The Life of the Venerable Mother Mary of the Incarnation Part 8

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 s.p.a.ce admitted, and the day scholars, who included all children old enough to be taught, adults of both s.e.xes received daily instruction--the women in the school-room, the men at the parlour grating--all manifesting equal eagerness to hear the word of G.o.d; 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 a.s.sist 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 G.o.d-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 G.o.d. The answer from one would be, "That He has made me a Christian;" from another, "That He became man to rescue me from h.e.l.l." 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 circ.u.mstance, 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 suns.h.i.+ne, 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 grat.i.tude 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 G.o.d; 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 cla.s.s of tiny ones younger than herself, whom she a.s.siduously 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 G.o.d with an earnestness and a force that they could not resist.

One of the converts, wis.h.i.+ng 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-fas.h.i.+oned 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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d 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 compa.s.sion 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 ent.i.tled 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 pet.i.tion. 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 fas.h.i.+on; 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 a.s.sisting 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 grat.i.tude to her devoted friend by showing herself so perfect a model of obedience, that she would even antic.i.p.ate 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 Ma.s.s, 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 G.o.d, as the lady of n.o.ble 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 G.o.d's Church in those days, it would appear to us as if, though still on earth, she had partially antic.i.p.ated 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 G.o.d, 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 compa.s.sed me, and the perils of h.e.l.l 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 friends.h.i.+p was denied her. She seemed to have lost confidence in her holiest advisers, while, by the permission of G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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 sanct.i.ty of G.o.d, they a.s.sumed 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 G.o.d's pure love in her soul, she humbly bowed beneath the hand that crucified her, confessing herself deserving of all chastis.e.m.e.nt, 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 G.o.d'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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.d, no hesitation was admitted. She was accompanied by Charlotte Barre. 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 embarra.s.sment to the Ursulines. If before, they had been poor, they were now reduced to absolute dest.i.tution. 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 subst.i.tute 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 s.e.xes had received spiritual and corporal aid. Was this magnificent harvest to be thus prematurely blighted?

Monsieur de Bernieres 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 G.o.d. She resolved to retain her scholars, to distribute her accustomed alms, and to continue the building, writing as usual to Monsieur de Bernieres for supplies for the house, and inclosing him the bills for the workmen's wages. Who that witnessed her calm, brave fort.i.tude, 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 exact.i.tude to the least of the conventual observances, she continued to sustain her claim to the t.i.tle 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 G.o.d, 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 inst.i.tution. "This is but my second letter," she says in one place, "since the arrival of the s.h.i.+ps; 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 pa.s.s our time, while waiting for the eternity which will never pa.s.s." 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 G.o.d. 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 establis.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.suming 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 exact.i.tude, 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 suns.h.i.+ne 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 antic.i.p.ated, his rebellious heart was finally won to G.o.d, wholly and for ever.

The circ.u.mstances 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 n.o.body. 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 G.o.d. 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 G.o.d 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 grat.i.tude 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 G.o.d 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 surpa.s.sed my expectations. The world offered you some advantages, it is true, but how immeasurably inferior to the blessing which G.o.d 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 G.o.d' (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 G.o.d. I never pa.s.s 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 G.o.d 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 partic.i.p.ating fully in your spiritual treasures. Pray for me very often. I meet you many times a day in G.o.d, 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d by the solemn vows.

After his promotion to the priesthood, he was appointed to some of the princ.i.p.al 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 G.o.d'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 sanct.i.ty. 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 sanct.i.ty 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 princ.i.p.ally as material her own relation of a portion of G.o.d's wondrous dealings with her, and her voluminous correspondence with himself.[Footnote: This history, with that of Pere 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 Catechisme,") and her Retreats. For recent reprints of all we are indebted to the Abbe 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 fas.h.i.+on, in which her personal attractions and brilliant accomplishments particularly fitted her to s.h.i.+ne. 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 Ma.s.s, 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 embarra.s.sing 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 G.o.d. 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d and that of the world, she might cling to the one and loathe the other evermore and the pet.i.tion was fully granted.