts. In this monastery there lived a saintly religious,
who had been led to exalted virtue through much the same paths as those
which she had herself trodden. These two souls, alike privileged by
grace, were destined as mutual helps to perfection, and for the
furtherance of this great design, the wondrous providence of God had so
arranged events, that without premeditation on either side, both should
be associated in community life. Their acquaintance originated in a visit
which the holy widow had occasion to pay at the convent. At the first
interview, each felt that she was understood by the other, yet although,
their intimacy soon ripened into a saintly friendship, Marie Guy art
could never prevail on herself to speak of her perplexities to Mother
Francis of St. Bernard, wishing as ever to leave herself altogether in
the hands of God. Meantime Mother St. Bernard was elected Superior of the
new monastery, and no sooner had she taken office than she felt inspired
to make overtures to her friend to join the community. Having obtained
the necessary permissions, she sent for her, and in a few kind words
offered her a place among the sisters. The generous proposal did not take
the holy woman by surprise, for as she was entering the house, a strong
presentiment had seized her as to the direct purport of the visit. Full
of joy and thankfulness, she humbly expressed her gratitude, and asked
leave, before replying, to consult God and her director. The latter was a
man eminently versed, as already noticed, in the science of guiding
souls. The better to try her vocation, he received the application with
apparent coldness, and seemed for a while to have given up all idea of
her quitting the world, so her state of indecision continued. But one
day, while she was in prayer, all doubts as to her future course were
suddenly and completely removed. Her temporary inclination for the more
austere Orders instantaneously vanished, giving place to an ardent, fixed
desire to join the Ursulines, and that as speedily as could be
accomplished. Her director recognised the voice of God in the urgent
inspiration, and exhorted her to obey it without hesitation or delay.

But it was not to be expected that Satan would relinquish the prize
without yet another struggle. The career of the future Ursuline was to
bring great glory to God through the salvation of many souls; clearly,
then, his interest demanded a last strong effort to deter her from the
life to which her Master called her. The artifice employed was so much
the more dangerous, as it wore the semblance of good. The tempter
represented her flight from the world as a violation of her duty to her
little son, suggesting that so unnatural a neglect of her sacred maternal
obligations could not but compromise her own salvation, as. well as the
highest and dearest interests of her child. To the stratagems of Satan
were added the persuasive entreaties of some of her friends, and the
violent opposition of others. The two-fold conflict was a hard one, but,
aided by divine grace, she conquered nature once again, as she had so
often done before, and God was pleased to reward her fidelity by so
effectually changing the views of her sister and her brother-in-law, that
in the end they not only consented to her departure, but even promised to
take care of her child.

One more ordeal remained, and it was, indeed, a severe one. She had not
yet acquainted her son with her intention, but he seemed to have an
instinctive presentiment of some event of more than ordinary consequence
to him. He noticed that he had all at once become a general object of
silent sympathy. The compassion which he read on every face communicated
its saddening influence to his little heart; the low tone in which people
spoke in his presence, excited his suspicions. Oppressed by the sense of
some painful mystery, he took refuge at first in solitude and tears, and
before, long, unable to bear up against the weight of melancholy, he made
up his mind to go away altogether from the scene of his troubles. A
fortnight before the time appointed for his mother's entrance to the
convent, he managed to escape unobserved from the school where he was
then a boarder. The discovery of his flight, seemed a signal for general
censure of his mother. The world declared that she alone was to be blamed
for the disaster--she alone to be held accountable for its consequences.
It was difficult to bear, and that, too, at a time when her whole soul
was rent with anguish, when every feeling of nature re-echoed, while
every instinct of grace obliged her to resist the mighty pleadings of
maternal love. The terrible interior combat was immeasurably aggravated
by her efforts to maintain external composure. In her great sorrow she
turned for comfort to her friend at the Ursulines, and had scarcely
concluded her sad account when her director, Dom Raymond, happened also
to call at the monastery. From the habitual charity of this good
religious, she naturally expected his especial sympathy at this trying
moment. Great, then, was her dismay to find that far from attempting to
assuage, he seemed determined, on the contrary, to irritate the wound.
Well convinced by experience of the solidity of her virtue, he seized the
present apparently inopportune occasion of testing it anew. Assuming
great sternness of voice and manner, he told her it was easy to see that
her virtue was only superficial, since she manifested so great a want of
submission to God's will, and of faith in His providence, adding that her
excessive attachment to a creature clearly indicated the ascendancy which
nature still retained over her. Kneeling before her censor, the humble
mother listened to the harsh reproof in profound silence, but a sigh
escaped her, and this Dom Raymond declared to be a distinct confirmation
of his late assertions, ordering her to depart at once from the house of
God, which was not meant to harbour souls so imperfect as she was. She
immediately rose, and, with a low inclination to her director, left the
convent. Perfectly amazed at the heroism of her virtue, the Reverend
Father and the Mother Superior returned thanks to God for having
permitted them to witness so wonderful an example, and, without informing
her of it, sent messengers at their own expense to seek her son, those
whom she had herself employed not having discovered any trace of him.

By a singular coincidence, the flight of her boy occurred during the
octave of the Epiphany, when the Church reads the history of the loss of
Jesus in the temple, and it also happened that he, like the Divine Child,
was twelve years of age at the time of his disappearance. These
circumstances greatly consoled the poor mother in her bereavement: she
united her desolation with that of the Mother of Sorrows, and hoped that,
like her, she would recover her son at the end of three days, and so it
actually happened. Precisely at that time he was brought back by a person
who had accidentally met him at Blois. He then owned that he had planned
to go to Paris, where he hoped to be received by a partner of his
uncle's, resident in that city. The child's return removed the last
obstacle to her departure; and now the day was fixed irrevocably,
notwithstanding the renewed entreaties of her relatives; notwithstanding
the tears of her father; notwithstanding the agony of her own soul at the
parting from her only child whom she loved most tenderly. She recalled
the declaration of our Lord that "he who loves father or mother, son or
daughter more than Him is not worthy of Him" (St. Matt. x. 37), and the
words inspired her with invincible courage. No sooner was her final
decision taken than uncertainty and perplexity vanished utterly.

For the preceding ten years it had been her aim indirectly to prepare the
little Claude for the separation which she knew must one day come.
Believing that the less she had accustomed him to external demonstrations
of affection, the less also he would miss her presence and feel her loss,
she had made it a rule from the time he was two years old, never to
fondle or embrace him, carrying self-denial in this particular so far as
to discourage even his, own childish caresses and endearments. Yet though
grave, he found her ever kind and gentle; though reserved, sweet-tempered
and inaccessible to caprice; though undemonstrative, solidly devoted to
his interests and tenderly alive to his wants; so it happened after all
that he loved her fondly, and all the more so, perhaps, that unknown to
himself, his love was founded on reverence.

How shall the mother summon courage to bid him adieu? Where find words to
say that although he should ever dwell in her heart, her home and his
could be one no longer? That, already deprived by death of one parent, he
was now by her own voluntary act to lose the second too? Poor mother!
great is thy sorrow, yet not as that of another Martyr-Mother, whose
story of anguish thou knowest well. It was at the foot of the cross that
she bade adieu to her Son; there, too, must thou bravely stand by her
side to say farewell to thine. The virtue of the cross will strengthen
thee as it strengthened her; and when thy sacrifice is accomplished, thou
wilt find a balm for thy wounded heart by uniting it to the broken heart
of Jesus on the cross, and of Mary standing in its shade.

Summoning the boy to her side, she said, "My son, I have a great secret
to tell you. I have hitherto concealed it, because you were not old
enough to understand its importance, but now that you are becoming more
sensible, and that I am on the point of taking the step to which this
great secret refers, I can no longer hesitate to confide it to you. When
your father was taken from us, God immediately inspired me with the
resolution of forsaking the world and embracing the religious life. I
could not carry out this intention at once, for you were too young to
dispense with my care, but now that this is no longer the case, I must
follow the call of God without farther delay. I might have gone away
without forewarning you, for when salvation is in question, as in the
present instance, God's command must absolutely be obeyed, but to spare
you a painful shock, I determined to tell you my plans, and ask your
consent to their accomplishment. God wishes this parting, my son, and if
we love Him we must wish it too. If this separation afflicts you, think
of the great honour which the Almighty does me in calling me to His
service. Remember too what a happiness it will be for you to know
henceforth that your mother is occupied day and night in praying for your
salvation. This being so, will you not give me leave to obey God, who
commands me to go away?"

Awed and bewildered by the solemnity of the address, the child could only
say, "But I shall never see you again?"

"Not so, my son," replied the courageous mother; "on the contrary, you
will see me whenever you like; I am only going to the Ursulines, who you
know live quite close, and you can come to me there as often as you
please."

"In that case," he said, "I am satisfied."

An oppressive weight seemed to have been taken from the mother's heart;
now she could breathe freely. "I should have found it very hard to part
from you, my child," she said, "if you had refused, because I do not like
to give you pain, but as you are contented, I shall leave you tranquilly
in the hands of God. I bequeath to you no worldly wealth, for as the Lord
is my inheritance, so do I desire that He should be yours. If you fear
and love Him, you will be rich enough. I entrust you to a heavenly Mother
who will amply make up to you for my loss, for her power to serve you is
far greater than mine. Love that dear Mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary; be
faithful to her; call on her as your Mother; turn to her in all your
wants, reminding her that you are her child, and that she is bound to
take care of your interests, and be sure that she will never forsake you.
I have placed you in the charge of my sister, who has promised me to love
you and watch over you. Show her always the same affection and respect as
you have shown me. Serve God faithfully; keep his commandments; love Him,
and He will love you and provide for you in whatever position you may be
placed. Adieu, my son." Then she directed him to kneel at her feet, and
repressing every appearance of emotion, calmly made the sign of the cross
on his forehead, and gave him her solemn blessing. It was the last caress
and the last farewell of this heroic woman to her only child; henceforth
he was to be the child of providence, and she was to be as if his mother
no more. God, jealous of her undivided love, would admit no rival in her
heart; over that, He designed to reign sole Sovereign.

This most painful scene over, the remaining trials seemed easy to bear.
She bade adieu to her weeping relatives, and even to her aged father,
without betraying a symptom of the agony which rent her soul, and then,
on the 25th of January, the feast of the conversion of St. Paul, in the
year 1631, she left her sister's house, accompanied by numerous friends.
The little procession was headed by her niece whom she had asked to
precede her with a crucifix, the standard which she had ever so
faithfully followed, and to which she was now proving the truth of her
allegiance by the severing of every human tie, and the sacrifice of every
human feeling. At her side walked her little son, silent and tearful, but
quiet and resigned. She alone of the whole party manifested no agitation;
her step was firm; her demeanour calm, her countenance beaming as if with
light from heaven. Yet the superhuman victory was not achieved without
mortal anguish; every tear of the weeping child at her side made her
heart bleed afresh; every sob seemed to lacerate her soul, but she says,
in alluding afterwards to her emotions on the occasion, "Much as I loved
my son, I loved my God far more."

At the door of the monastery, she smilingly repeated her farewell to the
child and the rest of the party, and a moment after, was joyfully and
lovingly welcomed by the Mother Superior of the Ursuline Convent.




CHAPTER IX.

SAINT ANGELA AND THE URSULINES.


It was in the sixteenth century that the Ursuline Order took its rise.
The epoch was one peculiarly disastrous in the Church's history. Luther's
heresy was working evil on a gigantic scale. It had spread from nation to
nation with the rapidity of a pestilential contagion, blighting with its
deadly venom all it touched, and everywhere marking its progress by a
wide track of spiritual ruin and desolation, as well as of political
anarchy and social disorganization. Each new success of its unholy work,
necessarily inflicted a new pang on the heart of the sorrowing Spouse of
Christ. Day after day, she had to weep afresh over some new profanation
of her sanctuaries, some new desertion of her faithless children, some
aggravated treason against her God. Nor was it only the ravages of heresy
that she had to lament, but perhaps still more, the disloyalty of too
many among her still nominal adherents. While a vast number of her
disciples revolted openly against her authority, others who recognised it
in words, rejected it in practice. Where the light of faith had not been
utterly extinguished, the fire of charity had but too often cooled. The
lower classes were ignorant, the better instructed careless; both more or
less indifferent. Worse than all, the very guardians of the fold had in
too many instances proved false to their sacred trust, so intent on the
advancement of their own worldly interests, as to concern themselves very
little for the protection of their perishing flocks. The ever spreading
torrent of corruption and infidelity, looked, as though in its fully
gathered strength, it might one day inundate the world. Where could an
efficacious barrier be found to its farther progress? The question was a
momentous one, involving the honour even of Him who had given His life-
blood to purchase the very souls of whom Satan was thus making an easy
prey. All unknown to each other, two faithful children of the mourning
Mother were just then occupied in studying the grand problem, and both
succeeded in discovering the solution. Yet a few years, and they would
give the world the practical result of their researches in the
institution of their respective Orders, the Jesuits and the Ursulines.
With the latter, the name of the Mother Mary of the Incarnation is so
closely interwoven, that a few words on the rise and progress of the
Order, naturally find a place in her biography.

Saint Angela Merici, the Foundress of the Ursulines, was born on the 2lst
of March, 1474, therefore was considerably advanced in life when Luther
took up arms against the Church. Dezenzano, her birth-place, stands on
the south-west bank of the picturesque Lago di Garda in the Venetian
States, about seventeen miles from Brescia. It is ever the saints whom
God employs to do His work, and in the present instance, neither the work
nor the instrument was to be an exception to the rule. Angela entered on
the path of sanctity almost at the same time as on the path of life, and
as she advanced in years, kept ever redoubling her pace, until at last
she may be said to have flown, rather than walked along the blessed way.
From her earliest days she evinced a dread of sin, a love of prayer and
solitude, and an inclination for the severities of penance, very unusual
in children. Ever cherishing a supreme, absorbing desire to live for God
alone, she perpetually added fuel to the heavenly fire by frequent
communion, prolonged prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, and similar
holy practices, unhappily at that time but little observed. After her
admission to the Third Order of St. Francis, she placed so little limit
to her austerities, that she might with strict truth have been called a
living victim of perpetual penance. Her life became one almost unbroken
fast, and she was often known to pass a week at a time without any other
food than the heavenly manna of daily communion. To such perfection did
she carry her spirit of poverty, that after making the simple vow in the
Third Order, she would live only on alms, taking her rest on a mat or a
bundle of faggots, with a stone for her pillow. Thus, as years went on,
her ever increasing beauty of Soul, seemed even more than her remarkable
external attractions, to give literal significance to her name,--Angela,
the Angel.

But her personal sanctification, although her first, was not her only
aim. God had called her to work for other souls as well as her own, and
her apostolic vocation began early to assert itself. The deplorable decay
of faith and piety among nominal Christians of her day, weighed heavily
on her heart. Not content with simply lamenting the growing evil, she
longed for the power to check it. But how could she? How could a feeble
woman arrest an impetuous torrent? Again and again she asked herself the
question, and again and again, clearer than the heaven's light, came the
answer;--if the vices of the adult generation were traceable in a great
degree to the want of early Christian training--as who could doubt?--was
it not manifest that the only check to the transmission of its
irreligious spirit, was the careful education of the young? Yes; let the
ignorant be taught, and little by little God's work would be done.
Success might at first be small, but it would be certain. Each mind
enlightened, would be a heart converted, and even one was worth labouring
for. The single child trained to piety, would at a future day become a
religious mother, capable of imparting to her own family the holy
impressions which she had herself received; the circle of good would go
on extending for ever, and only God could see its final limits. Thus
Angela reasoned, and without delay she determined to carry out her
conclusions.

It was about her twenty-first year that she began her labour of zeal and
love, by assembling the little children of Dezenzano for catechism, and
instructing a vast number of adults in the Christian doctrine. Her
assistants were four in number, and like herself members of the Third
Order of St. Francis. It was but a diminutive plant that sprang at first
from the seed then deposited in the garden of God, but the blessing of
the Most High rested on the feeble seedling, and in that divine sunshine
it throve and grew, until at last it expanded into a great tree, of which
the historian Time can tell no tale, save that although ages and storms
have passed over it, its heart is fresh, its growth is steady, and its
roots are firm to-day, as in the early years, when sown by the hand, and
fostered by the care of Angela, it gave its young promise of luxuriance
and stability. Though she did not live to witness the full realization of
that promise, she was permitted to foresee its accomplishment in a
celestial vision granted her much about the period of the opening of her
apostolate at Dezenzano. One day, while praying with great earnestness
for Divine guidance, a high ladder, like that shown to Jacob, suddenly
appeared before her. One end of it rested on the ground, the other
touched the heavens. Down this ladder, a resplendent band of virgins
slowly descended, moving two and two with perfectly regularity, and
accompanied by angels. Their number was very great; their garments were
rich; their crowns were studded with gems of wondrous beauty, and they
sang a sweet canticle, to which their angelic guardians responded in
choir. Overwhelmed with astonishment, she looked and listened, utterly
unable to comprehend the mystery. At last she recognised in the
procession a beloved companion recently deceased, who told her to take
courage, for that she was the instrument chosen by the Almighty to
establish at Brescia a society of virgins similar to those she then
beheld. The revelation was too convincing to leave room for doubt, yet so
profound was the saint's humility, so deep her sense of her own
unworthiness and incapacity, that she permitted full forty year to pass
without taking any decided measures for its accomplishment. The vision,
however, served to add new fire to her zeal for the Divine honour, and to
intensify her already ardent love for her neighbour. She became
absolutely indefatigable in her efforts for the diffusion of religious
instruction, the reconciliation of enemies, the consolation of the
afflicted, and the conversion of sinners, sparing neither time, fatigue,
nor even frequent journeys in furtherance of these and similar objects of
charity; working among the poor from preference, but never refusing her
help to those also of the better class who sought it. But holy and
profitable as was the work at Dezenzano, she knew all along that it was
only preparatory to the greater work at Brescia. "Take courage, Angela,"
said the prophecy, "for thou shall found a company of virgins such as
these at Brescia." The prediction was explicit as to her future destiny,
but vague as to the period of fulfilment. To that there might be still,
as there had already been, a long delay, but she believed that in His own
time, the Almighty would provide for its accomplishment, and for that
time she waited tranquilly, devoting herself meanwhile to her humble
labours at Dezenzano as entirely as if she had not known full well that
Dezenzano was not her ultimate destination. And in His own time God did
interpose. By means apparently the most simple and natural, his ever-
watchful Providence prepared the way at last for her removal to Brescia,
using as its instruments, two distinguished inhabitants of that city,
whose names her historians have handed down to us, Jerom Patengola and
his virtuous consort Catherine. It happened that this pious couple had
some years before become acquainted with Saint Angela, in one of their
annual visits to their large estates near Dezenzano, and finding the
intimacy highly conducive to their spiritual interests, they had
cultivated it assiduously. In 1516, it pleased God to deprive them in
rapid succession of their only children, two daughters, in whom their
hearts and earthly hopes were centred. In the excess of their anguish,
they turned for comfort to their saintly friend, beseeching her to come
to them without delay. They had been kind benefactors to her little
society, gratitude therefore, as well as charity, pleaded their cause
with her sisters and her spiritual advisers, who all agreed that such
claims were irresistible. Looking on the decision as a manifestation of
the Divine will, she accordingly left Dezenzano where for twenty years
she had pursued her mission of love, and proceeded to Brescia, the city
of the promise, having first secured that the work at Dezenzano should be
continued by her sisters whom she intended to rejoin as soon as possible.

Her visit to Brescia proved a source not only of immense consolation to
her sorrowing friends, but of spiritual benefit to the whole city. To win
all to God by prayer, instruction, and example, was still as ever, the
aim of her life. Attracted by the reputation of her sanctity, as well as
of her natural abilities and supernatural enlightenment, persons of every
rank came to her for advice, and all withdrew benefited by her counsels,
filled with admiration of her wisdom, and edified by her equally striking
charity, sweetness and humility. It was about this period that she
received an infused knowledge of Latin, which she could understand, speak
and translate without having learned it; also of the holy Scriptures, on
the most difficult passages of which she could comment with wonderful
ease and unction.

Her original intention had been, as we have seen, to return to Dezenzano,
as soon as her work of charity in Brescia was completed; she had not
however been long in the latter city, when she became convinced that God
willed her to remain there. The memorable vision of bygone years had
assuredly never at any time faded from her memory; it must on the
contrary have formed the constant subject of her communications with God,
but after her removal to Brescia, it pursued her with an almost painful
persistence. Not once only, but continuously, uninterruptedly, it stood
before her in all the distinctness of its first vivid colouring, and all
the minuteness of its smallest details, so that whatever her occupations,
alone or conversing with others, in the church and in her room, at all
times and in all places, she seemed ever to see the mysterious ladder
with its glorious throng of gem-crowned virgins and dazzling angels; she
seemed ever to hear the words of the yet unrealized promise, "Take
courage, Angela, for thou shalt found a company of virgins like to these
at Brescia." Concluding at last that this almost importunate voice from
the past, must be intended as a warning to guide her movements in the
present, she prayed with all the earnestness of her soul that the
Almighty would manifest His designs, and enable her by His grace to carry
them out most perfectly. In answer to her prayer she clearly understood
that God willed her to remain at Brescia, and she accordingly established
herself in a retired lodging in the town, there to continue her career of
zeal and usefulness;--but many years more were to elapse before the
foundation of her Order.

Pilgrimages to consecrated spots seem to have been one of her favourite
practices of piety. Two years after her arrival at Brescia, she made one
to the tomb of the Venerable Mother Hosanna Andreassi, a religious of the
Order of St. Dominick; who had lately died at Mantua in the odour of
sanctity. Six years later, in 1524, her ardent love of our Divine
Redeemer prompted her to undertake a journey of devotion to the Holy
Land. On the way, God was pleased to test her love of the cross by a most
severe affliction. Just as the vessel touched the port of Canea in the
island of Candia, which she was the first to discern, she was in one
instant struck with total blindness, to the inexpressible sorrow and
consternation of her companions. The trial was a peculiarly painful one,
and it served to display the heroism of her virtue in a clearer light
than ever. She accepted it in the spirit of the saints, and refusing the
kind offers of her friends to accompany her back to Italy, she completed
the journey to Palestine, now attended with so much additional
difficulty. In the Holy Land, she redoubled her habitual most rigorous
fasts and other austerities, and as if to compensate for being denied a
sight of the blessed places which she had come so far to see, she poured
out her heart's love over them with a seraphic fervour which sensibly
affected the spectators. On her journey homewards, her patient submission
was rewarded by the recovery of her sight at the very place where she had
lost it. This favour was granted her while she prayed with great devotion
before a celebrated image of the Crucifixion, exposed to public
veneration in one of the churches of the town. After a narrow escape from
shipwreck, she reached Venice, and so strong was the impression of her
sanctity produced in that city by the reports of her companion pilgrims,
that she was earnestly entreated to fix her abode there, and take charge
of some of its institutions of charity. Tempting as was the offer, she
resolutely declined it, for she knew that God's will called her to
Brescia, where after an absence of six months, she returned, to the great
joy of the inhabitants.

But before again settling down to her old manner of life in this home of
her adoption, she had yet another journey of devotion to accomplish. Next
to the consecrated land of Palestine, Catholic Rome had ever presented
the strongest attractions to her faith and piety. She longed to pray at
the shrine of the Princes of the Apostles; to kiss the soil, bedewed with
their blood, and as a faithful daughter of the Church, to kneel at the
feet of God's visible representative, and beg his blessing on her
projected work. The publication of the great Jubilee of 1525, by Pope
Clement VII., supplied a fitting opportunity of carrying out her pious
wishes. In company with one of the numerous bands of pilgrims who
thronged the ways, she proceeded to the holy City, and here, not only had
she the consolation of receiving the benediction of his Holiness, but she
was honoured by an invitation from him to remain permanently at Rome, and
accept the superintendence of some of the public institutions for the
sick poor. This offer she humbly declined like that at Venice, and for
the same reasons, and returning once more to Brescia, resumed her life of
retirement, mortification and charity. At the end of nearly four years,
she was unexpectedly compelled to leave the city once again. The Duchy of
Milan was at this time passing through a severe political crisis. It had
long been the theatre of a disastrous struggle originating in the
pretensions of the French Kings, Louis XII. and Francis I., to the
reversion of its crown, and as a portion of the Duchy, Brescia had been
more or less involved in the troubles of the times. In 1529, the date
which we have reached, the war had lasted for many years, and with varied
success; Louis and Francis had each in turn won and lost the prize. One
Duke of Milan, Ludovico Sforza, had died a prisoner in France; another,
Maximilian, had resigned his claim; a third, Francis, had fled from his
dominions. In 1525, Francis I. of France had been totally defeated at
Pavia by the confederate princes, at the head of whom was the Emperor
Charles V., but this event had not pacified the distracted country, as
might have been hoped. The victorious imperial troops continued to
overrun the north of Italy, and serious apprehensions were entertained,
that in the flush of success, they would lay siege to Brescia. Rather
than risk a renewal of the horrors of the first siege in 1512, many of
the inhabitants determined to abandon the city without delay. Among
others, Angela was induced to accompany a family of her acquaintance to
the neighbouring town of Cremona. Here she was visited as usual by
numbers of persons of all conditions seeking advice or consolation, and
among others by the fugitive Duke of Milan, Francis Sforza, who in his
reverses had sought an asylum at Brescia, and thence followed the
refugees to Cremona. He had already met the saint during his stay at
Brescia, and her gentle counsels had materially helped him to meet his
afflictions in the spirit of Christian resignation. Angela was happily
instrumental to many signal conversions at Cremona, but her active career
was suddenly arrested by an illness which brought her apparently to the
gates of death. There seemed little human probability that so utterly
exhausted a frame could resist so violent a malady, but she had yet a
work to do, and ardently as she sighed for her heavenly country, her
exile was to be prolonged until that work had been accomplished. Contrary
to expectation, she recovered under circumstances deemed miraculous, and
in thanksgiving for her wondrous restoration, made a pilgrimage in
company with other devout persons to a renowned sanctuary of our Blessed
Lady in the environs. On the conclusion of peace in 1530, she returned to
Brescia after six months' absence.

Although in her humility and self-distrust she still shrank as much as
ever from the responsibility of founding a religious Order, she could not
conceal from herself that the time had come, when, for various reasons,
decisive measures should no longer be deferred. Urged onwards by the
counsels of her director, as well as by the voice of inspiration, she
therefore determined at last to take the definite, though only
preparatory step, of assembling a few companions whom she could gradually
initiate in her views and form to the intended institute. Accordingly,
about the end of the year 1533, she proposed to twelve pious ladies of
the town to associate themselves with her in a life of prayer and good
works, to which they readily agreed. She then explained to them the
nature and object of the future foundation in which they would one day be
expected to co-operate with her, at the same time suggesting the
necessity of a certain course of preliminary training under her personal
direction. With one accord they placed themselves wholly at the disposal
of the saintly Mother, who devoted herself with all the ardour of her
zeal to imbue them thoroughly with the true spirit of the holy state to
which they aspired. She allowed them to reside with their families as
before, but required that they should assemble every day in a common
oratory for prayer and instruction, and employ their time in the
particular works of charity appointed at the daily meetings. These were
held at first in a room given to the saint by the Canons of the Church of
St. Afra; it adjoined the church, which enabled her to spend a
considerable portion of the night in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament.
Being soon found too small for a general oratory, a more commodious one
was substituted through the generosity of a pious widow.

For two years more, no farther progress was made. Angela was sixty-one,
and the prophetic vision of full forty years before, was but a vision
still. When would it become a reality? Soon now, for our Lord Himself was
about to interpose, and by mingled reproach and reproof, to conquer the
irresolution of His humble servant. Condescending to appear to her in
person, He reprimanded her for her hesitation, thus at once overwhelming
her with regret and confusion, and dispelling every lingering shadow of
doubt as to His designs. A moment's hesitation after this would have
seemed too long; she commenced her preparations at once, and on the feast
of St. Catherine, November 25th, 1535, just one year after the
establishment of the Society of Jesus, she inaugurated the infant
institute at Brescia. On the same day, she was joined by fifteen
additional members, making with the original twelve, the twenty-seven
pillars on which the edifice was to rest, she being herself the
foundation stone. Too humble to attach her own name to the Congregation,
she decided on. giving it that of the Holy Virgin and Martyr St. Ursula,
who had previously appeared to her in a celestial vision, and encouraged
her to carry out her inspiration.

In the design of Saint Angela, the life of the Ursuline was to be a union
of prayer and action. She was to employ nearly as much time in the
functions of Mary as if belonging to the contemplative orders, and to
devote herself besides to the instruction of the ignorant, and first, and
before all, to the education of the young. With these, the duties forming
her specific end, she was to combine the special practices now attached
to the Sisters of Charity.

Considering the spiritual apathy then so generally prevalent, it was not
to be expected that persons needing instruction would go far to seek it,
therefore, to adapt her work to the exigencies of the ages Saint Angela
decided that instead of retiring within convent walls, the members of the
Society should continue to live in their own homes, whence they could
more easily go in pursuit of the ignorant, and where too they would have
wider opportunities of, doing good by the silent influence of example.
"In these critical times," said the holy Foundress, "let us place models
of virtue in the midst of the corrupt world itself, and oppose living
barriers to the ravages of heresy and the inroads of vice." The Sisters
were to continue to meet at their oratory for spiritual exercises,
conferences, and necessary business arrangements; their dress was to be
dark in colour and plain in texture, but no particular form was made
obligatory. Foreseeing the social changes which time would effect, St.
Angela with her characteristic prudence empowered the Sisters to modify
the manner of life now adopted, as future circumstances might render it
desirable. She arranged in detail the internal organization of the
Society, and her regulations bore ample evidence to her wisdom,
intelligence and heavenly enlightenment. The Rule drawn up by the holy
Foundress, and accepted by the Sisters, received the unqualified approval
of the Bishop of Brescia, and on the 18th of March, 1537, she was
unanimously elected first Superior of the Society, notwithstanding her
earnest petition to be allowed to labour until death in the lowest rank,
which she said was the only one suited to her. It is a tradition among
the Ursulines, that on the eve of the election, the glorious St. Ursula
again appeared to her during one of her frequent ecstasies, and consoled
her by the assurance that she had taken the institution under her special
patronage, that it was agreeable to God, and that it would be perpetuated
from age to age, even to the end of the world. In little more than a
month after its foundation, the number of the members had increased from
twenty-seven to seventy-two, all filled with the spirit of their holy
Mother; all inflamed with liveliest zeal for the glory of God and the
salvation of their neighbour. They were to be seen teaching the ignorant,
relieving the poor, visiting the prisons and hospitals, and diffusing all
around the good odour of Jesus Christ, and so great was the veneration
which the Society inspired, that it was usually designated as _the holy
Company_. Far from opposing, the authorities both civil and
ecclesiastical favoured its progress, and the highest dignitaries of the
city gladly assisted at the spiritual instructions given on certain days
in the oratory of Saint Angela and her Sisters.

The first great aim of the new Superior was to train her fervent novices
to perfection, inspiring them with thorough detachment from the world, an
ardent desire of God's glory, and a tender charity for their neighbour.
Her second object was to procure the solemn approbation of the Holy See
for the Society; but this she did not live to receive, having survived
the foundation only three years. In the spring of 1539 she gradually sank
into a state of utter physical exhaustion, which she correctly
interpreted as a certain, though not, perhaps, an immediate, forerunner
of dissolution. She lingered until the commencement of the following
year, when, increased debility warning her that the end could not be far
distant, she summoned the leading members of the Society to receive her
last counsels. Happily the golden words had been previously committed to
writing, and thus the treasure has descended to her spiritual daughters
of all generations. She concluded her impressive advice to the
Directresses by making them the bearers of her final farewell to all the
Sisters. "Tell them," she said, "that I shall ever be in the midst of
them, and that I shall know them better, and help them more
efficaciously, after my departure, than when on earth. Tell them not to
grieve at our temporary separation, but to look forward to our meeting in
heaven, where Jesus reigns. Let them raise their hearts and hopes to that
blessed home, high above this passing world, seeking their Treasure and
their Friend in Jesus alone, who sits at the right hand of the Father in
the kingdom of eternal peace." Her "Last Testament," as it was called,
was addressed to the Sisters in general, and reserved by her own
direction to be read to them after her death. As a compendium of her
lessons of holiness, and an effusion of her sweet spirit of charity, it
may well be considered a legacy worthy of such a Mother. It concludes by
the consoling declaration that "the Society is assuredly the work of the
hand of the Most High, who will never abandon that work while time
endures."

And now the earthly task of the dying saint was accomplished. After
lingering yet a few days among her sorrowing children, she received the
last rites of the Church in presence of the whole Ursuline family,
numbering one hundred and fifty members, and, after the solemn ceremony,
exhorted them to charity, obedience, humility, observance of rule and
love of God. "O Jesus!" she said in conclusion, "bless this company of
virgins irrevocably consecrated to Thy service. Grant that as they
increase in numbers, they may also grow in grace, in fervour and in
wisdom before Thee and before Thy servants." At her own desire she had
been clothed in the habit of the Third Order of St. Francis, and that she
might die in the practice of her beloved poverty, she had herself
removed, tradition says, from the poor bed she had occupied in her
illness, to the rush mat on the ground which had formed her ordinary
resting-place in health. Her dying words were fervent acts of the
theological virtues, but she seemed to dwell, by preference, on the act
of charity, returning to it continually. "Yes, my God, I love Thee!" she
said. "Why cannot I love Thee infinitely? Holy Virgin! Blessed Spirits:
lend me your hearts to love Jesus. How long shall I be banished from Thy
presence, O Lord? Who will give me wings to fly to Thee, the only Object
of my love? Break the chains of my captivity. Receive the soul which
languishes for Thee; which can no longer live without Thee." Then, with
Jesus on the cross, she exclaimed, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my
spirit!" They were her last words, no sooner spoken than she gave up her
soul to God--"peacefully," says her historian, "as a child composing
itself to sleep in its mother's arms." She died on the 27th of January,
1540, at half-past nine in the evening, aged sixty-six or sixty-seven.

Her precious remains repose in the Church of St. Afra, at Brescia, and
are in a state of wonderful preservation. They are clothed in the brown
habit of St. Francis, with its white cord. The apartment in which she
breathed her last has been kept with religious veneration in exactly the
same condition as when she occupied it during life, except for the
introduction of a few engravings representing the principal events of her
history. On the wall, opposite the window, is an inscription, in gilt
letters, to the following effect:--"This poor room was the resort of the
most learned theologians and the most gifted ecclesiastics, who departed
from their conferences with St. Angela, amazed at the lights which she
had communicated to them." Her portrait, preserved at Brescia, and said
to be a true likeness, is of great beauty; it was taken after death. Her
statue at St. Peter's occupies the first niche on the upper row at the
left of the Confession of St. Peter. Although of colossal dimensions, its
elevated position apparently reduces it to life-size. It is a common
tribute of love and veneration from all her children throughout the
world. The name of Angela was enrolled on the catalogue of the saints in
1807 by Pope Pius VII. In the foregoing outline of her history, no
attempt has been made to portray the beauty of that inner life, which is
to the saint what the perfume is to the rose. Many elaborate works have
already done justice to the subject, which does not enter into a passing
notice like the present, intended only to trace to its origin the Order
illustrated by the virtues of the Mother of the Incarnation, as well as
of its holy Foundress.

On the 9th of June, 1544, Pope Paul III. granted a Bull approving and
confirming the Institution of St. Angela, but, as already noticed, she
had then been called to her reward. After her death, the institute spread
rapidly through many towns of Italy. Among the first to adopt it was
Dezenzano, the scene of her early labours. In Milan, especially, it found
an efficacious patron and protector in the great St. Charles Borromeo, to
whose zeal it is immensely indebted. In 1568 he introduced it into his
diocese, where it spread so wonderfully that, in the capital alone, it
counted eighteen houses and six hundred sisters.

We have seen that the saintly Foundress gave an anticipated sanction, for
such modifications of the primitive Rule as might be found necessary in
the practical development of the great work which she had lived to
establish, but not to perfect. The first modification was introduced by
St. Charles. Anxious to consolidate a work whose utility to the Church he
clearly foresaw, he procured from Pope Gregory XIII. a Bull renewing and
ratifying the first approval of the Rule, authorizing Ursulines to make
the three simple vows after a probation of one or two years, and
permitting them to live in community. He also organized the schools, and
introduced a mitigated form of cloister, the Sisters not being allowed to
leave the house without a particular permission. This branch of the
Society is known as the Congregation of Milan.

But although the Ursuline Order took its rise in Italy, its perfect
development is to be sought in France, a country connected with the name
of its glorious Patroness, St. Ursula, as Italy is identified with that
of its blessed Foundress, St. Angela. It was to the French shores that
the royal maiden was steering her course when she and her retinue fell
into the hands of the savage Huns, and, in defending the crown of their
virginity, won, in addition, the diadem of martyrs. Here, then, we
naturally expect to find a numerous company rallying round the standard
of St. Ursula and St. Angela; nor are we disappointed. Before the great
Revolution, France numbered fully three hundred and sixty houses of the
Order; many of those then suppressed, have not been restored, yet she
still counts at least one hundred and thirty, and it is her especial
boast that, while in other lands the Ursuline has lived and laboured for
her Master's cause, here she has not only lived and laboured, but died a
martyr's death for it.

The first house of French Ursulines was established at Avignon in 1594 by
two ladies named De Bermond. This branch of the Society, known as the
Congregation of Avignon, adopted the Rules of the Congregation of Milan,
and quickly spread through other parts of Provence. A few years later,
the Institute of St. Angela was introduced into Paris by Madame Acarie,
now venerated as the saintly Carmelite, Blessed Mary of the Incarnation.
Though not the second foundation in order of date, the Paris house
occupies a prominent position in the annals of the Ursulines, as their
first monastery. As we have already more than once observed, the Sisters
were not originally cloistered, bound by vows or monastic observances, or
even irrevocably consecrated to their manner of life, but the time was
come when by the adoption of these essential obligations, the Society, as
St. Angela herself had called it, would receive its full development by
being converted into a regular monastic Order. This alteration in the
form, changed nothing in the substance of the Saint's original
institution. Whether a member of a simple confraternity, or of a
religious order in the restricted meaning of the word, the Ursuline was
at all times equally bound to devote her life to the instruction of the
young, and to work out her own sanctification by the practice of the
evangelical counsels. The instrument of the great work in question was
Madame St. Beuve, a pious and wealthy widow, who at the request of her
relative, Madame Acarie, consented to accept the title and
responsibilities of Foundress of the house at Paris, on the express
understanding that it should in due time be formed into a monastery. In
this object she finally succeeded to her entire satisfaction. The
reigning Pontiff, Paul V., approved the design, and on the 16th of June,
1612, issued a Bull converting the Congregation into a Monastery, under
the patronage of St. Ursula and the rule of St. Augustine. His Holiness,
moreover, ordained that for the greater stability of the order, the
religious should add to the three ordinary solemn vows, a fourth of the
instruction of the young. The Bull of Pope Paul V. was confirmed in 1626
by Urban VIII. The convent in Paris, so interesting to Ursulines from its
associations, "le grand couvent de St. Jacques," as it was called from
its locality, was among those destroyed in the first Revolution, but, by
an inscrutable permission of Divine Providence, it is not among those
restored. Still, even in its ruins, it not only lives in the hearts of
Ursulines, but may be said actually to survive in its numerous
foundations and their offshoots. Between its establishment in 1612, and
the death of its venerated Foundress in 1630, eleven houses of the
Congregation had sprung up in the north of France. Its subsequent
diffusion was equally satisfactory.

Congregations of Ursulines were established at Bordeaux and Lyons, under
the respective dates 1605 and 1611, and, within a few years after their
foundation, were erected into Monastic Orders by Pope Paul V.; from
these, numerous filiations have also sprung. There are other
Congregations of Ursulines, but the three named are the most numerous.
Although the spirit and the essential end of Ursulines are in all cases
the same, the various Congregations differ more or less on certain
points, and each retains the name which distinguishes it from the others.

Notwithstanding the suppression of numbers of its houses, the Order of
St. Angela now registers about three hundred, the greater portion in
Europe, some in Oceanica, and a large number in America. The history of
the Mother of the Incarnation will shortly introduce us to the first in
the New World. Of late years, the old tree seems to have renewed its
vitality, so vigorously is it putting forth fresh branches. In Belgium
alone, thirty houses have been founded by one priest in our own times;
and although, unhappily, the work of suppression has been steady in
Germany, the dispossessed communities have not perished, but only removed
to other countries.

The increase of devotion to St. Angela keeps pace in our day with the
extension of her Order. Pope Pius IX., of revered and cherished memory,
gave a considerable impetus to this devotion, by raising the saint's
festival to a higher ritual rank, permitting the universal celebration of
her office, and proclaiming her the "Patroness of Christian mothers, and
the Protectress of young girls." The establishment of the arch-
confraternity which bears her name, has greatly contributed to the same
end. It was commenced at Blois in 1863 by the Abbé Richaudeau, a zealous
patron of the Order, and is widely spread wherever Ursulines are to be
found. Its objects are the honour of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the triumph
of the Church, the deliverance of the suffering souls in purgatory, and
the extension of the work of St. Angela by word and example, or the
apostolate of woman. It is enriched with indulgences, and the holy
sacrifice of the Mass is offered on the first Tuesday of every month for
the associates.

During the three and a half centuries of its existence, the Ursuline
Order is calculated to have given to the Church more than one hundred
thousand religious, by whom multitudes of young girls of every grade have
been trained to piety. Only the angels have kept the record of the
multitude of saints whom it has given to heaven, some bearing the palm
branches of victorious martyrs, all clad in virgin robes, and swelling
the celestial canticle which only the Spouses of the Lamb are privileged
to sing.




SECOND PERIOD, 1631-1639.

HER RELIGIOUS LIFE IN FRANCE.




CHAPTER I.

SISTER MARY OF THE INCARNATION, AN URSULINE NOVICE.--VIRTUES AND TRIALS
OF HER NOVITIATE.--THIRD VISION OF THE BLESSED TRINITY.--HER CLOTHING.


Marie Guyart was in her thirty-first year when she commenced her career
as an Ursuline. Even without her own testimony, we could easily have
understood, that after her long and severe probation. in the world, the
novitiate of religion must have appeared to her like a very heaven of
peace. She compared her entrance into the sanctuary to the opening of the
gate of a terrestrial paradise, and dwelt with holy joy on the happiness
of having exchanged a life of embarrassment, responsibility, and care,
for the blessed condition of a simple novice, whose only affair is to
sanctify her soul by the observance of her rule.

It was not long before her superiors had an opportunity of testing her
virtue, and satisfying themselves that it was genuine. She had been for
years accustomed, as we have seen, to the severest rigours of corporal
mortification, but, having now embraced community life, in which
singularities even in devotion are inadmissible, it had become necessary
to restrict her penances to those in ordinary practice. To persons
unacquainted with her spirit, the question may naturally have occurred,
whether it would cost her much thus to alter the whole tenor of her
external life, and submit unconditionally to the rule in the matter of
austerities, as of all else. But those who knew her well could have
predicted, that as attachment to her own will and judgment had never
mingled, however slightly, with her penitential works, she would renounce
them, in compliance with the Divine will, as readily as she had embraced
them from the same motive--and so it was.

Knowing that the sacrifice of obedience is more acceptable to God than
the sacrifice of victims, she at once submitted, not only without a
remonstrance or a hesitation, but even without a thought or a feeling
contrary to the will of her superiors, thus early establishing her
religious perfection on the solid virtues of humility and obedience, its
only secure foundation. A great love for common life became henceforth
one of the marked characteristics of her spirit as a religious, and,
except either by the actual direction, or with the immediate sanction of
authority, she never to the end of life departed from its rules. In her
later instructions, she remarks, that in good works of our own selection,
there is generally a mingling of the human spirit, and, therefore, a
proportionate deficiency of the Spirit of God, whereas in the observance
of the established ordinances of religious life, there is no room for the
intrusion of the human spirit, seeing that the will is not free to choose
between them, but must simply submit to each and all without distinction.

Although in every respect so superior to her sister novices, she took her
place among them with a sweet, child-like simplicity that charmed and
edified all who witnessed it. Forgetting her age, her talents, her
experience, her profound knowledge of the spiritual life, and her
extraordinary communications with God, she conversed with, and
accommodated herself to the youngest sisters as if she had really been
the least, and the most ignorant of them all. It was her delight to apply
to them for information regarding the practices and ceremonies of
religion; she was always pleased and grateful when they taught her
something new, and ever ready to admit her ignorance and apologise for
her mistakes. It was but natural that her mature years and her reputation
for sanctity should have elicited a certain degree of deference from her
youthful companions, but nothing confused her more than any external
manifestation of the feeling. The more her sisters would have
distinguished her, the more she tried to pass unnoticed in the crowd, and
far from considering herself an example to the others, she was never
tired of admiring their spirit of self-denial and exactitude to regular
observance, which she looked on as a lesson to herself. She made it her
especial study to carry out even the least direction public or private,
of her mistress of novices, the perfection of the accompanying interior
spirit elevating these trivial acts to the height of sublime virtue.
While her external life exhibited in every feature a living model of that
beautiful work of grace, a perfect novice, her heart was filled with so
deep a joy, that it almost seemed to her as if no trouble could reach her
more; no storm ever break on the peaceful haven to which the hand of God
had at last guided her. But it was not so; the cross was her portion, and
even now, its shadow flung itself across the sunbeams.

It happened that after giving her up so bravely, her little son repented
of his heroism, instigated to rebellion by various persons who persuaded
him that he had done a very foolish thing in permitting his mother to
become a nun, and that he ought to go boldly to the monastery, and demand
her restoration, an advice which he was not slow to adopt. The new
building being at that time in progress, his plan was much facilitated,
for the doors were left open for the workmen, and thus he easily managed
to enter the otherwise inaccessible inclosure, making his way, now to the
choir, now to the refectory, now to the parlour grate, and everywhere
announcing his presence by the plaintive cry, "Give me back my mother!
Give me back my mother!" She tried to appease his childish grief by
little presents given her for the purpose, but the tempest was allayed
for the moment, only to burst out afresh with renewed vigour. Once a
relative of hers wrote some pathetic verses on the desolate condition of
the forsaken child, and gave them to him to present to his mother; she
read them with exterior composure, but every word pierced her heart. His
companions, who loved and pitied him, determined at last to take the law
into their own hands. "It is because you have no mother," they said,
"that you are deprived of the indulgences and gratifications which we
enjoy, but come with us to the convent, and we shall make such a terrible
noise, that they will be forced to give you back yours. We shall insist
on getting her, even if we have to break down the doors." Forthwith the
self-constituted champions formed in battle array, and armed, some with
sticks and some with stones, they proceeded to besiege the monastery, if
not strictly according to the rules of war, at least with resolute hearts
determined never to yield until the fortress had surrendered. Many of the
spectators laughed as the belligerents passed along; many more looked
grave and applauded the children's spirit. Great was the clamour when the
little army reached the monastery, but the inmates were not left long in
ignorance of the object of the invasion, for high above the din and
uproar rose the familiar cry of a now well-known voice, "Give me back my
mother!" For once, that much tried mother's courage almost faltered.
Immovable in her own resolution to make her sacrifice to God at the
expense of every feeling of nature, she feared that the forbearance of
the sisters must be by this time exhausted, and that rather than submit
to continual disturbance from her son, they would recommend her to return
to the world, and resume the care of him, which she says would have been
very reasonable on their part, but an inexpressible trial to her. We are
not told by what arguments the doughty warriors were induced to abandon
the siege; all we know is that the fortress surrendered neither itself
nor its saintly inmate, whom our Lord Himself soon after consoled and
fortified by an interior assurance that notwithstanding all obstacles,
she would make her religions profession in this house.

Her troubles about the child were not yet, however, at an end. Before her
entrance to the convent he had been remarkably good and docile, but now,
so completely had his temper been soured by the irritating remarks of
injudicious advisers, that he had grown idle, self-willed and absolutely
reckless. This was the worst pang of all; she dreaded more than any other
misfortune, that of his offending God; the news of his death would have
been a light sorrow in comparison. To avert this greatest of evils, she
offered herself as a victim to the Almighty, consenting to endure any
suffering it might please Him to inflict, provided only her boy were
preserved from sin. The contract was ratified in heaven, and it bore its
fruits on earth; fruits of sorrow to the mother, of future sanctification
to the son. Some time after, at the request of the Archbishop of Tours
the Jesuits agreed to take charge of the child, and removed him to their
College at Rennes. Those who had most severely censured his mother, now
altered their opinion, and declared that in the step she had taken, she
had but obeyed the voice of God.

About two months after her entrance to the novitiate, Marie Guyart was
admitted to another of those supernatural communications, which the
Almighty seemed to delight in imparting to her pure and humble soul. It
was a third vision of the most adorable Trinity, differing from the two
preceding in this, that while in the first, she had been illuminated as
to the nature of the mystery and in the second, closely united in heart
to the Word, in this, her soul was chosen as the abode and possession of
the three Divine Persons, in highest fulfilment of the promise of Christ,
"If any man love me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him,
and we will come to him, and will make our abode with him" (St. John xiv.
23). It was the greatest favour she had yet received, as our Lord was
pleased to signify to her. While it elevated her to new heights of love
for a God of such infinite condescension, it lowered her, as did all
similar graces to deeper depths of self-contempt and interior
annihilation, with an increased desire to prove her love for her Divine
Benefactor by suffering for Him ever more and more. A few days after this
ecstasy, she received the holy habit, and with it, the now well-known and
widely revered name of Mary of the Incarnation.




CHAPTER II.

INFUSED KNOWLEDGE OF SCRIPTURE.--INTERIOR SUFFERINGS.--RELIGIOUS
PROFESSION.--NEW TRIALS FROM HER SON.


So great was the joy of the fervent novice at finding herself clad in the
livery of her Divine Master, that she tells us she at first sometimes
instinctively touched her veil to make sure that her happiness was no
delusive dream. Proportioned to her gratitude, was her fidelity to her
heavenly Spouse. The only change observable in her after she had received
the habit, was a daily progress in the perfection of which she was
destined to be so bright a model to religious persons. Her virtues she
could not conceal for they betrayed themselves by their own sweet
fragrance. Neither could her humility altogether hide certain
supernatural privileges, granted her perhaps as much for the benefit and
comfort of others, as for her own advantage. Among these were an infused
knowledge of Holy Scripture, the capability of understanding it in Latin
without previous study of the language, and a singular facility for
speaking on spiritual subjects. So familiar was she with the Scripture,
that its words of life seemed to occur to her quite naturally on all
occasions. Whether her object was to lighten the burden of the suffering,
or to brighten the joy of the happy, she was never at a loss for some
appropriate sentence whereby to recall the thought of Him who is the only
true Comforter of our sorrows, as well as the only unfailing Source of
our bliss. It was in prayer, not by study, that she acquired her truly
wonderful acquaintance with the Sacred Writings. In the fulness of the
light imparted by the Divine Instructor, she was enabled to penetrate so
far beyond the literal meaning, alone apparent to ordinary readers of the
inspired words, that she sometimes feared lest the abundance of knowledge
should lead to curious speculations of the understanding, and that her
union with God in simplicity of soul, might in consequence be even
slightly impeded,--but the dread of such a danger was necessarily a
security against it. She had a very particular devotion to the Divine
Office, and in her trials of interior desolation, sometimes found in the
chanting of the Psalms, a relief and consolation which no other exercise
could impart. Very truly might she have exclaimed with the Psalmist, "How
sweet are Thy words to my palate! more than honey to my mouth. O how have
I loved Thy law, O Lord!" (cxviii. 103, 97).

A sister novice once asked her to explain the passage of the Canticles,
"Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth," which she had happened to
meet in her prayer-book. Their mistress was present, and to mortify her,
as she declared, ordered her to take a chair and proceed. No sooner had
she commenced, as desired, than her subject transported her as it were
out of herself. A torrent of sacred eloquence flowed from her heart to
her lips. She spoke with a fluency than amazed her hearers, and at the
same time, with an unction that penetrated, and a charm that fascinated
them. Suddenly she stopped, as if the remainder of the effusion were
meant to be reserved for the ear of her Lord alone. Her sisters dared not
interrupt the colloquy, which only the angels were privileged to hear.

But this ray from Thabor, served as usual but to light her back to her
ordinary abiding place on Calvary. Again her soul was plunged into an
apparently fathomless abyss of desolation, and inundated as by a deluge
of temptations; temptations to despair and blasphemy; temptations to
pride and vanity; temptations against faith, against charity, against
obedience, and against the angelic virtue,--sometimes assailing her one
by one, sometimes overwhelming her all at once. She was in constant
apprehension of having consented to the enemy's most extravagant and most
impious suggestions. The passing comfort which she derived from her
director's counsels, was counteracted by the after dread of having
deceived him. Even this, her only sensible succour, was taken from her
when she seemed to need it most, Dom Raymond of St. Bernard, who had
helped her through so many difficulties; being appointed Superior of his
Order, and obliged in consequence to change his residence. The spiritual
guide into whose hands she nest fell, increased her perplexities by
assuring her that she had hitherto been ill-advised, and pronouncing her
heavenly favours delusions. Finally, as the climax to her trials, she
seemed to have lost trust in the superintendence of Providence, that
strong anchor of the troubled soul. It was the most painful form in which
despair had yet assailed her, and as an apparent encroachment on one of
the attributes of God, the supreme Object of her love, it caused her
intense affliction.

If she could but have bathed her soul in the dew of Divine consolation at
prayer, how much it would have refreshed her!  But she seemed to feel
only a loathing for the things of God; meditation, in particular, had
become her torture, for it appeared as if there especially, the torrent
of temptation was let loose. Her understanding was obscured, her memory
for spiritual things weakened, her imagination troubled, her heart sad.
From the constant strain on. her mind, and the unceasing struggle to do
violence to nature, she contracted an habitual headache which added to
the difficulty of her external duties, yet through all her multiplied
troubles, she never lost either the view of God's presence, or her
interior peace; she never formed a desire for the diminution of her
crosses, nor ever omitted any observance of rule, and so admirable was
her self-control, that only the Mother Superior and her director were
aware of her state of mental anguish. Her one only aim was to maintain
her patience; to avoid every deliberate imperfection, and to conform to
the will of God even without the sensible support of knowing that she did
so. The terrible interior trial lasted for more than two years almost
without intermission, and then the Divine Consoler of the afflicted came
Himself to her aid. As she prayed before the Blessed Sacrament with
entire abandonment of her will to the will of God, she seemed interiorly
to hear the words, "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy" (Ps. cxxv.
5). She had never before, she says, understood the whole import of those
words, although in the daily habit of repeating them in choir, bat now
they struck her with their full force, revealing to her for the first
time, hitherto hidden springs of encouragement and consolation.

The cross was not removed, it is true, but a great increase of esteem and
love for it was imparted to her. Thus strengthened, she embraced it with
her whole heart, satisfied to bear it to the last moment of existence, if
thus she could at last attain the eternal joy to which those blessed
words pointed, as to a star of hope illumining the close of life's long
path of tears. The cross was not removed, but it was so far lightened by
her love for it, that in her renewed courage she could say with heart, as
with lips, "Thy yoke, O Lord, is sweet, and Thy burden light!" "I am not
tired of suffering, my God! I am not tired of suffering!"

As the time for pronouncing her vows drew near, she fully expected that
her sisters would reject her, on account of her numerous imaginary
disqualifications, but conscious only of possessing in her a treasure of
virtue, and a precious gift from heaven, they gladly admitted her to holy
Profession on the 25th of January, 1633: she was then in the thirty-third
year of her age. On the eve, her interior sufferings vanished as if by
magic, giving place to indescribable raptures of Divine love and heavenly
sweetness. After the ceremony, she retired to her cell to give vent
unobserved to the ecstasies of her joy and gratitude, and there it was
revealed to her, that henceforth she must incessantly fly in God's
presence on the six wings of her three vows, and of the virtues of faith,
hope and love. This respite from the cross is compared by one of the
writers of her life, to the clearing of the sky between two storms; it
lasted but eight days, and then the tempest burst forth afresh and with
redoubled violence. She might perhaps have doubted the reality of her
vanished joy, had it not left a substantial trace in her renewed ardour
for the cross, and her heightened aspiration after the perfection of
utter detachment from self and every creature.

The sermons of the following Lent were preached in the cathedral of Tours
by a Jesuit of great eminence, Father George de la Haye, with whose
saintly and enlightened spirit the Ursulines were well acquainted, from
his frequent exhortations to themselves. Full of compassion, for the
prolonged sufferings of Sister Mary of the Incarnation, the Mother
Superior was inspired by her own charity to procure her an opportunity of
conferring with this experienced director. Before forming a conclusive
judgment on her state, he required to see a written account of the graces
she had received through life, and of the manner of her correspondence
with them. The humble servant of God consented to prepare it, on
condition that she should at the same time be allowed to write a
confession of all her sins and imperfections. Such was the origin of the
first account of her life by herself, so frequently referred to in these
pages. After mature consideration of the document, and fervent prayer for
the light of heaven, the Father assured her unhesitatingly that her
method of prayer had been inspired by God, and that she had all along
been guided by His Spirit alone, a decision which filled her soul with
indescribable peace. Shortly afterwards, her interior trials were
instantaneously and totally removed.

 Summing up the advantages of these at a later period, she says that they
are a source of self-knowledge and a stimulus to self-correction;--that
in the abundance of spiritual consolation, the soul is carried on by an
ardour which she mistakes for virtue, whereas, when the inferior part is
deprived of all sensible succour, she discovers that she is full of human
life and feeling, which she must begin at last in real earnest to mortify
and crush. Viewing interior suffering in this light, she conceived so
great a love for it, that if permitted to choose between spiritual
enjoyment, and her multiplied most bitter crosses, she tells us she would
have selected the cross.

Shortly before her Profession, she had the great grief of hearing that in
consequence of her son's recent insubordination, his removal from the
college at Rennes had become inevitable. One of his aunts accordingly
brought him back to Tours, where removed from the influence which had led
him astray, he quickly reformed. To complete his mother's obligations to
Father de la Haye, that good religious charged himself with the boy's
future education, and with that object took him to Orleans, where under
his own immediate direction the child continued his studies up to the
class of rhetoric. This he was sent to follow at Tours in a Jesuit
college lately founded, and then Father de la Haye recalled him once more
to Orleans for the completion of his course of philosophy.




CHAPTER III.

MOTHER MARY OF THE INCARNATION IS APPOINTED ASSISTANT MISTRESS OF
NOVICES--PROPHETIC VISION OF HER VOCATION TO CANADA--SPIRITUAL MAXIMS AND
INSTRUCTIONS.


In the second year after her profession, Mother Mary of the Incarnation
was appointed assistant Mistress of novices, a striking proof of the high
estimation in which she was held by her superiors. Much about the same
time, she had the remarkable vision of her vocation for Canada, which she
thus describes. "One night, after conversing familiarly with our Lord; as
usual, before falling asleep, I seemed as in a dream to see a strange
lady in a secular dress standing near me. Her presence surprised me
extremely, as I could not imagine how she had come to my room. Taking her
by the hand, I led her from the house in great haste, through a very
rugged, fatiguing road, without knowing in the least where it was that I
wanted to conduct her, or of course the way to our destination. We
advanced steadily through multiplied obstacles, until at last we came to
an inclosed space, at the entrance of which stood a venerable looking man
clothed in white, and resembling the ordinary representations of the
Apostles. He was the guardian of the place, and motioned to us to enter,
signifying by a gesture that we had no alternative but to pass through,
this being the only road on our way. It was an enchanting spot; the
pavement appeared to be composed of squares of white marble or alabaster,
united by richly coloured bands of brilliant red; its only roof was the
canopy of heaven; its greatest ornament and charm the stillness which
reigned around. To the left, at some distance, was a beautiful little
white marble church, with a seat on the top occupied by the Blessed
Virgin holding her Divine Infant. From the eminence on which we stood, we
could see a vast region beneath, thickly interspersed with mountains and
valleys, and covered with a heavy mist in every part except one, the site
of a small church. The Mother of God was gazing fixedly at this desolate
land to which there was access only through one rough narrow path; she
looked as immovable as the marble on which she was seated. I relinquished
the hand of my companion to hasten to her, stretching out my arms eagerly
towards her. Her back was to me, but I could see that as I approached,
she bent to her Divine Child, to whom, without speaking, she communicated
something important. I felt as if she were directing his attention to
this poor, forsaken country and to me, and I longed to attract her
notice. Then with ravishing grace, she turned to me, and sweetly smiling,
embraced me in silence. A second and a third time, she repeated the same
movements, filling my soul at each new embrace with an unction which no
words can describe. She looked about sixteen years of age. I could never
depict the enchanting beauty and sweetness of her countenance. My
companion was standing at the distance of two or three steps, as if
preparing to descend to the forlorn-looking land, and from where she
stood, she had a side view of the Blessed Virgin. I awoke with an
impression of extraordinary peace which lasted some days, but the vision
was yet a mystery whose meaning I could not divine."

A grand work of zeal lay before the Mother, but until it should please
God to reveal His future designs, her aim was to acquit herself perfectly
of the duties assigned her by providence in the present moment. The most
important of these was to form the novices to religious life by
conferences on its spirit and its obligations, and at the same time to
prepare them for the special function of the Ursuline institute, by
instructions on the Christian doctrine. She had a natural facility for
expressing her thoughts on every subject, but when spiritual things were
her theme, she surpassed herself, her abundant and most appropriate
quotations from Scripture adding immeasurably to the weight of her words.
Her talent for writing on pious subjects equalled her facility for
speaking of them. It was while second Mistress of novices, that she
composed her catechism, one of the most complete works of its kind,
combining, with admirable dogmatic instructions, equally valuable
practical lessons of conduct.

Habitually, the Mother of the Incarnation spoke little, and when obliged
to break silence, never used many words. This habit which she had
contracted in the world, she retained all her life, perfecting it more
and more as she advanced in sanctity. Her words, though few in number,
were comprehensive in meaning, as may be seen in the following specimens
of the maxims which she most frequently inculcated.

"A soul," she said, "which would follow her call to the perfection of the
spiritual life, must prepare first to pass, gradually through spiritual
death with all its varied and prolonged agonies. Those who have not
endured the ordeal, can scarcely calculate the degree of interior
crucifixion, or, the amount of self-abandonment required."

"Many desire, and would gladly accept the gift of prayer, but few aim at,
and labour for the spirit of humility and self-abnegation, without which
there can be no true spirit of prayer or recollection. Devotion
unsustained by mortification is of a doubtful character."

"Mortification and prayer cannot be separated. They have a close
connection, and are a mutual support."

"The gift of prayer and fervent devotion is not for the great talker; it
is impossible that the heart and lips should be uselessly occupied with
creatures, and at the same time employed with God."

"Interior purity is an essential condition for Divine union. As the sea
casts out corrupted matter, so God, the infinite Ocean of perfection,
rejects souls dead in sin, uniting Himself only to those who live by
grace and resemble Him in purity."

"There is no greater obstacle to the progress of the soul than curious
speculations in prayer, and the desire to know more than God intends. We
may exceed in the desire of knowledge, but never in the desire of love."

"The most sublime life is that which combines the external practice of
the virtues of the Gospel, with interior familiarity with God."

"We make God our debtor, if I may say so, when we cast ourselves into His
arms with child-like confidence. We should lose ourselves lovingly in
Him, for although it is true that we are nothing, while He is all, we
shall for that reason be more easily and more happily lost in Him."

"The Eternal Father has made known to a certain soul that whatever she
asks of Him through the most Sacred Heart of His Son, He will grant her."

Every day we must begin anew to love God, persuaded that the day before
we did not love Him truly; seeing only defects in the past, and work to
do in the present and future."

"I cannot imagine," she would sometimes say, "how a soul can seek her
pleasure in intercourse with creatures, when she can at all times
converse with the ever-present Creator. I wonder," she remarked on other
occasions, "how, having God for our Father, we are not always perfectly
contented. The reason is that we are too much occupied about ourselves."

"Even to the end of life the holiest souls experience the assaults, of
corrupt nature, which furnish a constant occasion of interior
humiliation."

"The practical experience of our weakness is the true teacher of contempt
of self and compassion for others."

"The nearer the soul approaches to God, the more clearly she sees her
nothingness."

"I cannot understand," she said, "how a religious soul who desires to
love God and to be loved by Him, can fail in obedience or find a
difficulty in it, knowing as she does that it is the certain means of
fulfilling the will of God."

"There is no shorter road to the perfection of the interior life, than
the universal retrenchment of all reflections, not only on annoying
subjects, but even on such as do not lead to God and the practice of
virtue."

"The effect of over-eagerness to finish one action, in order to hasten to
another, is that both are done imperfectly."

"Our afflictions are not chance accidents, but graces from God, to detach
us from creatures, and unite us to Himself."

"It seems strange that we rebel against trials, since everything that God
sends is good and desirable?"

"Resignation in suffering is a mark that the soul is near to God and His
mercies."

"Peace reigns in the heart, which, through holy self-hatred, endeavours
to destroy the very last vestiges of corrupt nature."

She had a hatred of all vices, but especially of deceit, and was
accustomed to say that "when the mouth opens to a falsehood, the heart
closes to God."

Another of her sayings was, that her temptations had been to her useful
practical lessons, teaching her how to govern others, by having taught
her first to command herself. She often inculcated that "to suffer and
pray is the only means by which, in the present life, we can honour the
Church Triumphant, and help the Churches Militant and Suffering."

From these few examples we can form an idea at least of the solidity of
her lessons, which she never intruded, always maintaining a strict
reserve unless pressed to speak by charity or obedience. Not only the
novices, but even many of the elder religious delighted in listening to
her spiritual instructions. Among other matters, she explained the Psalms
and the Canticle of Canticles in a style at once so sublime and so clear,
that both beginners and proficients derived profit from her words. Among
the numerous novices formed to the interior life by her example and
counsels, some became eminent for holiness. As her son remarks, the
beauty of the copies is the highest tribute to the perfection of the
original, and the solid virtue of the disciples, the best proof of the
excellence of the teacher.




CHAPTER IV.

INCREASED ZEAL OF THE MOTHER OF THE INCARNATION.--REVELATION OF THE
DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS, AND OF HER CALL TO THE CANADIAN
MISSION.


From her first years, zeal for the salvation of souls had been a special
characteristic of the Mother Mary of the Incarnation. Her early delight
had been, as we know, to travel in spirit over infidel lands with the
holy missioners, and unite in heart and intention with their labours. Now
that the dream of her childhood was about to become a grand reality, the
holy fire acquired a ten-fold vehemence, as if her Divine Master would
thus predispose her for the revelation of His designs. She seemed
actually to burn with desire that the only Object of her love should be
known and adored by every creature, and, unable to endure the thought of
the triumph of Satan over Jesus, she gathered the poor perishing souls of
all unbelievers into her heart, and, presenting them to the Eternal
Father, reminded Him that He had promised the dominion of the nations to
His Son, who ought no longer to be deprived of the inheritance purchased
at the dear price of His own most precious blood. "The zeal of God's
house absolutely consuming her" (Ps. lxviii. 101), she continued to
traverse heathen lands in spirit, praying for a voice strong enough to
proclaim to the extremity of the earth that her heavenly Spouse is worthy
of the love and homage of every human heart. The worst torments of the
martyrs would have seemed light to her if by them she could have gained
these straying souls to her Lord. She besought God to inflict on her the
last excess of pain, and that until the Day of Judgment, if thus she
could extend the Kingdom of Christ. She might literally have said with
the Psalmist, "My zeal hath made me pine away" (Ps. cxviii. 139), for,
the inflamed ardour of her soul reacting on her bodily strength, she was
reduced to such great exhaustion, that it was feared she would have died.
Still the prayer seemed unheeded, though still it went on redoubling in
earnestness, until at last the Eternal Father made known to her that if
she would obtain her petition, she must present it through the Heart of
His Divine Son. Thus was the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus made
known to the Mother Mary of the Incarnation long before it was revealed
to the world through another of its fervent clients. All through her
remaining life, she cherished a most ardent devotion to that ever-
adorable Heart. She offered nothing to God, she asked nothing of Him,
except through it. She made it her refuge in difficulty and her
consolation in suffering; her repose in weariness, her treasure in
poverty, her all, for love of which she despised herself and renounced
all things created.

At the time of her vision, her director had remarked that the country
shown her might perhaps have been Canada, which was then exciting some
attention. It was a new light; she had never before heard of Canada;
neither had she for a moment imagined that God intended her to labour for
souls otherwise than by the interior practices of zeal and charity to
which she was accustomed. All doubt was removed when, in a repetition of
the vision, God revealed to her that it was indeed Canada which she had
seen, distinctly telling her at the same time that she was the instrument
chosen to build a house there for Jesus and Mary. Now, at last, she knew
her destiny. "Oh, my great God!" she exclaimed, "Thou art omnipotent, and
I am all weakness; if Thou wilt assist me I am ready. Do in me and by me
Thy most adorable will."

In every phase of her vocation to Canada, we are struck by the visible
intervention of the wonder-working, ever-watchful Providence of God. Thus
it happened that at this very crisis, she received for the first time a
"Report" of the affairs of the Church in the infant colony. It was the
one for 1635, the year following the regular establishment of the Huron
Mission, and was sent her by Father Poncet, a Jesuit. Without having the
least idea that their destinations were similar, he informed her of his
own vocation for that mission, sent her a miniature pilgrim's staff which
he had brought from Loretto, and invited her to join the great work. As
she knew that the good Father was absolutely ignorant of her spiritual
state, the whole affair greatly surprised her. How would her wonder have
increased had she been aware that the same Report of 1635 was to be the
means under God of deciding another vocation, on which hung the success
of the Ursuline Mission to Canada! She could answer the Father's
invitation only in general terms, unwilling, on the one hand, to speak of
the supernatural revelation granted her, and ignorant, on the other, of
the means by which the Almighty intended to execute His will in her
regard. The enterprise was one demanding not only superhuman courage, but
also pecuniary resources; in proportion as the Mother of the Incarnation
abounded in the one, so was she destitute of the other, but her future
was in the hands of Him to whom it is as easy to dispense the treasures
of earth, as the riches of heaven. While she tranquilly abandoned
herself as a passive instrument to His designs, His Almighty Providence
was employed in preparing for her a co-operatrix endowed at once with the
zeal and the wealth, each indispensable in its way,--Madame de la
Peltrie, to whom the next chapter will introduce us.




CHAPTER V.

MADAME DE LA PELTRIE, FOUNDRESS OF THE URSULINES IN CANADA.


Marie Madeleine de Chauvigny, better known as Madame de la Peltrie, was
born in 1603, at Alençon, a town in Normandy. Through both her parents
she claimed connection with the noblest families of the province, and
from both also she derived a far more precious inheritance than exalted
birth, the imperishable heritage of piety. The virtues which reflected so
bright a lustre on her name, both in her own land and in the New World,
were, under God, the fruit of their teaching; but it must be owned that
her natural docility and amiability of disposition rendered her early
training an easy task. Compassion for the poor seemed so identified with
her nature, that she could not see a want without trying, according to
her opportunity, to relieve it, and when the power to do this failed, she
endeavoured to make up for the disappointment by an ever-ready and most
tender sympathy. She seemed to have no taste for the toys and sports of
children, preferring for her recreation the exercises of devotion, which
she had learned by observing them in others. In admiration of her early
piety, her parents loved to fancy that heaven must surely have some
singularly blessed destiny in store for her.

Under her mother's guidance, she received an education suitable to her
high social position and brilliant prospects, and when she had attained
her seventeenth year, she was informed that being of course intended for
married life, she would do well to accept a very excellent proposal which
had just offered. Most cordially despising the world with its pomps and
vanities, and desiring with her whole heart to have no spouse but a
Heavenly One, she was utterly overcome by the announcement. She had never
had a thought but of consecrating herself to God in religion, and had
refrained from speaking of her intentions merely because she believed
that the favourable time for doing so had not yet arrived. In the present
unexpected disappointment of her dearest hopes, she fancied that if she
were but once secure within the walls of a convent, her parents might
not, perhaps, carry their authority so far as to oblige her to leave it;
accordingly she went in all haste to a neighbouring abbey and asked
admittance for a few days to make a retreat. This step exceedingly
irritated her father, who at once insisted on her return home, and, as no
persuasion could induce him to alter his determination respecting her
future destiny, her spiritual guides finally decided that the will of God
in her regard was manifested by that of her parents, and that no
alternative remained but to submit. After much prayer for the light of
heaven, she consented to espouse the husband of their selection.

Monsieur de la Peltrie, her partner, was in every respect worthy of her,
and their union was one of such unbroken peace, that he often expressed a
hope of living long, in order to benefit by her holy influence, and to
enjoy the Christian happiness of which she was to him the ministering
angel. But God had decreed otherwise; five years after their marriage he
died in the very vigour of manhood. Their only child had passed at once
from earth to heaven.

Her worldly ties thus broken at the early age of twenty-two, the young
widow deliberated how she could most profitably dispose of herself and
her possessions for the glory of God. A hundred and a hundred times a day
she repeated, "Do with me, O Lord! as it shall please Thee; my heart, my
life, my riches, all are Thine!" She had not lost her first inclination
for the religious life, but the doubt arose whether, with her great
wealth, she might not, perhaps, promote the Divine honour more
effectually in the world than in a life of voluntary poverty. An ardent
zeal for the salvation of souls lighted up her heart, and, like the
Mother of the Incarnation, she flew in thought to the homes of the
heathens, there to aid, at least by her prayers and desires, the labours
of the missionaries. She panted to lend active succour to the work, bat
could not yet see how this was to be brought about. Meantime the
Providence of God was working out her destiny in its own sweet and
wondrous way. After years of incertitude and indecision, she accidentally
met with one of the Reports of the progress of the Canadian Mission. It
was a copy of the same which had been sent to the Mother of the
Incarnation by Father Poncet, bearing, as may be remembered, the date
1635. In burning accents of holy zeal, the writer asked whether no
Christian heroine could be found willing te co-operate with the designs
of Jesus by devoting herself to teach the Indian children the name of
their unknown God, and the value of the precious blood which had redeemed
them. The stirring appeal was an instantaneous answer to the doubts of
years; it revealed her vocation as plainly as if an angel's voice had
spoken. In a moment she saw that God destined her for the Canadian
Mission, and with equal promptitude she resolved to obey the call. Soon
after this first inspiration, God was pleased to confirm her resolution,
by distinctly revealing to her that it was His will she should go to
Canada, and there labour for the conversion of the Indian girls,
promising that He would bestow great graces on her in recompense. "O
Lord!" she exclaimed, "surely favours like these are not for a worthless,
sinful creature as I." And out Lord answered, "You speak truly; but the
more unworthy the object of My favours, the more is My liberality exalted
in bestowing them. I desire to employ you as the instrument of My mercies
to Canada, and, notwithstanding all obstacles, you will go there, and
there, too, you will end your days." Unmistakably as the project appeared
to be marked with the will of God, she would take ho measures for its
execution until competent judges had examined it in all its bearings,
pronounced it the work of the Holy Spirit, and decided that she ought to
carry it out without delay. Her vocation received its final confirmation
in a dangerous illness which brought her to the very verge of the tomb.
When the last hope had vanished, and her soul seemed on the very point of
hearing the great summons to eternity, she felt inspired to vow that if
her life were spared, she would build a church in Canada in honour of St.
Joseph, and devote herself and her wealth, under his patronage, to the
service of young Indian females. No sooner had she made the promise than
she fell into a sweet refreshing sleep, from which she awoke in restored
health. The amazement of the physicians was something wonderful. "What
has become of your illness, Madam?" they asked. "It seems to have gone to
Canada." Greatly surprised at the remark, she smilingly answered, "Yes,
sir, as you say, it is gone to Canada."

Thus miraculously snatched from the arms of death, she thought only of
fulfilling her vow as quickly as possible, but nearly four years were to
pass before she could realize her pious wishes. As might have been
expected, the enemy of all good set every engine at work to frustrate the
design. Her father insisted that she should marry again, and after
exhausting arguments and entreaties, he had recourse to threats,
declaring that he would disinherit her if she persevered in opposing his
washes, and that if she persisted in going to Canada, it would cost him
his life. As time passed, obstacles seemed only to multiply, and her
perplexity in consequence to increase, but before matters had finally
come to a crisis, it pleased God to call her father out of life after a
severe but short illness. This event, in removing one difficulty, created
another. Some of her relatives who had long had designs on her property,
eagerly seized the opportunity of securing the prize. With this object,
they declared her incompetent to manage her own affairs, in consequence
of her extravagance, as they termed her liberality to the poor and to the
Church. They had recourse to law proceedings to prove the statement, and
actually managed to procure a verdict in their favour. Just when her case
seemed hopeless, she was extricated from the difficulty by following the
advice of a kind friend, Monsieur de Bernières. At his suggestion she
appealed to the Parliament of Rouen, and obtained a reversal of the first
decision, with a full recognition of her rights. This great victory she
attributed to the intercession of St. Joseph, in whose hands she had
placed her cause, at the same time renewing her vow to build a church in
Canada under his invocation, and devote her remaining life to the service
of the Indians.

Her affairs no longer requiring her presence at home, she proceeded to
Paris to complete her preparations for the voyage. She profited of the
opportunity to submit her plans to two of the great lights of the age,
Père Condren, General of the Oratorians, and St. Vincent of Paul, who
both consoled her by the assurance that her vocation was genuine, and her
work the work of God. Even here her relatives continued to disquiet her.
Unwilling to relinquish their prey, some of them actually followed her to
the capital with the intention of seizing her person, and so closely did
they watch her movements, that, to baffle pursuit, she had to disguise
herself in the dress of her maid when obliged to go out on business. Once
more she had recourse to Monsieur de Bernières, and at his appearance,
the conspirators dispersed.

This good friend of Madame de la Peltrie and the Ursulines, was the scion
of an illustrious house in Normandy, and resided at Caen where he
occupied a high official position. Fearing that the distraction of
worldly business might divert his attention from the one thing necessary,
he had early assembled around him a little community of ecclesiastics and
pious laymen, who, united by the bonds of faith, charity, and prayer,
served as mutual helps in the pursuit of a common end--Christian
perfection This association, called "The Hermitage," once numbered among
its members Monseigneur de Laval, the first Bishop of Canada. A faithful
picture of the angelic soul of Monsieur de Bernières can be found in his
own work entitled "The Interior Christian," which is in fact the history
of his inner life written by the direction of his confessor. His ardent
zeal for the Divine honour inspired him with the liveliest interest in
the Canadian mission, to which he continued until death a devoted and
efficient friend. To Madame de la Peltrie in particular, he preyed
himself an invaluable assistant just at the time when she most needed
counsel and support. Her contradictions were not yet at an end; one
indeed seemed removed only to stake way for another. So it ever is with
the work of God, for the. sign by which that work conquers is the sign of
the cross. It was now the month of November, 1638. On applying for a
passage to Canada for the following spring, she was told that all the
vessels for the ensuing season would be fully freighted, so that no
alternative remained but to defer her departure for another year. Nothing
daunted, she declared that if necessary, she would charter a vessel at
her own expense, and when the time of departure came, so she actually
did.




CHAPTER VI.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE MOTHER OF THE INCARNATION'S VOCATION FOR CANADA.


While the Almighty was thus slowly preparing the way for the
accomplishment of his designs, the Mother Mary of the Incarnation was
still calmly awaiting the manifestation of His will, in utter
unconsciousness of the progress of events. At the date to which we have
brought the history of Madame de la Peltrie, more than two years had
passed since she and the Venerable Mother almost simultaneously learned
by Divine revelation, that the Canadian mission was to be the scene of
their future labours. Having followed the progress of the destined
Foundress' vocation during those years, we shall now retrace our steps to
consider the development of the Venerable Mother's in the same interval.

The great work in prospect was to be the work of God alone, and nothing
of the creature was to be permitted to mingle with it, therefore, before
the time for carrying it into effect arrived, the Almighty signified to
his faithful servant, that even in the execution of the command which He
had himself imposed, her own will was to have no share. As once He had
assumed the dominion of her heart, He on this occasion assumed the
dominion of her will,--the heart of the soul,--not depriving her of the
faculty, but uniting it so closely to His own will, that hers became
absolutely absorbed and lost in His. It was, she says, as if while she
endeavoured to bend His will to hers, by her ardent prayers for the
extension of the Kingdom of His Son, He on the contrary triumphed over
hers so completely, that now she could will only as He willed.
Thenceforth, she waited in silence and peace for the further
manifestation of His designs, and deeply as she prized her vocation, she
constantly prayed that if He willed her to work for Him in another sphere
and another way, He would raise insuperable obstacles to her ever going
to Canada. The secret of her future destiny she buried in her heart,
until at the end of a year, the Almighty Himself commanded her to divulge
it. When she did so, the communication entailed on her only mortification
and humiliation. Her director rebuked her for indulging silly fancies;
the Mother Superior asserted that if God granted her request, it would be
only as a punishment for her presumption; others, whose judgment she
equally deferred to, pronounced the project visionary and delusive, yet
her great courage never failed, for it was founded on a perfect
confidence that in His own time, God would do His own work, using her as
his instrument, all unworthy though she was. In two letters, she fully
explained her position to her former spiritual guide, Dom Raymond of St.
Bernard, who like herself, aspired at this time to the Canadian mission,
though as the event proved, unsuccessfully. In one of these, she says,
"God is stronger than man; He commands the winds and calms the waves. If
He will have us in New France, He will surely conduct us thither in
defiance of all the obstacles which look like mountains in human eyes,
but before Him are only as straws and spiders' webs. When I consider my
great misery, I cannot help feeling that it may in the end divert His
choice to some worthier instrument, but if such should be His will, I
bless Him in anticipation for the selection; whatever it may be, coming
from Him, it must necessarily be all-wise." The humility, the trust in
God, the total absence of all attachment to her own will and judgment
which marked her communications, convinced this enlightened director that
her vocation was genuine, and he therefore promised to promote its
success to the best of his power. As God had decreed that she should
concur in the great enterprise by something more than mere passive
acquiescence, He again inspired and even urged her to repeat the
information which by His order she had already given on the subject to
her Superiors. This time, she addressed herself to Father de la Haye, who
approved of the undertaking, encouraged her to pursue it, and expressed a
hope that the time of its accomplishment was near at hand. An important
link was added to the chain of Providence by the communication just
referred to. Father de la Haye confided it to Father Poncet, who was a
good deal concerned in the affairs of the Canadian mission, and thus was
the Mother's cause placed in the direct road of success. Some time more
was, however, to pass, before the mysterious chain of Providence should
be perfected.

Although careful to avoid unnecessary allusion to her own especial
vocation, she spoke in such glowing terms of the happiness of labouring
for the salvation Of the infidels, that she effectually communicated her
apostolic spirit to her community, who all joined her in prayer and works
of penance for the conversion of heathen nations. The reputation of her
zeal had even reached New France, whence she received urgent petitions
from the missioners to hasten, to the aid of their dear converts. These
appeals, some of them traced on bark by saintly men who soon were to
water with their blood, the land blessed by their labours, she kissed
reverentially and bedewed with her tears.

All her letters from Canada were not, however, of this description. Soon
after the revelation of her vocation, she received two from Father le
Jeune, mortifying enough to have discouraged any soul less humble than
hers. As Superior of the missions in New France, he thought it advisable
to try her spirit before she was permitted to follow her call;
accordingly, he twice addressed her in the most humbling terms, dwelling
particularly on her intolerable presumption in aspiring to functions far
above her capacity, and aiming at a position in every way beyond her
sphere. She read and re-read the painful words with singular
satisfaction, and in showing them to her director, she merely said, "Is
he not a good Father to treat me so? If I ever fall under his authority,
I am sure of finding a true friend in him." When she learned later that
he was using his best efforts to procure nuns for Canada, and that he
especially desired to secure her services, she understood even better
than before, that sharp as were the arrows, they had indeed been guided
by a friendly hand.

Lest self-love or natural ardour should imperceptibly mingle with her
desire for the Canadian mission, she represented herself its most
alarming features, the danger of perishing of cold or hunger; the chance
of being led into captivity and perhaps cruelly tortured by the savages;
the immeasurable privations, the hardships, disappointments and varied
sufferings which without any doubt would he her daily portion, yet the
terrible anticipation rather strengthened than diminished her love for
her great vocation. "No creature," she said in a letter to her confessor,
"could be worthy of one so exalted. It is so grand, so sublime, so
glorious, that only God's gratuitous goodness could inspire Him to bestow
it. Gladly," she continued, "would I purchase it at the price of a
thousand lives if that were possible. Reflecting that 'Christ died for
all' (2 Cor. v. 15), I grieve to think that all do not yet live for Him,
and although confounded at my own presumption, I feel pressed by the
desire to bring unbelievers to the knowledge and love of Him who is the
true Life."

She continued to pray that she might be enabled at last to execute the
command imposed on her of building a house in Canada for Jesus and Mary,
adding a petition that it might be also in honour of St. Joseph, whom she
firmly believed to be the guardian of that country shown her in the
vision. There seemed, however, little present prospect of her
accomplishing her task, for, independently of other obstacles, more than
one promise of the necessary pecuniary aid had ended in disappointment.
Nothing then remained but to submit to the arrangements of Divine
Providence, and this she did so perfectly, that it was difficult to
decide whether most to admire her readiness to go to Canada, or her equal
willingness to give up the idea. "An enterprise undertaken for God,
should be renounced for God," she said, "when He withholds the means of
carrying it into execution." But the thought of Canada continued to be as
usual ever present to her heart, and although there seemed no human
likelihood of her going there, she could not divest herself of a strong
presentiment that the time of departure was approaching.




CHAPTER VII.

MADAME DE LA PELTRIE AT TOURS.--SELECTION OF THE MISSIONERS.--DEPARTURE
FOR PARIS.--THENCE FOR DIEPPE.


We left Madame de la Peltrie in Paris, preparing for her departure. All
her arrangements were made at last, except one, but that was all-
important. The projected work could not go on without the help of
religious Sisters, and none had been engaged; where were they to be
sought? Many voices were raised in favour of the Ursulines of Paris, but
God had chosen His own instrument, and in His own way He would manifest
the selection. Father Poncet was known to be closely connected with the
affairs of the mission, so he was appealed to for advice. His answer was
prompt and satisfactory. "The Mother of the Incarnation had a marked
vocation for New France; she possessed all needful qualifications, would
fly to the ends of earth at the call of God, was to be found at the
Ursuline Convent of at Tours." Following up the welcome hint, Madame de
la Peltrie wrote at once to the Mother Superior of that monastery to
secure the co-operation of so invaluable an assistant, and the letter was
accompanied by one from Father Poncet. It is easy to imagine the effect
of these letters on the two persons most concerned. Recognising in them
the almost visible trace of the hand of Providence, the Mother Superior
could only bow down and adore: equally lost in admiration of the wondrous
ways of God, the Mother of the Incarnation could but exclaim, "Lord, here
I am; send me!"

Thinking herself called on to second this manifest intervention of
Providence, the Mother resolved to communicate personally to Madame de la
Peltrie her wishes and sentiments on the subject of the mission. This
letter gives so beautiful an insight to her mind that a few sentences
from it will probably be read with interest and pleasure:--

"Can it be true, Madam," she asks, "that our Divine Master really calls
you to the terrestrial paradise of New France? Are you, indeed, happily
chosen to spread in that far-off region the heavenly flame of His love?
Icicles abound there, it is true; brambles and thorns grow in profusion;
but the fire of His Holy Spirit can dissolve the one and consume the
other. His almighty power can strengthen weak creatures to endure all
trials, and sacrifice all enjoyments for the salvation of God's children.
O favoured spouse of Jesus! yours is the blessed certainty that you love
Him truly, since you are about to give the strongest proof of love by
renouncing self and all things for His dear sake . . . . Since in His
infinite goodness He has granted me sentiments like your own, I feel that
our hearts are now one in the Heart of Jesus, and that, so united, they
embrace all the heathen children of Canada, whom, as we hope, it will
soon be our privilege to impress with the love of their infinitely
amiable God. Some years have passed since our Lord inspired me with the
desire of labouring for their salvation. Hitherto I could only tranquilly
wait until it should please His Providence to summon me to my work; now
it seems as if the welcome call had come at last through you. Will you,
then, accept me as the companion of your voyage and a co-operatrix in
your future labours? As I could explain myself more fully and
satisfactorily in a personal interview, I venture to promise that if you
can give me the opportunity, our Lord will indemnify you Himself for the
fatigue of the journey. You will meet here many affectionate sisters
ready to welcome you as a messenger from heaven, and I, although the most
unworthy of all, presume to ask a share in your prayers." This letter, so
full of the spirit of God, confirmed Madame de la Peltrie's first
favourable impression of the writer, and strengthened her desire to
secure her as the foundation stone of her projected edifice.

The interview so humbly requested was cordially granted. Accompanied by
Monsieur de Bernières, the Angel Raphael of her travels, Madame de la
Peltrie arrived at the Convent of Tours on the 19th of February, 1639,
having previously communicated the object of her visit to the Archbishop,
and received his unqualified sanction. She was met by the whole community
and conducted with due ceremonial to the choir, where the _Veni Creator_
and the _Te Deum_ were chanted. At first sight, the Mother Mary of the
Incarnation recognised in Madame de la Peltrie the well-remembered
features of the lady who had been represented in her vision as her
companion to the unknown land; and their hearts were drawn towards each
other irresistibly and for ever. The prayer of the Forty Hours was
offered to obtain the direction of Heaven in the choice of the
missioners, and on its conclusion, the selection commenced. The will of
God had been so clearly marked in regard of the Mother of the
Incarnation, that much deliberation would, in her case, have been
superfluous. The Mother Superior must have felt that in acceding to the
request of Madame de la Peltrie by granting her this rich treasure, she
was but concurring in a Divine appointment, which she was not at liberty
to oppose. The sanction of human authority was now formally. attached to
the Venerable Mother's call to Canada; in addition to the stamp of
heavenly revelation which it had so long borne, so she was free at last
to enter on the course which stretched before her. clear, direct and
well-defined, and while her soul magnified the Lord, and her spirit
exulted in God, her generous heart breathed the one aspiration, that she
might prove her gratitude for His mercies by pursuing that blessed course
even to its final term, with a love that would never cool and a fidelity
that would never tire.

As it was understood that one Sister was to accompany the Mother of the
Incarnation, many were the candidates who volunteered their services; it
was remarkable, however, that the one whom God had chosen was the only
one who kept aloof. Sister St. Bernard was full of holy ardour for the
salvation of souls, especially the Indians--an ardour fanned by the
perusal of the yearly Reports of the progress of the faith in Canada--but
her humility persuading her that youth and other disqualifications
unfitted her for the great work, she dared not present herself to Madame
de la Peltrie. She would not even enter her apartment with the others,
but hovered about outside, offering herself to God as a perpetual
holocaust for the conversion of the savages, and promising St. Joseph
that if he obtained for her the favour of joining the missioners, she
would change her present name for his, as a mark of her undying
gratitude. Her private petition to the Mother Superior to be sent on the
Mission had been rejected; the Mother Mary of the Incarnation, Madame de
la Peltrie, and Monsieur de Bernières had all begged for her, and been
likewise refused. Yet, when the community assembled to decide the
question, it was singular that some difficulty or objection arose about
every candidate except herself. This circumstance appearing to the Mother
Superior an indication of the will of God, she feared to persist in her
first indention, much as she regretted the loss of a subject whom she
looked on as a future pillar of the house. Sister St. Bernard's parents
threatened opposition, but He who holds in His hands the hearts of men,
soon changed theirs so completely, that they gave her not only the
desired permission, but their full approval and cordial benediction. Full
of joy and gratitude, she changed her name as she had promised, and
henceforth we know her as Mother St. Joseph. In the world she had been
called Marie de la Troche, and her family was one of the highest in
Anjou.

The aged Archbishop at once ratified the selection of the community, and
warmly blessed the two candidates for the Mission, or, as he called them,
the two foundation stones of the temple about to be erected in the New
World for the glory of God. He prayed that the monastery at Quebec might
be a home of grace, peace and benediction; that the efforts of hell might
never prevail against it; and that the Lord might dwell there as the
Father and Spouse not only of these its first inmates, but of all who
should join or succeed them to the end of ages. He then appointed the
Mother of the Incarnation Superior.

When all the preliminaries seemed satisfactorily concluded, it was found
that an intimate friend of Madame de la Peltrie's had, at the last
moment, revoked a promise to accompany her, alarmed, it would seem, at
the perils of the voyage and the anticipated hardships of life in Canada.
The circumstance was embarrassing, as little time now remained to seek a
substitute, but the difficulty was removed in a manner as satisfactory as
it was unexpected. There was just then in Tours a young person of
respectable position and great piety, who, for the previous six years,
had been determined on consecrating herself to the service of God and her
neighbour in religion, but had deferred the execution of her design,
merely because uncertainty as to the particular Order she was destined
for. By the arrangement of Providence, her confessor, a Jesuit, happened
likewise to be at Tours precisely at the moment of the nuns' perplexity,
and, hearing of it, he suggested to them that the lady in question would
very probably answer their purpose. She was at once presented to the
missioners, and, on being asked by Madame de la Peltrie, whether she
would consent to go to Canada as her personal companion, she promptly
replied that her intention had been to become a nun, but that, since the
Almighty was pleased to offer her so glorious an opportunity of
sacrificing her life for Him, she would accept it with joy and gratitude.
Her family name of Charlotte Barre she exchanged later for that of Mother
St. Ignatius, under which we know her as the first sister professed at
the Ursuline Convent of Quebec.

Another attempt was still to be made by the enemy of souls to frustrate
the design of the Mother of the Incarnation, and her natural affections
were again the arms which he tried to turn against her. Intensely grieved
at the news of her intended departure, her sister employed every
imaginable argument to prevent it, and, finding all else fail, appealed
once more to her love for her son. She declared that if his mother
forsook him, so would every one else, beginning with herself. Threats
producing no impression, she went to the length of actually revoking the
small pension which she had agreed to settle on the boy, as a kind of
compensation to his mother for her services. But all was in vain: nothing
could shake her courageous soul. One last effort remained: it was to
apprise Claude Martin of his mother's intention, and inform him at the
same time, that she was to pass through Orleans, where he was then
studying, so that if he pleased he could have an opportunity of seeing
her and working on her feelings. The hint was not lost on him, as we
shall presently see.

On the 22nd of February, 1639, Mother Mary of the Incarnation bade a last
farewell to the convent at Tours. It is easy to picture the grief of the
Sisters at losing the beloved Mother whose example had been to all a
perpetual stimulus to perfection, and whose counsels had encouraged so
many to tread bravely the narrow path that leads to sanctity. The regret
of the pupils for their saintly teacher, was the highest tribute to the
gentleness and charity which, had so greatly endeared her to them. As to
herself, she seems all through to have had a presentiment that she was in
the monastery only as a deposit, to be one day reclaimed by the Heavenly
Master. Her only ties were those which bound her to Himself; when,
therefore, He demanded His own, her disengaged soul was free to hasten on
the wings of love, even to the farthest boundaries of the globe.

Before her departure, she had a vision in which the church of her adopted
country was represented to her as formed, not of stones, like ordinary
buildings, but of human beings, fastened each to a cross. She was shown
her destined place among the crucified, and made to understand the weight
of her especial cross. She saw, not only in general, but in detail, all
the afflictions that awaited her;--the agonies of interior desolation,
the bitterness of external trials--all were vividly depicted; and it was
intimated to her that henceforth she must serve the Lord at her own cost,
and prove her gratitude for great favours, by great generosity in self-
sacrifice. It was not long before she entered on the dolorous way which
was to be henceforward her path here below. Faithful to his aunt's
directions, her son watched for her arrival in Orleans, and at once
presented himself before her. Feigning ignorance of her project, he
inquired with well-assumed surprise, where she could possibly be
travelling.

"To Paris," she replied.

"But are you not going farther?" he continued.

"Probably to Normandy," she said.

Seeing that she tried to avoid an explanation, he produced his aunt's
letter, with the enclosed deed revoking his pension. She read the letter,
every word of which must have been a torture, picturing as it did in
glowing colours the isolation, the neglect, the actual destitution which
awaited her boy, and raising her eyes to heaven, she exclaimed, "Oh! how
many artifices Satan uses to oppose the designs of God!" Then, with the
mingled tenderness of a mother and heroism of a saint, she asked, "My
son, during the eight years which have elapsed since I left you to
consecrate myself to God, have you wanted anything?"

"No, mother," he replied.

"Well, then," she said, "the past ought to be to you a security for the
future. Prove yourself the worthy child of God, the best of Fathers; keep
His commandments, trust in His Providence, and you will find that He
never disappoints those who fear Him. If I bid you adieu for the second
time, it is again to obey His voice. If you really love me, you will
rejoice that I have been chosen to labour for His honour among the
infidels." She continued for some time thus to speak to him in the
language of faith and love. As she raised his thoughts to heaven, his
better feelings prevailed, and when she concluded, he knelt at her feet
in tears and asked her blessing. He arose quite changed, burned the
exciting letters, and, in the simplicity of his heart, offered to God the
sacrifice of that holy mother whose loss he understood better now than at
their first separation. That sacrifice was to him the source of immense
graces and a fruitful seed of future sanctification.

Five days after leaving Tours, the missioners arrived in Paris, and were
at first lodged near the house of the professed Jesuits, whence they
afterwards removed to the Ursuline house of St. Jacques, where, as the
Venerable Mother remarks, "they found themselves once more in their
element." To their great joy, they succeeded in obtaining permission for
one of the religious of this monastery to accompany them to Canada, but
their satisfaction was of short duration, for the Archbishop soon
recalled the permission, and could not be induced to renew it.

A still more severe disappointment awaited the Mother of the Incarnation
before her departure. Her son, the object of so much solicitude, the
cause of so much sorrow, had just gladdened her heart by most
unexpectedly expressing a desire to become a Jesuit. To leave him in the
novitiate of a religious house, cut off from the troubles and temptations
of the world, and with nothing to divert him from the concerns of his
salvation, would have been the very crown and climax of her happiness--
but the way of the cross was to be hers. The Father appointed to examine
the young candidate thought him disqualified for religion; anxious,
however, to soften the pain of an absolute refusal, he suggested that
there might be a better chance at a future period, when the novitiate was
less crowded. An ever-ruling Providence had destined the youth for
another Order, and when God's time came, the disqualifications complained
of had disappeared; the present trial was, however, none the less painful
to his mother.

Before leaving Paris, the missioners had the honour of two interviews
with the Queen, Anne of Austria, who then expressed and ever after
manifested the liveliest interest in their great work. At Dieppe, the
port of embarkation, they were lovingly received by their Ursuline
sisters, who granted them not only hospitality, but the richer gift of
one of their own religious, Mother Cecilia of the Cross. And now the hour
of departure had come. Their indefatigable benefactor, Monsieur de
Bernières, who had never lost sight of them, continued to the last moment
to watch over their interests. His zeal would have prompted him to
accompany them to Canada, but it was thought he could assist them more
effectually by remaining in France to look after Madame de la Peltrie's
property. After their departure, he returned to Caen, where he resumed
his ordinary life of prayer, retirement, and good works. He carefully
managed Madame de la Peltrie's estate of Haranvilliers, collected the
rents, sent out regular supplies of provisions and other necessaries to
Canada, and proved himself in every respect the visible guardian angel of
the Ursuline Mission. In these charitable offices he persevered for
twenty years from the period of which we now write, and then his holy
life was crowned by a saintly death. On the 8th of May, 1659, he retired
to his oratory for evening meditation, as was his wont. His servant
entering at the appointed hour, found him absorbed in prayer, and left
him, as requested, to continue his devotions. Returning after some time,
he noticed that his master still knelt in the very same spot and attitude
as he had left him. He approached and spoke, but there was no answer: the
hands were clasped, the eyes raised to heaven, the happy soul had flown
to God!

Resuming the interrupted order of our history, we meet the Mother of the
Incarnation for the last time on the shores of France. Her final adieu
was addressed to the Mother Superior of Tours. If this letter breathes a
sigh, it is rather one of longing for the land of her exile, than of
regret for the land of her birth. "It is time for our last farewell," she
writes, "for now our Lord summons us to follow wherever it shall please
Him to lead. To-day the vessel will enter port, and as soon after as the
wind is favourable, we shall set sail. You can understand how long each
moment of delay appears to one who desires to give her life for her God.
O dear Mother! how powerful is the Divine Master of our hearts. If you
could see the effects of His interior operations on our Canadian band,
you would bless His goodness a thousand times. Every soul is on fire with
love, and, at the same time, annihilated in its own unworthiness and
abjection.... Madame de la Ville aux Clercs has presented us with some
rich ornaments for our future church in Canada; she is, then, our first
benefactress next to you, most dear Mother, who will always rank before
all others, since, not to speak of other gifts, you have bestowed
ourselves." Such was her leave-taking of her country, which she was never
to see again; of her home, which henceforth would know her no more for
ever. "The earth with its fulness is the Lord's" (Ps. xxiii. 1),
therefore all parts of it were alike to her, since in all she could find
her God; in all she could unite her heart to the loving heart of Jesus in
His own Sacrement; from all she could see in the distance the heavenly
home where her heart and hopes reposed, for there dwelt her Treasure. Yet
a little while, and the golden gates must open to her, for had she not
our Lord's own promise, that they who renounce all things for His sake
shall have everlasting life in exchange? Meantime, while waiting for the
vision of the beauty of her God, she would find as much happiness as she
looked for on earth, in labouring and suffering to promote His honour and
extend His reign.




THIRD PERIOD, 1639-1672.

LIFE IN CANADA.




CHAPTER I.

EMBARKATION.--VOYAGE.--ARRIVAL IN QUEBEC.--FIRST DWELLING.


It was on the 4th of May, 1639, that the 'St. Joseph' set sail from
Dieppe. The coincidences were cheering: with St. Joseph for pilot, the
sweet Star of the Sea for beacon light, and the Mother of St. Augustine
for protectress, the good ship might fairly have been expected to weather
all storms and brave all perils. It was accompanied by some other
vessels, bound like itself for the Western World. Many a guardian angel
must have rejoiced at the departure of that little fleet, bearing God's
messengers of salvation to nations seated in darkness and enveloped in
the shades of death. On board the 'St. Joseph,' as the safest and most
commodious of the ships, was the Ursuline colony, five in number,
including the Foundress with her secular companion, and three Hospital
Sisters from Dieppe, who were going to establish a house of the Hôtel
Dieu at Quebec, under the auspices of the Duchess d'Aiguillon, a niece to
Cardinal Richelieu. Father Vimont, a Jesuit, took passage in this ship;
Fathers Poncet and Chaumonot each in one of the others, thus the better
to ensure spiritual aid for the whole crew.

It was with joy in her heart, and thanksgiving on her lips, that the
Venerable Mother turned her face towards the great goal of her earthly
hopes, the savage land, where, as she said, she would have the chance of
risking her life for love of Him who had bestowed it. The first movement
of the vessel in that direction seemed to her like a step towards the
bliss of heaven and, under the sheltering wings of Providence, she felt
as tranquil on the treacherous waters as a child reposing at peace in its
mother's arms.

It was not long before the travellers had an opportunity of realizing how
securely grounded are the hopes which rest in God. Scarcely had they lost
sight of the French shore, when they came in view of a Spanish fleet,
evidently bearing towards them. The only means of escape was by sailing
close to the English coast. Thanks to Divine Providence, the plan
succeeded, but as it involved a deviation from their direct course, their
progress was, in consequence, so much retarded, that they did not clear
the Channel until the 20th of May.

The cabin assigned to the Sisters in the 'St. Joseph' was transformed
into a miniature monastery, where the conventual exercises were daily
gone through with admirable fervour and regularity. Meditation, Mass, and
Holy Communion, sanctified the early hours, and at stated intervals the
Office was recited in choir by the Ursulines on one side, and the
Hospital Sisters on the other, Father Vimont presiding. Although the
voyage was very long and tempestuous, the Holy Sacrifice was omitted only
on thirteen days of exceptional storm.

"They that go down to the sea in ships, doing business in the great
waters; these have seen the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the
deep" (Ps. cvi. 23, 24). It was the Feast of the Holy Trinity. The last
sounds of the morning Office had just arisen from the Sisters' little
sanctuary, when with the dying echo of the song of praise mingled a cry
of terror from the watch on-deck. In the dense fog of the preceding
night, the ship had drifted alarmingly close to an iceberg, but of this
peril the crew, of course, remained unconscious while the fog continued.
At last the mist yielded to the sun's rays, and then the awful spectacle
broke on them in all its horrors. The iceberg was of enormous dimensions.
It looked, the Venerable Mother tells us, like a fortified city floating
on the deep; its frowning towers and battlements relieved here and there
by tall graceful spars, which imagination could easily have transformed
into spires and pinnacles of churches and turrets. On it came proudly
through the waters, as if impatient to crush the frail vessel that lay in
its path, utterly helpless and all but hopeless. Even the elements seemed
to have conspired for the destruction of that devoted ship; no friendly
breeze arose to send it bounding beyond the reach of danger; the winds
were hushed, and in the struggle for life, its chances were as nothing.
Death seemed so inevitable and so near, that Father Vimont gave a general
absolution, and all prepared as best they could to meet the fate from
which there appeared no escape. But where, meantime, was the heavenly
Star, to whose guidance they had confided themselves so lovingly and so
implicitly? Temporarily hidden, for the trial of their faith and trust,
but ready to shine out with renewed brightness as soon as both should
have been sufficiently proved. Just as the last faint hope was vanishing,
Father Vimont made a vow in the name of the ship's company to perform a
specified act of devotion in honour of the Mother of God, if she would
deign to take compassion, on them in this extremity of distress. Swifter
than thought, the prayer for mercy reached the throne of Heaven's Queen,
and with equal rapidity came the answer. As a last chance, the captain
issued orders, to turn the helm in a particular direction; the steersman,
misunderstanding, turned it in the opposite, and, wonderful to say, the
apparent mistake saved the ship. Obeying the new impulse, it was borne to
one side of the dreaded iceberg, and, when once out of its direct path,
the imminence of the danger was over. As it floated past the enormous,
moving mountain, the rescued crew could vividly realize the peril which
they had escaped, and estimate as it deserved the extent of their debt of
gratitude to the Heavenly Mother who had befriended them so effectually
in the hour of their extreme need.

After a tedious and in many ways trying voyage of three months, the 'St.
Joseph' touched at Tadoussac, where to their great joy, the Sisters met
several Indians. Never having seen white people before, the poor savages
were lost in astonishment, but how did their wonder redouble when they
learned that these ladies were "great captains' daughters," as they would
themselves have expressed it, who had quitted, home, country, and all the
comforts of civilized life, for no other purpose than to come and teach
them and their children how to escape eternal fire, and ensure
everlasting happiness! They could not comprehend the strange tidings, and
to discover if possible the real object of the new-comers, they followed
along the shore as the ship resumed its way to Quebec, keeping a close
and watchful eye on its movements.

The missioners spent their first night in Canada at the Isle of Orleans,
which they reached on the evening of the 31st of July. As they landed,
the sun had just set in all the splendour which his setting is wont to
wear in Canada. The sky was literally glowing with gorgeous colours of
every hue, intermingled with ethereal gold, as if in descending to his
rest, the mighty monarch had left a fold of his mantle of glory floating
on the western heavens, to symbolize that brighter mantle of celestial
light which soon would envelop the benighted race whom those devoted
missioners had come so far to seek and to help to save. The island was
uninhabited, so three wigwams were constructed in Indian fashion, one for
the Nuns, one for the Jesuits and a third for the sailors. Unable to
contain their holy joy, the Sisters entoned a canticle of thanksgiving,
and for the first time since their creation, those venerable woods re-
echoed with songs of praise to the one true God and His adorable
Incarnate Son.

On the following day, August the 1st, 1639, the missioners reached
Quebec. Their first act on landing was to kneel and reverently press
their lips to the soil of the adopted country which was to be to them
thenceforth in place of home and fatherland. They were received with the
greatest enthusiasm. The moment they stepped on shore, a salute was fired
from Fort St. Louis. They were met at the landing-place by the whole
population headed by the Governor-General, Monsieur de Montmagny, and the
Jesuit Fathers of the colony, and after mutual salutations, were escorted
to the church, where the holy Sacrifice was offered with all the
solemnity that circumstances permitted, the ceremony concluding with the
Te Deum. After having been hospitably entertained by the Governor, the
Sisters of the two communities proceeded to their destined dwellings. As
a mark of the general joy, the day was inscribed in the red letter
calendar and work totally suspended.

The next day, the Jesuits conducted the Sisters to the mission at
Sillery, already noticed in the introductory chapter as formed on the
model of the Reductions of Paraguay. It would need a skilful artist to
paint that beautiful scene; on the one hand, the heavenly joy of the
Mother of the Incarnation and her companions, at sight of the Indian
children, for whose spiritual and temporal welfare their hearts had so
long yearned with more than mother's love; on the other, the amazement of
the little ones at finding themselves the objects of so much unwonted
solicitude. Utterly bewildered, they at first received the Sisters'
caresses with the characteristic caution and reserve of their nation, but
the language of kindness is easily understood, and very soon the children
had rightly interpreted their visitors' affectionate advances. Attracted
by their gentleness, their affability, their unmistakable
disinterestedness, they followed them step by step through the hamlet,
gaining confidence every moment. With the whole savage population for
escort, the Sisters proceeded to the little church, which was the chief
ornament, as well as the great treasure of the village, and there the
Indians all joined in a hymn which the Jesuit Fathers had composed for
them in their own language. The strain was simple, the temple humble, the
congregation illiterate and poorly clad, yet who shall say that
colonnaded aisle or fretted dome of proud cathedral ever resounded with
music sweeter in the ear of heaven, than was that unpretending hymn of
the despised Indians! Who would not envy the emotions of the Venerable
Mother and her fervent Sisters, as they knelt in the lowly church among
the poor savages in the hamlet of Sillery! This visit over, the Ursulines
and Hospitaliers separated, each community repairing to its appointed
home. The Ursulines were located in the Lower Town, at the foot of the
mountain road, not far from the spot occupied later by the Church of Our
Lady of Victories. The Hospital Sisters were lodged near Fort St. Louis.

The abode assigned to the Ursulines until a monastery could be built for
them, contained only two apartments, the larger of which, sixteen feet
square, served at once as choir, parlour, refectory and common dormitory;
the second was reserved for the school-room. A little shed near the house
was fitted up as a chapel, and although so very poor as forcibly to
recall the stable of Bethlehem, it was precious to them beyond words to
tell, for there the adorable Sacrifice was henceforth daily offered, and
there too at all times dwelt quite close to them in the Sacrament of His
love, the Divine Spouse for whose sake they had renounced themselves and
all things here below. A wooden palisade round the dwelling supplied the
place of cloister walls. In this most miserable abode they spent three
years, amidst unimaginable privations and inconveniences, exposed to
extreme cold in winter, and overpowering heat in summer; breathing the
air vitiated by a crowd of Indians, whose uncleanly habits are
proverbial, and whose very clothes exhaled a sickening odour. When the
children presented themselves at the school for the first time, their
attire was scanty, and of the coarsest materials. They wore a mass of
tangled hair, guiltless since first it began to grow, of all acquaintance
with scissors, brush or comb, and they were covered all over with a
greasy substance, which to judge from the care employed in laying it on,
must have been deemed an indispensable finishing touch to the juvenile
Indian's toilet. To bring that untidy hair into order, and to remove that
personal adornment, unsightly in appearance, as unattractive in aroma,
became a question of privilege. The Foundress claimed it as her right,
because as she said, she was fit for nothing else, but others thought
themselves entitled to the honour too, so finally a compromise was agreed
on, and all had their turn. The children's uncivilized ways must no doubt
have at first occasioned many a mortification to the Sisters; for
instance, the Mother of the Incarnation tells us that they daily found
some disgusting mixture in their food, a bunch of hair, a handful of
cinders, or even an old shoe being no uncommon addition to the ordinary
ingredients, yet so completely did grace triumph over nature in these
Christian heroines, that unsavoury as was the seasoning of their soup,
and countless as were the discomforts of their position, they enjoyed
indescribable happiness in their poverty, and preferred their humble
lodging with its uncouth inmates, to the grandest mansion without them.
Their dwelling, they called the "Louvre", and in their poor pupils, the
eye of faith enabled them to discern ornaments more costly, more precious
and more prized than all the splendour which art can devise and wealth
purchase for the embellishment of regal palaces, for what is the value of
a palace, compared with that of a soul?




CHAPTER II.

OPENING OF SCHOOLS.--MODIFICATION OF THE CONSTITUTIONS.--COMMENCEMENT OF
THE NEW MONASTERY.


The Mother of the Incarnation at once recognised in her adopted country,
that which had been represented to her in her prophetic vision: the lofty
mountains, the vast forests, the boundless plains, the general aspect and
the minute details, all were the same, except that the mist was less
heavy. She was in the land to which God Himself had called her, as in the
olden days He had called the patriarch to the land of promise, and in her
sacrifice, as in that of Abraham, a great result was involved; to her
obedience, as to his, a magnificent reward was attached. Not only was she
to bring a blessing to Canada in her own person, elevating it by her
lessons and embalming it with her virtues; she was moreover to found a
community of Ursulines, who inheriting her spirit, would perpetuate her
labours and immortalize her zeal. She was to erect an edifice to the
Lord, in which His name should be taught and His praises sung, not for
the years of her own life only, but through ages to come, and by
generations yet unborn. She was to inaugurate the work of education, for
which her natural capabilities so eminently fitted her, and which under
God was to be the efficient instrument in her own hands for the present
improvement of the colony; in those of her future spiritual children for
the development of the work so happily begun. That work was very great,
but it must be owned too that its instrument was very perfect.

Without delay the little community entered on its special function, the
instruction of youth, opening schools on a limited scale both for Indians
and French. Before they could begin to teach the former, it was of course
necessary to learn their languages. In order the more readily to
accomplish the difficult task, they agreed to divide the study, the
Mothers of the Incarnation and Cecilia of the Cross applying themselves
to the Algonquin, the Mother St. Joseph to the Huron, and under the
direction of Father le Jeune, so rapid was their progress, that in two
months they were judged capable of catechising their young charge. Later
in life, the Venerable Mother learned the Huron.

The charity and fortitude of the Mothers was very soon put to a severe
test. Towards the end of August, the small-pox broke out among the
savages, with whom it is usually fatal. After spreading with frightful
rapidity through the hamlet of Sillery, it showed itself at the Ursuline
Convent in Quebec, which was soon transformed into an hospital. Some of
the children contracted the disease three different times, and four died
of it. Through the protection of heaven, their devoted nurses escaped
under circumstances which rendered their preservation almost miraculous.
Night and day they watched their beloved patients, inhaling only the
plague-tainted air of the small, overcrowded room, and having continually
to step across the infected beds, which for want of space were laid
closely together along the floor. During the six months which the malady
lasted, these heroines of charity seemed to vie with each other in the
performance of the most bumbling and revolting offices, the Foundress
setting the example of self-abnegation and devotedness. Their sole
apprehension all through, was lest the panic-stricken savages might
remove their children from the monastery, and thus deprive them of the
spiritual blessings in store, an idea being prevalent among the
unconverted Indians, that the small-pox was a consequence of receiving
baptism, and of associating with the French. Fortunately the fear proved
groundless, for the little ones were afterwards confided in larger
numbers than ever, to the care of their tender, self-sacrificing Ursuline
mothers. When at last the contagion disappeared, the wardrobe of the
charitable Sisters was found not to have been the least of the sufferers
in the cause, every available article of clothing having been converted
into bandages for the sores of the poor patients.

The accounts from Canada might naturally have been expected rather to
check than to encourage vocations for the Ursuline mission, but on the
contrary, each letter from the Mother of the Incarnation to her Sisters
of Paris and Tours, served only to stimulate a holy emulation to share in
her sacrifices. "To enter," she says, "into the true spirit of a
missioner to Canada, the soul must die to all things created; on this
point, the Almighty Master is inexorable. Interior death is no doubt the
sure road to life in God, but who can describe what it costs nature thus
to die!" Notwithstanding the Venerable Mother's forewarnings, the Mother
Superior of the Paris convent prevailed on the Archbishop to allow two of
the Sisters to follow their call to Canada. The privileged two were the
Mother St. Athanasius and St. Clare, who in the world had borne the names
of Margaret de Flécelles and Anne le Bugle. On the 7th of July, 1640,
they landed at Quebec to the great joy of their expectant Sisters. This
addition to the original number necessitated the immediate building of a
monastery, which want of means had hitherto retarded.

It has been already noticed in our rapid sketch of the Ursuline Order,
that, while its spirit and end are everywhere uniform, the great family
having but one heart and one soul in God, the particular rules and
practices of the different Congregations vary on some points. As these
separate Congregations are never intermingled, no confusion or
inconvenience can possibly arise from difference of usages, but in the
instance of the Quebec Ursulines, the case was altered. The Mothers of
the Incarnation and St. Joseph were of the Congregation of Bordeaux,
which does not make the vow of the instruction of youth; the rest of the
Sisters belonged to that of Paris, which does. Again, there were some
points of difference in the costume of the two Congregations. As they
were henceforth to form but one community, it was evident to all that
diversity in any particular, would, for many reasons, be inadmissible.
But, if uniformity of life was indispensable, much tact and prudence were
needed in the adoption of the means best calculated to establish it.
Happily, the Mother of the Incarnation excelled in these great gifts,
and, best of all, she possessed in an eminent degree that heavenly wisdom
derived from her habitual communication with the Divine Source of light.
She held many consultations with her Sisters, evincing in all her
suggestions the practical good sense, mature experience, and gentle
moderation so conspicuous in her. As the little assembly had no object at
heart but the glory of God, their deliberations were quickly and happily
closed. In the decisions adopted, the natural feelings of both parties
seem to have been respectfully and tenderly considered. It was arranged
first, that the vow of instruction should be taken by all, but under the
condition that it should bind the Sisters of the Congregation of Bordeaux
only during their stay in Canada; secondly, that the costume of the
Congregation of Bordeaux should be substituted for that of Paris. Some
other necessary modifications of the rules were agreed on. with equal
unanimity. The decision was referred for approval to the Communities of
Paris and Tours, to whom it gave the most unqualified satisfaction. The
particular rules then accepted were observed until 1647, when, at the,
request of the Community, Father Lalemant drew up others equally in
accordance with the engagements of the Sisters, but better adapted to
their new country. These continued in force until 1682, when, at the
recommendation of Bishop Laval, the Ursulines of Quebec were affiliated
to those of the Congregation of Paris.

Uniformity of observance being thus established, the fervent Sisters
pursued their work with redoubled zeal, exhibiting in their daily
practice the virtues of the ancient solitaries; sustained in the hourly
trials of their mortified lives by that heavenly love which sweetens
suffering, and encouraged in their difficulties by the example of a
Superior who never asserted her authority except to claim for herself the
largest share of the common hardships, seeming to think that the first
place in rank, entitled her also to the place nearest her crucified Lord.
It was a common saying of these generous lovers of the cross; that if
they had anything to complain of in Canada, it was that they had not
enough to suffer. "You say," wrote the Mother of the Incarnation, some
years later, "that my actual experiences of Canada are something very
different from my anticipations. You are right in the remark, but not in
the sense which you attach to it. My life of labour and privation is so
full of consolation, that I now thoroughly realize how sweet is the yoke
and how light the burden of the Lord. The happiness which I experience
when I teach a poor savage to know God, is a solace in pain and a
refreshment in weariness." Canada, with all its sharp, thorns, she called
her paradise, and the company of her uncouth little Indian pupils, she
prized a thousand times beyond that of the greatest and highest of
earthly queens.

In the spring of 1641 the foundation stone of the monastery was laid by
Madame de la Peltrie in the present Upper Town of Quebec, and there, at
the close of nearly two centuries and a half, the Ursuline Convent still
stands. At the period we speak of, the ground was not even cleared; the
woodman's axe was the first implement needed in the construction of the
new monastery; tradesmen were few, wages high, and the poverty of the
country extreme. But at the time of the Venerable Mother's prophetic
vision, more than once referred to, our Lord had told her to go to
Canada, and there build a house for Jesus and Mary. He who had given the
command would, she knew, supply the means for its execution, so with
boundless trust in His providence, she confidently undertook her task,
although to human prudence it might have seemed hopeless.




CHAPTER III.

WORK AT THE "LOUVRE."--PIETY, ZEAL, AND PROGRESS OF THE PUPILS.--LITTLE
TRUANTS.--BANQUETS.


Meantime, the work of zeal and love went on actively at the "Louvre."
Besides the "seminarists," or resident pupils, who were always as
numerous as space admitted, and the day scholars, who included all
children old enough to be taught, adults of both sexes received daily
instruction--the women in the school-room, the men at the parlour
grating--all manifesting equal eagerness to hear the word of God; all
afterwards showing in their altered lives the miraculously transforming
power of Divine grace. So great was the desire of the seminarists to
learn, that they would ask their mistresses, to punish them if they
failed in diligence; and when any one bad committed a fault, she, of her
own accord, begged pardon on her knees. The piety of these poor children
of the wilds was truly admirable, and especially so was the ardour with
which they received the doctrine of the Heal Presence of Jesus in His
Adorable Sacrament. "I never saw livelier joy," wrote the Mother St.
Joseph, "than in three of our pupils, each aged twelve, when told that
they were to be admitted to the Holy Table at Easter. They listened, as
if entranced, to the instructions on the Most Blessed Eucharist, and
seemed to possess a comprehension of the Mystery of Love quite beyond
their years. They begged to be allowed to fast on the eve of their first
Communion, a practice which they afterwards observed every time they
communicated. One day, while a Jesuit Father was speaking to them of
their approaching happiness, a little child of six ventured to present
her baby pleadings to be allowed to join them. The Father told her she
was too young. "Oh, Father!" she said, "do not send me away because I am
too young; you will see that I shall soon be as old and as tall as my
companions." She was allowed to assist at the instructions, which she
understood and retained so as to surprise all who questioned her;
nevertheless, she had to resign herself to wait yet longer for the much-
desired day. Her mother, coming soon after to see her, the child
undertook to instruct her in the holy truths of faith by the help of
pictures. Having taught her to pray, she proceeded to initiate her in the
mysteries of a lesson in reading, pointing out the letters in a book. To
please her dear child, the good Mother repeated the sounds one by one as
if she had been saying a lesson. "When our child returns to us," she said
to the Mothers, "she will prepare her father and me for Baptism, which we
are very desirous to receive." "The sentiments of our pupils on the Holy
Communion," wrote Madame de la Peltrie, "are most edifying. When asked
why they desire so much to receive it, they tell us that it is because
Jesus Himself will enter their souls, to purify and adorn them. The
countenance of my god-daughter, Mary, sometimes actually beams with joy,
and, if questioned as to its cause, she is sure to answer, "I am soon to
make my first Communion." The Indian pupils were sometimes heard
discussing what each, considered the greatest favour she had received
from God. The answer from one would be, "That He has made me a
Christian;" from another, "That He became man to rescue me from hell." On
one of these occasions, a little voice was heard to say, "The greatest
favour that Jesus does us, is to give Himself for our food in the Holy
Eucharist." The speaker, though only nine years of age, had made her
first Communion a year and a half before. The Mother of the Incarnation,
who mentions the circumstance, adds the reflection, "Are not such
sentiments admirable in children born in the very bosom of barbarism and
infidelity?" If a pupil saw a companion commit a fault, she checked her
by the simple words, "Take care, or your guardian angel will go away."

In proportion as the souls of these poor children opened to the softening
influence of religion, so did the hitherto latent qualities of their
better nature manifest themselves more clearly. In the genial atmosphere
of charity, their hearts expanded as flowers in sunshine, developing a
depth, a constancy, and a delicacy of feeling which none would have
suspected to underlie manners so cold, and characters apparently so
apathetic. They learned fully to appreciate, and sought only how best
they might return the tenderness of their devoted Mothers, and, as
affection is a ready teacher, they were not slow to discover that the
best proof of their gratitude would be found in strict compliance with
the wishes of their instructresses; hence the docility to directions, the
submission to reproof, the respect for school regulations, exemplified in
the daily lives of the seminarists, and all the more to be admired that
such practices were foreign to their habits and repugnant to their
nature. Madame de la Peltrie writes that they showed her the deference
and love of fond children, as well as a degree of refinement which, she
says, she would never have expected from savages. In her temporary charge
of them during the nuns' annual retreat, she found no difficulty in
enforcing silence; it was enough for them to know that their dear Mothers
were spending the week with God; the mere fear of even slightly
disturbing them, proved a sufficient restraint. If the Foundress
occasionally happened to be absent for a short time on some errand of
mercy, they were inconsolable until her return, which they greeted with
joyous acclamations. Once they were told that the Mother of the
Incarnation was ill, and would die if they made a noise. At the sound of
the word _die_, they burst into tears, and, with a consideration
which would have done honour to more polished natures, they kept
perfectly still, afraid, as it seemed, to move, or almost to breathe,
lest dreaded death should come and claim their first, best earthly
friend. As early as 1641, the Venerable Mother described the converts in
general as transformed beings--barbarians no longer, but fervent
Christians, animated, by a truly heavenly spirit. She, too, remarks, that
in refinement of feeling, they might have competed with many a favoured
child of civilization, and so charmed was she with the beautiful
simplicity of their piety, that she declares she would rather have
listened to their unstudied eloquence, than to the finished oratory of
the first speaker in Europe.

A remarkable characteristic of the converts, both adult and young, was
their ardour for the propagation of the faith among their countrymen; not
only, then, had the Mothers the consolation of seeing the fruit of their
labours among their immediate pupils, but that also of knowing that
through the zeal of these, the heavenly word would be borne far and wide
over the pagan land. So impressed were the Jesuit Fathers with the value
of this kind of apostolate, that they were wont to say, "One converted
Indian, who leads a truly Christian life, can do more good among the
infidels than three missioners." This spirit of zeal early manifested
itself among the seminarists at the convent. It was admirable to hear the
more grown teaching the less advanced the Christian doctrine, repeating
the questions which had been asked to themselves at catechism, and
exciting the interest of the new-comers by explaining the subject of a
pious picture, or relating an attractive history. Even some of the very
young ones had their own little mission of charity. One interesting child
in particular, was to be seen surrounded by a class of tiny ones younger
than herself, whom she assiduously catechised, teaching them especially
how to prepare for confession, and exhorting them above all things never
to conceal a sin. To the zeal of a Huron girl named Teresa, the first
Ursuline pupil of that nation, many of her countrymen were indebted for
their conversion. Though only about thirteen years of age, she spoke to
them of God with an earnestness and a force that they could not resist.
One of the converts, wishing to test her, feigned to have given up the
idea of receiving baptism nearly on the eve of the day fixed for its
administration. Inexpressibly grieved, she reproached him for his
inconstancy in the strongest terms, but, finding that her eloquence
seemed to produce no impression, she hastened, all in tears, to the
Mother of the Incarnation, beseeching her to use her influence with the
supposed apostate. "Oh!" she exclaimed in the vehemence of her
indignation, "if I could only have broken the grating which divided us, I
would have beaten him well!" The astonished Mother soon learned the
truth, but it was difficult to undeceive the sorely-afflicted Teresa.

Not seeing the Mothers during the eight days of their annual retreat, the
savages concluded that they concealed themselves to pray. On one of these
occasions Teresa determined to imitate them, so she hid behind the
palisade, and spent the day in prayer. When discovered at last by one of
her companions, and asked what she was doing, she replied, "I hide like
the Mothers to pray for you, for myself, for the French, and for the
Indians." "She is so constant in her faith, so well instructed, so
fervent," said one of her own race, "that it would seem as if she had not
been born a Huron. When she comes home she will be looked up to by the
whole tribe. Her teacher must surely be one of the wisest persons in all
France." On her way back to her own country, she was seized by the
Iroquois, together with Father Jogues and some of her relatives, and in
her captivity not only retained her faith, but professed it with the
heroism of a martyr. Deeply concerned at her fate, the Ursulines
interested all the authorities in her behalf, and, thanks to the
exertions of her good Mothers, her deliverance was stipulated for in the
arrangement of the articles of peace at the general meeting in 1645.

Besides religious and moral training, the seminarists received a simple
elementary education, comprising chiefly reading, writing, and
needlework. Before long, two of the more grown were able to write their
own language so well as to venture on letters to an absent Jesuit Father.
Great was the delight of their parents when shown the mysterious
productions. They took them reverently into their hands, turned them
cautiously in every direction, and begged to hear the contents again and
again, equally charmed and surprised to find that the paper could speak,
and in their own language too. It was always a matter of wonder to them
to hear that a few characters traced on paper could convey thought to the
remotest distance.

Another object of intense amazement was the first clock brought by the
missioners to the country of the Hurons. They called it 'The Captain of
the Day,' and many were the inquiries each time they came, how often he
had spoken since their last visit. Lest they should lose the benefit of
any of his remarks, they sometimes waited hour after hour to hear him
speak again. They were puzzled about his food, but never at a loss to
interpret the stroke which announced the hour of the good Fathers' frugal
meal, in which they fully calculated on sharing.

The Indians are fond of music, so to attract the adults, the Mothers of
Incarnation and St. Joseph taught their little pupils to sing hymns, and
many a grave chief listened with delight to the simple lay, returning the
compliment by a performance in Indian measure. A record has been
preserved of a certain old-fashioned stringed instrument in the convent
which greatly charmed the audience. Among the early pupils was a child of
twelve, whose disposition was so gentle that she received the name of
Agnes, and whose ear was naturally so attuned to all sweet sounds, that
she was considered capable of being taught to accompany her own warble on
the said wonderful instrument. When her parents removed her in due time
from school, still she sang God's praises among the echoes of the woods--
not only sang herself, but taught to others the hymns she had learned in
her Ursuline home--gathering a little choir about her in the heart of the
silent wilderness, and making it her holy joy thus to promote piety among
her companions. The predestined child desired to consecrate herself to
God in religion, but her Heavenly Father accepted the wish, and called
her to Himself at the age of fifteen.

But if the labours of the first Mothers were very richly repaid by the
pupils in general, it must be owned that their forbearance was often
severely tried by some among them, known as the vagrants of the woods.
The wild, free life of the forest had charms for these, for which all the
comforts of civilization could not compensate. Like caged birds, they
would flutter against the bars, and, at the first opportunity, break
through them, to fly back to their cabins and independence. Once a young
Algonquin was thus attacked by home-sickness; the Mothers did their best
to comfort and encourage her, but all in vain. The melancholy mood grew
deeper and darker--so dark at last, that, unable to bear the restraint
any longer, the truant jumped through the window, leaped the cloister
palisade, and fled in the direction of the woods. In a few minutes she
looked back, expecting to see a persuer, but, finding that her flight had
caused no concern, she began already to repent of it. Her reception at
home was rather cool, and when, a few days after, she proposed to her
mother to return to the monastery, the readily accorded permission was
accompanied by a significant hint not to leave again without being sent.
With a light heart, she presented herself at the convent door; but, alas!
it would not open. Her place, the portress told her, had been given to
another pupil. Vain were her entreaties, her tears and her sobs, for the
Mother of the Incarnation had decided on strict measures with the little
wanderers, who, by their restlessness, disturbed the peace and order of
the house. But nothing like perseverance! Poor Catherine watched for the
arrival of the day pupils, and so effectually did she excite their
compassion by her tale of woe, that they agreed to let her fall into the
ranks. When the door unclosed for their admission, she rushed to the feet
of the Mother of the Incarnation, confessed her fault, and asked pardon.
Touched by her penitence and promises the good Mother relented; Catherine
was restored to favour, and never again did she deserve a reproof or even
a reproach.

Another child, aged eight, stole away from the monastery, and spent the
winter with her parents at some distance from Quebec. When they returned
to the town in spring, she applied for re-admission, but the request was
refused. She persisted, but so did the Mothers too. At last she bethought
herself that by joining the procession on the festival of Corpus Christi,
she would be entitled to accompany her parents to the feast at the
convent, which was always understood to follow the devotions, and she
calculated that once there, it would be easy to keep her ground.
Accordingly, she took her place among the guests, but when the time came
for retiring, instead of joining them, she threw herself on her knees at
the door and repeated her petition. Another refusal--but, determined to
succeed, she crouched outside the door. Night came, and with it came
rain, and still the repentant culprit kept her post, so the kind-hearted
Mothers were constrained to admit her, and she eventually became an
example of virtue to the school.

The banquets at the "Louvre," to which we have alluded, were conducted
after a very original fashion; the bill of fare was restricted to one
dish, and this, as the receipt shows, could be prepared with little
expenditure of culinary skill, yet it fully satisfied the simple guests.
It was composed of bread, maize or pea-flour, and black plums, all boiled
together; and, as the savages relish unctuous food, a few melted tallow
candles and some rich pork were added for seasoning. On this dainty dish,
as many as sixty or eighty Indians were occasionally regaled at a time,
in what they considered splendid style. The Indians have no fixed hours
for meals. Hunger is the signal for beginning; the disappearance of the
provisions that for concluding. The latter point is one of strict
etiquette.

It would seem as if even the ingenuity of charity had left nothing undone
for the gratification of the poor savages, but it was not so. One day
that Father Lalemant visited the school-room, the children gathered round
him with an air of mystery and importance, as if burdened with some
weighty secret. "Look at our clothes, Father," they said; "you can see
that they are faded and worn, and, as our Mothers do not give us new
ones, we cannot look as smart as the French girls, which makes us
sorrowful." Much amused, the Father reported the complaint of the little
ones to the Venerable Mother. Without showing the least surprise at it,
or reminding the children of all her generosity, she at once provided
each with a new red dress, adding new shoes and stockings, and assisting
to prepare the finery with her own hands, lest, as she said, any
impression of sadness might connect itself with the memory of their first
instruction in the faith, and the Divine seed be thus hindered from
striking deep root and producing rich fruit.

Madame de la Peltrie had provided for the maintenance of six seminarists,
but this number had gradually swelled to eighteen, all of whom were not
only supported but likewise clothed from the common fund. The adult
Indians who crowded to the monastery for instruction, also expected and
invariably received hospitality, which was, moreover, occasionally
extended to the families of the pupils. The pecuniary resources of the
convent were wholly inadequate to meet so many claims on its charity, and
at the same time, defray its own moderate expenditure. But the self-
denying Mothers struggled bravely through their poverty, and by the
generous aid of benefactors in France, they managed not only to continue
their alms to the adults and to retain their seminarists, but by degrees
considerably to increase the number of these last.

Among the first pupils were some of very tender age, little ones of six
and less. One of these was brought to the Mother of the Incarnation, all
covered with small-pox. Young as she was, she had attended her parents
through the terrible malady, and after the death of both, had contracted
it herself. She recovered, and proved her gratitude to her devoted friend
by showing herself so perfect a model of obedience, that she would even
anticipate orders, running to put herself in the way if she thought there
was a chance of her being employed. Another would begin her baby prayers
of her own accord the moment she awoke, say her rosary during Mass, and
recreate herself by singing little hymns. A third, of scarcely four,
paralysed in all her limbs, gave ample exercise to the patience of the
kind mothers. Once her mistress had to rise four times in one night to
soothe the poor little sufferer. Next day, a companion remarked,
"Charity," for so the child was called, "Charity, you gave a great deal
of trouble to your mistress last night." "I know I did," coolly replied
Charity, "but my dear mistress is very good, and what she did for me was
just what she would have done for the Child Jesus, if He had been in my
place." Ah, wise little one! you have found out the secret--"Whatever you
did. to one of these My least brethren, you did it to Me "(St. Matt. xxv.
40). In the eye of faith, the untutored Indian was as exalted, because as
much the representative of God, as the lady of noble birth or even royal
lineage; so, each object of loving care in that house of charity might
equally have said of every act of every Sister, "What she did for me, is
what she would have done for the Child Jesus in my place."




CHAPTER IV.

NEW TRIALS.--MADAMS BE LA PELTRIE IN MONTREAL.--ACTIVE LIFE OF THE MOTHER
OF THE INCARNATION.--FIRST ELECTIONS.--REMOVAL TO THE NEW MONASTERY.--
RETURN OF MADAME DE LA PELTRIE.


While the Mother of the Incarnation was thus spending her days in the
practice of the heroic charity and austere penance which possessed equal
attractions for her, pursuing the work of zeal which of all others she
loved best, and living in the heart of what was, perhaps the most fervent
portion of God's Church in those days, it would appear to us as if,
though still on earth, she had partially anticipated heaven; but heaven,
even on earth was not to be yet, for the measure of her merits, and,
therefore, of her sufferings, was not filled up. As we have already more
than once remarked, the Almighty had called her to a sublime degree of
purity of soul; to the end of life, therefore, He would furnish her with
opportunities of advancing in the virtue which here below can never
attain its last perfection, some alloy of the love of self mingling to
the end with the love of God, even in the holiest. As the virtue is one
which thrives best under the cross, He would re-conduct her to her well-
known place on Calvary, and subject her once more to the salutary action
of interior tribulation. She felt again as if suddenly deprived of all
the Divine gifts and favours, and reduced to the very extreme of
spiritual indigence. Her natural talents and capabilities seemed
paralysed; desolation overwhelmed her, temptations to anger, antipathy
and even despair pressed on her. The last, especially, became so
importunate, that she seemed to herself sometimes on the very brink of
the dread abyss, and might have echoed the words of the Psalmist, "The
sorrows of death have compassed me, and the perils of hell have found me"
(Ps. cxiv. 3). Not only had the Almighty apparently withdrawn His gifts,
but, hardest of all to bear, He had concealed Himself. Now and again a
ray of heavenly consolation beamed on her afflicted soul, but, like the
lightning's flash on the angry sky, it illumined for a moment, only to be
followed by deeper darkness. To her internal agonies were added external
trials of various kinds, including most painful contradictions and
humiliations. Support from creatures there was none, and even the
sympathy of friendship was denied her. She seemed to have lost confidence
in her holiest advisers, while, by the permission of God, she herself
became to others a subject of temptations to aversion. Oppressed with the
sense of her utter unworthiness, and brought down to the lowest depth of
interior abjection, she dared scarcely look at or address her Sisters.
She was alone in her agony, like the Divine Sufferer in the garden, and,
in the spirit of utter annihilation of self, and entire abandonment to
God, her desolate heart re-echoed the sublime cry of His agony, "Father,
not my will but Thine be done."

It is her own teaching, that the nearer the soul approaches to God, the
more distinctly also she discerns her sinfulness and misery; the more
clearly she sees the many hitherto unsuspected windings and lurking-
places of corrupt nature; the better, consequently, she understands how
numerous still are the impediments which must be removed before she can
fully and freely expand her wings and take her flight to her Lord. Of
this truth she had now renewed personal experience. In the high degree of
Divine union to which she had attained, she saw her imperfections in a
clearer light than ever, and the view filled her with confusion and
compunction. That by the help of Divine grace, she had through life been
preserved from every sin of deliberation, was the opinion of competent
judges, well acquainted with her soul's history. The imperfections which
she so bitterly deplored were, then, only an occasional infidelity to the
grace which had called her from early years to perfect detachment from
creatures and from self, or, at most, they were but the faults of
frailty, ignorance, surprise and inadvertence, from which even the saints
are not exempt in this life; but, viewed as they now were in their closer
contrast with the sanctity of God, they assumed a more serious aspect
than ever before. Her habitual horror of the very slightest faults was
intensified; her ordinary almost incredible care to avoid them,
increased. Inflamed with a holy zeal for the vindication of the rights of
Divine justice, as  well with an insatiable ardour for the triumph of
God's pure love in her soul, she humbly bowed beneath the hand that
crucified her, confessing herself deserving of all chastisement, and,
praying that the last remnant of the love of self might be exterminated
from her heart at any cost of suffering and humiliation. 'O merciful
Lord!' she cried, send me a thousand torments, and as many deaths as I
respirations, rather than permit that I should offend Thee.' Looking on
her slow interior martyrdom as the instrument in God's hand for the
purification of her soul, she would not have exchanged its pangs for
imaginable joys united. Greatly as her trials on this occasion must have
promoted her personal sanctification, a second important result was
involved in them. In the generosity of her charity, she had offered
herself to suffer for the sins of two persons whose conversion she  most
ardently desired; while, therefore, the Almighty 'proved her as gold in
the furnace, that she might found worthy of Himself' He at the same time
'received her as a victim of a holocaust', that through her sufferings
other souls might be made worthy of Him too (Wisdom iii. 5,6). But if He
accepted the oblation, and rewarded the sacrifice, it was not until the
victim had been entirely immolated.

As if to crown the tribulations of the Venerable Mother, it was while her
interior trials were at their height, that Madame de la Peltrie, the main
pillar of the Ursuline foundation, resolved to remove to Montreal, where
a new settlement was about to be established as a check to the incursions
of the Iroquois. Monsieur de Maisonneuve, the destined founder, was
accompanied by a troop of colonists, brave and chivalrous as himself;
also by Mademoiselle Mance, whose particular mission was to open a
convent of Hospital Sisters at Ville Marie, as the projected city was to
be called. The season being too far advanced for the commencement of
operations, the party passed the winter at Sillery, where Madame de la
Peltrie made acquaintance with Mademoiselle Mance. The intended
foundation naturally formed an ordinary topic of conversation during the
long evenings, and so strongly was Madame de la Peltrie's interest in it
excited, that in the end, she resolved to give it her personal co-
operation. Not being bound to the Ursulines by vow or formal engagement
of any kind, she was of course at perfect liberty to withdraw from them,
but the parting from one so dear was very painful to all, especially the
much tried Mother. The amiable Foundress had gained the affection and
esteem both of the Sisters and the pupils, cheerfully sharing the labours
and privations of the one, and devoting herself in the self-sacrificing
spirit of true charity to the care of the others: all loved and regretted
her, nevertheless she departed, impelled by the desire to accomplish what
she considered a more useful work. In her zeal for souls, she would have
flown, not merely to Montreal, but to the world's end, and when it
appeared to her that by going, she could extend her sphere of good, and
thereby more largely promote the glory of God, no hesitation was
admitted. She was accompanied by Charlotte Barré. On the 17th of May,
1642, the colonists landed on the Isle of Montreal.

Besides the trial to their feelings, the separation from their Foundress
was a source of serious pecuniary embarrassment to the Ursulines. If
before, they had been poor, they were now reduced to absolute
destitution. Madame de la Peltrie having found it necessary to remove her
furniture, they retained only a few articles which they had brought from
France, among the rest, three beds for their fourteen pupils. "The
children have to sleep on boards," wrote the Mother of the Incarnation;
"we do what we can to soften the hard couches, and as a substitute for
bed clothes, we borrow skins from the stores, the only alternative left
us in our poverty." But it was not the extreme indigence around her that
afflicted the Venerable Mother; the example of her Lord and Saviour had
on the contrary rendered this precious in her eyes and dear to her heart
If her soul was rent, it was chiefly by the dread of having to dismiss
her beloved pupils back to their native wilds. In one single year, fifty
Indian children had been taught, and more than seven hundred adults of
both sexes had received spiritual and corporal aid. Was this magnificent
harvest to be thus prematurely blighted?

Monsieur de Bernières had formally announced the necessity of dismissing
the pupils and discontinuing the new building, adding, that if Madame de
la Peltrie persisted in her present intention, the Sisters would have no
alternative but to return to France, unless indeed some other charitable
person would undertake the responsibility of providing for them. But
gloomy as were the prospects of the little community, the Mother of the
Incarnation never wavered in her trust in God. She resolved to retain her
scholars, to distribute her accustomed alms, and to continue the
building, writing as usual to Monsieur de Bernières for supplies for the
house, and inclosing him the bills for the workmen's wages. Who that
witnessed her calm, brave fortitude, could have suspected how immensely
the weight of the visible cross was aggravated by that of the invisible?
Yet it is certain that the external was but a faint image of the
internal. Still, beneath their united pressure, she discharged her
multiplied exterior duties with a punctuality, an energy and a presence
of mind which proved the extent of her disengagement from self, while by
her exactitude to the least of the conventual observances, she continued
to sustain her claim to the title of a living rule. Acting on her own
maxim, that fidelity in small things is the guardian of fidelity in
greater, she knew no distinction between lesser and more important
regulations; in her view, all were of equal consequence. She took her
share of the menial duties, which for the first years weighed heavily on
the community in consequence of their having no lay Sisters. No
indisposition or infirmity, no pressure of business or excess of fatigue
could induce her to deviate in one iota from the practices of common
life. Ever active and indefatigable, she might be seen, now teaching and
tending her dear Indian children, now directing the building of the new
convent, now superintending the domestic details of the monastery, and
all the time fulfilling to the least particular the duties of her
responsible office as Superior. She was the last to retire to rest at
night, the first to appear in the morning, and ever to be found either in
communion with God, or engaged in the active occupations of her charge.

It was at this period that she commenced correspondence with several
religious communities, and numerous pious seculars in France, in order to
engage their interest for the Indians. The number of her letters is
something wonderful, especially during her first twelve years in Canada,
and the alms which she thus procured, supplied the most pressing wants of
the institution. "This is but my second letter," she says in one place,
"since the arrival of the ships; they leave in a fortnight, and I have to
answer two hundred." In another, she remarks, "My hand is so tired that I
can scarcely hold the pen, but so it is that we must pass our time, while
waiting for the eternity which will never pass." The words, "Short
labour, eternal rest," formed her ordinary motto. Besides her letters on
business to persons of all conditions, she maintained a constant
correspondence with her son and her niece from the time of their joining,
the one the Benedictine, and the other the Ursuline Order. These last,
like all her spiritual letters, are replete with solid maxims of
practical piety, and manifest a knowledge of the secrets of the interior
life which could have been acquired only in her close and habitual
communications with God. While going through this almost incredible
amount of work, she never lost her calm self-possession and firm control
over natural feeling. More than twenty times in one morning, it has
happened her to be interrupted at an occupation, and never by look or
word was she known to betray annoyance or impatience.

The first elections at the Quebec Convent took place on the 12th of June,
1642, when the Mother of the Incarnation resumed the burden which for the
previous three years she had borne by the appointment of the Archbishop
of Tours. On the twenty-first of the following November, the feast of the
Presentation of the Blessed Virgin, the little community bade adieu to
the miserable dwelling which had sheltered them for three years, and
become endeared as the scene of their first labours and their first
successes in Canada. The new building was in so unfinished a state as to
be barely habitable; consequently the first winter was one of extreme
suffering from cold. Stoves were a luxury unknown for many a year, and to
preserve themselves from being frozen at night, the poor Mothers had to
sleep in something like wooden chests. Notwithstanding its many
inconveniences, the new convent excited the unbounded admiration of the
Indians, especially the children, who were overjoyed at the prospect of
inhabiting so splendid a "Cabin."

After the Venerable Mother had borne her weight of mental anguish for
three years, the Almighty was pleased to alleviate it, propitiated as it
would seem by a new self-imposed and very heroic act of humiliation.
Externally too, prospects brightened. After spending eighteen months in
Montreal, Madame de la Peltrie resolved to return to Quebec. Her zeal for
the conversion of the savages urging her to attempt even impossibilities,
she had for a time entertained serious thoughts of penetrating to the
country of the yet pagan Hurons, but a Jesuit Father just returned from
those missions, dissuaded her from an undertaking so far above her
strength. In compensation, she provided for the permanent support of an
additional missions in that district. While at Montreal, she wrote to the
Mother of the Incarnation to explain that her great inducement in going
there, had been the hope of establishing a convent of Ursulines in the
town, a new proof that her holy ardour for the salvation of souls was
worthy of all praise. During this visit, she stood sponsor at the
baptismal font for an Algonquin Chief.

It is easier to imagine than to describe the joy with which her return
was greeted by the Sisters, the pupils, and most of all, the Mother on
whom had fallen the heaviest portion of the burden entailed by her
absence. Now, no future parting need be dreaded. To the last breath of
life she would cling to the friends whose difficulties and troubles she
had so generously shared from the first, and among the most precious of
her legacies to the Ursulines would be ranked the example of her zeal,
her charity, her humility, and her admirable self-abnegation. Without
assuming the obligations of a religious, she conformed in all respects to
the rule and discipline of the house, and so remarkable was her
punctuality, that the signal for regular observance was never given with
greater exactitude, than when it happened to be her turn to ring the
bell.




CHAPTER V.

THE MOTHER OF THE INCARNATION A VICTIM FOR HER SON AND HER NIECE.--
CONVERSION OF BOTH.--MOTHER ST. ATHANASIUS ELECTED MOTHER SUPERIOR.


The mental sufferings of the Mother of the Incarnation had abated at the
end of three years, but they were very far from having wholly ceased.
They were to be traced in part, as we have seen, to that heroic act of
self-immolation by which she had offered herself as a victim to Divine
justice for the salvation of two erring souls very dear to her heart, and
until grace should have fully triumphed over both, her martyrdom was not
to terminate. These objects of her holy solicitude were her son, and one
of her nieces.

The former, as may be remembered, had applied for admission to the Jesuit
novitiate, much about the time of the Venerable Mother's departure for
Canada, and not being considered suitable for the Order, had been
rejected. The disappointment preyed on him for a while, but hope soon
succeeded to despondency. If the cloister was closed, the world, he
argued, was open to him. Why not then seek in the latter, the happiness
which he had vainly dreamed of finding in the former? Why not choose one
among the many paths to distinction which untried life held out so
temptingly, and take his chance of success as others had done before him?
Lured onwards by ambition, he resolved to settle in Paris, naturally
supposing that the Queen's well-known veneration for his saintly Mother,
would secure him her favour. The Duchess d'Aiguillon at once offered him
her patronage, and the difficulties of the first start being thus happily
removed, he seemed free to select his road to fortune.

And was he then really destined for nothing better than the slavery of
the world? Could it be true that that worthless world was one day to
boast of having thrown its shackles round the heart of the son of Marie
Guyart? She had consecrated his soul to God before his eyes had opened to
the light; she had taught him his first prayer; she had given him his
first impression of piety; she had instilled his first lesson, that it
were better far to die a thousand deaths if that were possible, than live
to commit one mortal sin. Had the remembrance of her teaching utterly
vanished, and the last trace of her maternal influence quite faded away?
No, that could not be. The mother, who like her, has rightly understood
the words maternal influence, and early taken care to establish her own,
will hold the key to her child's heart while ever his heart throbs. Vast
intervals may separate that mother and child; oceans and years may lie
between them, and still the mother's words will retain their grasp of her
boy's soul, starting from its depths in the hour of temptation, to awaken
the sweet echo of early lessons, and revive the memory of that last
promise at parting, to be true to God, to conscience and the maternal
teaching.

And if perchance the child should have forgotten the maxims and rejected
the control of the mother, still can her influence reach his heart
through the sure channel of her prayers and tears. The Christian mother's
prayers fall on the soul of her prodigal child like genial sunshine on
the drooping plant; her tears like cool dew on the parched earth--they
revive, they warm, they soften. He cannot resist them, for they come
laden with the heavenly grace which they have been the blessed means of
winning from the all-merciful Heart of Jesus. This it was Claude Martin's
happiness to experience. While he thought only of plunging into the
vortex of the world, the Mother of the Incarnation prayed, and wept, and
suffered without intermission to obtain his entire conversion. "It could
not be that a child of those tears should perish." [Footnote: Words of a
Bishop to St. Monica, with reference to St. Augustine.] As may be
anticipated, his rebellious heart was finally won to God, wholly and for
ever.

The circumstances of his conversion are singular. It happened one day
that, weary of the noise and bustle of the great city, he retired to his
quiet room, to study. Before long he was disturbed by a knocking at the
door, but, although he opened it promptly, he could see nobody. He
resumed his study only to be a second and a third time similarly
interrupted, and with a similar result. The occurrence was so strange,
that he could explain it to himself only as the wondrous action of the
hand of God. The voice of grace spoke to his heart, even more distinctly
than the sound at the door had spoken to his ear. Without one moment's
hesitation, he flew to Dom Raymond of St. Bernard, his mother's former
director, and told him of the mysterious incident which, in an instant
had dispelled his dreams of ambition, subdued his will, and changed him
into a new being, and he concluded the strange communication by
beseeching the Father in earnest terms, to guide him to the road to which
God called. The unexpected news of the next day, was, that Claude Martin
had suddenly renounced his very brilliant prospects in the world to join
the Order of St. Benedict.

The joy and gratitude of his holy mother at the blessed tidings may be
imagined. "It would be difficult, my very dear son," she writes, "to
express the consolation which your letter afforded me. Impressed with the
dangers to which you were exposed, I have suffered much on your account,
especially during the past year, still I have ever been sustained by the
firm hope that our all-good God would never utterly forsake the son from
whom I had parted for His dear sake alone, and now I find that His mercy
to you has not only realized, but surpassed my expectations. The world
offered you some advantages, it is true, but how immeasurably inferior to
the blessing which God has bestowed! You are now enrolled in the army of
the Almighty King; take, then, well to heart the words of our Lord Jesus
Christ, 'No man putting his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit
for the Kingdom of God' (St. Luke ix. 62). The happiness in store for you
is infinitely beyond any which this world could give. 'Count then all
things here below to be but loss that you may gain Christ' (Phil. in. 8).
The example of your holy Father St. Benedict inculcates this generosity
of spirit; imitate it faithfully, that so I may have the consolation of
soon hearing that my uninterrupted prayers of many years for your
sanctification have at last found acceptance with God. I never pass a day
without offering you as a sacrifice to Him on the Heart of His well-
beloved Son, desiring and supplicating that you may be consumed as a
perfect holocaust on that Divine Altar. If any one were to tell me that
you had died a martyr's death, I think I should expire with joy; but be
faithful to grace, die constantly to self, imitate the many eminent
servants of God sanctified in your Order, and not only will the Almighty
make you a great saint, but He will grant you the reward of a martyr too.
If He should mercifully bring you to your religious profession, let me
know the joyful tidings. Tell me also the particulars of your call to
religion, and the manner of your correspondence with it. In a word, let
me have the consolation of participating fully in your spiritual
treasures. Pray for me very often. I meet you many times a day in God,
and speak of you unceasingly to Jesus and Mary."

The novice embraced the cross of religion with holy ardour, and bore it
with persevering fidelity. Cordially despising the world which had well
nigh betrayed him, he renounced it thoroughly, and directed all the
affections of his heart to God alone. Looking on religious perfection as
the only object worthy of his ambition, he pursued the one great end with
a fervour and an earnestness which ensured his rapid progress. His
success in his vocation, and the diminution of his mother's trials, all
along kept such equal pace, that she might safely have judged of the one
by the other. Hence, when obscurity again enveloped her soul, she
inferred that some obstacle to his profession had arisen, and so the
event proved. The difficulty being happily removed, he was permitted to
seal the irrevocable act of his consecration to God by the solemn vows.
After his promotion to the priesthood, he was appointed to some of the
principal offices of his Order, and his humility taking the alarm, he
wrote to his mother of his regret at being compelled to emerge from his
dear solitude. "Do not say, my son," she replied, "that you prefer an
obscure life to a higher sphere of action. Love the duties of the latter,
not because they are more important in the eyes of men, but because they
are in the order of God's will for you. It is well that you should be
impressed with your nothingness, for on that foundation it is that the
Almighty will erect the edifice of your perfection; but content yourself
wherever He places you--there for you is sanctity. Whether your position
is a high one or a low, be humble, and you will be happy." After having
rendered important services to his Order, and contributed to the
reformation of several abbeys, Dom Claude Martin died in the odour of
sanctity at Marmoutier, on the 9th of August, 1696, aged seventy-seven.
He survived his holy mother over twenty years, and after her death wrote
the history of her life, employing principally as material her own
relation of a portion of God's wondrous dealings with her, and her
voluminous correspondence with himself.[Footnote: This history, with that
of Père Charlevoix, forms the foundation of all the existing biographies
of the Venerable Mother. Dom Claude Martin likewise published two volumes
of her letters, the one the spiritual, the other the historical; her
explanation of the Christian Doctrine ("Grand Catéchisme,") and her
Retreats. For recent reprints of all we are indebted to the Abbé
Richaudeau, a distinguished ecclesiastic of Blois. The Ursulines of
Quebec possess, and prize as treasures, different articles once belonging
to the son of their saintly Mother; among others, a silver reliquiary
containing a precious particle of the true Cross.]

The Venerable Mother's work of zeal, though far advanced, was not
completed. She had happily obtained the conversion of her son; when she
had suffered more, she would be rewarded by that of her niece also, but
not until then would her self-imposed task of charity be perfected. The
niece alluded to had been from her birth a special object of her holy
aunt's interest. The idol of her mother, no pains had been spared for the
cultivation of her mind and the formation of her character; yet,
notwithstanding all, she bade fair to turn out a frivolous worldling,
unless arrested by Almighty grace. She was but fifteen when introduced to
the gay circles of fashion, in which her personal attractions and
brilliant accomplishments particularly fitted her to shine. Flattered at
finding herself the object of general attention, she accepted the homage
without pausing to weigh its sincerity, too dazzled by the glare of the
world, too dizzy from the excitement of pleasure to be capable of
discerning the serpent lurking among the flowers. A rude shock was to
awaken her from her short, sweet dream.

Among the many claimants for her hand, one had resolved to secure the
prize by stratagem, as he evidently could not hope to win it by
persuasion. Accordingly, one day as she was going to Mass, he had her
waylaid, forced into a carriage, and rapidly driven to his country seat,
hoping much from the eloquence of a lady of his acquaintance whom he had
engaged to meet her there and advocate his cause. Her mother very soon
released her from her embarrassing position, but her difficulties were
not yet over. On the death of that dear protectress, which occurred soon
after, her unprincipled persecutor returned to the charge, although the
law had taken cognizance of his first offence, and subjected him to well-
merited penalties. The more effectually to gain his ends, he had recourse
on this occasion to the intervention of the Duke of Orleans, whom he
succeeded in persuading that the rich and beautiful heiress was his
affianced bride, representing that the separation was as painful to her
as to him, and earnestly begging an order for her restoration. Her
guardian, clearly seeing that a convent alone could afford her a safe
asylum, advised her to take refuge in one until the storm should have
blown over. As this seemed the best thing to be done, she decided on
applying for a temporary lodging at her dear aunt's old home, the
Ursuline Monastery, in her native city of Tours. But even to this
secluded abode persecution followed her, and at last thoroughly wearied
out, she formed the dangerous resolution of embracing the religious
state, rather to free herself from importunity, than with any wish to
consecrate her life to God. No wonder that with her heart, and hopes and
thoughts in the world, she should have been unable to appreciate, or even
to discover the hidden happiness of her quiet cloistered home. No wonder
that the days should have seemed long the observances wearisome, the
duties monotonous, and uninteresting. But, oh! the wondrous power of
prayer which draws down grace from heaven to refresh the soul, as the
mountains attract the moisture-laden clouds to fertilize the earth!
Separated in person from the object of her holy affection, but closely
united to her in God, the Mother of the Incarnation prayed without
ceasing that grace might do its admirable work in her, through its own
unsearchable ways. She prayed that the bitter lesson which life had early
taught, might bear its abundant fruits; that the desolate child might
seek a balm in the Blood, and a home in the Heart of Jesus; and that
having learned by experience how different are the servitude of God and
that of the world, she might cling to the one and loathe the other
evermore and the petition was fully granted.

When the time came for assuming the religious habit, the novice might
well have doubted her own identity, so strangely and utterly was she
changed. Illusion had vanished, and truth had triumphed In laying aside
the secular dress, she seemed to be, in a moment mysteriously divested of
the spirit of the world. Its imaginary attractions ceased to tempt, now
that she could see them in their false colouring; its deceitful promises
ceased to allure, now that she could correctly interpret their hollowness
and insincerity. And if her ideas of the world were changed, so likewise
were her views of the religious life. Deeply appreciating the immense
favour which God had conferred on her in calling her to it, she devoted
herself heart and soul to all its duties, embracing its penitential
rigours with holy eagerness, and making it her great aim to hide her good
works from all but God. She pronounced her vows with a joy that was more
of heaven than earth, and would be named 'Mary of the Incarnation;' that
hearing herself called by the name of her aunt, she might be perpetually
stimulated to imitate her virtues. She had the advantage of a constant
correspondence with Her, and after a most holy life, went to rejoin her
in the blessed home to which the saintly Mother had long preceded her. In
a letter of October, 1671, we meet the following words, the last ever
addressed by the Venerable Mother to the beloved niece whom she had been
the first to offer to God at her birth, and for whose salvation she had
endured so much:--"Oh! how ardently I desire that you may become a saint,
at the cost of any suffering or sacrifice to myself! As my farewell,
permit me to say to you in the words of our Lord, 'He that humbleth
himself shall be exalted.'"

After having borne her heavy interior crosses for seven years, with only
partial and temporary alleviation, the Mother of the Incarnation was
inspired to apply for relief to the Blessed Virgin. It was on the Feast
of the Assumption, 1647. Hardly had the petition been presented, when it
was granted. Suddenly she felt, she says, as if divested of a leaden
garment, which had long oppressed her with its crushing weight, and on
the arrival of the next vessel from Europe, she learned that the period
of her emancipation from suffering exactly coincided with that of her
niece's clothing in the convent at Tours. Her soul, she writes,
overflowed with a peace which it would be impossible to describe in human
language. Capable of understanding the advantages of tribulation, she
blessed God with the Psalmist, that He had humbled her; that He had led
her through the thorny ways of the cross, to a higher experimental
knowledge of the sacred maxims of the Gospel, in which she found strength
and support for her soul, not only under the pressure of spiritual trial,
but amidst the multiplied difficulties and embarrassments which her
arduous external duties entailed.

In order not to interrupt the history of the conversion of her niece,
chronological order has been slightly anticipated. Retracing our steps a
short distance, we meet some new names intermingled with those already so
well known to us. The evergrowing eagerness both of French and Indians
for instruction, and the continual increase in the number of applicants
for it, had rendered more help indispensable. The harvest was greater
than the few labourers could reap, so they appealed once more to France,
which sent them Mother Anne of the Seraphim, from Ploermel in Brittany,
in 1643, and the Mothers Anne of St. Cecilia, and Anne of our Lady from
Tours, the year following. The two first returned to France, the one
after thirteen, the other after eleven years in Canada.

In 1645, we find the Venerable Mother relieved from the burden of
Superiority, which consistently with the Constitutions of the Ursuline
Order cannot be borne by the same individual for more than six
consecutive years. This high position had been a heavy cross to her, not
only on account of the responsibilities which it entailed, but also
because its arduous duties left her comparatively little time for the
occupation which she prized beyond all others, the instruction of the
Indians. She was succeeded by Mother St. Athanasius, the two continuing
alternately to govern the community until death deprived them of the
Venerable Mother.

The same year, according to the example of St. Teresa, she made a vow
allowable only under very exceptional circumstances, to do, say, and
think in all things whatever she considered most perfect, and most
conducive to the glory of God, and so naturalized had she become by long
habit to the practice of every virtue, that this vow never caused her an
uneasiness. "Although I am but a poor sinful creature," she said, "God
assists me to avoid every voluntary imperfection inconsistent with my
promise. If involuntary faults mingle with the observance of it, I trust
in His goodness to forgive them." She had at this time acquired that high
degree of the habit of virtue, in which its acts are performed not only
without pain, but with pleasure.

The first novice professed in Quebec was Charlotte Barré of St. Ignatius,
the former companion of Madame de la Peltrie. She made her solemn vows on
the 21st of November, 1648, and a few days after, her example was
followed by Sister Catherine of St. Ursula, the first Canadian lay
sister. Henceforth the little community continued gradually but steadily
to increase in numbers.

From the first opening of the schools, the advantages of education had
been extended to the French as well as to the Indians. Even in the small
tenement which had served as a temporary convent, there were two French
boarders; at the period now under consideration the number had increased
to eighteen or twenty. That of the seminarists had amounted to eighty.

The year 1649 at which we have arrived, brings us to a tear-stained page
in the annals of the infant Church of Canada. By a reference to the
introductory chapter, it will be seen that this was the date of the
massacre of the concerted Hurons and their saintly pastors, by the savage
Iroquois. The sad event afflicted every heart in the colony, but perhaps
most of all, the hearts of the Venerable Mother and of the Mother St.
Joseph. The survivors, who numbered only four or five hundred, took
refuge in Quebec, where they were received with extreme kindness. Some
were located on a portion of the Isle of Orleans belonging to the
Ursulines, and generously transferred by them to the unhappy fugitives.
To relieve their distress, the religious deprived themselves of a good
part of the food and clothing which they could very badly spare. The
Mother of the Incarnation admitted many of their daughters into the
seminary, and undertook, though in her fiftieth year, to learn the Huron
tongue, that she might be enabled to impart the blessing of spiritual
instruction to the exiles. Her teacher was Father Bressani, who had
almost miraculously escaped from the hands of the Iroquois, after having
undergone the ordinary course of torture prescribed by savage cruelty.
She and the Mother St. Joseph divided the charge of teaching these new
pupils, who besides ample instruction, received also generous alms. It
was at this time that bread was first seen to multiply in the hands of
the Venerable Mother: with only two or three loaves to divide among fifty
or sixty persons, it was found that every one had a sufficient share. She
perceived the prodigy herself and said quite simply, as she went on
dividing the loaves, "I think our good God is multiplying this bread for
His poor necessitous creatures." Even before this special demand on her
charity, she had arranged that whatever might be their own distress, no
Indian should ever be refused an alms at the monastery, and for this
purpose, a supply of Indian meal porridge was always kept in readiness.
Once, when she was Superior, a poor woman not satisfied with all she had
already got, represented her great want of a pair of shoes in addition.
Without the least discomposure at the unreasonable importunity, the
charitable Mother took off her own and presented them to her, reserving
for herself a very poor, slight pair, quite insufficient to protect her
from the cold. The time was fast approaching, when she who had been ever
ready to give her strength and life, and all else that she possessed for
the relief of others, was to be reduced to the last degree of want, and
left without even a shelter for her head!




CHAPTER VI

THE CONFLAGRATION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.--REBUILDING OF THE MONASTERY.


The Ursulines had inhabited their new monastery seven years before it
could be considered finished, a delay easily explained by their great
poverty. They were absolutely dependent for their support on remittances
from France, and these, besides being sent only once a year, were liable
to many casualties on the way. When the annual arrival of the vessels was
unusually retarded, the inconveniences to the colony in general, and to
the Nuns in particular, can be better imagined than described. What then
must have been the distress of the Sisters, when as happened more than
once, a ship was wrecked, or seized by pirates, so that they were obliged
to wait another year for the very necessaries of life! Then, when the
remittances did arrive, charity had so many claims on them, and so many
good reasons to urge in support of those claims, that but little remained
to carry on the building.

At the cost of many and many a sacrifice, it had been completed at last,
when on the memorable evening of December the 29th, 1650, the lay Sister
in charge of the bakery, fearing that the bitter frost would injure her
carefully prepared dough, thought to make all safe by placing a pan of
hot coals in the bread trough, which she then carefully closed. To
complete her imprudence, she forgot to remove the live coals as she had
intended, before retiring to rest. The consequences may be anticipated.
Towards midnight, the kneading trough ignited; the fire spread from the
bakery to the cellars in which the year's provisions were stored, and
thence along the whole lower story. The crackling of the flames, and the
suffocation of the smoke providentially gave the alarm in time to save
the lives, but the lives alone of all the inmates. Amidst the general
terror and confusion, the Mother of the Incarnation retained her usual
calm presence of mind. Seeing that any attempt to preserve the house
would be vain, she directed her efforts to collect a few articles of
clothing, but finding even this useless, she satisfied herself with
securing some papers of great importance to the community. While engaged
in the hazardous service, she was literally surrounded by flames. The
fire raged fiercely in the story under her; it ran with fearful rapidity
along the roof above her; the church bell under which she had to pass was
pouring down a stream of melted metal, and still she escaped unhurt,
though nearly suffocated.

Meantime, the rescued household were assembled under the ash tree, so
closely connected by tradition with her loved and venerated memory. All
were there except one, but that one was the most precious o any. Had she
perished,--she, the soul, the living model, the cherished Mother of the
community? Each longed, but none dared to ask the question. Almost
breathless from anxiety, yet hoping against hope, the little crowd stood
silently awaiting the issue. Happily their fears were soon dissipated;
good angels had folded their wings round the venerated Mother and
screened her from the flames. Yes, it was she whom they saw advancing.
Even if she had not been distinctly visible in the strong, clear light of
the blazing house, they would have recognised her by that air of quiet
self-possession which nothing could disturb; that sweet serenity which
nothing could ruffle. But what a sight for the tender-hearted Mother! All
the children both French and Indian were standing on the snow,
barefooted, very scantily clad, shivering and trembling, and pressed
close together for greater warmth. Madame de la Peltrie, so frail; so
delicately nurtured, so sensitive to cold, sharing their sufferings;
worst of all, the Mother Sister Joseph in her failing health, pierced
through by the biting air, and looking as if she would expire
momentarily. It was a scene well calculated to display the virtue of the
Mother of the Incarnation, which never shone out more brightly. The
heroism of her resignation seemed even to pass into the hearts of her
companions in affliction, who falling on their knees, returned thanks to
God in the spirit of the martyrs for having been thought worthy of so
bitter a trial. The spectators wondered, but the Mother afterwards
explained the mystery; "He," she said, "who tried, strengthened and
consoled us too." The night was calm, but intensely cold; the sky
brilliantly studded with stars. Showers of sparks poured from the burning
building on the neighbouring forest, on the fort, and on the adjoining
houses, menacing the town with destruction. But for a light breeze which
providentially arose at the moment, and turned the course of the flames,
it must have been consumed. Every effort had been made to arrest the
conflagration; the Jesuit Fathers in particular, bad been vigorous and
untiring, but when discovered, the fire had progressed too far to be
checked. At imminent peril, the Blessed Sacrament and some of the sacred
vestments were saved. In less than two hours, nothing remained of the
monastery but the blackened walls. Clothing, provisions, furniture, all
the earthly possessions of the Ursulines were gone.

With great kindness, the principal citizens offered hospitality to the
children, while the Superior of the Jesuits conducted the Nuns to the
convent of the Hospital Sisters, who opened not alone their doors, but
their hearts to their desolate visitors, clothing them from their own
wardrobes, placing the whole house at their disposal, and retaining them
for over three weeks as their prized and honoured guests. The day after
the calamity, the Governor came to offer his condolence; but sweeter than
all to the hearts of the sufferers, was a deputation, and an address of
sympathy from the Hurons. Time was, when to use their own expression, the
grateful chiefs would have covered the ashes of the monastery with
presents, but alas! of their vanished glory nought remained but two
wampum belts. [Footnote: Wampum. Small shells of various colours formerly
used by the North American Indiana as money, and strung like beads into
broad ornamental belts.] Such as they were, it was decided in solemn
council that they should be presented to the bereaved Sisters.
Accordingly the deputation arrived, and the Grand Chief delivered the
oration, too long to be entirely inserted, but too beautiful in its
simple language and genuine feeling, to be entirely omitted. "Holy
Virgins," he said; "you see before you the miserable remnant of a once
flourishing, now extinct nation. The little left to us, we owe to you.
Alas! the misfortune which has befallen you, renews our own woes, and re-
opens the source of our only partially dried tears. When we saw the
beautiful house of Jesus consumed in a moment before our eyes, the sad
sight reminded us of the day when our own homes and hamlets were
delivered up a prey to the flames, and our country reduced to a heap of
ruins. Holy Virgins, you are then sharers in the misery of the poor
Hurons, for whose melancholy fate you showed such tender pity. You too
are left without house, home, provisions or help, except the help of that
heaven to which your eyes are ever turned. If you belonged to our people,
we should try to console you by two presents, one intended to dry your
tears, the other to add new strength to your fortitude; but we have not
seen you shed one tear over your misfortune; neither we know have you
buried your courage under the wreck of your fallen house. Surely it must
be that your hearts are too fixed on the treasures of heaven, to value
those of earth."

"One thing we fear, that when your friends in France hear of your
distress, they will pray you so earnestly to return to them, that you
will be unable to resist their entreaties, so we shall be in danger of
losing you, and with you, the chance of instruction for our children.
Have courage, holy Virgins, and prove that your love for the poor Indians
is a heavenly love, stronger than that which binds you to your relatives.
We offer you these two wampum belts, the one to attach you inviolably to
our country; the other to found anew a house for Jesus, where you can
pray, and teach our children to do so too."

"We know you could not die happily, if at the last hour you had to
reproach yourselves with having loved your friends so much as to give up
for their sakes the souls once dear to you in God, and destined to be
your eternal crown in heaven."

It cannot be doubted that the sympathy of the Hurons must have been very
gratifying to the Mothers, and have tended to cement the already strong
tie which bound them to Canada. But the tie was a Divine one, formed by,
and wholly dependent on the will of God. "If the Almighty decreed that we
should return to France," the Mother of the Incarnation wrote to her son,
"I should go back with the same tranquillity as I came out. To go, or to
stay, is a matter of indifference, provided only God be glorified." In
describing the events of the terrible night of the 29th December, she
tells him that looking on the disaster as the punishment of her sins, she
accepted it with perfect equanimity, only wishing that the chastisement
were confined to herself, since she alone deserved it, and beseeching God
to spare her innocent Sisters. She says that amidst the horrors of the
conflagration, she enjoyed most profound interior peace, undisturbed by a
single emotion of regret, sadness, or uneasiness. That closely united in
heart with the will of Him who had permitted the blow, she desired that
it might be accepted by all in the spirit of the saints both of the Old
and New law, who with humble and contrite hearts blessed God under the
heaviest afflictions and severest temporal losses.

This imperturbable tranquillity was founded on her perfect confidence in
God. Tracing all human events to His ordinance or permission, she
sometimes wondered how it was that men should try to reject His hand when
it sends adversity, and submit to it willingly only when it bestows
prosperity, both being equally His gifts. The calmness of soul thus
solidly grounded, must necessarily have been very steady but in addition,
the Mother of the Incarnation had, as we know, received from God Himself
a special gift of His own Divine peace.

Unwilling to burden the charitable Hospital-Sisters longer, the Ursulines
resolved at the end of three weeks, to take up their abode in a small
house which Madame de la Peltrie had built for herself within their
enclosure, and afterwards generously given them as a school for the
Indians. Its dimensions were thirty feet by twenty, and it contained two
rooms. Here, it was decided that thirteen Sisters and some boarders
should live as best they could, and as the exclusion of converts seeking
instruction was not to be dreamt or, the house was made to contain a
grated parlour in addition to a chapel, school, refectory, kitchen and
dormitory. It had need of an infirmary too, for in that abode of poverty,
a well-beloved Sister was slowly wearing her life away, amidst
inconceivable sufferings and privations.  It was then only the end of
January, so that many months were still to elapse before help should come
from France, but far from losing courage, the heroic Mothers rejoiced at
finding themselves reduced to such utter indigence, as to be compelled to
accept alms even from the poor, and so it happened that notwithstanding
their own want, the poorest of their neighbours would bring them
presents, one of a hen, another of a few eggs, a third of some trifling
article of clothing. In their generous charity, the people, not only
shared with them all they could spare conveniently, but moreover
encroached on absolute necessaries. To complete the distress of the
Sisters, the vessels were delayed, and when they did come, they brought
but the usual supplies of provisions and clothing, the news of the
disaster not having reached in time to secure an additional quantity. But
God had not abandoned His own. The Ursulines possessed a small farm,
which from want of cultivation, had hitherto yielded them no profit.
Deeply touched by their extreme poverty, their chaplain, Rev. M. Vignal,
resolved to take it in hands, and not satisfied with merely
superintending, he worked, with the labourers, and more actively than
any. The Almighty blessed the charity, and the land produced an abundant
crop of wheat, barley and peas, which proved a valuable resource to the
Sisters. This good priest was massacred by the Iroquois in 1661.

Meantime it had become evident to all interested in the success of the
Nuns, that if they were to remain in Canada, they would have to rebuild
the convent. They had originally been of opinion, that with some
additions, Madame de la Peltrie's house might be made to afford them
sufficient accommodation, but on mature consideration, they determined to
adopt the advice of their friends, and to trust to Providence for the
means of carrying it out. They were offered a loan free of interest for
six years, by the principal citizens headed by the Jesuits of the colony
and the Governor, M. d'Ailleboust. The good Fathers who had already
assisted them most liberally, promised the services of their lay brothers
and workmen to help on the building. All this was encouraging. The snow
had hardly melted away when the Nuns began to clear the rubbish from the
foundations, and on the 19th of May, 1651, Madame de la Peltrie laid the
first stone of the second monastery precisely on the site previously
occupied by the first. The burden of care and responsibility again fell
on the Venerable Mother, who as before, was charged with the
superintendence of the work. While we wait for the completion of the new
building, let us see how the Mothers contrived to carry on school work in
the interim. The glance will show us a pretty picture traced by the pen
of one of their present descendants at the convent of Quebec, in her
interesting History of the Monastery.

The number of pupils instead of diminishing, has increased, however in-
door accommodation is scant as ever, so if we would assist at a lesson,
we must be content with an academy of a primitive kind, and yet, after
all, it is one which may well satisfy the most fastidious taste. For
roof, it has the canopy of deep blue heaven; for study halls, the lordly
forest; for carpet, a fairy web of wild flowers. Here and there, the sun
is glancing through the dense foliage, and tinging his resting spots with
gold. The ancient trees are looking glorious in their bright, spring
clothing; the soft breeze is singing its gentlest notes among the leaves;
all looks so fresh, so peaceful and so attractive in the sweet, cool
shade, that we do not wonder to hear of numerous candidates for admission
to the extemporized academy. In after times, traditionary honours will
attach to some of those venerable trees; one in particular will be so
often commemorated, that people will learn at last to look on it in the
light of an old friend. Here it is; the well-known ash tree, [Footnote:
This veteran of the wilderness remained standing until the 19th of June,
1850, when bending under age and honours, it fell to the ground. The wood
has been carefully preserved for the sake of dear and old associations,
and is used in making ornamental crosses, and similar small devotional
articles, as memorials of the Mother Mary of the Incarnation.] under
which, whenever she can quit her more pressing duties, we are sure to
find the Mother Mary of the Incarnation surrounded by her dear Indian
children, to whom she speaks with heavenly unction of "Him who made all
things." How their dark eyes glisten, and their little hearts swell,
while they catch each word of life as it falls from her lips to find an
echo in their souls! A few steps farther is the famous walnut tree, and
here we meet a group of French pupils receiving the lessons of Mother St.
Athanasius. At a future day, many of these will be found in the ranks of
the Ursuline or Hospital-Sisters; many more faithfully discharging their
responsible duties as heads of families, presiding over Christian
households, and training their children to virtue by word and example.
Farther still, in the shadow of some ancient monarch of the woods, are
bark huts occupied by the Neophytes, whom we find participating not only
in the heavenly bread of God's word, but also in the small resources of
their impoverished teachers. Many of these too, will do the work of
apostles in a humble way among their own tribes. To crown the scene of
beauty, the walls of the new monastery are visible in the distance, and
like the olive branch in the deluge, they speak o£ hope.

Happily the hope was realized, and far more speedily too, than humanly
speaking could have been anticipated. Exactly one year after the first
stone had been laid, the new monastery was ready to receive its inmates.
So triumphantly successful a termination to the arduous work, was due in
great part to the extraordinary natural energy of the Mother of the
Incarnation, but still more, to the intervention of her celestial
Assistant, the Help of Christians and Queen of heaven. On the 8th of the
September preceding the destruction of the first monastery, the community
had formally placed itself under the immediate patronage of that glorious
Queen, choosing her with solemn ceremonial for its first and chief
Superior. That she had graciously condescended to accept the charge, was
clearly manifested by the fidelity with which she discharged the trust
attaching to it. The marvellous rapidity which marked the erection of the
new building, the preservation of the workmen from the slightest accident
during its progress, and the almost total freedom of the community from
debt at its completion, form a series of favours unhesitatingly ascribed
by the Venerable Mother and the Sisters to the manifest protection of
their "First Superior," the "Virgin most powerful, most merciful and most
faithful."

The personal devotion of the Mother of the Incarnation to our Blessed
Lady, dating from her earliest years, had grown with her growth, and
strengthened with her strength. Her childhood's prayer had been that,
even in this life, she might be permitted to see her dear Heavenly
Mother, and, if the petition was not granted literally, it may at least
be said to have been at this time answered substantially. She did not see
the Blessed Virgin, she says, with her corporal eyes, but, from the
commencement to the completion of the building, she had her as constantly
and as vividly present to mind and heart, as if she did. She felt her
ever by her side, and in her company encountered hardships and dangers
without fear. Long accustomed to recur to her in the emergencies of life,
she transferred to her, if we may say so, the whole responsibility of the
present undertaking, referring to her and consulting her as its first and
chief Directress. No wonder, then, that it should have been crowned with
extraordinary success. "It was never known in any age, that those who had
recourse to Mary were abandoned by her" (St. Bernard). The Venerable
Mother, who from the dawn of reason had loved her and trusted in her,
could not surely be the one to inaugurate a new experience! So far from
it, that some years after the present date, we find her writing, in
allusion to the favours of her heavenly Protectress, "Our Blessed Mother
assists us in all our wants, and guards us as the apple of her eye. In
her own sweet way, she watches over our interests, and relieves us in our
embarrassments. We are indebted to her for having many times passed
safely through overwhelming difficulties, and, among other benefits, for
the rebuilding of our monastery after it had been totally destroyed by
fire. What can I fear while shielded by protection at once so loving and
so powerful?"

On the 19th of May, 1652, the Ursulines took possession of their second
monastery. The great reputation which their schools enjoyed rendered the
event one of general interest to all classes. Pleased at the opportunity
of testifying their respect for the devoted Mothers, the inhabitants of
Quebec determined to make the occasion one of great solemnity.
Accordingly, the whole population, ecclesiastic and lay, assembled near
the house of Madame de la Peltrie; and thence accompanied the Nuns to
their new residence. The Most Adorable Sacrament was borne at the head of
the long procession to the convent chapel; the Forty Hours' prayer was at
once commenced, and on each of the three days of its continuance,
processions again went out from each of the churches in Quebec to the
Ursuline chapel, the chant of the Litanies resounding all along the way.
Well might the Mother of the Incarnation say that Divine Providence shows
itself a good Mother to those who place their whole reliance on its aid.

About thirty years later, the second monastery, like the first, was
consumed by fire, yet not wholly destroyed. The walls raised by the
Mother of the Incarnation under the protection of the Queen of Heaven,
withstood the flames, and after the lapse of more than two centuries,
they are still standing. They form the central portion of the edifice yet
known at this remote day as the Ursuline Convent of Quebec.




CHAPTER VII.

LAST ILLNESS AND HAPPY DEATH OF MOTHER ST. JOSEPH.


In the procession to the new convent, one familiar face was missing:
Mother St. Joseph, the first companion of the Mother of the Incarnation,
was also the first of the little band called home to heaven. Her death
and life were so consistent, that the one who knew her best, summed up
her panegyric in two words--"She lived a saint, and she died one." She
seemed, indeed, to have been specially privileged by Divine grace from
her very infancy, manifesting in early childhood an instinctive love of
the beautiful virtue of the angels, and a singular attraction to the poor
and afflicted. When only nine years of age she was sent, at her own
request, to the Ursuline Convent at Tours, where she made her first
Communion with extraordinary fervour. From the period of His first
sacramental visit to her soul, our Blessed Lord continued to draw her
irresistibly to Himself. Docile to His Divine call, she obtained the
reluctant permission of her fond parents to consecrate herself wholly to
Him, and at the early age of fourteen, exchanged her brilliant prospects
as heiress of two noble houses, for the poverty, seclusion, and
mortification of the religious life. Her choice fell on the monastery
where she had been educated, and here it was her happiness to be placed
under the guidance of the Mother of the Incarnation, at that time in
charge of the novices. After the usual probation, she received the habit,
and with it the name of St. Bernard, and in due time completed her first
sacrifice by holy profession. She continued to edify her sisters by the
example of virtues suited rather to a soul far advanced in religious
perfection, than to one just touching the mysterious threshold; and, as
hers was one of those gifted natures pleasing both to God and man, she
charmed and delighted her companions by her amiability and cheerfulness,
as much as she edified them by her sanctity. Her great fear was, lest the
attention and consideration by which she was surrounded, should prove any
obstacle to her progress in perfection.

Some time after her profession she had a mysterious vision, in which the
world was represented to her under the symbol of a vast enclosure,
abounding in all the delights which here below are wont to fascinate and
captivate the hearts of men. She noticed that all who permitted
themselves to be attracted too closely by the false glare were at once
hopelessly entangled, as if a net had been cast around them, and among
the unhappy victims she even recognised an acquaintance of her own. What
terrified her most was, that having herself taken a few steps forward,
and then, in great alarm, attempted to retreat, she found all means of
egress closed, so that there appeared no alternative but to advance. As
she was on the point of giving herself up for lost, she was attracted by
the sight of a band of young persons arrayed in the costume of Canadian
savages, the foremost of whom bore a banner inscribed with unknown
characters, and she seemed to hear them say, "Fear not, Mary, for through
us you will be saved." Then they formed into two lines, leaving a passage
between them, through which she effected her escape in safety. It was not
until her subsequent appointment to the Canadian Mission, that she
understood the connection between this supernatural warning and her own
destiny; but, although the vision remained for a time unexplained, it
served as a strong stimulus to her already ardent zeal for the salvation
of souls, especially those of the savages. We have already noticed how
manifest was the hand of God in her appointment as the companion of the
Mother of the Incarnation to Canada, and we are, therefore, quite
prepared to hear of great fruit from her labours in that country. The
Almighty seemed, indeed, to have endowed her with some singular
attraction for the Indians, young and old. So great was their veneration
for her, and, in consequence, so irresistible her influence over them,
that the name of "Mary Joseph, the Holy Virgin," soon became a household
word among the Hurons and Algonquins. Charity rendered her an eloquent
pleader, and many and generous were the donations which at her prayer
found their way from her old home in France, to the wigwams of her dear
savages. To the end of life, her greatest earthly joy was to find herself
surrounded by her beloved converts, forty or fifty of whom--men, women,
and children--might constantly be seen gathered round her, listening to
her words with rapt attention. If subsequent exhaustion had not revealed
how much the effort had cost her, it might have been thought, when her
sufferings became acute towards the end of life, that she had forgotten
them in the pleasure of instructing her poor people. When the destruction
of the monastery had reduced the inmates to utter destitution, her
parents employed every argument to induce her to return to France. The
Mothers at Tours joined in the request, but her invariable answer was,
that she would rather share the coarse, scanty fare of the savages to the
end of her life, or even die a thousand deaths, if that could be, than
prove herself thus unfaithful to her vocation and ungenerous to her God.

Fidelity to her calling had been the watchword of her existence, and now
that her time of merit had nearly run, no close observer could fail to
see that this undeviating fidelity had produced rich fruits. To analyse
her character as a religious, would be simply to attribute to her every
virtue which, belongs to a perfect one. Our Lord once showed her her soul
under the figure of a very beautiful and strongly-fortified castle, and
He warned her to watch cautiously over its external approaches, promising
that He would guard the interior of the edifice. In compliance with this
direction, she resolved to surround the mystic castle with the deep
trenches of humility, and so well did she succeed, that unfeigned
contempt of self breathed at last in every act and thought of her life,
inspiring a love and desire of humiliation which secured for those who
tried her, the warmest gratitude of her heart, and the most devoted of
her services. Not satisfied with mediocrity in any virtue, she carried
mortification to an absorbing love of the cross; charity, to the
sacrifice of every natural feeling; obedience, to child-like submission,
spiritualized by faith; reverence for the rule, to most minute observance
of its least prescription. She also attained an eminent degree of prayer
and union with God.

For more than four years before her happy death, she had to endure the
two-fold martyrdom of anguish of soul and great physical suffering. Yet
while the wearing fever of prolonged consumption slowly undermined her
life, so wonderfully did her great courage sustain her, that she seldom
kept her bed, or relinquished her work. If sometimes compelled to yield
to exhaustion and pain, she received the attention of her Sisters with so
much humility and gratitude, that all felt it a happiness to render her
any service. Far from complaining, she was confused when others showed
compassion for her, and in return for their offers of kind offices, was
always ready to remark that they themselves required indulgence more than
she did. She learned at last to rejoice in the sufferings which she
looked on as precious pledges of the love of her Divine Spouse, and that
she should lose no part of her treasure, she desired to suffer without
consolation or relief, indemnifying herself by practices of voluntary
mortification for the occasional alleviations forced on her by charity.
Towards the end, dropsy was added to her complicated maladies, and so,
for the last two months, she was compelled to yield to the claims of
utterly worn-out nature. Let us visit her in the humble lodging where
those two closing months of life were passed, and we shall feel
constrained to own, that the scene before us is one very grand and
beautiful in the eyes of faith, whatever may be its aspect in those of
the world.

She whose still young life is thus gradually ebbing away, might be now
enjoying in her luxurious home all the comforts which wealth can
purchase, but because she preferred the poverty of Jesus Christ to the
treasures of earth, she is surrounded in lieu of them by unmistakable
traces of abject indigence. Her bed of death is formed of one of the
narrow wooden shelves which run in tiers all round the small apartment as
a substitute for bedsteads, the highest reached by a ladder. Adjoining
this common dormitory is the chapel, and as the one serves as a passage
to the other, she is perpetually disturbed by the noise of the heavy
wooden shoes, which since the conflagration, the whole family have been
obliged to adopt for want of leather. Her wearying cough is irritated by
the constant smoke of the ill-contrived chimney; her oppressed breathing
additionally impeded by the closeness of the overcrowded room; her rest
interrupted by the voices of the pupils, the ringing of the bells, the
chanting of the Office, and the various other sounds inevitable under
existing circumstances. Far from murmuring, she will assure us that she
is amused rather than inconvenienced by these unwanted surroundings of a
sick room, and that she considers herself specially favoured in the
opportunity which her position affords of assisting at the holy Mass,
joining in the Office, hearing the sermons, and thus in some manner
keeping up to the end the observances of common life.

For her final and more entire purification from the dross of earth, her
all-merciful Father permitted that she should be afflicted with
desolation of soul, such as with all her experience of it, she had never
known before. To interior anguish was added the intensity of bodily pain,
yet in her sharpest pangs, even when the surgeon's knife gashed her
flesh, piercing to the bone, no sound betrayed her agonies, save once, a
gentle invocation of the name of Jesus: for this impulse of nature as she
considered it, she reproached herself as for a want of patience, and
begged pardon as if it were a cause of disedification. Her sufferings
reached their height in Holy week, and this coincidence she looked on as
a particular privilege, thanking our Lord for thus associating her to His
cross. To her visitors, she spoke only of the happiness of heaven, the
riches of religious poverty, and the fidelity with which those who have
embraced it, should cling to it for ever. "Tell all our friends in
France," she said to her Sisters, "that I rejoice in death at having left
them for the love of our Lord Jesus Christ, and assure them that I feel
myself infinitely privileged in having been called to this savage land."
Our Lord did not permit His faithful servant to die in utter bereavement
of spirit. For the three days before her end, she enjoyed a foretaste of
paradise; her interior pains vanished; her physical tortures were
alleviated. "I know," she said to her director, Father Lalemant, "that
our good God has promised a hundred-fold in this world, and eternal bliss
in the next to those who renounce all things for His love. As to the
hundred-fold, I have had it; eternal happiness I hope through His
infinite mercy soon to enjoy." She renewed her vows, asked pardon of the
assistants, and returned thanks to the Rev. Father Ragueneau, Superior of
the Missions, for his charity to their community especially since the
conflagration. She also expressed her gratitude to the physician, for
whom she promised to pray in heaven, and most of all to the Mother of the
Incarnation, who had watched and tended her night and day with untiring
care and love. She retained perfect consciousness during her long agony
of twenty-four hours, and about eight o'clock on the evening of the
Thursday in Easter week, April the 4th, 1652, her happy soul returned to
the God who all through life had been the only Object of her love. The
Mother of the Incarnation remarks, that the beauty of her countenance
after death, appeared to her Sisters like a reflection of the glory of
which she was already in possession; while the heavenly peace and unction
which at the same time filled their own hearts, seemed to say, that over
those remains no tears should be shed, but tears of holy joy and
gratitude. The impulse of each was to invoke her intercession, of which
all very quickly experienced the power and efficacy. She was but thirty-
six years of age, yet considering the frailty of her health, the wonder
was that she had been able so long to resist the rigour of the climate
and the privations attending the foundation of the monastery. Her remains
were followed by the whole population both French and Indian, to their
temporary resting-place in the garden of the convent, whence twelve years
later they were transferred to the vault in the new church, which by that
time was ready to receive the precious and venerated deposit.

As a mark of their respect and affection, the Hurons residing on the Isle
of Orleans had a solemn service celebrated for her on the morning, of her
interment. The tradition of Quebec speaks touchingly of the gratitude of
these poor children of the wilderness towards their dear Mother St.
Joseph, recording that they continually came to inquire for her in her
illness, and brought her presents of every thing delicate which they
could procure by the chase. "Here, Mother," they would say to the Mother
of the Incarnation, "give these birds to Mary the holy virgin, that she
may eat, and live to instruct us again."

The Almighty was pleased quickly to reveal the glory of His servant, as
many trustworthy witnesses bore evidence. Among the first of these was a
lay Sister at Tours, named Elizabeth, from whom Mother St Joseph had
received maternal care in her childhood. Almost at the hour of her
decease, the Mother appeared to this Sister, bidding her prepare for the
great journey to eternity, on which she would soon be called to enter.
Without the loss of a moment, the Sister informed the Superior that the
Mother St. Joseph was dead, and had come to forewarn her of her own
approaching end. In effect, she was summoned away in a few days, and
later accounts from Canada fully corroborated the truth of the Sister's
vision.

The Rev. Father Paul Ragueneau, Superior of the Missions at Quebec,
testifies that about an hour after her venerated remains had been laid in
the grave, Mother St. Joseph appeared in vision to a person bound on some
errand of charity. Her air, he says, was full of majesty; her countenance
resplendent with glory; rays of light seemed to pass from her eyes to his
heart, as if she would thus have shown her desire to impart a share of
her happiness to him. The effect of the vision was to fill his soul with
Divine love and heavenly consolation in such abundance, that he felt as
if without supernatural support, he must have died. On his return from
his journey of charity, the Mother appeared to him again in the same
glory as before, and revealed to him admirable secrets, which the Mother
of the Incarnation who records the above fact, has not seen fit to
disclose. Of the veracity of this witness also, there can be no doubt.

The same person having the next day to cross the frozen river, and not
knowing that the ice was too thin to bear his weight, walked on for some
distance unconscious of danger. Suddenly he heard a warning voice bidding
him stop; then he looked round only to see himself surrounded on all
sides by water. The slight sheet of ice on which he stood, had no depth
or solidity; it was a mere superficial crust floating on the surface of
the terrible abyss. In an agony of terror, he recommended himself to the
care of her who had arrested him on the way to destruction, then retraced
his steps, and on reaching the river bank, perceived that he had actually
walked for a considerable distance on water, as if it had been dry land.
His first act was to relate the wonder to the Mother of the Incarnation,
assuring her that he attributed his marvellous escape to the charity of
Mother St. Joseph.

The love which this good Mother while on earth had shown for her
neighbour, was assuredly not diminished in heaven, where charity is made
perfect. That it survived the grave, was manifested in at least one
singular instance, which occurred some years after the present date of
our history. Among the captives whom Governor Tracy compelled the
Iroquois to set free in 1666, was a young French girl named Anne
Baillargeon, who had been made prisoner at the age of nine. So
naturalized had she become to life in the woods, that when her companions
in misfortune were about to return to their families she refused to
accompany them, and lest she should be constrained to do so, she
concealed herself in the forest at the moment of their departure. Just as
she was exulting at the supposed success of her stratagem, a lady wearing
the religious dress suddenly stood before her, and in a tone which
admitted of no reply, commanded her to rejoin the French, threatening her
at the same time with punishment if she hesitated. Having no other
alternative, she reluctantly obeyed. When she arrived in Quebec, the
Governor confided her to the care of the Ursulines. The moment she
entered the house and saw the portrait of Mother St. Joseph, she
exclaimed, "Ah, there she is! There is the person who spoke to me in the
woods, even the dress is exactly the same." The exclamation convinced the
witnesses of the strange scene that it was indeed Mother St. Joseph who
had acted the part of guardian angel to the truant, and conducted her to
the haven of safety.




CHAPTER VIII.

THREATENED INVASION OF THE IROQUOIS.--HEROES OF VILLE MARIE.


In eighteen months after the destruction of the first monastery, the
Ursulines were enabled to re-open schools for the French, and a seminary
for the Indians, and so great was the increase of applicants for
admission, especially to the latter, that the Mother of the Incarnation
tells us she was obliged to her great regret to refuse many, who went
away with tears in their eyes, leaving her, as she beautifully expresses
it, with tears in her heart. The children who could not be accommodated
in the school, were taught in the parlour, and a little later, bark
cabins were again constructed in the neighbourhood of the old ash tree
for the reception of the Huron girls, eighty of whom at a time might
daily be seen receiving not only spiritual instruction, but also a
plentiful meal of the never-failing Indian meal porridge. The seminarists
resumed possession of the now vacant house of Madame de la Peltrie.

The progress of God's work was partially checked about this time by the
growing passion of the Indians for intoxicating drinks, and their
increased facility for procuring them. The sad example of the parents was
beginning to react on the children, and when the religious attempted to
remonstrate with such of these as came only for occasional instruction,
the refractory young ones took to flight "It is their nature," the Mother
of the Incarnation says, "to be easily led away by bad example, unless
thoroughly confirmed in habits of virtue." The awful calamities which we
shall meet later, led to a much-needed reformation. Among the resident
Indian pupils, happily removed from the contagion of evil example, the
labours of the zealous Mothers continued as ever to produce abundant
fruit. Of the large number instructed by the Ursulines, it is true that
only a comparatively small proportion were formed to European habits. "A
Frenchman would more easily become a savage," remarks the Mother of the
Incarnation, "than a savage a Frenchman." None of the Canadian tribes
ever advanced beyond a sort of semi-civilization, and almost all passed
away without attaining even this. But they made good Christians none the
less--perhaps all the more--for if life in the woods debarred them from
the advantages of civilized society, it secured them also from the
dangers of its corrupting influence.

Among the contrasts which the seminary of this period presented were a
widow advanced in years, and a little child only seven. Geneviève, the
widow, was an Algonquin by birth, and though certainly not a candidate
for school, she had so effectually worked on the charity of the Mothers,
that they found it impossible to refuse her request for admittance. Her
fervour was most remarkable. She followed the nuns to every choir
observance of the day, spending the time in reciting  rosary after rosary
for various, intentions, among others, the conversion of the Algonquins.
She was never tired of praying, or of listening to instructions on the
mysteries of our holy faith. She was especially delighted with the choir
ceremonies, of which she asked minute explanations, giving it as her
opinion that they must be representations of what the angels and saints
are doing in heaven. Her life-long grief was that her children had died
without baptism. In the end, she left Quebec for Three Rivers, where an
opportunity offered of doing practical good among the female converts of
her own nation. Her little contemporary went to join the angels, and pray
for her benefactresses in heaven. "Catherine is going to see Jesus and
her Mother Mary," she would smilingly say to her companions when they
came to visit her; "she is very happy, and she will pray for you." And so
she was inconceivably happy to die in the house of Jesus and Mary, and in
the arms of Madame de la Peltrie, who watched her with a mother's love,
and charged her with many a message for the angels, those especially of
the Mothers and the Indians. Her sufferings were very great, but her
patience was equal to them. After death, she was attired in white and
laid in the church, where the savages came in crowds to pray around her
bier. She was the last pupil to whom the venerated Foundress rendered the
final services.

No Bishop had yet been appointed to govern the Church of Canada, ardently
as it desired, and frequently as it had implored the blessing. At last,
in 1659, the privilege was granted, to the universal joy of the colony.
The first ruler of the infant Church was Monseigneur de Laval, who bore
at first the title of Vicar Apostolic only. Of him it may, in truth, be
said, that he was a man according to God's own heart, insensible to human
respect, indefatigable in labour, detached from the world, dead to self,
poor in spirit, a model of humility, and a consoling angel of charity.
One of his first acts on the day of landing was to stand sponsor for a
Huron infant; another, to administer the last sacred rites to a dying
youth of the same nation. This was a worthy commencement of an episcopate
destined to prove so fruitful in works of holiness and of general
utility. The arrival of a vessel infected with fever, soon afforded him
ample opportunity of signalizing his love for his neighbour. Of the two
hundred persons whom it contained, nearly all had been attacked by the
malady; eight had died on the passage; many more had been carried off
after landing. The contagion spread through the town, and the hospital
was quickly filled. The good Pastor was at all times to be found in the
midst of his suffering people, ministering not only to their spiritual,
but even to their corporal necessities. He who could trace his pedigree
through a line of ancestors of the noble house of Montmorency, deemed it
not a degradation, but an honour, to make the beds of the poor patients
in the plague-stricken hospital at Quebec. No argument could induce him
to think of his own safety, for he had learned from the lessons and the
example of his Divine Master, that the good shepherd must be ready to lay
down his life, if needful, for his flock. In his establishment, and in
his personal habits, he was a model of evangelical poverty, but where the
rights of the Church and the dignity of his charge were concerned, he
understood perfectly how to maintain both, and his desire and aim were
ever to surround the ceremonial of religion with all the pomp and majesty
attainable in a country only as yet in its infancy.

The late panic had scarcely subsided, when it was succeeded by another
yet more terrible. In the spring of 1660, the inhabitants of the town
were one day dispersed through the adjoining fields, peacefully engaged
in agricultural pursuits, when suddenly the thrilling news arrived that
twelve hundred Iroquois had assembled in the neighbourhood of Montreal,
with the intention of utterly annihilating the colony. Their plan, it was
said, was to begin with the capital, as the residence of the Governor,
for they argued that the head once destroyed, the members would soon
follow. It would be vain to attempt a description of the universal
consternation occasioned by this intelligence. The first impulse of the
trembling people was to try to propitiate heaven by public prayer;
accordingly, the Blessed Sacrament was exposed, and devotions in honour
of the Blessed Virgin were commenced. The Bishop, alarmed for the safety
of the Nuns, removed the two communities from their own homes to lodgings
near the Jesuits. The remaining inhabitants either fortified their
dwellings or abandoned them for others more securely located. Meantime
the monastery was placed in a state of siege; redoubts were raised; the
windows walled half-way, and well supplied with loop-holes. Every
aperture was carefully closed, and no entrance to the monastery left open
except one narrow door, through which only a single person could pass at
a time. Twenty-four men were placed on guard in the house, and, more
formidable to the enemy than any soldiers, twelve enormous dogs were
stationed on the outside. Woe to the Iroquois who should glide serpent-
like through the tall grass, or lie in ambush in the shade of the
brushwood! The sagacious animals would quickly detect his place of
concealment, fly at him in a bound, and tear him to pieces without
ceremony, a fact so well known to the hostile savages, that they feared
the dogs of the French more than their warriors or their cannon.

Undismayed by the danger, the Mother of the Incarnation obtained
permission to remain in the monastery with three other Sisters, to
prevent disorder and see that the soldiers wanted for nothing. The first
night passed over in safety, but to the inhabitants in general, it was
one of mortal agony. The next morning after Mass, seeing that all was
quiet, the Ursulines and their pupils returned to the convent. In the
evening, they again sought their refuge of the night before, and so
things went on for some weeks. It was a time of cruel suspense. Every
sound was transformed by over-heated imagination into a signal of attack;
every shadow into the form of some stealthy Iroquois; every breath of the
night breeze into the echo of an enemy's approaching step. The vast,
silent solitudes surrounding the town in every direction, the wild aspect
of the unreclaimed land, the gloomy appearance of the thickly wooded
forest seemingly formed expressly to conceal a foe, all combined to
impress the mind with that painful suspicion of unseen danger, which to
many is more torturing than actual peril. Through all the agitation and
alarm, the Mother of the Incarnation retained her accustomed self-
possession, and by the calmness of her demeanour, encouraged the timid
and desponding. During the five weeks' general excitement, she says that
she experienced no fear, though she owns that she endured extreme
fatigue. Sleep, either by day or night, was indeed a stranger to Quebec
for the whole of that most trying period. As time passed on, and no enemy
appeared, courage began to revive, but the dream of hope was soon
dispelled. Once more the people were startled by the dread announcement,
"The Iroquois are coming! They are close at hand!" While the imminence of
the danger froze the life-blood in many a heart, it seemed, however, only
to nerve the arms of the defenders of the town. In a half-an-hour every
man was at his post, prepared to defend it to the last, and surrender it
only with life. Some were even heard to wish in their enthusiasm, that
the alarm might this time prove well founded. Notwithstanding the panic,
confidence in God's providence had not deserted the inhabitants.
"Mother," said one of the workmen to the Mother of the Incarnation, "do
not imagine that the Almighty will permit the enemy to surprise us. No;
He will hear the powerful prayers of the Blessed Virgin on our behalf,
and send some friendly Huron to put us on our guard in time. The Mother
of God has never refused us this favour, nor will she now." The very next
day proved the accuracy of the prediction. Two Huron prisoners who had
miraculously escaped from the hands of the Iroquois, brought the almost
incredible news that the enemy had precipitately retreated, humbled and
confounded at the unexpected resistance which they had encountered. It
was indeed true that the colony was saved, but equally so, that its
Safety had been dearly purchased.

The continual ravages of the Iroquois had hitherto been a standing
obstacle to the progress of the young nation. Wherever they appeared,
utter devastation followed, and as no precaution could prevent, and no
foresight anticipate their incursions, life itself was felt by the
inhabitants to hang merely on a thread. At length, sixteen of the
colonists headed by an officer named Daulac, [Footnote: Sometimes written
Dolard, and Daulard.] resolved to confront the long dreaded foe, and
conquer or die in the cause of faith and country, The determination was a
bold one, and it was carried out with an unflinching spirit. Before
setting out on their expedition, the Christian warriors approached the
sacraments, and in presence of the holy altar promised never to
surrender, and never to desert each other. They took leave of their
friends as if assured of not meeting them on earth again, and having been
joined by forty Hurons and six Algonquins with their respective Chiefs,
they intrenched themselves on the first of May behind a half-ruined
palisade at Saut-des-Chaudières, on the Ottawa river. There for eight
days they resisted an army of seven hundred Iroquois, enduring meantime
the aggravating tortures of hunger, want of sleep, and worst of all,
consuming thirst. Through, the loop-holes of their little fort, they
fired with unerring precision at the Iroquois, decimating them rapidly,
while sustaining but trifling loss themselves. Even after the defection
of twenty-four of the Hurons who were lured over to the enemy by
deceitful promises, the small garrison still counted thirty-five
undaunted hearts, and but for a sad accident, might have maintained its
ground much longer. When the Iroquois bad advanced sufficiently near the
fort to render the attempt practicable, Daulac determined to attach a
fuse to a barrel of gunpowder, and fling it into the midst of them.
Unfortunately the missile caught in a branch, and was thrown back into
the fort, exploding with disastrous consequences to the besieged. The
savages taking advantage of the confusion, forced their way into the
fort;--one more desperate struggle,--then all was over. Only four
Frenchmen and four Hurons fell alive into the bands of the Iroquois, who,
terrified at a victory which had cost them so dearly, returned to their
villages as fast as possible, not daring to carry out the projected
invasion of a country of heroes such as these. Of the prisoners, some
were put to a cruel death; two of the Hurons escaped as we have noticed,
and were the first to bring to Quebec and Montreal the news of the death
of Daulac and his brave companions.

In 1663, on his return from his first voyage to France, Monseigneur de
Laval founded the seminary of Quebec, which he named the Holy Family of
the Foreign Missions. Like all great works, the beginnings of the
institution were small, yet it was destined to exercise a vast and
salutary influence over Canada, and at a later day to acquire wide renown
as the famed Laval University.




CHAPTER IX.

TRADE IN INTOXICATING DRINKS.--AWFUL VISITATION OF DIVINE ANGER.--
REPENTANCE.--NEW ERA OF PROSPERITY.--THE MARQUIS OF TRACY VICEROY.


If association with Europeans had been in some respects a blessing to the
Indians, it must be owned that in others it had proved very much the
reverse. Among the numerous emigrants to Canada, were necessarily a large
proportion of self-interested fortune seekers, who in order to secure a
lucrative traffic with the natives, availed largely of their well-known
propensity for strong drinks. The severest regulations, and the utmost
vigilance of the authorities, though successful for a time, were
powerless to repress the destructive trade permanently. After a short
interruption, it was renewed, now clandestinely, now more openly, but as
it seemed irrepressibly.

The savage in a state of intoxication becomes an ungovernable maniac, who
in the violence of his fury will rush into any excess and commit any
crime. At the epoch which our history has now reached, the terrible vice
threatened to demoralize the entire country, and to destroy the fruit of
all the efforts made to convert the savages. Writing to her son on the
subject, the Mother of the Incarnation says, "We have at present to
contend with an evil far more calamitous in its results, than even the
hostility of the Iroquois. It is unhappily but too true, that this
country now harbours Frenchmen, who for their own selfish ends
deliberately risk the spiritual ruin of the Indians, giving them in
exchange for their beaver skins, those intoxicating liquors which are the
absolute destruction of men, women, and even children." "To satisfy this
insane craving for drink," Father Lalemant adds, "the savage will reduce
himself to beggary; nay, will sell his own children. My ink is not dark
enough," he continues, "to describe in their true colours, the calamities
thus entailed on this infant church; the gall of the dragon would be more
appropriate for the purpose. Suffice it to say, that in one month, we
lose the fruit of our labours of ten or twenty years."

After every means of persuasion had been exhausted, a sentence of
excommunication was at last pronounced against all who persevered in
trading in the prohibited article, but not even the thunders of the
Church could intimidate the hardened transgressors, and so the evil
continued undiminished. Profoundly afflicted at so daring an insult to
the Most High, and so fatal an interruption to the work of grace among
the Indians, all the servants of God in Canada united in earnest prayer
for the repentance of the sinful, but from no heart did the petition for
mercy ascend more fervently or more continuously, than from that of the
Mother of the Incarnation, who not content with simply imploring the
conversion of the people, offered herself as a victim for their
transgressions, consenting to assume the responsibility of their crimes,
and to endure the punishment which they merited. The prayer of charity
was heard, but if the Almighty condescended to arouse His people to a
sense of their iniquity, it was not without a very awful manifestation of
His power.

During the autumn of 1662, such extraordinary signs had from time to time
been seen in the air, that the more thoughtful were impressed with a
vague fear of impending calamities, while even the least serious were not
altogether unmoved. These horrors, however, were but faint foreshadowings
of those to come. The evening of Shrove Monday, February the 5th, 1663,
was calm and serene; no eye however keen, no ear however sensitive could
have detected sight or sound indicative of the approaching catastrophe.
Forgetful of past warnings, and undisturbed by present misgivings, the
unreflecting crowd plunged into the exciting pleasures of gay carnival.
About half-past five o'clock, the town was alarmed by a distant rumbling,
such as might be produced by the rapid passage of a number of carriages
over a stone pavement. This unnatural sound was followed by another, and
a louder, which seemed to combine the crackling of flames, the rattling
of hailstones, the muttering of thunder and the dashing of the waves on
the sea shore. Clouds of thick dust obscured the air; the earth trembled,
rose, fell, undulated like the billows of the ocean, and burst open in
innumerable places. The trees of the old forest swayed back and forwards
like reeds in a hurricane, and were uprooted by hundreds. Entire forests
were in some instances swallowed by the yawning abyss, so that only the
tops of a few trees could be seen. Mountains were torn from their beds;
rocks were rent, and enormous blocks of stone rolled into the valleys,
crushing all before them. The houses were shaken to the foundation, and
tottered as though they would have fallen; the walls were split asunder,
the floors gave way, the doors opened or closed violently, without being
touched. The church bells, set in motion by the swaying of the belfries,
tolled mournfully to the accompaniment of the wild cries of terrified
animals and the shrill screams of equally frightened children. The
convulsion of the water was not less fearful than that of the land. The
ice, five or six feet in depth, burst with a crash like the roar of
cannon; huge blocks were shot up into the air, and fell again to the
earth, shivered into powder, while from the openings, clouds of smoke or
jets of mud and sand were projected to a great height. The fish darted in
terror from the turbulent waters, and it was noticed that one species,
abandoning its usual haunts, made its way to a lake where it had never
been seen before. The springs were either choked, or impregnated with
sulphur. The waters of some of the rivers became red, others yellow; the
St. Lawrence as far as Tadoussac appeared white.

Stunned by the suddenness of the calamity, and utterly unable to
comprehend it, some thought that a fire had broken out, and ran for help;
others that the Indians had made an incursion, and flew to arms, but soon
the momentarily increasing violence of the shocks led to the universal
conclusion that the end of the world had come. The consternation both of
French and Indians can hardly be imagined. The general impulse was to
hasten to the churches, and prepare to appear before the judgment seat of
God, and truly wonderful were the conversions which ensued: a missioner
afterwards told the Mother of the Incarnation, that he had himself heard
eight hundred general confessions at that period of panic. After a half-
an-hour, the oscillations of the earth became fainter, without however
wholly ceasing, but about eight o'clock there was a second shock so
severe, that the Sisters who were at the time standing in their stalls
chanting the Office, were all thrown to the ground. The earthquake
continued at intervals for a full year, the first five months in its
original force, the remainder of the period with less violence. Sometimes
the motion of the earth was like the pitching of a large vessel dragging
heavily at its anchors; at others, it was hurried and irregular, creating
sudden, and occasionally very violent jerks, but in general it was merely
tremulous. During all that time, men lived in constant dread of immediate
death, and actually withered away from fear. The Lent was spent by the
Sisters in redoubled austerities, and increasing prayers to appease the
anger of God. "Every evening," the Mother of the Incarnation wrote to her
son, "we disposed ourselves to be engulphed in the yawning earth before
morning, and when a new day dawned, we prepared to stand in God's
presence before its close."

After the fearful convulsion of nature had at last ceased, its terrible
traces were but too distinctly visible over the entire country. In some
parts, mountains had disappeared, swallowed by the gaping earth, or
precipitated into adjacent rivers, leaving vast chasms in the places
which they had occupied; in others, new ones had suddenly arisen. Lakes
were to be seen in localities previously occupied by forests. A new
island had sprung up in the St. Lawrence; volcanic craters had burst
open; some rivers had been turned from, their course, others totally
lost. A rocky mountainous district of three hundred miles in extent, had
been levelled as if some mighty harrow had passed over it. The earthquake
seems to have extended more than six hundred miles in length, and about
three hundred in breadth; thus one hundred and eighty thousand square
miles of land were convulsed at the same moment. A most singular
circumstance connected with the awful visitation is, that not a single
individual perished, or was even slightly injured.

At last, Almighty wrath was appeased; salutary fear of the Divine
judgments had done its work, and so the avenging angel was permitted to
sheathe his fiery sword. The restored serenity of nature seemed
emblematic of the recovered peace of the people, who, in their
reconciliation with God, and their resolution of amendment, had adopted
the most effectual security against a repetition of the late disasters.
Their return to duty seemed the signal of a new era of benediction.

In 1663, the Marquis of Tracy was nominated Viceroy, and as no
arrangement could possibly have been more advantageous to Canada at that
particular crisis, the news of his appointment was received with an
enthusiasm equalled only by that which at a later period greeted his
arrival. He had for many years occupied a very high position in the
French army, and had been equally distinguished through life for courage
in danger, and prudence in negotiation. His commission obliging him in
the first place to re-establish the authority of France in Cayenne, which
had leagued with the Dutch, and then, to restore order in the French
Antilles, he did not land at Quebec until the 30th of June, 1665. If he
had chosen the season expressly with a view to first favourable
impressions, the selection could not have been more judicious. Nature was
then looking her loveliest. On the old time-honoured rock stood the
little capital, in the first flush of its youth, like clinging childhood
beside protecting age. Scattered over the height were the houses of the
French, intermingled with religious edifices of sufficiently imposing
appearance, the whole crowned by the romantically-situated Castle of St.
Louis. Here and there a solitary Indian wigwam nestled among the trees;
the glorious river, flashed and sparkled in the morning light; the grand
old woods towered in the background, looking like links between the past,
with its solemn memories, and the present, with its hopes so bright and
fair. With all its variety of picturesque contrasts, Quebec must
certainly have presented a striking scene on that lovely summer's day
when the Marquis of Tracy saw it for the first time.

Charmed with the country, and profoundly interested in the inhabitants,
he entered on his functions with an ardour and energy which augured well
for his success. His sole ambition from the very first was to promote the
happiness of the people over whom he was called to rule, and whom he
loved with the tenderness of a father. The poorest savages were as much
the objects of his paternal solicitude, as the highest dignitaries among
the French. He listened to their harangues with the kindest interest, and
accepted their little presents with the most amiable condescension. The
King had assigned four companies of the regiment of Carignan for his
bodyguard, and, to the colonists unaccustomed to the sight of regular
troops, they formed a splendid spectacle. As to the Indians, they had
never even imagined anything so grand.

One of the first objects of the Viceroy was the effectual repression of
the audacious Iroquois, who, though sorely humbled by the glorious feat
of the heroes of Ville Marie, continued to disturb the colony to the
utmost extent of their power, and still proved an insuperable obstacle to
its steady progress. The. harvest could not be gathered in safety; life
was yet insecure, and there were times of particular alarm, when the more
timid entertained serious notions of returning permanently to France.
There was, however, strong reason to hope that as consternation had once
been created in the ranks of the savages by a mere handful of resolute
champions, they would now be thoroughly and effectually intimidated by a
force comprising not only all the brave spirits of the colony, but also
the brilliant guard of the Marquis of Tracy. A resolution was accordingly
taken to proceed from defensive to aggressive measures, and attack the
enemy in the heart of his own territory. The expedition was unavoidably
delayed until September, 1666. The pious commander chose the feast of the
Exaltation of the Holy Cross for the day of its departure, and the brave
warriors secured the protection of the God of Armies by approaching the
Holy Sacraments. Although advanced in years, the Viceroy would take the
personal direction of his troops in this most perilous and arduous
journey of four hundred and fifty miles, carrying on his shoulders, like
the meanest soldier, his arms, provisions, and baggage. The savages were
panic-stricken at the sight of so large an army; the brilliant uniforms,
the colours, the martial music, above all the rolling of the drums,
inspired them with such extreme terror that they fled without striking a
blow. Their four large villages at once fell a prey to the invaders, who
reduced them to ashes, in order to compel the owners to sue for peace.
The enormous quantity of Indian meal found in these hamlets would have
sufficed to support the colony for two years if it could have been
removed. Besides abundance of provisions, the cabins contained a variety
of articles of furniture scarcely to have been looked for, in the huts of
savages. The next day, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass was offered on the
spot in thanksgiving for the bloodless victory, the ceremonial closing by
a solemn, _Te Deum_. From the departure of the army until the news
of its triumph, the Forty Hours' prayer had been continued without
intermission at the Ursuline monastery, and in private families as well
as in the public churches, unceasing supplications had been offered to
God for the success of the French arms. Dreading the annihilation of
their tribe, the Iroquois were only too happy to sue for peace, and
willingly gave up several of their families as hostages. [Footnote: The
restoration of Anne Baillargeon, already noticed in our little sketch of
Mother St. Joseph, belongs to this period.] At their own request, three
Jesuits were sent to reside among them, and then each day witnessed some
new conversions. Their famous chief, Garakontié, was baptized and
confirmed in the cathedral of Quebec by Monseigneur Laval, whom he humbly
thanked after the ceremony for having opened to him the doors of the
Church and of Paradise. Finding the surroundings of their pagan homes a
great obstacle to the practice of their holy faith, the new Christians
determined to establish themselves among the French, where they could
serve God in peace. To meet their wishes, the Jesuits prepared a
residence for them on the rich prairie of the Madeleine, situated on the
south bank of the St. Lawrence, nearly opposite Montreal. The
indispensable condition of admission was a solemn promise to avoid
intemperance. This mission of St. Francis Xavier-du-Sault was afterwards
celebrated for the number and fervour of its converts, and became the
nucleus of the Iroquois colony, destined later on to play an important
part in the affairs of the Canadian nation.

After having given a decided and permanent impulse to the prosperity of
the country, and in all respects faithfully fulfilled his mission, the
Marquis of Tracy was honourably recalled to France, but he never lost his
interest in the welfare of Canada. His departure was regretted by all
parties in the colony, and not least by the Ursulines, to whom he had
shown himself a devoted and efficient friend. "This young church will
sustain an indescribable loss in him," wrote the Mother of the
Incarnation. "Had it nothing else to be grateful for, his example alone
was a priceless blessing. He has been seen to spend six consecutive hours
in the church, where his very appearance was in itself a striking lesson.
He is truly a model of piety and virtue, and so greatly is he beloved
that his influence is irresistible." Fortunately for Canada, he left
after him two men thoroughly imbued with his own spirit--Monsieur de
Courcelles, the Governor, and the celebrated Intendant, Talon, under
whose joint administration the country made more progress than since its
first colonization. Thus it happened that from. its founder, Champlain,
onwards, Canada had hitherto been greatly blessed in its rulers.

Before we close this chapter, we shall take a glance at Quebec as it was
in 1670, three years after the departure of the Marquis of Tracy, when we
shall find it much altered since we saw it first at the arrival of the
Mother of the Incarnation. Its scanty population has swelled to upwards
of four thousand. The scattered huts which constituted the town, have
been replaced by comfortable dwellings. Churches and convents have sprung
up. Manufactures of serge and of hempen cloth have been introduced. A
market, a brewery, and a tannery have been opened. The ground has been
considerably cleared, and the agricultural resources of the country have
been developed; three-fourths of the inhabitants can now live on the
produce of the land, merely at the cost of their own labour. Commercial
relations have been, established with France and the West Indian islands.
The cod fishery of Newfoundland promises to become a source of immense
revenue. Mines of lead, slate, and coal have been discovered near
Montreal. Money, once so so scarce, has become abundant since the arrival
of the Marquis of Tracy and his suite. [Footnote: It is interesting to
renew the glance something about two hundred years later, and note time's
work. The Quebec of today consists of an upper and a lower town. The
former, standing on that side of Cape Diamond which slopes towards the
river St. Charles, contains the principal public buildings, the dwellings
of the wealthy, and the best shops; the latter, extending for two or
three miles on a narrow strip of land between the St. Lawrence and the
cliffs, is densely crowded with stores, merchants' offices, warehouses
and inns. The communication between the two is by a winding street and
steep flights of steps, at the top of which is a fortified gate. No scene
can be more imposing than Quebec and its surroundings, as it first breaks
on a traveller sailing up the river. Nothing of the city is visible until
the spectator has reached a line between the west coast of the Isle of
Orleans and Point Levi, and then all the beauties of the magnificent
scene burst suddenly on his view. The Isle of Orleans is fertile, well
cultivated, and in the centre well wooded. Point Levi is a large,
picturesque village, with brightly-painted cottages, and a romantic
little church. From these, the eye turns to the abrupt promontory, three
hundred and fifty feet in height, crested by the city and battlements of
Quebec. The impregnable citadel, the dense mass of buildings, the bright
tinned steeples o£ the churches and roofs of the houses, the fleets of
ships at the quays, the vessels on the stocks or being launched, the
steamers plying in every direction, the multitude of boats of every
shape, the Indian wigwams at Point Levi, the vast rafts floating down the
St. Lawrence with their cargo of timber from the forests of the Ottawa;
farther on, the cataract of Montmorenci tumbling into the St. Lawrence
over a ledge of rock two hundred and twenty feet in height; the houses,
churches and woods of Beauport and Charlesbourg; the high grounds, spire,
and homesteads of St. Joseph; the miles of richly cultivated country,
terminating in a ridge of mountains--all form a picture which once seen
can never be forgotten. The vast, grand landscape is, in fact, one of the
most striking in the Old World or the New.--_Chiefly from Martin's
British Colonies_.] "Merchants will now find this country a high road
to fortune," says the Mother of the Incarnation, from whose letters we
have borrowed the above details. "As for us," adds the saintly Mother,
"_our fortune is made_; we are the portion of Jesus Christ, and
Jesus Christ is ours; the only wealth we covet is the possession of
Himself, and this we can secure by observing our holy rule, and
faithfully accomplishing His blessed will. Ask His Divine Majesty to give
us grace to do so."

Cheering as was the Venerable Mother's account of Canada, all, however,
was not sunshine. At one time we hear of a fearful storm, attended by
immense loss of property; at another, of a pestilential fever brought to
the town by foreign vessels. One winter was so rigorous, that many of the
Sisters made up their minds to be frozen; a later one was, if possible,
still more severe. "During the last thirty-one years," remarks the
Mother, "we certainly have had time to forget the comforts of our old
homes in France." She might have added, with perfect truth, that their
generous spirits were as indifferent to the privations of the new home,
as they were detached from the luxuries of the old.

It was in the year of which we write, 1670, that Quebec was elevated to
the dignity of a Bishopric.




CHAPTER X.

LINGERING ILLNESS OF THE MOTHER OF THE INCARNATION.--LAST ILLNESS AND
DEATH OF MADAME DE LA PELTRIE.


In 1670, the original little community of three, had multiplied to
twenty, but if its numbers had increased, so had its work. Once more,
then, it became necessary to call on France for help, and once more the
appeal was cordially responded to by two Sisters from the convent at
Paris, and two from that of Bourges, who arrived in the spring of the
next year. Of the three first pillars of the edifice, one had
disappeared; the two remaining were, alas! soon to follow. Dom Claude
Martin prefaces his notice of the long illness which preceded the death
of his saintly Mother by the remark, that no cross is more holy or more
meritorious than that which God Himself imposes. Crosses of our own
choice he says, are, no doubt, agreeable to Him, when borne with love and
patience, but there is danger that self-will may mingle with them and
diminish their value; and again, they are not likely to be always
judiciously chosen. But there is nothing to fear in crosses of
Providence; they bear the stamp of the will of God alone; and, as He
never permits His creatures to be tempted beyond their strength, He
either sends light trials suitable to their weakness, or with the,
heavier ones, strength in proportion. Sickness being among the precious
crosses of Providence, it was not to be expected that the Mother of the
Incarnation should have been exempted from it, and thus deprived of the
opportunity of increasing her patience and fortifying her other virtues.
As far back as 1664, she had received her remote summons to her eternal
home. A complication of violent maladies then brought her apparently so
near death, that she received the last sacraments amidst the sighs and
tears of her loving children. The news of her illness plunged the whole
city into mourning; each family felt as if it were about to lose a
mother, and day and night heaven was besieged by one uninterrupted
supplication that she might be spared yet longer. Finding that remedies
only aggravated her excruciating sufferings, the physicians determined at
last to leave her in the hands of God, whose will it seemed to be that
the remainder of her life should be passed on the cross. That life of
crucifixion was destined to endure eight weary years, from the first date
of her illness, before the dawn of the eternal day should at last dispel
the long night of pain and sorrow. "I cannot shake off the effects of my
severe sickness," she wrote to Her son, "and I still find them very
trying, although nature has now become familiarized with suffering. But I
am happy under my cross, because the cross was the chosen portion of
Jesus. Viewed in the light of God, my trials are so welcome, that my only
apprehension, is lest I should constrain our Lord to chastise my
infidelities by removing, or at least, diminishing them. Some say that it
is excess of work which has undermined my health, but I maintain with
more truth, that my illness is a precious pledge of the love of my God,
for which I heartily thank Him." She was perfectly indifferent as to the
result of her malady, desiring, as she said, neither life nor death, but
only the God of life and death. During six of these years of lingering
malady, she bore the weight of authority for the third time, her
Director, who understood the blessing of her government to the community,
having opposed her request for permission to resign it. That she could
even exist in the state of exhaustion and emaciation to which she was
reduced, seemed a miracle, yet she fulfilled all the duties of each day
most punctually; she allowed herself no additional rest, rising as usual
summer and winter at four o'clock; she assisted at all the observances,
applied unremittingly to the functions of her charge; wrote an amazing
number of letters, and when fatigue or weakness incapacitated her from
more laborious business, she occupied her leisure in painting or
embroidery, for both of which she had an exquisite taste. The fruit of
her beautiful work in this way went to adorn altars and churches. Burning
with zeal for the salvation of the Indians, and wishing in a manner to
prolong her apostolate among them after death, she devoted herself
untiringly to the preparation of the younger Sisters destined to succeed
her in the charge of instructing them. In the winter mornings, she
assembled them round her to teach them the Indian dialects, and knowing
from experience the difficulty of committing the vocabularies to memory,
she determined to leave them as much help from manuscripts as possible.
Accordingly, between the commencement of the Lent of 1668, and the feast
of the following Ascension, she accomplished the writing of a large
volume of sacred history in Algonquin, and a dictionary and catechism in
Iroquois. The preceding year she had written a voluminous Algonquin
dictionary.

Four or five years before her end, she wrote to her son, "When you
receive the news of my demise, I beg you to get as many Masses as
possible said for me by the Reverend Fathers of your holy Congregation.
To all appearance, I have not, it is true, any immediate prospect of
death, but at my age, the end cannot be far off. My infirmities, too, are
a perpetual warning to keep myself ever prepared to render an account of
my life, especially of the misuse of great graces, for which I shall
suffer long in the fire of Purgatory, unless powerfully succoured by the
suffrages of the Church. I am very fortunate in being able to calculate
on your help and that of your good Fathers, hoping that through your
united sacrifices I shall the sooner behold Him whom my heart and soul
long to bless and praise for ever. Oh! how happy shall we be when this
has become our sole employment! It is now forty years since by an immense
favour God called me to praise Him on earth, as the angels and saints
praise Him in heaven. This favour has been the source of great and
magnificent graces to my soul, but there can be no doubt that, owing to
my imperfections and distractions, something of my own spirit has mingled
with those Divine praises, hence I continually say, "Who can understand
sin? From my secret sins, cleanse me, O Lord" (Ps. xviii 13). I have not
only numerous external defects, but a vast number besides of hidden and
internal, for all of which I shall be rigorously punished, unless you
obtain my pardon through the Holy Sacrifice. The purity which God
requires of a soul elevated to a close and constant union with his
Adorable Majesty, is infinitely precious, and it is the high standard at
which I estimate it, which renders me fearful, but underlying the fear is
a peace profound beyond words to describe. Pray that this peace may be
solid, because in the spiritual life, there is much false peace. I have
boundless confidence in the adorable Blood of our Divine Saviour,
bequeathed by Him as a rich and permanent legacy to His Church."

But after all, the Mother of the Incarnation was not to be the next of
the three foundation-stones removed to the Heavenly Jerusalem. In the
designs of God, Madame de la Peltrie was to precede her; the interval
between both deaths, however, was to be very short, so that the hearts
united in life, should not be long divided after its close. Five months
only before the Mother of the Incarnation, the gentle, pious Foundress
was called away, after a violent and short attack of pleurisy. The main
points of her history, both before and after her vocation to the foreign
mission, are already known to us; the hidden virtues of her obscure life
in Canada are less easily discerned. Humility and zeal for God's glory
seem to have been the characteristics of her sanctity. The meanest
offices were those for which alone she felt herself qualified, and which,
therefore, she was not only ever ready to embrace, but to plead for.
During eighteen years, she had charge of the general clothing, and the
only drawback to her enjoyment of the duty was that the articles she
could provide were not as good as she would have wished. For herself were
reserved the old patched garments too bad for anyone else. The last place
in the choir and refectory was the one which she selected. She could not
bear to be addressed as the Foundress, saying that she was a worthless
creature who did nothing but offend God. Never was she heard to speak of
herself, except to depreciate her own merit. She followed the common rule
with regard to food and rising, except, indeed, that she often
anticipated the hour of the latter, early as it was. Although she had
received the gift of uninterrupted prayer, and could speak admirably to
seculars who applied to her for advice, among the religious she never
touched on spiritual subjects, fearing to appear better than she believed
herself to be. Frail and weakly as her health was, she practised
austerities which would have tried persons of robust constitution,
redoubling them whenever she heard that some particular soul was in
unusual danger, and therefore required unusual help. Honouring our Lord
in the indigent, she was never so pleased as when she could clothe and
console the poor. Of her love for the Indian pupils, we have more than
once had occasion to speak, but it would be difficult to do it justice.
She seemed to feel that she never could do enough not only to serve, but
even to please and gratify her dear children. It was her delight to see
herself surrounded by them, to receive and return their caresses, to head
their processions, lead them on pious pilgrimages, and even give them
little excursions for amusement. The means of carrying out her projects
of charity often failed, but the charity never, so it was often said that
if her pecuniary resources were only as large as her heart, all the
Indian children, and their parents too, would be well provided for.
Inseparably united in heart to Jesus in His most adorable Sacrament, she
found her sweetest earthly happiness in Holy Communion, and made it her
practice to procure as many Masses as possible for the convent, assisting
at them all with the respect and fervour of an angel. Her great devotion
to the Blessed Sacrament inspired her with a desire to build a church
adjoining the monastery, in which she happily succeeded. The foundation-
stone was laid in 1656, and two years and a half later the sacred edifice
was completed.

Her death sickness lasted but seven days, yet short as was the interval,
it sufficed to exhibit her virtues in all their lustre. In death, even
more if possible than in life, she showed herself humble, affable,
patient, obedient, mortified, united to God, and resigned to His holy
will. In death too, she clung with all her old love to the evangelical
poverty which had long had irresistible charms for her, for the sake of
Him who became poor, that we might be enriched. Seeing near her bed a few
delicacies which the hand of affection had provided, she had them
immediately removed, saying that dainties were inconsistent with poverty.
It would indeed have been difficult to detect anything incompatible with
poverty in the humble room, where lay expiring the once envied heiress of
large possessions. A poor bed, two straw chairs and a wooden table
constituted all the furniture; a picture of the Crucifixion, the only
ornament. When asked if she regretted life, she answered that the day of
her death was more precious to her than all the years of her existence
united. The day which proved her last, happened to be Wednesday, a
coincidence which filled her heart with joy. "Oh! how happy I should be,"
she said, "if God called me on this day, dedicated to St. Joseph!" Every
hour seemed to her like a year, so vehement was her desire to be
dissolved and to be with Christ. She continually asked how soon she might
expect the blissful moment which would unite her to her Sovereign Good
for ever, and she begged the loving Sisters who surrounded her bed,
constantly to whisper to her the words of the Psalmist, "I rejoiced at
the things that were said to me: we shall go into the house of the Lord."
(Ps. cxxi.1.) She gently expired at eight o'clock on the evening of
November the 12th, 1671, aged sixty-eight years, thirty-two of which she
had passed in Canada. Her interment was attended by all persons of
position in the city and its environs. Considering herself unworthy to
inhabit the monastery which she had founded, she had begged as an alms a
last resting-place in the vault destined for the religious. Contrary to
her intentions, her remains were inclosed in a leaden coffin. By her own
directions, her heart was buried under the altar step of the Jesuits'
Church, that it might crumble into its original dust at the feet of the
God of the Tabernacle, a holocaust of His love.




CHAPTER XI

LAST ILLNESS AND HAPPY DEATH OF THE VENERABLE MOTHER MARY OF THE
INCARNATION.


In the middle of the January following the death of the venerated
Foundress, the Mother of the Incarnation relapsed into violent illness.
Her previous symptoms re-appeared, with the addition of indescribably
painful tumors in both sides. Unable to rest in any position, consumed
with fever, tortured in every nerve, not a sigh, or moan, or movement
betrayed her agonies, and yet, at that moment, the hand of God pressed
heavily on her soul as well as on her body. That she might resemble Him
to the end, her crucified Lord presented her once more with the bitter
cup of interior dereliction which she had so often before shared with
Him, again despoiling the inferior part of the soul of those heavenly
consolations which would so greatly have lightened the pressure of
physical suffering. "It is hard," the "Imitation of Christ" says, "to
want all comfort, human and Divine," but the Venerable Mother was well
familiarized with the privation, of both. In the purity of her love, she
sought only the accomplishment of the will of her God. "With Christ I am
nailed to the cross," she said in a holy transport, and none understood
better than she, that it is good to be with Christ even on the cross. The
physicians having declared the malady hopeless on the fifth day; she
received the last sacraments, made her profession of faith, and then
asked pardon, first of the Father Superior and of her director, then of
the Mother Superior and community, thanking them for their charity and
expressing her regret at the trouble which her long illness had
occasioned them. Hearing shortly after, that the grand-daughter of an
Algonquin Chief had just joined the seminary, she expressed a wish to see
the child, and after affectionately caressing her, she once more
impressively exhorted her dear Sisters ever cordially to cherish her
"joys," as she called the Indians. All the pupils, both French and
savage, were repeatedly brought to receive her blessing.

Overwhelmed with the deepest grief, the religious redoubled their prayers
and mortifications, beseeching that their precious Mother might be left
to them even a little longer. She could not understand their desire to
prolong a life which she deemed useless, but her director, Father
Lalemant, comprehending her value to the community far better than she
did herself, and compassionating the affliction of her children,
commanded her to join in their prayers for her restoration. The order
startled her, but at once raising her eyes and hands to heaven, she said,
"I think I shall die of this illness, however if God wills that I should
live longer, I am resigned." "That is all well, Mother," replied the
inexorable Father, "but it is not enough; you must take our side of the
question, and do your best to preserve yourself to the community, which
still has need of you." The direction was too explicit to admit of
appeal; preferring obedience to sacrifice, as had even been her practice,
she said, almost in the words of her own St. Martin of Tours, "My Lord
and my God! if Thou seest that I am still necessary to this little
community, I refuse not pain or labour: may Thy will be done!" A change
for the better was at once apparent, and so wonderfully rapid was the
improvement, that at his next visit, the physician who had pronounced her
recovery hopeless, declared her out of danger. She assisted at the solemn
Te Deum which was offered in the choir in thanksgiving for her
restoration, and with her usual sweet affability received the
congratulations of her now happy daughters, as well as of her numerous
friends Presents of the most delicate food were sent from every quarter
to tempt her appetite; she tried to partake of it through condescension,
but since the commencement of her illness eight years before, her palate
had retained a bitterness which imparted the flavour of gall to every
species of nourishment, and necessarily created a loathing for it.

Her convalescence continued during the Lent; she was able to join in the
ceremonies of Palm Sunday, and on Good Friday, to assist at the Passion
and the Adoration of the Cross, but that evening, she felt compelled to
tell the Mother Superior that she was suffering excessively from the
tumors in both sides. They proved to be abscesses, which on the next day
had to be laid open to the bone. She bore this, and subsequent torturing
operations as if she had been deprived of all sense of feeling. Once she
slightly shuddered, and then she accused herself of impatience, and asked
forgiveness. The humility, meekness, and charity always so striking in
her seemed to have gained an increase under this new test, but it was
because she had laid up an abundant store of them in the days of her
strength, that they did not fail in the hour of nature's weakness, when,
above all, is proved the truth of the maxim, that it is the moment of
trial which shows what we really are. When, long years before, she had
offered herself to God as His Victim, it was with the full comprehension
that the title implied a life of suffering and sacrifice; now that the
hour of immolation had come, she renewed the oblation, content to bear
her excruciating pains to the day of judgment, if only God could be thus
honoured, and the salvation of souls promoted. Some of the Sisters having
asked her to share her merits with them, she replied with a smile, "All
belongs to the savages; I have no longer anything of my own." The holy
Communion, which she received every alternate day, continued to be her
support in death, as it had been in life. By the end of the week, it was
apparent that her strength was declining, and her life fast passing away.
When informed that all chance of recovery was at an end, her countenance
beamed with celestial joy, and from that moment until her last, her
existence was one almost uninterrupted ecstasy. Although constantly
absorbed in God, she replied sweetly and amiably to all who spoke to her,
but at the same time in as few words as possible. The Mother St.
Athanasius, who never left her, asked if she had any commission for her
son. She seemed affected at the question, and begged the Mother to let
him know that she would bear him to heaven in her heart and pray for his
perfect sanctification. On the morning of the 30th of April, feeling that
the last hour was near, she wished to bid a final adieu to her dear
little Indians. She blessed them with all the love of her great heart,
and then spoke a few impressive words to them in their own language on
the beauty of our holy mysteries and the happiness of serving God. At
mid-day, she entered into her agony, if that could be called an agony,
where there was no struggle. Although she lost her speech and hearing, it
was easy to see that her soul was intimately united to God. Her trembling
hand still tried to lift the crucifix to her lips, and when her confessor
would have rendered her this service, he found it so impossible to
disengage the beloved image from her grasp, that he had to substitute
another. A few minutes before six in the evening, she opened her eyes and
looked at her dear Sisters, as if to take a last farewell of them, then
closed them for ever to earth. At six o'clock, two faint sighs were
heard,--so faint, that but for the breathless stillness of the room they
must have been inaudible, but the hearing of affection is acute, and
every heart present caught the feeble echo, and interpreted it correctly.
Death had come at last, but death in a form so fair, that even angels
might have envied it, if angels could die. In its flight to God, her pure
soul seemed to have left a lingering ray of glory flitting round the
calm, still features, which shone as if illumined with heaven's own
light, and almost dazzled the beholders by their seraphic beauty. All the
Sisters witnessed and attested the prodigy; tradition has faithfully
handed it down even to our own day, and still, as each revolving year
brings round the 30th of April, a solemn Te Deum resounds through the
Ursuline Church at Quebec, as a thanksgiving to God for the exceptional
privileges attending the blessed death of the Mother Mary of the
Incarnation.

To say that grief for her loss was universal, would be more than
superfluous. Throughout the country, she had for many a year been known,
consulted, prized, revered, beloved: now that the Mother was taken from
amidst her children, no wonder that the children were lonely and that
they mourned their desolation. It would be impossible to describe the
feelings of the savages; as soon as the news of her death reached Sillery
and Loretto, they came crowding round the monastery to pray for her whom
they had loved so well and with so much reason. "Our Mother is dead !" It
was all they said, and all they had to say. Sorrow like theirs was too
deep for words, and to show that they felt it so, they followed up the
pathetic exclamation by a gesture indicating that they would speak no
more. The Sisters, overcome by their child-like grief, tried to
administer to them the comfort of which they were themselves so much in
need, and then both went their respective ways to await in prayers and
tears the sad, solemn hour which was to hide from them for ever, the
object of their reverence and love.

From early dawn on the day of the interment, the convent church was
filled to overflowing with a reverential crowd, all eager to pay the last
honours to the venerated servant of God. Bishop Laval being then in
France, the obsequies were performed by Monsieur de Bernières, Vicar-
General of the diocese, Father Superior of the monastery, and nephew to
the kind friend of the same name who had so efficiently promoted the
success of the Ursuline foundation at Quebec. The funeral oration was
preached by Father Lalemant, who better than any one else could do
justice to his subject, and then the cherished and revered Mother of
Canada was laid to her rest, in the vault destined as the place of
sepulture of the community.

Unwilling to lose all trace of her dear familiar features, the
authorities both civil and religious joined in requesting that while
there was yet time, her likeness might be secured. Accordingly, the day
after the interment the coffin was uncovered, and an artist sent by the
Governor succeeded in taking a remarkably correct one. This portrait was
unfortunately consumed in the second conflagration of the monastery in
1686. That which now hangs in the community room of the Ursuline convent,
Quebec, was sent from France.

The Mother of the Incarnation was tall, and the dignity of her deportment
was so striking, that while she was in the world, persons were often seen
to stand and look at her as she proceeded unconsciously through the
streets on her missions of devotion or charity. The gravity of her
demeanour was tempered by the modesty of her address, and the courteous
affability of her manner. Her features were regular, but their chief
attraction lay in their expression, which seemed like a revelation of the
invisible beauty of her soul. The irresistible sweetness of her glance
appeared to leave a trace of heaven wherever it fell, and although her
habitual interior union with God communicated something of an unearthly
air to her exterior, no one ever felt restrained or ill at ease in her
company. Her constitution was strong, and thereby fitted for the life of
unceasing labour to which God called her. She possessed mental qualities
of a high order, had great natural abilities, and was what the world
would call a clever woman of business, but best of all, she was a saint.
From the hour, when at seven years of age she consecrated her young soul
to God, until that when at seventy-two, she surrendered it into His
hands, her one sole aim had been to adorn it with every virtue, so that
it might become ever more and more pleasing in the eyes of His Divine
Majesty, and so well did she succeed in this her holy object, that the
history of her life, is in fact the history of her virtues; in studying
the one, we have at the same time been making acquaintance with the
other. Much however as we have learned of those resplendent virtues, we
fain would pause a moment longer on them before relinquishing her sweet
company, just as we love to linger over a beautiful sunset, and even
after the great orb has disappeared, still to watch the traces of his
departing glory resting on the golden clouds.

As the virtues of the Mother of the Incarnation have passed in review
before us in the course of her history, the same thought may perhaps have
occurred to us, as to her son, Dom Claude Martin, that where all were so
admirable, it would be difficult to say which was the most worthy of
special notice. She was raised up, we know, to glorify God both in her
own person and in that of her neighbour; in her own, by her individual
sanctification,--in that of her neighbour by leading many souls to
heaven. For the fulfilment of this two-fold destiny, it is evident that
she had need of a deep ground-work of humility, with a vast fund of
charity and self-abnegation; accordingly we find her possessed of these
virtues in such perfection, that remarkable as she was for every other,
we may perhaps consider her greatest of all in these. In the exalted
degree of union with Himself by which the Almighty recompensed her
generosity, we adore His own immense, gratuitous liberality;--in the
heroism with which, aided by Divine grace, she died to every human
feeling, we admire the grandeur of her own utter detachment from self,
and the beauty of her thoroughly spiritualized nature.

Her humility, she had early established on the fundamental principles,
that God is all, and the creature nothing. From these two truths, as from
two great fountain heads, came the one absorbing desire of her life, that
the All should engulph the nothing; that God should be exalted and she
herself annihilated; hence, there was no height to which she would not
have soared to promote honour to God, and no depth to which she would not
have descended to procure her own abasement. The generosity of her
humility inspired her equally to undertake great things for her Divine
Master, when His service required them, and to remain contentedly in
inaction when this was more agreeable to Him. Far from attaching any
importance to the benefits which she had conferred on the monastery, she
looked on herself as useless, sincerely believing that she was tolerated
in the house of God only through charity. "I know nothing," she wrote; "I
do nothing in comparison with my Sisters; although I teach others, I am
the most ignorant of all." That these were no mere empty words was proved
by her insatiable thirst for humiliation, to which her humble soul was
drawn by the consideration of God's greatness and her own nothingness, as
a stone to its centre by its natural weight. In reading of the success
which crowned her labours, and the universal love and reverence which her
great qualities inspired, we are tempted to imagine, that whatever may
have been her interior crosses, she must at least have been a stranger to
the mortifications which come to us from others. But it was not so. She
loved humiliation in her heart of hearts, as the appropriate homage of
the nothing to the All, and God loved her too much to spare it, therefore
all through life, in youth as in mature age, in Canada as in France, in
religion as in the world, it followed her like a shadow. "I am destined
for the cross," she wrote to one of the Mothers at Tours; "trials are my
lot, and in them is my peace; help me to return thanks to Him who
provides for me so generously." She was contradicted and slighted; she
was suspected, misjudged and misrepresented, sometimes to test her
virtue, sometimes from more questionable motives, but the possibility
that she could he wronged or unjustly depreciated, never for a moment
seemed to occur to her. Considering herself the last, the lowest, the
most sinful of God's creatures, she confessed that any amount of
humiliation was inadequate to her deserts, while at the same time firmly
impressed that the unfavourable opinions expressed of her were the
correct ones, she was incapable of resentment. The Sisters who knew how
discourteously she was often treated, once asked her how she bad been
able to restrain her irritation under some particular insult; "I have
guarded against that," she replied, "by forgetting all about it." "You
admired our Mother's humility under her last annoyance," one Sister
remarked to another; "yet this was a trivial one compared with those to
which she is accustomed; still nobody ever hears her speak of them."
Nevertheless she owned that the persecutions which she endured thus
silently, were more trying than even her terrible temptations, for that
while the one caused her only personal suffering, the other checked the
work of God. Her imperturbable equanimity under humiliations sometimes
led to a doubt of her having noticed them at all; she had, and that very
clearly too, but because she loved the contempt which she believed her
due, she received each new evidence of it with an interior joy, and an
exterior calmness, which deceived superficial observers. While incapable
of taking offence herself, if she thought that she had inadvertently
given even apparent cause of it to others, she never hesitated to ask
pardon in the most humble manner even of the youngest Sister. No trace of
self-reliance or self-esteem was ever seen in her. She was always ready
to receive the suggestions and profit of the opinions even of those far
inferior to her in every respect. It is recorded that when, consummated
in virtue and experience, she was nearing the end of life, a novice who
was at work with her, took the liberty of remarking that she was doing
hers wrong. "Show me, my child, how it should be done," the humble Mother
gently answered, and while the novice had the simplicity to teach her
mistress, the mistress had the humility to take the directions, although
she knew them to be incorrect, saying that it matters little whether a
piece of work be done in one way or in another, but very much that we
practise child-like humility, so as to deserve a place among the little
ones of whom our Lord declared is the kingdom of heaven. Sinking ever
lower and deeper into her nothingness, she found there a resting-place
for her soul, a security against illusion, a safeguard for her virtue,
and an antidote for self-complacent thoughts, if by a rare chance,
imagination ever suggested one.

The extraordinary graces with which God favoured her, far from exalting,
served only to lower her in her own estimation. She fully recognised the
magnificence of those graces, but wholly separating the great Giver from
the lowly recipient, she viewed them in Him, not in herself; they were
His always, hers never, and provided they redounded to His glory, she
asked no more. "I am overwhelmed with astonishment," she writes, "that a
God who is loved purely by myriads of millions of souls, should cast His
eyes on me, the last of His creatures, and condescend to grant me a share
in His love." And again, "If a soul is beautiful, good, or holy, it is
with the beauty, the goodness and the holiness of God. Knowing that these
attributes belong wholly to Him, she desires that He alone should have
the honour of them, wishing no honour or praise for herself from any
creature. Her only fear is lest vain complacency should open the door of
the inner temple to the enemy, who would soon despoil her of her gifts."
"Tremble for me," she said to her son, "when you hear of the favours
which the Almighty has conferred on me, for He has placed His treasures
in the very frailest of earthen vessels: the vessel may at any moment be
broken and the contents lost." This humble distrust of human weakness
never left her heart. "O my great God!" she would say, "grant me
humility, and help me to serve Thee as Thou commandest, in fear and
trembling." "I am now near my end," she wrote two years before her death,
"and I have yet done nothing worthy of a soul soon to appear before God.
Our Lord has ever led me by the spirit of love and confidence, never by
that of fear, but when I consider that through the frailty of my fallen
nature, I may at any moment lose the Divine friendship, I am seized with
dread, and overwhelmed with humiliation. I could not exist if I retained
this apprehension of separation from God,--that all-good God from whom I
have received more graces and favours than there are grains of sand in
the ocean bed. But my firm confidence in His mercy dispels alarm, and
rejecting doubts and fears, I cast myself trustingly into His arms, there
to repose in peace." Her superior intelligence and eminent virtue would
have rendered her a very desirable acquisition to the Jansenists, who
used their best efforts to allure her to their ranks, but her humility
was her safeguard, and to manifest her horror of their innovations, she
would not even reply to their letters.

Flowing from her humility was her spirit of obedience, a virtue of which
she so clearly recognised the imperative necessity for all who aim at
perfection, that she would do nothing but under its guidance. Even the
revelations with which God had favoured her, she never thought of acting
on, until she had submitted them to the examination of her director, and
so persuaded was she that this course was in accordance with the
established order of Providence, that she would have thought herself
deluded had she acted otherwise. She was perfectly free from the least
attachment to her own lights, natural and supernatural, and never had a
difficulty in subjecting her conduct and judgment to the guidance of
superiors; this she esteemed a most special grace. It may be remembered
that in the years of her servitude in her brother-in-law's house, she
made a vow of obedience to him and her sister. Knowing nothing of it,
they were lost in astonishment at her wonderful submission, which they
could only attribute to her affection for themselves, and consequent zeal
for their interests. After she entered religion, obedience was still
among her favourite virtues; she almost flew to execute the most trivial
order of superiors, or rather she recognised none as trivial, viewing all
as emanating from God. In the position of Superior which she held for
eighteen years, she still found means of exercising her beloved virtue,
and when in the intervals, she resumed her place among the Sisters, her
submission to the new Superior was that of a simple child. Obedience had
become so natural to her from habit, that she was a stranger even to a
repugnance to obey. She strongly inculcated the importance of obedience
to spiritual direction, saying that it is the source of that true
simplicity which forms the saints.

A soul so humble could not but be meek, and so it was notorious, that
although while she was engaged in the world her business had been of a
most harassing kind, and that in Canada her varied duties brought her
into continual contact with persons of all classes and all humours, she
was never seen out of patience. Even when most severely pressed at the
time of her great interior trials by temptations to antipathy and
irritability, the closest observer could scarcely ever have detected that
vanquished nature had made an effort to rebel. If perchance an almost
imperceptible reflection of her pains of soul ever passed over her
accustomed sweetness of demeanour, she reproached herself for it as for a
fault. After her death, when her virtues formed the favourite topic of
conversation in her bereaved community, one who had known her for thirty
years, observed that "the Mother of the Incarnation always showed the
courage of the lion in confronting difficulties and dangers, and the
gentleness of the lamb in her intercourse with her neighbour." And this
latter remark applied not only to the meekness which is easily maintained
because it is not tried, but much more to that which bears the test of
sharp and continuous contradictions, and is never found to fail. A person
who had occasioned her very great annoyance, finally pronounced as his
conclusive opinion, that her patience was made of iron. She was, indeed,
so thoroughly inured to mortifications, that injuries had ceased to be
injuries, and enemies were enemies no more. Those who had treated her
worst, might, for that reason, count securely on special evidences of her
sweetness and kindness. For the sake of peace, she was ever ready to
yield her judgment, when this could be doue without compromise of duty.

It once happened that in an important matter submitted to the decision of
the community, she held a different opinion from most of the Sisters.
Finding herself in the minority, she at once yielded the point without a
remonstrance or even a remark. A Sister who took her view of the case, a
little disappointed at such ready acquiescence, observed, "Well, Mother,
one would thank that you had made a vow to obey those people, and do just
as they wish." "No," replied the Mother, with her own gentle smile, "I
have not vowed to obey them or consult their wishes, but I have promised
to please God, and for His love to do all in my power to maintain peace
with my neighbour." Perfect, however, as was the meekness of the
Venerable Mother, her firmness could equal it when occasion required, and
never, perhaps, were the two qualities more admirably balanced in any
character than in hers.

Compassion for all in want or trouble seemed like an instinct of her
nature. It showed itself, as we have seen, from her earliest childhood,
and gained strength with every breath of her life. To see her fellow-
creatures in distress, and not make an effort to relieve them, was at all
times an impossibility to her kind heart. Known in the world as the
mother and advocate of the poor, in religion she maintained, and, if
possible, strengthened her claim to the beautiful title. She would have
considered that a lost day on which she had not exercised the works of
mercy, so during her prolonged tenure of authority as Superior, it was
remarked that she never passed one without giving alms of one kind or
another. Among the distressed French families whom she thus relieved were
persons of respectable condition, who she knew would have shrunk from
manifesting their poverty, therefore she took care to spare them the
necessity of an appeal for charity, managing also to have her gifts
conveyed so cautiously, that they should be unable to trace them to their
source, or to consider them in the light of alms. When nothing more
remained to her for the destitute, she called on the resources of the
rich, and when these, too, were exhausted, she had recourse to God, who
never failed to send her help in her emergencies.

If she was the refuge of the French in their wants, still more was she
the resource of the Indians, to whom her generous heart and her
hospitable monastery were ever open. Vain would be the attempt to tell of
all she did and all she endured to procure means of providing for them in
their necessities, and helping them through their difficulties. But if
their temporal welfare was a subject of deepest concern to her,
infinitely more lively was her zeal for their spiritual interests; to
these she had devoted her labours; to these she had consecrated her
energies and her life; for these were her first, her last, her ceaseless
prayers. So well did she succeed in communicating her own ardour to the
rest of the community, that from the very commencement of the house the
Sisters bound themselves to receive the Holy Communion and recite the
Rosary once every month in honour of the Immaculate Conception of the
Blessed Virgin Mary, observing a fast on the eve of the festival, all in
order to obtain the conversion of the savages. This beautiful devotion is
perpetuated in the monastery to the present day.

Another practice of the first Mothers was to draw by lot the names of the
different Indian tribes, each offering her prayers, labours, and merits
for the conversion of that which had fallen to her. The Venerable Mother
had her particular nation like the rest, but her great heart embraced all
others at the same time, for nothing less than all could satisfy zeal
which, like hers, embraced the universe. As her history has shown us, her
whole life in Canada was but one prolonged act of charity to the forlorn
race, and when that life was about to close, she bequeathed her love for
them to her community, as the most precious legacy she had to bestow.

As well-ordered charity begins at home, her Sisters were naturally the
first objects of hers. From the commencement of her religious career, her
delight had been to oblige and serve them at the cost of any amount of
personal fatigue or inconvenience, and, when Superior, it was her
practice to do a considerable portion of their work in addition to her
own, thus to procure them a little more rest. That all might be enabled
to retire sooner after their weary day, she took for her especial charge
to remain up the last at night, and see all the fires extinguished--no
easy task when wood was the only fuel, the huge, red-hot logs requiring
much time and caution in the cooling. She has been known to leave herself
without bed-clothes in the intense cold of winter nights, that she might
add a little to the comfort of her shivering novices, her own chilled
frame meantime depending for warmth, as Père Charlevoix remarks, "only on
the fire of her love;" and this was but one small instance of the
compassionate charity which she was ever practising.

She had peculiar tact in reconciling enemies, and a wondrous gift for
consoling the afflicted, especially those tried by temptations and
interior pains. Many were the sufferers who came to her sorrowful and
discouraged, and left her presence consoled and strengthened. Once a
person under great trial sought her help, but experienced insuperable
difficulty in communicating the subject of her pains. "Let us pray, my
child," the Mother said, "that God may enlighten me." Leaning her head on
her hand, she prayed for the space of a _Pater_ and _Ave_; then
looking up gently, she asked, "What hesitation could you have had in
telling me such and such a thing?"--specifying the causes of trouble.
"Should you not have known me better?" Having directed the person what
course to pursue, and exhorted her to courage, fidelity, and abandonment
to God, she foretold her that her troubles were not at an end, but
consoled her by the assurance that they would tend to the Divine honour.
The wise counsels not only imparted immediate peace to the suffering
soul, but, moreover, helped to sustain her through the remainder of the
conflict, which, as the event proved, was not yet over. The good Mother
was ever at the command of all who sought her help, ready at all times to
lay aside her most pressing occupations the moment any one expressed a
desire to speak to her, giving her visitors ample opportunity of
unburdening their minds fully, and dismissing all satisfied and consoled.
She could not endure to hear an unkind remark, and so perfect was her own
practice of charity in speech, that she was never known to utter a word
to the disadvantage of any one, even those who had treated her worst.
Such was the tenderness of her compassion for the erring, that, as she
was accustomed to say, she would have wished to hide them in her heart.

She was so easily pleased, that the charge of assisting her in her
different occupations, was quite an envied post. A Sister, who for
several years had had the care of preparing her colors for her paintings,
and her materials for gilding and similar works, declared that during all
that time she had never heard a word from her lips but of encouragement,
gentleness, and affection. The kind Mother took delight in teaching her
what she knew, and then, with the liveliest interest, would show the
Sister's attempts to all who entered, remarking how good they were, and
how sure the pupil would be to advance if she only had courage. "How can
you praise such work, dear Mother?" somebody one day asked in reference
to another's Sister's production; "you who are so good a judge, and,
therefore, must have seen its defects." "It was done to the best of the
Sister's ability," the Mother answered, "so it was well done for her, and
in that sense deserving of praise." Although always recollected in God,
she liked to see her Sisters gay at recreation, and that she might be no
restraint on their innocent mirth, was herself invariably cheerful. The
instances on record of her charity to her neighbour, both before and
after she entered religion, are much too numerous for insertion in these
pages, but we cannot have perused her history, without discerning that
the beautiful spirit of fraternal love influenced her whole life,
manifesting itself in a ceaseless effort to relieve the wants, console
the sorrows, promote the temporal happiness, and, above all, advance the
spiritual interests of all within her reach, as well as by her prayers
and desires, of those beyond it.

Charity and patience like those of the Mother Mary of the Incarnation can
flourish only in souls whence inordinate self-love has been banished;
detachment from self is, in fact, their essence and their life. It was
because that of the Venerable Mother was so deeply grounded, that her
love of her neighbour was proof against all trials. Disengagement from
self is synonymous with sacrifice of self, and of this she was unsparing.
For her greater merit, and our instruction and encouragement, the
Almighty permitted that during several successive years she should feel
the revolt of her passions, and experience all that is painful to nature
in the effort to subdue them. The perfect control over them which
resulted in her admirable meekness and forbearance was the reward of her
fidelity in the hour of the conflict. If her passions were brought so
thoroughly under subjection to reason and faith, that they seemed at last
to have lost their power, the grand conquest was the work of
mortification. Knowing that Christ would live in her in the plenitude of
His Spirit, only when her natural life had been destroyed, she sought
opportunities of self-crucifixion, as men in general seek chances of
gratification and enjoyment. Every feeling, every faculty, every sense,
was fastened to the cross. To her interior mortification there was no
limit; to her exterior, only that imposed by obedience, and as long as
her austerities involved no singularity, obedience imposed but little
restraint on them.

While apparently leading an ordinary life, she contrived that no part of
her frame should be without its particular suffering, managing to
transform into new acts of penance, the very refreshment of food and
sleep. Her joy was in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which not
only the external, but also the inner world was crucified to her. At any
moment of her existence, as well as on her dying bed, she might have
truly said, "With Christ I am nailed to the cross;" and with equal truth
she might have added, "God forbid that I should glory save in that
precious and well-loved cross."

The earnestness with which she sought the entire crucifixion of nature,
appears in the rules which she laid down for her particular guidance
after having made her vow to do in all things what she believed most
perfect. By these she bound herself to make no excuse when unjustly
accused; to watch so carefully over mind and heart, that no complaint
should escape her under any provocation; never to speak a word to her own
advantage, and to be always ready to applaud what was commendable in
others; to show special sweetness to those for whom nature felt least
inclined; to embrace with loving resignation all trials from God and from
creatures; to repress every emotion of self-love, and every reflection on
subjects calculated to arouse its sensibilities. These rules, founded on
the maxims of the Gospel, formed the guide of her life.

Her virtues were solid, because her humility, their foundation, was
profound, and because her humility was profound, God exalted her to a
degree of purity of soul, and a consequent height of union with Himself,
rarely attained here below. During the whole of her life in France, she
was accustomed, as we know, to wonderful supernatural communications, but
from the time of her going to Canada, all such favours as could attract
the eyes of men were withdrawn, the Almighty having then intimated His
will that her perfection should henceforth consist in the practices of
ordinary life. But although visible extraordinary favours were suspended,
it was not so with the invisible work of Divine grace; that went on ever
advancing towards its consummation. From the age of twenty, she had
possessed the wondrous privilege of uninterrupted union with God. It was
her habitual permanent condition; neither suffering of mind, nor
infirmity of health, nor pressure of business, nor weight of care could
divert her from it for a moment. Distractions might flit through, and
even trouble her imagination, but they never reached the inner soul,
which through all, maintained an uninterrupted view of the Divine
presence. Her constant application to spiritual things never interfered
with the perfect fulfilment of her external duties, while on the other
hand, the most dissipating exterior occupations never for one instant
disturbed her interior recollection. Never were the spirit of Martha and
of Mary more admirably or more perfectly combined. If prayer is an
elevation of the soul to God, it may be said without any exaggeration,
that her whole life was spent in this heavenly exercise. At the time of
actual prayer, she appeared like a seraph of love, her very aspect
sufficing to excite devotion in the coldest heart. This was an opinion
often expressed by the pupils, who delighted in observing her at prayer,
and sometimes managed even to approach near enough to kiss her feet or
her habit unperceived. It is not given to us to speak of the sublimity of
her prayer, especially towards the end of life. As it became more and
more simplified, it were perhaps best described as one unbroken sigh of
love. "My God! my great God! my Life! my Love! my Glory! This," she
wrote, "is my prayer; these words nourish my soul, not only at the time
of actual prayer, but all through the day, from the moment of rising, to
that of retiring to rest. Imperfect as I am, I feel habitually lost in my
God, to whom I have been so many years united by indescribably intimate
bonds. I see His amiability, His grandeur, His majesty, His power,
without previous reasoning, or research. I can find no words to express
what I would say to Him, yet the silence of simple faith is eloquent. But
although my soul is ever absorbed in my God, it never loses sight of its
own misery; the abyss of His greatness engulphs the abyss of its
nothingness." Not satisfied with all the love of the angels and saints,
she desired that her heart could burn even with infinite love, that so
she might love her God adequately. She prayed our Lord to place her heart
on His, that on that altar of fire it might be made a perfect holocaust
of love. "I ask of Him," she said, "no earthly riches, treasures or joys,
but only that I may die of His love." Under the severest temporal losses,
even in the midst of privations and positive want, she felt, she said, as
if needing nothing, for then especially she belonged to God, and God
belonged to her, and possessing Him, she had nothing to desire. She had
indeed reached that blessed state in which the soul exists more in the
God whom she loves, than in the body which she animates. [Footnote: Words
quoted by Gerson from St. Augustine and St Bernard.] Yet elevated as she
was to sublimest heights of supernatural contemplation, she never failed
carefully to prepare a subject of ordinary meditation, true to the end,
to her love of common practices, and her esteem of common ways, from
which, as we have so often remarked, she never swerved but in obedience
to the irresistible attraction of the Holy Spirit, and she ever
maintained that the most exalted spiritual state is that distinguished,
not by raptures and ecstasies, but by the perfect practice of the maxims
of the Gospel, and the closest interior union with Jesus. Her piety was
solid and practical, and in one of her letters to her son, we find the
remark that she never could content herself with a devotion of mere
sentiment and imagination. Our Lord, she said, assumed our nature, that
He might become our Model. In every condition, we can imitate Him by the
practice of His maxims, which not only discover to us what we have to
retrench and correct in our lives and conduct, but also guide us to the
means of accomplishing that difficult work of self-correction. Devotion
that is not practical, seemed to her, she said, like an edifice built on
moving sand.

She had a lively confidence in the Sacred Heart of our Lord, and always
concluded the spiritual exercises of each day by recommending to the
Eternal Father through Its infinite merits, the Church of Canada, the
preachers of the Gospel, and her friends. Her evening prayers to the
Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary, are generally known and widely
circulated not only in Canada, but in many other countries also,
especially among Ursulines. For the benefit of those who may not be
acquainted with them, we shall insert them at the end of the volume. She
had a very particular devotion also to the ever adorable Trinity, and to
the most precious Blood. Of her love for the Blessed Sacrament of the
altar, it would be superfluous to speak. Her sentiments on the holy
Communion may be epitomized in the one word, that "she wished her life
could be one perpetual Communion." She was accustomed to say that she
found in communion strength and support for her soul under all the trials
and difficulties of life, and so sensibly did she experience its blessed
effects, that it almost seemed as if for her the veil of the sacrament
had been removed, and the hidden wonders of the mystery of love made
manifest.

Among the saints, after their glorious Queen, she honoured St. Joseph and
St. Francis of Paula. St. Joseph she had loved from childhood on account
of his connection with our Lord and His Blessed Mother; her devotion had
received a new impulse from the time when he was shown to her in her
vision as the Patron of Canada. Her veneration for St. Francis of Paula
originated in the family traditions, which told how when the saint came
to France at the prayer of Louis XI, one of his escort from Italy was her
great-grandfather, who in the fervour of his simple faith, frequently
took his children to visit God's servant and receive his blessing. She
loved to allude to the circumstance and no wonder, for there can be no
doubt that a large share of that holy blessing had descended to herself,
and many were the spiritual helps which she received from the saint in
her progress through her pilgrimage. She had also a special devotion to
the holy Angels.

The history of the Venerable Mother Mary of the Incarnation, has spoken
for itself, it is therefore as unnecessary as it would be easy to
multiply testimonies to her merits, both from contemporary and more
recent writers, still, as it would be doing her an injustice to omit them
altogether, we shall insert a very few among the large number at hand.
Bishop Laval who knew her well, writes, "She was adorned with every virtue
in an exalted degree, and eminently endowed in particular, with the gift
of prayer and union with God. She was perfectly dead to self, living and
acting only by the Spirit of Jesus. The Almighty having chosen her for
the great work of founding the Ursuline Order in Canada, He granted her
the plenitude of the spirit of that holy institute. She was an admirable
Superior, an excellent guide for novices, and equally qualified for every
other position in her community. Her life, externally ordinary, was
interiorly divine, so that she was deservedly looked on by her Sisters as
a living rule." The eulogy of Père Charlevoix is equally strong. After
calling her "the Teresa of New France," he says, "History presents few
women who can be compared with her, as none will deny who attentively
study her life and writings. Such," he continues, "was the opinion of the
most enlightened individuals of the age in which she lived; her most
eloquent panegyrists were those who knew her best."

The Mother Cecilia of the Holy Cross, who had never been separated from
her since they left Dieppe together on their way to Canada, declared that
in the thirty-three years of their close companionship, she had never
seen her transgress against meekness, patience, humility, charity,
obedience or poverty, or omit an opportunity of practising these great
religious virtues.

To Dom Claude Martin, Madame de la Peltrie wrote after her return from
her expedition to Montreal, "I esteem myself happy and honoured in the
privilege of living under the roof with the Mother of the Incarnation. If
I survive her, I shall give you many particulars of her life which will
call forth your gratitude to God. She is truly a chosen soul, precious in
the eyes of the Lord. What I particularly admire in her, is her fidelity
to the duties of common life, and the love which she evinces for those
who treat her ill. She lives in great detachment from all but God;
perfect abandonment to Providence; unalterable peace, and a constant
interior recollection truly admirable. How happy I should be if I
possessed the tenth part of her virtues!"

Announcing her decease to the monasteries of the Order in France, her
Superior says, among other things, "Her death was the echo of her holy
life, passed as it was in the continual practice of the most heroic
virtues. Though Superior for eighteen years at different times, she was
the most submissive in the house to the one who occupied the place in the
intervals. Her exactitude to rule was perfect. Her humility persuaded her
that she was unworthy to associate with her Sisters, whose every act of
virtue she observed with admiration. Her zeal for the glory of God, far
from having diminished with time, became at last a consuming fire. Her
patience both in life and death was truly admirable."...

       *       *       *       *       *

The tradition of her holiness passed from generation to generation, not
only of the inmates of the monastery, but of the inhabitants of Quebec
generally. Years served but to confirm the impression of her merits, and
at last that impression took the form of one earnest, unanimous desire
and prayer, that our holy Mother the Church would deign to gladden the
heart of every Catholic in Canada, by admitting the Mother Mary of the
Incarnation to a share in the public veneration which she allows to her
canonized saints. Numerous postulatory letters to this effect were
addressed to his late Holiness of saintly and venerated memory, Pope Pius
IX, who after the usual delay, permitted the preliminary steps towards
the Beatification. The cause was introduced on the 15th of September,
1877, when the Mother Mary of the Incarnation was honoured with the title
of Venerable, the prelude, as we humbly trust, to one more glorious and
exalted still. Among the postulatory letters is one which cannot be read
without very particular interest. It bears the signature of the Huron
Grand Chief, followed by that of the principal chiefs and warriors of the
tribe.

"MOST HOLY FATHER,--The greatest of Fathers after Him who is in heaven,
we are the least of your children, but you are the representative of Him
who said, 'Suffer little children to come to me,' so we approach with
confidence to prostrate at your feet.

"Most Holy Father,--We the chiefs and warriors of the Huron tribe, humbly
present you a perfume of rich fragrance, composed of the virtues of the
Reverend Mother Mary of the Incarnation. Deign, Holy Father, to offer it
to God, that passing through your hands, it may more surely find
acceptance in His sight.

"The Mother of the Incarnation called us from our forests, that she might
teach us to know and adore the true Master of life. She took our hearts
in her hand and placed them before the Eternal, as a basket of fruit of
her own culling.

"Through her instructions we have learned meekness; wolves and bears have
fawned on her; the angry roar of fury has been changed into the hymn of
praise.

"Our mothers kissed the traces of her footsteps, and then signed our
foreheads with the blessed dust, fruitful for eternity. With her own
hands she impressed the sign of faith on our hearts, and it has never
since been effaced. Thanks to her, we are able to read the books which
recall her benefits. We ourselves could fill many books with testimonies
of our respectful gratitude.

"She loved us with a human as well as a spiritual affection, so she is
twice our mother.

"It is through her teaching, and for her sake, that we have renounced our
native wilds, and come to live among our more civilized brethren. The
Bear, the Wolf, the Goat, the Beaver and the Tortoise [Footnote:
Appellations of the five principal families of the tribe.] will be
henceforth chained to the sanctuary, and their occupation will be to
celebrate the praises of the Master of life.

"Many moons have passed since that first dawning of the true light. Our
once flourishing nation is on the eve of extinction, but,

"Most Holy Father, we beseech you to receive with the last prayer and
last sigh of the Hurons, the assurance of their profound reverence for
the Mother Mary of the Incarnation.

"The bones of our fathers will exult in their tombs, if your voice
proclaims the eternal happiness of the Mother to whom we are indebted for
our faith.

"She found among our women, virgins worthy of admittance to the
sanctuary, and among our warriors, missioners and martyrs who will weave
a crown for her in heaven. There remains to us only one drop of Huron
blood, but if that could enrich the immortal crown of the Mother of the
Incarnation, we would willingly bid it flow.

"Prostrate at your feet, Most Holy Father, we implore your benediction."

Then follow the sixteen signatures of the Grand Chief and his fellow
petitioners.

The day on which the touching appeal of the Hurons shall be responded to,
will gladden many a heart besides theirs.

Meantime, O Mother! we thank the Lord for the magnificent grace bestowed
on thee, and for thy fidelity in corresponding with them. We thank Him
for having given us in thee so glorious a model of religious perfection,
and we pray that thy example may ever guide and thy spirit ever animate
us. We beseech thee to watch from heaven over the Order which on earth
thou didst love so well and adorn so brightly, and to obtain that no
Ursuline may ever show herself unworthy of her exalted and cherished
title of a daughter of St. Angela, and of the Venerable Mother Mary of
the Incarnation.




APPENDIX.


On the 30th of April, 1833, more than a century and a half after the
saintly death of the Venerable Mother Mary of the Incarnation, her
precious remains were removed with due solemnity from the vault where
they had long lain, to a place of greater honour in the choir of the
Ursuline monastery. On the occasion of this translation, the vault was
discovered to be quite full of water, and when the Venerable Mother's
coffin was opened before being consigned to its new resting-place, it was
seen by many witnesses to be also filled with the same clear crystal
fluid. The circumstance was easily explained by the gradual filtration of
water into the vault, whence it had penetrated into the leaden case
through small openings in the soldering. But although the presence of the
water could be thus simply accounted for, contact with the remains of
God's holy servant had given it a manifest claim to special reverence; it
was therefore cautiously drawn off, and has since been so carefully
preserved, that although very generously shared with numerous petitioners
for it, the supply is not yet quite exhausted. One sealed bottle of this
water is kept for the admiration of posterity. The Almighty has been
pleased to glorify Himself in His faithful servant, by permitting that it
should become the instrument of many wonderful cures. [Footnote: In the
History of the Ursuline Monastery of Quebec, published in 1866, the
writer says: "Some years ago, a woman of the neighbourhood informed me
that her daughter had been cured of a very serious affection of the eyes
at the close of a Novena to the Venerable Mother, on each day of which,
the water of the tomb had been applied to the diseased part. 'I have a
little of the water left,' she added, 'and I would not give it up for any
consideration. I have eight children dependent for support on my work; if
one of them fell sick, what should I do? I could not fee a doctor, so my
only resource is in the water.' Imagining that she attached the idea of
some medicinal property to it, we hastened to assure her that it was only
ordinary water, which derived its efficacy from the prayers of the Mother
of the Incarnation, whom she had so fervently invoked. 'No, no,' she
exclaimed, cutting short the explanation; 'it is not ordinary water; if
it were, it would corrupt and diminish, but instead of that, it seems to
me to increase. It is extraordinary water,' she said; 'it is holy water.'
We left her under her agreeable impression," adds the narrator, "thinking
that the prodigy had perhaps been permitted in recompense of her simple
faith and confidence in our holy Mother."] We are not, however, to
suppose that reliance on the prayers of the Mother of the Incarnation
dates only from its discovery; confidence in her intercession has, on the
contrary, ever kept pace with veneration for her memory, and this, we
know, has never varied except to increase.

No account has reached us of the favours obtained through the mediation
of the Venerable Mother, previous to the discovery of the water: whether
an earlier record may have at one time existed, and been afterwards
destroyed by fire or otherwise, is uncertain. Even of the favours
received since 1833, no regular register was kept until 1867. In that
year, Monseigneur Baillargeon, Archbishop of Quebec, appointed a
commission to examine and test, according to canonical forms, all facts
tending to demonstrate the sanctity of the Mother of the Incarnation. It
then became matter of universal regret that so little publicity had been
given to the prodigies wrought through her intercession: it would seem as
if men's minds had become so familiarized with them from the frequency of
their recurrence, that no one had hitherto thought of attracting general
attention to them. On the occasion alluded to, however, the witnesses of
the most recent were examined, and on their testimony, a considerable
number were proved.

We extract a few from the long catalogue, for the honour of Him who is
glorious in His saints, premising that we do not apply the epithet
"miraculous," in its strict sense, to the occurrences about to be
related, the Church having in her wisdom reserved to herself the right to
pronounce definitively on miracles. We merely state facts certified by
witnesses of unimpeachable character, leaving to the superior tribunal to
decide as to their supernatural origin.

Miss Margaret Mary Gowan had completely lost the use of an arm for nearly
a year previous to the opening of the tomb of the Mother of the
Incarnation in 1833, and was cured after making a Novena to the Venerable
Mother, and using the water of the tomb. She was then a boarder at the
Ursulines, and is now a Sister of Charity in Quebec. This fact, adds the
convent annalist, inspired great confidence in the efficacy of the water
which we had just collected from the tomb with religious veneration.

A child of nine years of age, named Mary Adela Brunette, who had always
been remarkable for delicate health, was seized on the evening of
December 31, 1853, with pain in the eyes so violent as to deprive her of
sleep. A few days later, a film was observed on both eyes, which it
gradually overspread, the pain meantime retaining its first intensity.
The child had not only to be confined to a room whence all light had been
excluded, but moreover to wear a thick bandage across her eyes. So great
were her sufferings, that her father often said he would infinitely
rather see her dead, than witness them. For six months she had the best
medical advice, but remedies seemed only to aggravate pain. To open her
eyes, appeared an impossibility.

Towards the end of July, 1854, a friend proposed to the child's parents
to pray for her cure through the intercession of the Venerable Mother of
the Incarnation. The suggestion was at once adopted, the parents and
several neighbouring families arranging to meet daily at the house of the
little girl's uncle, a man remarkable for piety. The invalid was
conducted thither on the first day with extreme difficulty, precautions
having been taken to render her eyes absolutely inaccessible to the
faintest ray of light. The next day, she asked to walk without support,
taking care, however, to cling closely to her mother's side. Soon she
could endure the light sufficiently to guide herself, was able to
distinguish objects, and expressed surprise at some slight alterations
which had been made in the house during the seven months of her illness.
On the ninth day, one of her eyes was quite clear. Meantime, some of the
water of the tomb had been procured; it was applied during a second
Novena, and the result was the child's perfect restoration. She was not
only free from pain, but able to bear the strongest sun-light.

The above particulars were given at Quebec, on the 3rd of June, 1862, by
the young girl herself, and confirmed by her mother. She had then had no
return of disease of the eyes; her general health was excellent, and her
strength equal to any demand on it. She was so convinced of having been
cured through heavenly intervention, that she preserved as a precious
relic, the empty phial which had once contained the water of the tomb.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the 22nd of December, 1862, Dr. Landry, an eminent physician residing
at Quebec, gave the following testimony, renewed in presence of several
ecclesiastics, in 1867:--

"In September, 1859, my daughter had an extremely violent attack of tic-
douloureux in the left side of the face. The paroxysms recurred every two
or three days, and lasted sometimes an hour, sometimes two or more. In
November, the malady assumed a still more severe character, the paroxysms
sometimes recurring twice in one day. Towards the end of December, the
disease yielded to persevering medical treatment.

"On the 1st of February, 1860, the child entered the Ursuline Convent at
Quebec, and the next day had a return of the malady, which continued
without notable interruption until March 24th, the eve of the
Annunciation. In this last stage of her illness, the attacks of pain were
very frequent and very violent, numbering as many as four in a day.

"On the 16th of March, nine days before the feast of the Annunciation,
one of the Sisters recommended her to beg the intercession of the Mother
of the Incarnation in a Novena, in which the community and the pupils
would unite. The paroxysms were violent, and of daily occurrence up to
the second last day of the Novena, when the attack was comparatively
light. This proved the last. From that moment she has had no return of
the pain which for the previous six months had made her life a torture.
This wonderful cure which has now lasted eight years, I can attribute
only to the charitable and powerful intercession of the Venerable Mother
Mary of the Incarnation."

       *       *       *       *       *

Abridged TESTIMONY of the same DR. LANDRY, in 1862, relatively to the
recovery of Mother St. Angela, an Ursuline Religious at Quebec.

"In 1859, my professional services were required by Mother Saint Angela,
whose delicacy had been of long standing. She was suffering from a
complication of diseases, and at the period referred to, was reduced to
extreme exhaustion. The remedies resorted to, produced some slight
improvement, but it proved only temporary, for, from the middle of
February, 1862, her infirmities were so much aggravated, that she was
obliged to keep her bed altogether. I had always looked on her as an
incurable invalid, destined to wear out her life in broken health and
constant suffering.

"At the beginning of May, of the same year, she told me that she felt
better, and a few days later, declared to me by order of her Superior,
that she was restored to health.

"I did not meet my former patient from that time, until the present date,
November, 1862, when wishing to assure myself of her actual condition
before writing the above report, I asked to see her. She had an
appearance of strength which I had never before observed in her, and
although retaining some slight traces of her former maladies, was now
able, she assured me, to fulfil all her duties, and to partake of the
ordinary fare of the community with good appetite. Her movements, once
evincing extreme debility, were marked by the activity and animation of a
healthy young person. Her recovery was too prompt, too complete, and too
permanent, to admit of my attributing it to the remedies which I had
prescribed."

       *       *       *       *       *

The following is the account of the same wonderful cure given by Mother
St. Anne, Assistant of the monastery, and a person of great experience in
the care of the sick:--

"The ill health of Mother St. Angela was of many years' standing, but
from 1848 to 1862, her sufferings and consequent weakness had so
considerably increased, that she had at last been compelled to give up
all the regular observances of the community, as well as the duties of
her particular charge.

"As that of a confirmed invalid, her case seemed to the chaplain of the
monastery, one peculiarly suited to manifest the power of the prayers of
the Mother of the Incarnation. Accordingly, to the general surprise, he
suggested that a Novena should be offered to the Venerable Mother for the
patient's recovery. The pupils especially were amazed when asked to join.
'Our Mistress general, whom we have not seen for three months!' they
exclaimed; 'as well ask for the resurrection of the dead! Why, she is but
half-alive, and not young either!' To induce them to unite, they had to
be reminded of the omnipotence of the Most High, to whom it is as easy to
repair His works, as it was to create them;--reminded, too, that the
worse the case, the greater would be the wonder of the cure, should it
please God to grant it. Still, several remained incredulous, and though
all prayed, many felt but little confidence.

"On the 22nd of April, a solemn Novena was commenced, and it terminated
on the 30th, the anniversary of the death of the holy Mother. After Mass,
the Mother Superior proceeded to visit the invalid, who had communicated
in bed at an early hour, and unwilling to believe that she had not been
cured, told her to rise. Mother St. Angela attempted to do so, but even
with assistance, could not stand, and had no resource but to return to
bed. 'You see, Mother,' she said, 'our good God wills me to remain in my
present state. I had a great desire that my recovery should redound to
the honour of the Mother of the Incarnation, but God's will be done! Let
us think no more of recovery.' 'That is not my view of the subject,'
replied the Mother Superior, as if suddenly inspired. 'You must begin
another Novena to-morrow, asking our Venerable Mother to obtain for you
at least sufficient health to fulfil the duties of your charge, and at
the close of this Novena, you will _assist at Mass, and communicate in
the choir._' In all simplicity, the invalid commenced a second Novena
on the 1st of May, again joined by all the Sisters and boarders. On the
very first day, she felt well enough to resume the recitation of the
Office. Appetite, sleep and strength rapidly returned; on the seventh
day, she went down to the confessional, and on the ninth, heard Mass, and
received Holy Communion in the choir, as she had been ordered. She
immediately commenced a Novena of thanksgiving at the tomb of the Mother
of the Incarnation, and before its close, had resumed all the regular
observances, including very early rising, the fasts and abstinences
prescribed by rule, and the chanting of the Divine Office. Surprised and
overjoyed, the pupils entoned a triumphant 'Magnificat' for the recovery
of their 'resuscitated Mother,' as they called her." During the two years
which had elapsed since the cure, when the above statement was written,
Mother St. Angela had had no necessity to omit a single community
exercise, from four o'clock in the morning to nine at night. So perfect
was her recovery, that she said her previous illness seemed to her only
like a dream, adding that she felt no inconvenience from duties which had
fatigued her when she was young and healthy, but was on the contrary
ready to recommence them when completed. She called her restoration, a
real resurrection, almost a transformation.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the summer of 1862, Madame Joseph Latourneau of Quebec, was laid
prostrate by a complication of maladies. Towards the middle of July, the
danger became so imminent, that on taking leave of her one evening, the
physician begged her husband to let him know in the morning whether she
was still alive. There seemed so little hope of her passing the night,
that several friends had assembled to assist, as they supposed, at her
last moments. One of these visitors brought a little of the water of the
tomb, and inquired of the invalid whether she had confidence in it. "Oh,
yes!" she replied; "great confidence! Have I a chance of getting any of
it? I am sure the holy Mother will cure me."--And in afterwards relating
the circumstance, she said, "I began to weep, without knowing why, and
felt an internal conviction, that I should be restored." She derived
immediate benefit from the water, passed a better night, and the next
day, the doctor pronounced her out of danger. During her convalescence,
she kept a picture of the Venerable Mother continually before her,
convinced, as well as the rest of her family, that she owed her
restoration to health to the intercession of this powerful Advocate.

       *       *       *       *       *

Madame Joseph Bélanger of Quebec gives the following details of a favour
obtained through the same channel:--

A thick eruption had gathered over the upper part of her baby's lace,
spreading gradually to the eyelids and closing the eyes, and still the
physicians feared to venture remedies. Seeing that the disease threatened
the mouth and ears, the mother became greatly alarmed. Her sister who had
received a signal favour from the Venerable Mother, pressed her to use
the water of the tomb with faith, telling her that she still possessed a
few drops of it, and assuring her that the child would thus be restored,
as she had been herself. The water was accordingly applied lightly and
sparingly to the parts affected, and to the joy and admiration of the
spectators, the malady appeared at once to change its character. After
the third or fourth application, all traces of it had vanished, "as if by
magic," said the grateful mother. This event occurred in 1862. When the
above details were furnished, the little girl was about six years of age,
and up to that period had not shown the least tendency to a renewal of
the disease of her infancy.

       *       *       *       *       *

October 31, 1862.--First Testimony to the cure of Sister Mary of Jesus, a
Sister of Charity residing at Cacouma, one hundred and twenty miles from
Quebec,--addressed to the Mother Superior of the Ursulines at Quebec.

"REVEREND MOTHER,--A thousand thanks for the small phial of water which
you were kind enough to send me. As I wrote you, Sister Mary of Jesus was
extremely ill on Friday; that evening she appeared so near death, that
the prayers of the agonizing were said for her. She was unable to swallow
the water, but no sooner had her lips been moistened with it, than she
seemed to revive. The next day the physician found her out of danger to
his great surprise. Join us in returning thanks to God and His faithful
servant for this great favour.

"Sister MARY DE BON SECOURS, Assistant."

       *       *       *       *       *

Second Testimony, again addressed to the Mother Superior at Quebec:--

"For the information of all interested in the case, and for the glory of
God in His saints, I declare and certify the following:--

"On the 31st of October, 1862, I administered the last sacraments to
Sister Mary of Jesus, a Sister of Charity near Quebec, first because from
my own observation, I considered her death inevitable, unless averted by
miraculous interposition, and secondly, because the attending physician
had assured me that he saw no chance of saving her life. To my certain
knowledge, the Mother Superior of the convent exhorted Sister Mary of
Jesus to ask for her cure through the intercession of the Mother of the
Incarnation, in whom she had herself great confidence, after which, the
apparently dying sister took a few drops of the water, spent a good
night, and the next day, was so much better, that both, in the house and
in the environs, her recovery was declared a miracle, attributable to the
prayers of the Mother of the Incarnation. In faith of which, I have
signed the present declaration on the 21st of May, 1867.
"J. C. CLOUTIER, P.P. of Cacouma."

       *       *       *       *       *

Elias Desharnais, a labourer at Stanfold had given himself a severe hurt,
while engaged in mowing; the result was a long fit of illness, followed
by utter incapacity for all laborious exertion. Two years after this
accident, he was thrown from his horse, and so violently trampled, that
he was taken up by the passers-by, senseless and apparently lifeless. For
forty-eight hours, he remained unconscious, and during the seven or eight
succeeding days, frequently relapsed into insensibility. After a time, he
was able to walk, but he gained no strength, and every attempt to resume
his work so aggravated his sufferings, that after each trial he was
constrained to keep his bed for weeks. He had been in this infirm
condition six years, when his sister informed him of a remarkable cure
just wrought at the Ursuline Convent, Quebec, where she was herself a lay
Sister, advising him also to apply for relief to their Benefactress, the
Mother of the Incarnation. A first Novena not having produced any
sensible improvement, the good religious sent him some of the water of
the tomb, urging him to make a second Novena, and to endeavour to
approach the Holy Communion at its conclusion. He made the Novena;
applied the water to the stomach, the seat of suffering, and on the ninth
day approached the holy table. His faith and hope were not frustrated.
From that moment, every trace of his infirmity vanished, he went at once
to his work, and having experienced no inconvenience from his first
efforts, undertook and accomplished in person the heaviest part of the
agricultural labours of the season,--mowing, reaping, saving the hay,
storing the grain, &c. Two of his brothers having removed from home about
this time, a double share of work devolved on him.' He laboured as
vigorously and as unceasingly since, as he had done previously to his
accident. Such is the testimony which he himself gave at the Ursuline
Convent, on the 12th of November, 1866, having travelled from Stanfold to
Quebec, for no other purpose than to make the statement, and declaring
that he looked on the expense and fatigue of the journey as of little
consequence, compared with the happiness of having thus slightly
testified his gratitude to his heavenly Benefactress.

       *       *       *       *       *

1864.--Madame Elzéar Vincent, a resident in Quebec, aged thirty, had
suffered for seven weeks from pain in the knee. The inflammation
spreading to the thigh, she was compelled to keep her bed and became
quite incapable of moving. Miss Bilodeau, a former pupil of the Laval
Normal school, having procured some of the water of the tomb for the
patient, they both joined in a Novena to the Mother of the Incarnation.
The first application of the water was followed by sensible relief. On
the third day, the invalid was well, and able to resume her household
duties.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the 21st of October, 1867, Madame Chateauvert, of the suburb St.
Louis, Quebec, declared that she believed herself indebted to the
intercession of the Mother of the Incarnation for the preservation of her
little girl, aged six weeks, during three of which she had suffered from
violent convulsions. The same malady had already deprived Madame
Chateauvert of four of her children, and the danger in the present case
seemed all the more imminent, as the convulsions had set in earlier than
with the other little ones. Towards the middle of July, 1867, the attack
was so violent that the infant remained insensible for three hours. The
water of the tomb was then applied to her temples; she immediately
revived and from this first day of the Novena, had no return of the
convulsions, but has enjoyed good health.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the 20th of February, 1867, Mrs. Isaac Fullerton of Quebec presented
herself at the Ursuline monastery to give the following account of her
wonderful cure. She stated that for seven weeks, she had completely lost
the use of her right hand, which was so swollen, especially in the finger
joints, that she could neither open nor close it. The pain extended
through the arm and shoulder. In addition, she had suffered all through
the winter from an almost intolerable ear ache. Having heard of the water
of the tomb, she sent for some: she also procured, a copy of the prayer
[Footnote: See end of Volume.] "By the Heart of my Jesus," and began a
Novena. At the first application of the water, she found her hand
becoming supple, and made her husband observe the improvement. On the
ninth day of the Novena, her arm and shoulder were perfectly free from
the least pain or stiffness. But the ear ache had not yielded, and on the
9th of February, the day before her deposition, it had been very severe:
a tumour had even formed during the preceding days on the upper part of
the right ear. In the evening, her husband asked her why she did not try
the water of the tomb, which would no doubt prove as efficacious in this
ease, as it had done in the previous. The idea had not occurred to her
before, and finding that a little remained in the phial she applied it to
the ear. A momentary sensation of great heat all through the head was
followed by total relief from suffering. "God be praised!" she exclaimed,
"I am cured; I have no pain!" Her husband echoed her exclamation of
surprise and joy, when on examining the ear, he found that even the
tumour had disappeared. "I am now perfectly well," concluded Mrs.
Fullerton; "entirely free from suffering, and with heartfelt gratitude I
declare that it is to the prayer of the Mother of the Incarnation I am
indebted for my cure."

       *       *       *       *       *

Miss Bilodeau, a teacher at Rivière Noire in the parish of St. Agapetus,
made the following declaration on the 29th of August, 1867:--

"Towards the end of last May, a child of twelve, named Mary Côté, was
brought to my school, with a request that I would prepare her for first
communion and confirmation. She was conducted by her aunt, and walked
with difficulty; her eyes appeared in a sad condition. I was informed
that she had been blind since an attack of small-pox five years before,
and that during that period she had endured a martyrdom, especially in
winter, when the inflammation increased. Hoping that the disease was not
as inveterate as it appeared, I begged her aunt to take her to the
chapel, and help her to distinguish the altar and tabernacle, that she
might the better understand future instructions on these subject, for I
had been told that she had never even entered a church, her parents
living at a considerable distance from the parish church, and not having
a vehicle. Accordingly, she was led to the church, but on her return, I
was assured she had discerned nothing, not even the conspicuous white
statue of our Blessed Lady. I then examined her eyes more closely. I
found the lids livid and bluish; close to the lashes, red and inflamed.
In the eye itself, pupil, iris and cornea were alike undistinguishable;
all that could be seen was a mass of red, white and black spots,
frightful to behold. Both eyes were in the same condition. Dr. Morin had
declared the case incurable; the parish priest of Gaspé, and two
Trappiste Fathers who happened to pass that way, had expressed the same
opinion, the last observing that only a miracle could restore sight so
thoroughly diseased. 'Well,' I said to the child, 'I know a servant of
God who can obtain this favour, if you pray to her very fervently.' I
gave her a little of the water of the tomb, telling her to put a drop of
it into her eyes every day, and to say daily also, three Paters, Aves,
and Glorias, with the invocation 'Venerable Mother of the Incarnation,
obtain my cure!' The first days of the Novena, her sufferings increased
so much that she could scarcely support them. I told her not to be
discouraged in consequence, for that this increase of pain proved the
intervention of the Venerable Mother, and should only stimulate her to
redouble her prayers, which she did. On the third or fourth day, she was
taken to Mass by her aunt, and although in great pain, prayed with
renewed ardour, asking the Mother of the Incarnation to let her see at
least the statue of our Blessed Lady. Towards the end of Mass, she felt
suddenly inspired to raise her eyes, and saw something white: it was the
statue. As she afterwards said, the longer she looked at it, the clearer
her vision became. In an ecstasy of delight and amazement, she began to
describe to her aunt every thing she saw round the statue and on the
altar. On leaving the church, she was subjected to various tests, which
only resulted in rendering the miracle more manifest. Her eyes were free
from pain and looked perfectly clear, except for a slight discoloration
of the left, which however did not interfere with the vision, and soon
disappeared. This event occurred on the 8th or 9th of June." On the 23rd
of the following August, Miss Bilodeau gave the above details. Dr. Morin,
to whom she presented the child, at once recognised his former patient,
but could not comprehend the wonderful change visible in her. After a
close examination, he declared that only a miracle could have wrought it.
The next day he gave the following testimony: "I the undersigned, can
certify on oath, that five years ago, I examined Mary Côté's eyes, and
found that the small-pox had produced opacity of the cornea of both, or
the disease called _leucoma_. I pronounced the case incurable, and
refused in consequence to prescribe medical treatment. I certify that I
re-examined the same little girl on the 4th of September, 1867, and that
I cannot explain the cure of her eyes by natural causes.
"CHARLES MORIN, M.D."

Mary Côté and her mother confirmed the above testimony at a later period.

       *       *       *       *       *

CURE of MARGARET FOLEY, affected for four years and a half with deafness,
30th of April, 1868.

Margaret Foley was in her fourteenth year, when in September 1867, she
was presented at the Ursuline day school to receive instruction for first
communion. She had already been sent to three other schools for the same
purpose, but her deafness had in each case proved an insuperable obstacle
to the success of her teachers. It soon became apparent to her new
instructresses, that the present trial must end like the preceding in
total failure, therefore they recommended Mrs. Foley to withdraw her
daughter.

When the immediate preparation for first communion was about to commence
just before the Lent of 1868, some of the pupils mentioned Margaret
Foley, and in the hope that her hearing might have somewhat improved in
the interval, her mistresses sent for her, but unfortunately, they found
no change in her state. Before the loss of her hearing, she had learned
to read imperfectly, consequently she knew something of the text of her
catechism, but nothing more. When the period of first communion drew
near, one of her mistresses, not knowing what to do, proposed a Novena to
the Mother of the Incarnation. Just nine days were to elapse before that
of the first Communion, which by a happy coincidence occurred this year
on the 30th of April, the anniversary of the death of the saintly Mother.
Some of the water of the tomb was given to the little girl, with
directions to put a drop of it every day into her ears. The nuns and
pupils joined in the Novena, and all declared that it would indeed be a
miracle if the poor child should recover her hearing. On Friday, April
24th, the day of the examination of the first communicants, Margaret
prayed with renewed fervour before a picture of the Venerable Mother,
which some one had given her. Her afflicted mother expected only the
usual disappointment, and awaited with a sad heart her return from the
convent. Suddenly she heard her bounding up the stairs; then saw her rush
into the room, kissing her picture in transports of joy which admitted
but of one explanation. She had heard the priest quite distinctly, she
assured her mother, and hoped to be admitted to the heavenly Banquet. The
excitement of her companions, and the gratitude of her teachers can be
better imagined than described. On the 30th of April, the last day of the
Novena, she made her first communion. She was visited by several of the
sisters, those especially who had had personal communication with her
during the period of her infirmity, and all recognised the wonderful
nature of the cure. Mrs. Foley declared that for four years and a half,
she had been able to communicate with her only by signs.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the 10th of January, 1870, Clément Chaillé of Cap Santé declared that
his mother, aged seventy-three, had in the preceding August been cured of
a cancerous tumour in the nose, which, having resisted all remedies,
disappeared on the application of the water of the tomb.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the 15th of March, 1877, Miss Fortier, a pupil of the Laval Normal
School, Quebec, deposed that her brother Emilius Fortier, eighteen years
of age, and subject for two years to epileptic fits, had been cured the
preceding September by a Novena to the Venerable Mother, and the use of
the miraculous water. The young man, who had been compelled to give up
his college course on account of his terrible malady, was then so
completely cured, that his father had written to re-engage his place for
the next year.

       *       *       *       *       *

Our limits will not permit us to dwell at greater length on the bodily
cures effected through the intercession of the Mother of the Incarnation:
the number is so great, that even an imperfect list would fill many
pages. The same may be said of the favours obtained through her prayers
in the spiritual and moral order, on which, in like manner, we shall
touch but lightly. The following are but a few among the many instances
of such, which might be recorded:--

Deploring the decline of practical piety in the parish where she resided,
a school teacher of remarkable virtue determined as the first step to
improvement, to introduce devotion to the Mother of the Incarnation. For
this purpose, she began by circulating copies of the Venerable Mother's
prayers to the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary, to which we have so often
alluded. She besought the holy Mother to interest herself in the great
work of the reformation of the people, and as a preliminary, to give some
striking manifestation of the power of her intercession with God: The
prayer was heard; the impression produced by a few wonderful cures, led
to conversions, and before long, a missionary bore public testimony to
the marked change which had taken place in the locality since the
introduction of devotion to the Mother of the Incarnation.

       *       *       *       *       *

A young person charged with a school composed of children of both sexes,
found herself constantly surrounded with difficulties of all kinds, but
it was her invariable habit to place her troubles in the hands of the
Mother of the Incarnation, and she found abundant reason to congratulate
herself on having adopted the plan. Whether she had to contend with
annoyances from parents, and insubordination from pupils, or whether she
had to solve scientific questions beyond her capacity, her powerful
Patroness brought her safely through every embarrassment. She had become
so accustomed to her charitable intervention, that she counted on it as a
matter of course. We shall cite but one instance. A grown lad one day
asked the solution of a very difficult problem in arithmetic, required
for the following day. Now the poor teacher's arithmetic was one of her
weak points; she had never seen the rules on which the given question
bore, and had not the remotest idea how to set about her task, so as
usual, she had recourse to her unfailing refuge, the Mother of the
Incarnation, representing to her that without her assistance, she must
infallibly lose her reputation as a teacher, and as a consequence, her
moral influence over her pupils. Having finished the day's duties, she
retired tranquilly to rest, quite convinced that by some means or
another, her difficulties would be removed. When she awoke on the
following morning, the answer to the problem was as clearly traced on her
mind, as if it had been written on paper before her eyes. She had but to
copy the formula on a slate, as she would have copied from a text book on
the subject, and then she was ready to meet, and to satisfy her
questioner.

There have been instances of visible protection accorded by the Venerable
Mother to persons wearing her picture or one of her relics;--instances of
the conversion of the victims of intemperance, and of other obdurate
sinners for whom her prayers had been invoked;--instances of disunited
families reconciled, pecuniary embarrassments relieved, and temporal
affairs brought to a happy issue by being recommended to her charity.

Nor is it only in Quebec, or even in the New World, that the fruits of
her intercession have been experienced; on the contrary, wherever
appealed to, the result has been the same.

"Among the great number of applicants to the Mother of the Incarnation,"
says a letter from Three Rivers, "all, it is true, do not obtain the
cures they pray for, but the good Mother never fails to procure them
something better. I do not recollect," continues the writer, "having ever
met a single person who had recourse to her intercession and was not
satisfied with the result. Some come to tell us joyfully, that they have
received the favours they petitioned for; others recognise that it is for
their advantage to suffer, since the Mother has not obtained their
recovery. Those who have received only partial relief, are contented with
it and seem to desire no more."

In whatever other light the preceding facts are viewed, they must at
least be looked on as so many "heavenly messengers" assuring us of the
love and protection of our saintly Mother, and as such, must necessarily
confirm our confidence in her power, and intensify our gratitude for her
favours.

"Sing to the lord a new canticle: let His praise be in the church of the
saints."--(Ps. cxlix l.)




EVENING PRAYER OF THE VENERABLE MOTHER MARY OF THE INCARNATION, IN HONOUR
OF THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS.


By the Heart of my Jesus, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, I
approach Thee, O Eternal Father. By this Divine Heart, I adore Thee, for
those who do not adore Thee; I love Thee for all who do not love Thee; I
acknowledge Thee as my God, for all the wilfully blind, who through
contempt refuse to acknowledge Thee. By this Divine Heart, I desire to
pay Thee the homage which all Thy creatures owe Thee. In spirit I go
round the wide world, in search of the souls redeemed by the precious
blood of Jesus. I present them all to Thee through Him, and by His merits
I ask for their conversion. O Eternal Father! wilt Thou permit them to
remain in ignorance of my Jesus? Wilt Thou suffer that they should not
live for Him who died for all? Thou seest, O heavenly Father! that they
live not yet; grant them then life, by this Divine Heart. Through this
adorable Heart, I present Thee all who labour for the extension of the
Gospel, that by its merits, they may be replenished with Thy Holy Spirit.

On it, as on a Divine Altar, I present to Thee especially...........

Thou knowest, O Incarnate Word, my adorable Saviour! that all that I
would ask Thy Father by Thy Divine Heart, by Thy Holy Soul. I ask it of
Thee, when I ask it of Him, because Thou art in Thy Father, and Thy
Father is in Thee. Deign together to hear my prayer, and to make the
souls whom I present to Thee, one with Thee. Amen.




EVENING PRAYER OF THE VENERABLE MOTHER MARY OF THE INCARNATION IN HONOUR
OF THE IMMACULATE HEART OF MARY.


O Divine Spouse of my soul! what return shall I make Thee for Thine
excessive charity towards me? I give Thee thanks through Thy Blessed
Mother. I offer Thee her Immaculate Heart, as I offer Thy Sacred Heart to
Thy Father. Suffer me to love Thee by that holy Heart which loved Thee so
tenderly; to offer Thee that body which served Thee, that virginal
Sanctuary which Thou didst deign to inhabit. I offer it in thanksgiving
for Thy benefits; I offer it for the amendment of my life, for the
sanctification of my soul, and to obtain the grace of final perseverance
in Thy service and love.

(_Name particular intentions. _)

I thank Thee, my Jesus, that Thou wert pleased to choose this most Holy
Virgin for Thy Mother. I thank Thee for having granted her the graces
suited to this great dignity, and for having deigned to give her to us
for our Mother. I adore the instant of Thine Incarnation, and venerate
each moment Thou didst spend as a Wanderer on earth. I thank Thee for the
example of Thy Divine virtues; the merit of Thy labours and the effusion
of Thy precious Blood. I wish to have neither life nor movement but in
union with Thine. Purify my impure and imperfect life, by the purity and
perfection of Thy Divine life, and by the holy life of Thy Immaculate
Mother. Amen.




A SLIGHT SKETCH OF THE OLD MONASTERY OF QUEBEC

FOUNDED BY THE VENERABLE MOTHER OF THE INCARNATION AND MADAME DE LA
PELTRIE, AND GRAPHICALLY DESCRIBED IN THE HISTORY OF THE URSULINES.


The Ursuline Convent of Quebec, built two hundred and forty years ago,
and since then, twice rebuilt and vastly enlarged, occupies an area of
six acres in the centre of the Upper Town. It is situated on a commanding
eminence, almost entirely surrounded by gardens; its secluded inhabitants
can, therefore, freely enjoy, from their upper apartments, the views of
unrivalled beauty which encompass the city.

To give the reader some idea of the ever increasing prosperity of this
favoured establishment, we shall here insert the statistics of its
cloistered population within the last eighty years. At the beginning of
the present century, the community was composed of 40 professed members--
27 of the Choir, and l3 Lay Sisters; added to these were 6 or 7 Novices.
The boarders and half-boarders amounted together to upwards of 60, and
were united under the same teachers for the study of both the French and
English languages. This arrangement was, indeed, a matter of necessity,
as there were at the time but two young novices to direct the English
classes, Rev. Mother M. Louise McLoughlin of St. Henry, afterwards one of
the most efficient Superiors of the house, and Rev. Mother M. Doherty of
St. Augustine, who died Mistress of the Novices in 1813.

From the date of the foundation, the day-school pupils had been far more
numerous than the boarders, steadily increasing with the progress of the
city. At the commencement of the century, two hundred children attended,
although no little "Exiles of Erin" had yet augmented their scores. As
the Irish element, however, began to intermingle with the population of
Quebec, very many of these children made their way to the Ursulines for
religious instruction, and soon their numbers increased so amazingly,
that in 1824 a day school was opened for them by their zealous teachers,
under the auspices and with the aid of the great and good Bishop Plessis,
who so dearly loved his adopted Irish flock. From this period especially,
the number of French and Irish day pupils augmented very considerably,
usually amounting to upwards of 350. For their accommodation, the house
formerly occupied by the Foundress was rebuilt and enlarged in 1836.

In 1825 the community was composed of 46 professed Religious, from whom
130 boarders and half-boarders received their education. Here the
progress of the institution continues very striking, for in 1855 the
community included 56 professed Religious, 38 of whom were Choir Sisters,
18 Lay Sisters, and 10 Novices. At the same date the boarding-school
contained 230 pupils, including half-boarders. At the present time,
(June, 1880,) the community numbers 62 professed Choir Nuns and 24 Lay
Sisters, with 6 white-veiled Novices and 5 Postulants--in all, 97
members. During this last mentioned period, the Boarders' Academy has
greatly increased, amounting at times to upwards of 370.

The Normal School Boarders' or Young Teachers' Academy, founded in 1857
by the munificence of the Canadian Government, under the auspices of the
Right Rev. Archbishop and the clergy, included at first but 40 pupils.
These also having increased in due proportion with the rest of the
establishment, now number 60 young students, under the direction of Rev.
P. Lagacé, fourth Principal. They receive instruction from their own
Professors as well as from the Nuns, and constantly attend the day
school, to learn from the Mistresses there engaged the difficult art of
teaching.

The vast alterations and improvements in the original buildings were
effected at various periods and, necessarily, at great expense. Under the
direction of Rev. Mother St. Henry, twenty-second Superior, the spacious
classes of St. Ursula were erected in 1830. In 1836, under the direction
of Rev. Father Maguire, third Resident Chaplain, the large wing facing
Parlor Street was built to accommodate the increasing number of pupils.
While Mother St. Gabriel, twenty-fifth Superior, held office, the fine
building of Notre Dame de Grace was constructed. A few years later, Rev.
Mother Isabella McDonnell of St. Andrew still further enlarged the
Convent buildings by the addition of another wing containing the
boarders' parlour, reception hall, and music rooms. Later again, in 1873,
Rev. Mother St. Mary, being twenty-seventh Superior, the beautiful north
wing, dedicated to the Venerable Mother of the Incarnation, was built,
and various other improvements also effected with success. Rev. Mother G.
Van Felson of St. George, twenty-eighth Superior, laboured with the skill
of an artist to embellish the chapel and various other departments.

Since the foundation of the house, 29 Superiors have governed it with
wisdom and ability. Of this number, five were French ladies, one English,
one Scotch, and one Irish, the present Superior, Rev. Mother E. Tims of
St. Catherine, being a native of the Isle of Saints; the others were all
natives of Canada.

During the last 240 years, 319 professed Religious have successively
enjoyed in the old cloister the blessings of a life dedicated to the
service of God and the welfare of society. Among these a great many
survived to very old age, a favour which seems also to be granted to the
Resident Chaplains. Rev. Father Lemoine, the present Chaplain, who has
already spent a quarter of a century in the Institution, is, like his
worthy predecessor, Rev. Father Maguire, entitled to all praise and
gratitude for his untiring devotedness lo its prosperity. A lasting proof
of this will be found in the "History of the Ursulines of Quebec,"
published under his direction in the years 1863-66, and in which his
intelligent aid was so generously given to the annalists.

BY AN URSULINE OF QUEBEC.